Slay Bells Ring

by Karen Rose Smith

“Another 1800s piece?”

  “Yep. It has strapped hinges and its original key and lock. If you want to see it, I can take you out there.”

  “I trust your word. I like that new walnut wardrobe over there.”

  “That was restored too. Not as well as some other pieces—1830s. I can give you a good deal on it.”

  She laughed. “I imagine you could, but I’m looking for something a little different today—not furniture.”

  “Glassware?”

  He knew she often shopped for pieces of her Nana’s Fostoria crystal that her mother now had in her care. The Navarre pattern was beautiful and delicate and graced the table on holidays. “No, an antique picture frame.”

  “Just what do you mean by antique? Do you want a real antique, or do you want an antique-looking frame?”

  “Good question. It’s for a photo of me and Grant to give him for Christmas.”

  “Hmmm. Do you want to hang it on the wall or stand it?”

  “I imagine either would be okay. Standing would probably be more practical.”

  “I have a couple that might suit you. Look at that hutch over to your right, second shelf.”

  She went over to the hutch and lifted a Victorian art-nouveau picture frame. It was gold with a copper gilt leaf motif. “It’s beautiful. But it’s pretty fussy for him, don’t you think?”

  “That one’s around two hundred dollars. Is that what you had in mind?”

  “I’ll know it when I see it,” she told him as she often did.

  He chuckled. “While you’re looking, I’ll give Lady her treat. Come here, girl.”

  Caprice wandered around. There was a pair of oval, gold gesso frames. The price on them was four hundred and fifty dollars. She didn’t really want a pair.

  As she crossed to a side table, she lifted an art-nouveau, carved wood frame labeled JUGENDSTIL. That was a style popular in Germany in the mid-1890s. The carved design that made an arch around the top and bottom was like a vine. The ribbon design in the middle of the top was very simple and went with the carved work beautifully. She could see it sitting on Grant’s bookshelf at home or at his office. She could easily insert a five-by-seven matted photo in it, or an eight-by-ten. She checked the price. It was reasonable for a frame beautifully carved and in good condition.

  She took it over to Isaac’s counter. “I think I found it.”

  “You usually do.”

  “That’s because you have such great inventory, and you negotiate so well. We’ll have to talk about the price on the frame.”

  Isaac shook his head, brought out a clean coffee mug from under the counter and set it in front of her. “Coffee?”

  Isaac’s coffee often tasted like sludge, but this early in the morning it should be a new pot and not so bad. She knew he liked a little company, and she and Lady had a few minutes to give him. As she’d often done, she went around the counter to one of the wooden captain’s chairs with the red-and-black plaid covering. Taking off her coat, she hung it around the back of the chair.

  Lady looked up at Isaac as if she expected another treat.

  “That depends on what your mom says,” he told her.

  Caprice told Lady, “If you have another treat, we cut down on your kibble later.”

  Lady made a circle around Isaac’s legs as if that was fine with her.

  “Oh, sure, she agrees now,” Caprice said with a laugh. “She’ll complain later.”

  Soon she and Isaac were sipping coffee from their mugs.

  “I heard Megan lost her wings,” Isaac said with a wink.

  “How do you hear absolutely everything? Sometimes I think you’re clairvoyant.”

  “Hmmm. Not so much. I do have a scanner.”

  Caprice lifted her brow. “And what did you hear on the scanner?”

  “I just heard some chatter about Brett Carstead being called to the theater right around the time when the pageant let out.”

  “Chatter?”

  “It’s the police channel. Rookie cops talk.”

  “I see. And?”

  “That’s what I was hoping you’d fill me in on. Megan’s wings? That was in a little piece online, a vlog that one of the moms does. So, no clairvoyance there. I also read that Bella did a wonderful job.”

  “She did.”

  “Are you going to tell me why Carstead was called to the parking lot when everybody was almost gone?”

  “You can’t spread the word on this. My guess is Brett’s trying to keep it under his hat.”

  “He never wears a hat. Spill it, Caprice. You know I keep secrets. It’s part of my line of work. Antiques and secrets go together.”

  She supposed there were plenty of secrets intertwined with family histories, and Isaac was probably keeping more secrets than he knew what to do with. She also knew she could trust him. She told him about the sleigh bells that had been stolen from her door and how they’d appeared on her car door with the threatening note.

  “I suppose they’ll test for DNA but that could take time,” Isaac determined.

  “Yes, it could. Meanwhile, I’m looking into a few things on my own.”

  “That’s exactly why you were threatened,” Isaac pointed out.

  “I know that. But you know me. I can’t just sit by. Tell me something. Have you had dealings with Bailey Adler?”

  The scowl that crossed Isaac’s face told her exactly what he thought of Bailey Adler. “I avoid him and his properties. Before I bought this place, I thought about renting space at one of Adler’s buildings. But that man has a reputation for being a rent gouger. I learned that just from looking around at spaces and from other shopkeepers. I knew I was better off steering clear of him. I also heard he has a mean temper when he’s provoked.”

  “I just wonder how much it takes to provoke him. That could happen tonight.”

  “At the town council meeting?” Isaac asked. “I was thinking of going just to see the fireworks.”

  “What do you think is going to happen?”

  “I think Chris’s replacement will probably vote to change the zoning ordinance on those properties. But I’ve been wrong before.”

  Caprice hated the thought of the historic properties becoming shiny, modern-looking storefronts that wouldn’t fit in with the rest of the character of downtown Kismet.

  But she wasn’t sure anyone could do anything about it.

  * * *

  That evening, a loud buzz sounded through the town hall’s main meeting room as Caprice and Grant took seats next to Roz and Kiki Hasselhoff.

  Roz leaned close to Caprice. “There’s so much chatter in here, nobody can hear anybody else.”

  The town hall was a historic building in Kismet located near the first red light ever established in the town. Its sturdy brick had seen a few facelifts. Somehow its mortar had withstood the storms, as well as the cold and heat, of the decades. The inside had been renovated and refurbished too. The building had once been heated with a wood stove and a prayer. Now vents for heat and air conditioning ran throughout the downstairs with its main meeting hall and a few offices. The upstairs was mostly storage. The character of the historic building had been maintained with its crown molding, marble foyer, and dark hardwood floors.

  As meeting rooms went, this one held about a hundred people. Tonight it was packed, mostly with business owners whom Caprice recognized. When rezoning was in the works, everyone downtown was interested—from shopkeepers to developers to renters.

  “What a crowd,” Caprice said. “I thought everyone would be busy near Christmas and not show up.”

  “You showed up,” Roz said. “With good reason. Everyone with a business has concerns about rezoning. My shop is in a block of commercial zoning on Restoration Row. But the block Adler wants rezoned, that’s still mostly residential. There are renters in those historic buildings, and if he kicks them out and tears down the houses in order to replace them with businesses, more tax money will come into Kismet. But the residents aren’t going to be happ
y.”

  Kiki said, “Tearing those houses down will ruin the character of Kismet. Because if it happens once, it will happen again.” She sounded totally out of sorts about it.

  A long table had been set up across the front of the room with all the town council members seated at it. The podium stood in front of that, and now the mayor took his place there. Hadley Coulter, who’d been mayor a little over a year, stood at the podium, pounded his gavel, and started the proceedings by welcoming everyone. He first went over the agenda, which wasn’t a long one for tonight. Then he formally announced Chris Merriweather’s replacement—Stanley Wicks.

  There was a smattering of applause as Hadley introduced Stanley, but there was also an undercurrent of whispers. It was as if people were elbowing each other and murmuring that they now knew how the rezoning would go. That rezoning vote would be an open one in front of everyone assembled. But for the most part, the crowd knew where the individual town council members stood.

  Caprice didn’t know if Hadley just wanted to prolong the meeting or postpone the inevitable, but he gave the facts and figures on how well the Historic Homes Tour had done. That seemed a little contradictory since historic town houses could be torn down soon. But he didn’t seem to see the irony in that, and that was his problem as mayor: Hadley couldn’t seem to see the finer points of many things, including enhancing the budget for the police force, adding a few officers, thinking of creative ideas to bring in revenue. He seemed to be steeped in old ways and even fought the Chamber of Commerce on several issues that could possibly help the economy of Kismet. But those issues were for another day.

  Hadley wore his hair practically parted down the middle with tufts of gray falling on either side. He had a long nose and his rimless glasses slid down it often. His arms were long too and so were his fingers as they clutched the sides of the podium.

  He spoke into the mike and directly to the crowd. “We are now going to vote on the rezoning of the five hundred block of Bristol Row.”

  Just then, the back door to the hall that led in from the lobby opened with a loud squeak. The noise was loud enough to distract Hadley.

  Heads turned in the direction of the back of the room, and Caprice was surprised to see Maura walk in. She didn’t take a seat but walked up the center aisle directly to the podium where Hadley stood.

  “I know I’m not on the agenda, Mr. Mayor, but would you give me the chance to speak for a few minutes?”

  Hadley looked perturbed, as if he didn’t know what to do next. “You want to talk about your dad?” He apparently forgot the microphone was on. Everyone heard.

  “In a way, I do. I promise this will only take a few minutes.”

  “Let her speak,” someone called from a middle row. “We deserve to hear what Chris’s daughter has to say. That’s only democratic.”

  Hadley swung around to study the council members’ faces. They all seemed to give him a nod. Stepping aside, he motioned Maura to the podium. “Go ahead,” he said. “We all respected your father.”

  Maura looked shaky, pale, and not at all prepared to speak. Caprice was worried for her. Just what was she going to say? Would she just give a tribute to Chris? Or . . .

  Maura began in a shaky voice that was thready with emotion. “My dad was proud to be a town council member. He voted with his heart and his gut and didn’t take any town business lightly. As you know, he did everything he could to bring economic success to all your businesses.” She pointed to the hardware store owner. “Clark, I know he often sent business your way from the craft store.”

  Clark nodded.

  She pointed to Irving Bradford, the manager of Grocery Fresh. “And he always bought all of his oranges to give out from the Santa cabin at your store. If he knew a bicycle was on a child’s list, he sent the parents to your shop, Roger. In the same vein, when he knew there was a needy family, he submitted their name to Everybody’s Kitchen to be put on the list for free food. My dad was mostly a behind-the-scenes person, but he came forward when it counted most. That’s why I had to come forward tonight.”

  Uh oh, Caprice thought. This meeting was about to turn on a dime. She took hold of Grant’s hand and squeezed it. She imagined he knew what was coming too.

  “I want to tell you about the man who pushed for this rezoning.”

  From a back row, Bailey Adler stood and shook his finger at Maura. “You have no right to say anything about me.”

  “I have every right if I’m telling the truth, and I am because I recorded one of our conversations.”

  “Conversations about what?” one of the town council members asked from behind Maura.

  She stood to the side of the podium so she could address not only the town council members but the crowd too. “Bailey Adler offered me a bribe to convince my dad to change his vote. I’m not proud of the fact that I was going to take it . . . not because I was convinced it was the best thing to do, but because we needed the money. But I ask you, if Bailey Adler would try to bribe me, then what else would he do? What would happen after he tears down those historic homes? Would he do what he says—limit his development ideas to those properties? Or would he try to buy up the whole next block? And just what kind of rent would he charge storekeepers? So, I guess what I’m asking you, in my dad’s memory, is for you to vote against the change of zoning. Keep it a residential block. Let history live there and the renters who enjoy downtown Kismet.”

  She set a thumb drive in the middle of the town council table. “The recording is on there if you want to hear it. I taped it because I know what kind of man Bailey Adler is. You might want to adjourn and listen to it and postpone the vote on the rezoning.”

  Adler, red-faced, almost tripped over his chair as he headed for the aisle in the back of the room. Then he left, while the crowd broke out in chatter. Caprice’s gaze followed him as Adler stopped at the back door. He looked at her, and then he looked at Maura. She could see he was furious, and if looks could kill . . .

  He slammed the door when he left.

  It was almost fifteen minutes later until everything calmed down and Hadley adjourned the meeting. He said the vote would be postponed until the town council listened to the recording. The zoning would be taken up again at the meeting the following month.

  When Maura came down the aisle to Caprice, Caprice gave her a hug. “That took courage.”

  “The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I talked with Mom about it this afternoon, and she agreed with me that I should do this.”

  Kiki and Roz both patted her on the shoulder. “We’re so proud of you,” Roz said.

  “Adler shouldn’t try to get back at you,” Grant offered. “This was too public. They’d run him out of town if he tried to hurt you. Your father was respected here . . . and admired.”

  Tears came to Maura’s eyes, and she brushed them away. “Pregnancy hormones,” she said with a sniff.

  But Caprice knew grief was still very much a part of her life and would be for a long time to come.

  In no time at all, the crowd that had been assembled dispersed. Caprice and Grant had just stepped outside the town hall when her phone played. She dug it out of her pocket and glanced at the screen. “I could let it go to voicemail.” She knew she and Grant needed some quiet time together.

  “Who is it?” Grant asked.

  “It’s Harrison,” she said with a bit of surprise.

  “Take it,” Grant advised her.

  She did. “Harrison? You stood me up.”

  “I did,” he said solemnly. “But I won’t do it again. Meet me at Susie Q’s in fifteen minutes. This time I’ll be there.”

  “Fifteen minutes,” she repeated. “At Susie Q’s.” She ended the call.

  “You’re not going in there alone,” Grant told her.

  “I’d like to talk to him alone.”

  “Fine. You sit at a table, and I’ll be at the bar. I’ve got your back, Caprice.”

  She knew he did.

  Chapter Eightee
n

  When Susie Q’s wasn’t busy, it seemed to have an air of the forbidden about it, maybe because the TV was turned down low, the lights were dimmer than usual, the scent of grilling burgers not as strong. She and Grant walked in together, though she didn’t know if that was a good idea. If Harrison saw two of them, he might leave.

  It took a few moments for Caprice to find him. He was hunched over a table for two in a back corner, obviously wanting to be separated from anyone else who came in.

  Grant touched her shoulder and leaned in close. “I’ll be at the bar. All you have to do is call my name.”

  Giving his arm a squeeze, she nodded then walked back the long room to where Harrison was seated. Unbuttoning her pea coat she didn’t greet him, just slipped in to the chair across from him.

  “You brought reinforcements,” he grumbled.

  “Grant’s my fiancé. He just wants to make sure I’m safe.”

  Harrison seemed to think about that, then he nodded as if the idea was okay with him. “I want you to understand something,” he said. “I thought long and hard about telling you anything.”

  “Because you don’t want anybody else to know what you’re going to tell me?” she guessed.

  “Exactly.”

  “I can’t promise that. To find Chris’s murderer, every stone has to be turned over.”

  “I don’t have an alibi for the night Chris was murdered. I’m probably a suspect because I knew him as long as I did. That Detective Jones went at me with a vengeance.”

  Although she didn’t agree with Jones’ tactics sometimes, she said, “That’s his job.”

  “Maybe. But I’m not sure that what I’m going to tell you has to do with anyone else but me and Chris.”

  “Something happened between the two of you?” she prompted.

  After he took hold of the bottle of beer on the table, he wrapped his hands around it and squeezed it hard. “You’ve got to realize that me, Ray, Chris, and Mack were army buddies and real friends for forty-five years.”

  She nodded, suddenly aware of how deeply whatever had happened had affected Harrison.

  “We shared experiences no one should have to share when we were in Nam.”