Slay Bells Ring

by Karen Rose Smith

  “You all knew about Kim?”

  “We all knew Chris had fallen for her, including my brother, Gary. Gary died over there,” he said in a terse tone.

  This was the first Harrison’s brother Gary’s name had surfaced. She was sure he’d brought up his brother’s name for a reason. She listened.

  “When we went to D.C. every year to the Memorial and out for drinks, the mood was never light. I mean, we weren’t celebrating. We were remembering. Mack couldn’t go this year. That changed the mood. Maybe that’s why Chris revealed something I wish he wouldn’t have.”

  What could Chris have told them? “About his relationship with Kim?”

  “No. I think he was trying to clean his slate, prepare himself for dying, if anybody can do that. Would he have done it if Mack had been along? I don’t know.”

  Harrison seemed lost in his memories and she waited.

  “We’d gone to the Nam Memorial then out to a bar. Chris drank more than usual. False courage, I guess. When we got back to the room, he booted up his laptop for a while but then broke out a bottle of tequila he’d brought along. I thought that was kind of weird. Usually when we went back to the room we just watched sports, maybe drank some beer, ate nachos. But this was different. Ray and I had been watching TV, and Chris clicked it off. He had something to tell us.”

  Caprice’s heart began to race, and she didn’t even know why. But Harrison’s voice had gone deeper. When she looked into his eyes, she saw pain that was raw. She didn’t speak. She let him tell it his way.

  “Chris told us about his brain tumor and its death sentence. He expected to die in less than a year. Ray and I hardly had time to absorb that when he went on. He recounted an experience from Nam. He told us about the night Gary died. Stuff I’d never heard before. It was like he was back there again on night patrol. He talked about a bunker, return fire, men huddled together, others pushing on to make the enemy retreat.”

  Harrison closed his eyes for a few seconds. He took his hands off the bottle and clenched them on the table. “It took me back there and into it . . . Ray too. Then Chris dropped the bomb, so to speak. He’d been side by side with Gary, separated from the rest of the squad. Gary got hit bad. Too bad to survive? Chris didn’t know. But he left my brother there so he could save himself. He ran to safety and left Gary there to die. No one else saw it. No one else knew. He said it had been eating at him like acid all these years, and that’s probably where his tumor had come from. It was his punishment.”

  Stunned, Caprice didn’t know what to say. What could she say? She reached out her hand and covered one of Harrison’s. His fist stayed clenched but he didn’t shake her off.

  “I was in shock after Chris told us. Ray was too. I wanted to kill Chris right then and there. I wanted to shout what he’d done from the mountain tops. I wanted to take away everything Chris had enjoyed over all these years that Gary hadn’t—a family, a business, life. But I was numb. We all went to bed after that. We drove back the next day without talking to each other. Once I got back here, the rage really set in. I was drinking more. I was self-destructing, just like after Nam. And I knew I had to confront Chris. So I did. It was about a week before he was murdered. I went at him with my fists and he didn’t fight back.”

  Caprice remembered Chris’s bruised jaw, the cut on his forehead, the bruised ribs Sara had seen.

  “You could have done worse damage than you did,” she said, wanting to find out more, wanting to find out if Harrison had gone after Chris again, maybe with that candy cane stake.

  “Yeah, I could have. But I didn’t. Nam was war. Soldiers panicked. But Chris left my brother for dead. That doesn’t mean Gary wouldn’t have died anyway, but I just had to retaliate somehow. Chris had to know our friendship was over. And in the middle of that fight when I punched him, I realized our friendship was going to be over anyway, because Chris was going to die. So why should I even waste my energy in trying to make him pay?”

  Caprice’s hand was still on his, and she squeezed his fist. “I’m sorry, Harrison. I’m sorry you lost your brother, and I’m sorry you lost your friend. I understand why you wanted to keep this quiet, but maybe you should tell the police before someone else does it for you. The truth always comes out. The police know someone beat up Chris because Sara told them. They’re surely looking for that person. And a friend of my assistant witnessed your scuffle with Chris in back of Susie Q’s, but he didn’t recognize who you were.”

  “This gives me motive, doesn’t it?” he asked, looking directly into her eyes.

  “It does. Except as you said—you knew Chris was going to die. So maybe not much of a motive. You and Ray were the only two people who knew.”

  “I won’t talk to Detective Jones again.”

  “I know the other detective on the case, Brett Carstead. He’s fair, and he knows how to listen. Why don’t I call him, and you can set up something with him.”

  “I didn’t want to cause more grief to Sara,” Harrison said. “Ray and I didn’t know about Kim’s boy. We didn’t know Chris had been sending money. He kept a lot of secrets.”

  “Secrets fester,” Caprice said. “Let me call Brett.”

  Harrison nodded his head and then bowed it.

  * * *

  After Caprice’s meeting with Harrison, she felt shaken. She’d called Brett, and he’d come right over to Susie Q’s without asking her ten thousand questions. She and Grant left, but she felt so unsettled and he saw that.

  He asked, “Why don’t we go to your parents and you can talk to your dad?”

  “Do you mind?”

  “I don’t mind. Patches and Lady are probably sleeping and so are the cats. They’ll be okay until we get back.”

  They’d left all of the animals at her place. “Maybe we should get one of those spy cams,” she said.

  He chuckled. “Along with your security system?”

  “Maybe. There would be a camera in the living room and with some of them, you can even speak to your animals so they’d come running if they hear our voices. Don’t you think that would be a good idea?”

  “It’s something to think about,” he agreed.

  When he said that, Caprice wondered if he was thinking about a new house where they could have everything installed. She knew she had to talk to him about it, but she didn’t want to bring it up now, not with this new development in the murder case.

  She texted her dad, and her parents were expecting them when they arrived. Blitz met them at the door like a butler, and she crouched down to rub him all over. He really liked that. Maybe with that thick coat, he needed the stimulation.

  Caprice’s dad waved to them from the living room. “Come on in here.” They’d taken off their coats and made themselves at home when her mom peeked into the room. “I’m just going to put some snacks together. You go ahead and talk.”

  “Are you sure?” Caprice asked her mother. She didn’t want her to feel left out.

  Her mom smiled at her. “I’m sure. Your dad can always fill me in if I miss something.”

  “So, tell me what happened tonight,” her father said after her mom had gone to the kitchen. “You met with Harrison Barnhart, right?”

  “We did. He’s talking to Brett now. I called Brett after Harrison filled me in. It’s so sad, Dad. I thought about not telling you, but I need to talk about this, and I’m sure once the police know, it’s going to get out anyway.”

  “So, tell me.”

  Caprice relayed what Harrison had told her with as accurate a memory as she could muster.

  After she’d finished, her father looked troubled. “There is no excuse for Chris leaving Gary behind. But Chris was a young man then. Those boys went over there not knowing what to expect, not knowing what they were going to face. I’m sure what happened there shaped his character for the rest of his life.”

  Caprice was sure of that too. She considered how altruistic Chris had become, helpful with everyone he met.

  “I wonder if Mac
k had gone along on that trip if Chris would have revealed everything.”

  “There’s no way to know,” Grant said. “I don’t think you’re going to have to tell Mack about it. Although he’s off the case, he does look over everything. He’ll hear about Harrison’s interview with Brett, I’m sure of that.”

  “Do you believe Harrison when he said he couldn’t kill Chris?” her dad asked her.

  “He was so torn up, Dad, and he did beat him up. It would have happened that night if he was going to do it.”

  “Does Harrison have an alibi for the night Chris was killed?”

  Caprice shook her head. “No.”

  “The police are going to look at him hard,” Grant said.

  As if he sensed the tension and the distress in the room, Blitz went from one of them to the other, looking up at them, and waiting for a pat on the head. When he came over to Caprice, she scratched his ears and petted along his flanks. As she did, she studied his collar again, remembering her thoughts about it the last time she’d looked at it.

  She ran her finger alongside of it and under it. “Do you ever take this off him?” she asked her dad.

  “I haven’t yet. When we take him to a groomer, we’ll take it off then.”

  “Do you mind if I look at it?”

  Her father cocked his head and studied her with puzzlement on his face. “Why?”

  “Because it seems thicker than a normal dog collar.” She unbuckled it and slipped it from the dog’s neck.

  Grant looked over her shoulder as she examined it. He pointed to the stitching. “That looks as if it’s been re-sewn many times.”

  She pressed along the collar with her thumb and forefinger. When she reached near the buckle she said, “I think I feel something inside. It’s thicker and hard there.”

  “Maybe it’s just the lining,” her father said.

  She ran her finger over it again. “I don’t think so. Can we take it apart?”

  Caprice had often questioned things as a child, taken things apart, asked her dad unusual questions. So, he didn’t blink an eye now. He just said, “Be right back. Your mom has a tool in her sewing box that will do the trick.”

  He went into the library adjacent to the living room. When he came back he had a tool like a seamstress used that cut off stitches without much effort. The thread on the collar was tough so it took her dad a little work to cut through each stitch. “If this collar falls apart I can buy another one in the morning.”

  After removing the stitches from both sides, he handed the collar to Caprice.

  She pulled it apart and inside she did find something unusual. Taking it out, she held it up.

  “It’s a key.” She studied the initials on it. “Those are the initials for the storage company where I have a unit. My padlock has them on it.”

  “It says 333,” she mused. “That belongs to the building that has smaller compartments. They’re bigger than school lockers. Square. I’ve seen owners of those compartments put photograph albums and small collectibles inside.”

  “You could turn the key into the police,” Grant suggested. “But on the other hand, all of Chris’s possessions went to Sara. So, really, whatever is in that storage compartment is hers. She probably just has to show a death certificate to access it.”

  “Or she could decide to take the key to the police,” Caprice offered.

  “She could,” her dad said. “But knowing Sara, she’s going to want to know what’s in that compartment before she turns over the key.”

  “I’d want to know,” Caprice assured him.

  “Your mother would too,” her dad told her with a wry smile.

  “There could be love letters in there,” Grant warned her.

  “Yes, there could be,” Caprice agreed. “Even mementos from Chris’s time in Vietnam. If there are, Sara needs to make a decision whether she wants to examine it all. I’ll go see her first thing in the morning, and then we’ll go from there.”

  Grant and her dad didn’t protest because they knew if they did, that wouldn’t do any good.

  * * *

  Caprice hadn’t slept much at all. It was barely sunrise when she heard Grant come out of the spare bedroom. He and Patches had stayed last night. He was in a protective mode, and although she usually pushed his concern away, this time she didn’t. Maybe because she liked him under the same roof.

  Grabbing her robe, she shrugged it on, belted it, and met him in the hallway. Lady raced out and joined Patches there too. The two dogs ran down the stairs eager for their day to start.

  Grant gathered her into his arms and kissed her. Then he studied her face. “You have dark circles under your eyes. Didn’t sleep well?”

  “Didn’t sleep much at all. That key on my dresser is like a magnet. I can’t wait to take it to Sara.”

  Mirabelle jumped off Caprice’s bed and came out to join them. She wound about Grant’s legs then looked up at him and meowed.

  “She’s asking me what I’m doing here again.”

  “Nope. She’s just asking if you’re the one who’s going to get her breakfast.”

  Mirabelle gave another meow as if she agreed with that assessment.

  Sophia jumped down from her perch atop Caprice’s armoire. She gave a look to Caprice that asked, What are we standing here for? and trotted down the stairs after Lady and Patches.

  “I’ll let the dogs out while you make the coffee,” Grant suggested.

  “Maybe after breakfast we can take them for a walk. I’ve got this excess energy, and I can’t go to the craft store before nine.”

  “Sounds good,” Grant said, wrapping his arm around her and giving her a hug.

  An hour and a half later, Grant had left with Patches to go home to work at his town house for the morning. He was leaving for the courthouse in York around noon. He’d mentioned he’d be tied up there into the evening. She’d promised to text or call him when she had any news. It was quite possible that Sara knew about the storage compartment. Maybe her name was on the contract with Chris’s. But Caprice doubted that.

  * * *

  Caprice hadn’t called her to set up a visit at her house because she wanted to see the look on Sara’s face when she told her about the key. She thought dropping in at the craft store was the best way to handle it.

  The store was already scattered with customers when Caprice walked in. She knew this was their busiest season. She asked one of the cashiers where she might find Sara, and the woman pointed to the office in the back. That’s where Caprice headed.

  The door was ajar, and Caprice stood there a minute studying Chris Merriweather’s wife as she sat at the computer, tapping in information from a legal pad next to her. She had a pen stuck in her hair above her ear.

  Caprice rapped lightly on the door frame, and Sara looked up. “Hi, Caprice.” She put her legal pad aside and leaned back in the swivel chair. “I’m making a list of the pros and cons of keeping this place.”

  “Is your list leaning one way or the other?” She stepped into the office in front of Sara’s desk.

  “It’s about even right now. I think it’s going to boil down to the fact of whether or not I want to come into work every day and feel productive. Or if I want to sit in a new condo and think about everything I can’t change.”

  “That sounds to me as if you’ve made a decision.”

  “Possibly. What brings you here this morning?”

  Caprice lifted the flap on her fringed hobo bag. The peace sign charm on the strap jangled as she reached inside and took the key from a zippered compartment. She held it out to Sara. “I found this in Blitz’s collar. Do you know what it is?”

  Sara took it from her hand, her expression perplexed. “In Blitz’s collar?” She turned it over and saw the storage facility’s emblem. But her face didn’t show any recognition.

  “It’s from the storage center. It belongs to compartment 333. Do you know anything about it?”

  “No,” Sara said softly, and Caprice believed h
er because in her eyes there was that dismay that this was just something else Chris had kept from her. “Do you think I can get into it?”

  “Grant says if you take along a death certificate, you’ll be able to.”

  Sara studied her watch, then she went to the clothes tree in the corner and lifted off her coat. “Will you go with me?”

  “We could give the key to the police,” she told Sara.

  “Not before I see what’s in the compartment. I’ll call them after we’ve examined it.”

  Caprice didn’t know if this was the right decision or not, but she’d suspected it would be what Sara wanted to do. Not knowing what she’d find in the compartment, Caprice realized Sara needed emotional support. “Are you sure you want me there rather than Maura or Deanne or Ryan?”

  “There’s no knowing what’s in there. I don’t want them hurt further. I’d like you to be with me.”

  “Then let’s go,” Caprice said.

  Sara stopped at home for a death certificate, then met Caprice at the office at the storage center. The manager knew Caprice because she was in and out of the center often to pick up furniture and decorations from her storage compartments. After Sara showed him ID and the death certificate, he said he would place it on file and gave them permission to open the locker.

  Sara followed Caprice in her car since Caprice knew the way to the smaller compartments. They both parked on the asphalt drive. Together they found compartment 333.

  Inserting the key in the lock, Sara glanced at Caprice. “I’m scared what we’re going to find.”

  “You don’t have to look,” Caprice reminded her.

  “Yes, I do,” Sara insisted and opened the lock. Then she lifted the door on the two-foot by two-foot compartment.

  Once the door was up, they could both see a shoe box. Sara lifted it out. “Let’s sit in my car. It’s too cold out here.”

  Caprice went around to the passenger side of the sedan and slid inside.

  Once inside her car, Sara blew on her fingers to warm them and then lifted the shoe box’s lid. Caprice could easily see letters and photos inside.

  As Sara sorted them, her voice shook when she said, “These must be photos of Kim and Trung.”