Deadly Décor (A Caprice De Luca Mystery) Page 19

  Ten minutes later, Brenda reported to Caprice that no one had been seen entering the pool area. Caprice had quickly changed, but her skin still gave off a strong aroma of chlorine because she hadn’t showered. Taking her cell phone in hand, she realized she was shivering. That was probably just shock setting in. Her legs wobbled a bit, and she sat down on the bench and speed-dialed Seth’s cell. If he was at the clinic, he wouldn’t answer. But if he wasn’t . . .

  “Hey, Caprice. I got off fifteen minutes ago. I was going to call you to see if you wanted to drive out to that new place that opened up. It’s supposed to be like the fifties, with waitresses on roller skates.”

  “Seth, someone tried to kill me.” To her dismay, her voice shook a little.

  “Where are you?” His tone was worried and sharp.

  “I’m at Shape Up, in the locker room. I’m safe here now. I was doing laps. Brenda left to get towels. I felt this pressure on my back. I think someone used the skimmer on me and tried to hold me underwater. I don’t know if they actually wanted to drown me, or just scare me.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  “No.”

  He hesitated for only one beat. “I’ll be right there. Don’t move.”

  “I’m in the women’s locker room.”

  “Don’t move. Just stay there until you hear me outside the door. Got it?”

  “Okay.”

  Not even ten minutes later, there was a loud knock on the door, and she heard Seth’s voice. “Caprice? Are you in there?”

  She pulled open the door and stepped out into the gym.

  He put his arm around her. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll get you all wet.” Her hair was still sopping, but she really didn’t care. She was so glad to see him, she could kiss him right then and there. He looked as if he wanted to kiss her too, but other Shape Up customers were still working out, and neither of them wanted to cause a spectacle. Though if she had drowned in the pool, there would have been a real spectacle.

  Seth kept his arm around her as she dropped her key at the registration desk and he guided her outside. “If I take you home in my truck, can you pick up your car tomorrow?”

  “Sure. Mom or Nikki can bring me over. But you really don’t have to . . .”

  He took her by the shoulders and held her firmly. “You’ve got to stop.”

  She blinked. Stop? Stop liking him so much? Stop wishing he wouldn’t get the fellowship?

  “Stop asking questions. That’s what got you into this mess.”

  He was sounding just like everybody else in her life—Grant, her brother, her dad too, if she gave him the chance.

  “I’m obviously onto something or this never would have happened.”

  “Do you know exactly what you’re onto?”

  “No, but . . .”

  “There are no buts. You want to save Bella and Joe, but you can’t put your own life in danger while you do it.”

  Her mind had been spinning while she was in the locker room, thinking about where she’d asked questions, who she’d talked to, who might feel threatened.

  “I must have rattled somebody’s cage. At the community center fund-raiser, I was asking questions about Bob, who he palled around with, who his friends were. I also found out that Jeff Garza was skimming money from the building fund and that Bob confronted him. But I don’t think anyone knows I know that.”

  “You’re not going to stop, are you?”

  She looked into Seth’s very blue eyes and told him the truth. “I can’t. Not until I know that Bella and Joe aren’t Detective Jones’s number-one suspects.”

  She’d never seen Seth angry before, but he looked angry now. However, unlike the De Lucas, who usually vented vocally, his lips compressed, and he simply said, “Let me get you home.”

  At her house, Seth insisted on seeing her to her door and coming inside. Shasta ran around his legs and sat on his foot, and he patted her, noticing Sophia high on her cat tree.

  After Seth stood, he concluded, “I don’t think Shasta’s such a great watchdog. She’s too friendly. And Sophia’s not the type to claw anybody’s eyes out. Maybe you need a bodyguard.”

  “Are you applying for the job?” Wouldn’t that be a hoot? Seth staying here watching over her.

  “I’m not sure that would be the best thing for either of our reputations. If Kismet was bigger, nobody would notice. But it’s not. I know you won’t let me hire a bodyguard, but how about if Nikki stays with you for a few days, or you stay with her?”

  “The animals,” Caprice said, as if that said it all.

  “All right. So ask her to stay with you. I really don’t think you should be alone.”

  “Let me think about it.”

  “How long are you going to think about it?”

  “This house has sturdy locks. I have a baseball bat upstairs that Vince lent me earlier this summer for a game in the park. You might not think Shasta’s a good watchdog, but she hears everything. If anybody would try to get in, she’d know before they even thought about it. Really, Seth.”

  “Maybe you should buy a gun.”

  “I have pepper spray.”

  “Maybe you should buy a gun,” he repeated somberly.

  “I’m not going to overreact. The more I think about it, the more I think it was just a scare tactic—a warning.”

  He gently touched her face and pushed her wet hair behind her ear. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I don’t want anything to happen to me, either,” she assured him with a weak smile. Then because she didn’t want to think about what had happened or buying a gun, she asked, “Why don’t I make us something to eat?” She started rubbing her arms, “Though I think I better take a shower first. I’m starting to itch from the chlorine.”

  “Then why don’t I make us something to eat. I make great BLTs. You do have bacon, don’t you? Every good cook does.”

  She laughed. “Of course I have bacon. He’d told her he made great BLTs during one of their first meetings at Grocery Fresh. She hadn’t had a BLT in a while.

  “Could you let Shasta out while I get that shower? Then we can give Sophia her nightly dollop of cream and make the BLTs together.”

  “We’re going to make more than BLTs, Caprice, because I’m not leaving here until very late. I want to make sure no one’s going to surprise you tonight.”

  “I just happen to have a couple of old movies we can watch.”

  “Such as?”

  “Roman Holiday with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck. What do you think?”

  “I think you’re trying to distract me from the real reason I’m here, but I’ll let you. Watching Roman Holiday will be a lot better than me imagining what could have happened to you tonight.”

  “Oh, Seth.” He almost made her want to cry.

  He pointed to the stairs. “Go get your shower. I’ll give Sophia her cream and let Shasta out. Then we’ll replace eau de chlorine with eau de bacon.”

  Turning toward the stairs, she said over her shoulder, “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For being here.” Then before she thought about the fact that he might not be here the next time, she hurried up the stairs.

  Seth left after midnight and only then because Caprice promised she’d keep her cell phone beside her on her pillow, and she’d call him if she heard any unexpected noise. In spite of what he’d said about their reputations, he’d offered to sleep on her sofa. But she wasn’t a damsel in distress who needed to be rescued. Yes, she’d be practical and cautious, but she was not going to cower and expect someone else to save her.

  She did call Nikki Sunday morning, though, and Nikki said she’d be right over to take her to get her car. While she waited for her sister, she gave Sophia a dollop of cream—she was one of the fortunate felines who could digest it—and then sat at her desk to read e-mails. After finishing her cream and daintily washing, Sophia climbed on her lap. Handling a keyboard with a cat on her la
p wasn’t always the easiest thing to do, but sometimes Sophia liked to be close, and Caprice liked that closeness too. So she managed. After a morning run in the yard, Shasta was contenting herself by gnawing on a chew toy close by.

  While Caprice was reading her e-mail, her program dinged and an incoming correspondence flashed on the screen. It was from Derrick Gastenaux. She opened it. After she read it, she wanted to give a cheer, but she knew that would scare Sophia, so she grinned instead.

  Mr. Gastenaux wanted her to sign an agreement. He was hiring her to decorate three model homes, or stage them, however you wanted to look at it. That would bring in a nice chunk of change. Although she put back a reserve every time she did a job, not only to pay taxes but also for savings, she knew she was set for the rest of the year. But she still worried. Hers wasn’t a stable income. She’d been fortunate so far, but she knew that, like anyone else, she could have a dry spell eventually, and she wanted to be prepared for that.

  When Nikki rang the doorbell, Sophia gave Caprice a look that said, I know you’re going to disturb me, aren’t you? Normally Caprice didn’t have her door locked and Nikki could just walk in. But this morning was different.

  “Sorry,” she said to Sophia as she picked her up and set her on the office chair she’d just vacated. Shasta, of course, followed her to the door. The dog was getting rounder, and her pregnancy was supremely evident now.

  When Caprice opened the door, Nikki rushed in and hugged her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Except for a little water up my nose and some scrapes, scratches, and a little bruising on my back, I’m fine.”

  “Why didn’t Seth stay until I got here?”

  “Because I told him to go home last night. He has to get some sleep, too.”

  Nikki gave her one of those sisterly, knowing looks. “You’re afraid to depend on him.”

  Caprice sighed. “It’s too early in the morning for sisterly therapy. Let’s just go get my car and go to ten o’clock Mass. I told Vince I was going to stop by his place around noon.”

  “To talk about what happened?”

  “No, to talk about Jeff Garza.”

  “Do you think he tried to drown you?”

  “I don’t know. Either the person who did it belonged to the gym and no one noticed them, or they followed me and snuck in.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “Oh, sure. The receptionist at the desk is busy. She’s often away from her desk in the evening too, because it’s slow, and she wanders around, talking to the clients and to the trainers who aren’t busy.”

  “No answers there,” Nikki determined. “So let’s go.”

  After Mass, Caprice headed for Vince’s condo, while Nikki went home to get ready for a catering gig. She’d be back at Caprice’s tonight with her travel bag.

  Sitting in Vince’s first-floor condo in the refurbished school building, Caprice glanced up at the tall windows with white grids, then at the living room decorated in masculine comfortable style with leather and nubby-fabric furniture. Vince had asked her to go over again what happened at the pool and she had.

  He looked worried. “Nikki’s going to stay with you tonight?”

  “She’s going to stay with me for a few nights.”

  “Do you have that ‘being followed’ feeling today?”

  “Not really. And tomorrow I have two appointments in the morning, another in the early afternoon, and one in the evening. Nikki can’t be with me when she has catering jobs. I figure as long as I’m with other people and driving on a main street, I’ll be fine.”

  “You aren’t going anyplace out of the way?”

  “My last appointment tomorrow is at Ace Richland’s.”

  “Not many cars on that road.”

  “No, but once I get through his gates, I’m safe. Vince, I have my cell phone.”

  “I don’t like this, Caprice. I don’t like it at all.”

  “There are a lot of things in life we don’t like, but we get through them. Now what did you find out about Jeff Garza?”

  “I looked into him. He looks clean.”

  “Then I’m going to talk to him.”

  “You’re not going to talk to him alone. Why don’t I set up the appointment with him, tell him it’s about community center business. Then it will seem a little more . . . official. He won’t be expecting the questions you want to ask.”

  “Like if he embezzled money from the community center?”

  “Especially if you ask him that. Let me call him and see what we can work out. When will you be free tomorrow?”

  “From four to seven.”

  Caprice had Googled Garza and found his address online. He lived in a very nice neighborhood—the kind of neighborhood where you wouldn’t think people would have to embezzle money. But just like with a marriage, no one knew what happened behind closed financial doors. Tomorrow’s meeting, if they had one, would be interesting at the least, illuminating at best.

  Jeff Garza’s house was probably about five thousand square feet. It was an L-shape, with garages to the left and the main house directly ahead. There was lots of stone, a few gables, and clerestory windows over the garage. It definitely wasn’t a cookie-cutter home. He’d probably had an architect draw up the plans.

  Jeff Garza himself came to the door with a smile that definitely wasn’t genuine. He invited Vince and Caprice inside.

  As he studied Caprice, it became obvious he had not expected Vince to bring anyone with him. “Is this a colleague?”

  Vince shook his head and said honestly, “No, she’s my sister. She has an interest in what we’re going to discuss.”

  “An interest?” Jeff asked with an arched brow.

  He was probably in his late forties, with thick, dark brown hair that was starting to gray, a crooked nose, and a pointed jaw. Still in a dress shirt and suit slacks, he looked fit, and Caprice wondered if he worked out at Shape Up. That’s one of the questions she’d like to ask him. She decided to shake up this businessman a little.

  “The police are looking at my sister and her husband for the murder of Bob Preston.”

  Vince gave her a startled look, but she just shrugged.

  Jeff glanced over his shoulder as if he were checking for . . . his wife? His family?

  “Let’s go to my office,” he said. Then looking over his shoulder again, he quickly shepherded them to the right, down a short hall, and into his home office.

  Caprice had seen lots of home offices, and this was as ordinary as they got. Built-in bookshelves lined one wall, stained in a deep walnut. The L-shaped desk was actually scattered with papers and folders, and it looked as if this was an actual workspace. The artwork on the wall looked like it had been chosen by a decorator, but she could be wrong. Maybe Garza was into the English countryside and foxhunting, but somehow she doubted it.

  Once in his office, he shut the door, and he didn’t invite them to sit on the upholstered love seat or the chairs in front of his desk.

  “I don’t know what Bob Preston’s murder has to do with me.” His voice was haughty, and he gave the impression he was above the idea of murder.

  “Then why did you bring us to your office and shut the door if you know nothing about it?” Caprice asked.

  “I . . . I knew Preston.”

  “How did you know him?” Vince asked.

  “How do you think I knew him?” Garza returned.

  Vince shook his head. “I’m not playing that game. We’re here for a reason. We have information about you and Preston. I’m just trying to ferret out the truth.”

  After a few beats of silence, Garza answered, “He and I were on the board of the community center.”

  “Is that all?” Caprice asked.

  “Yes, that’s all.”

  “Bob didn’t have anything to do with the building fund?” Vince asked. He knew how to tag team with the best.

  “No, why?” Garza asked suspiciously . . . or maybe guiltily.

  “We heard you
’re having financial problems,” Caprice offered.

  Garza’s cheeks flushed and he looked away.

  Caprice wanted to say that she knew he’d pulled his financing from Eliza’s business prospects, but she didn’t gossip about what her clients told her. Mostly she kept the information confidential unless she was permitted to divulge it by the client.

  What she did say was, “A lot of people’s investments have dived. Yours too?”

  Glancing from Vince to Caprice made Garza realize they weren’t going to leave without a few answers. Maybe he realized they had more information than he thought they did.

  “Yeah, I took a hit, but things will come back. Historically they always do.”

  “But historically it could take a while, right?” Vince asked, though he already knew the answer.

  “I suppose,” Garza said, crossing his arms over his chest, a totally defensive body-language gesture.

  Finally, as if tired of the whole cat-and-mouse, question-and-answer game, Vince said, “Look. I have information that you skimmed money from the building fund. I also have information that you and Bob Preston got into it about that building fund and about that skimmed money. He confronted you, and maybe you got so angry that you picked up a tool and . . .”

  “Wait a minute! I don’t know where you got your information, but that’s slander.”

  “I’m going to give this information to the police. I’m going to tell them what I know. Do you think slander will enter into it then?”

  The right detective digging in the right place could discover information that Garza wanted to keep private. The right detective could see him as a viable suspect.

  The haughtiness left his expression, and he sank against the corner of the desk, sitting on it heavily. “Preston was supposed to keep this quiet. He promised he would.”

  “Promises don’t mean a lot to some people,” Vince offered.

  Garza snorted. “Ain’t that the truth. Look, I don’t know where you got your information, but I didn’t kill Preston. After he and I talked, I swore I’d pay the money back, and I am doing that. I can’t do it all at once. I sold one of my cars, a restored roadster. It was more like a toy than a vehicle to drive. Instead of funding my retirement, I’m siphoning that money back into the building fund when I can. I didn’t kill Preston. You know, he wasn’t a saint. He cheated on every woman he’s ever dated. What about them? What about the husbands of the married ones?”