Deadly Décor (A Caprice De Luca Mystery) Read online

  On the way home, he’d stayed in the truck with Shasta while Caprice had run into the discount store for an extra supply of paper towels, a collar, a leash, and a few dog toys. For the time being, she’d bought food from Marcus that was good for a pregnant pup. Tomorrow she’d visit Kismet’s pet store, Perky Paws, to purchase a dog bed and other supplies for when Shasta came into the house.

  “Maybe not exactly how I’d envisioned it,” Seth agreed.

  “Would you like a glass of wine? We could sit out on the porch for a while.”

  Even though the garage was cooler than the rest of the house in the summer due to its thick, cement-block walls and shaded windows, she wanted to make sure the cocker felt safe before housing her there for the night.

  “I’ll pass on the wine. Just in case I get a call. But soda would be good. Sitting on the porch with you sounds even better.”

  She liked the fact that Seth could roll with the punches. With his career, he had to be an expert at doing that.

  Once they were settled on the porch, Shasta lay near Caprice’s foot. Next to Seth on a vintage fifties-style robin’s-egg-blue glider, Caprice sipped her soda, then set it on a table beside the glider. Night fell with the swiftness of a thief stealing the summer day.

  As Seth leaned over to kiss her, Caprice couldn’t imagine a nicer way to spend the evening.

  Baroque Bedazzle wasn’t a common theme for a home-staging, but then Caprice’s themes were sometimes very uncommon. She strove for high-end unique, and her clients knew it. That’s why she had succeeded where others hadn’t—why the houses she’d staged sold so quickly. Her open houses brought in home buyers from York, Harrisburg, Lancaster, Gettysburg, and now even as far as New Jersey and New York, Washington, D.C., and Baltimore. Her reputation was gaining steam, and she just wanted to keep a level head about it all.

  At this Sunday open house, she had to keep her mind on what she was doing. It was hard to forget about last Sunday, when she and Seth had settled Shasta in and stolen time together. Yet by the end of the evening, she’d had the feeling Seth was holding back. She didn’t know why. Maybe they’d fallen into their relationship too quickly.

  But she shouldn’t borrow trouble. Maybe he was just putting on the brakes and was cautious, like she was, because past relationships hadn’t worked out . . . because they both wanted something more than an affair. She fervently hoped so. However, she’d had only a hurried phone call from him this week, and she was feeling . . . insecure.

  Eliza, who was dressed in a purple-satin, dressy lounge outfit, sidled up to Caprice as guests began flowing through the double doors. “You’ve gotten their attention,” she said in a low voice that included a bit of surprise that irked Caprice.

  Of course she’d gotten their attention.

  Immediately a new group of possible buyers commented about the pieces of furniture that resembled what French king Louis the Fourteenth might have used to furnish the palace at Versailles. Classical Baroque was impressive . . . over the top . . . dramatic. The style had begun to flourish around 1600 in Italy and then spread to most of Europe. The Versailles palace was one of the best examples.

  A couple stopped and studied a foyer table with a rectangular top that rested on four cabriole legs. A carved flower basket was a centerpiece that connected thematically with the legs, and a gilded Capetian mirror hung above the table. The grouping gave the guests who entered the house a preview of what they were about to experience.

  Most of the pieces of furniture belonged to Eliza. Caprice had just thinned them to make the rooms look posh and elaborate but not overcrowded. The two-drawer chest, the coffee table and side tables, the heavily carved and decorated armoires—all were quality pieces. For Eliza’s penchant for purple, Caprice had substituted rich jewel tones in cranberry, hunter green, sapphire blue, and deep gold. In the bedrooms, tufted headboards and Louis the Fourteenth gold-leafed chairs looked as if they belonged. Caprice’s furniture and color choices presented the house in magnificent splendor. She had made some rooms look bigger, others warmer.

  “Those sconces you added to the upstairs hall this morning fit in perfectly. I’d buy them if I weren’t hoping to move.”

  The hall had been a little dark, and while Caprice had no intention of lighting real candles in the sconce cups, flameless tea candles gave the illusion of flickering light.

  “I know what I’m doing most of the time,” Caprice said with a laugh, but her quip seemed to go over Eliza’s head. “I still can’t believe Bob left us hanging like that last Sunday. A quick call to apologize midweek, saying that he’d had to go out of town and he’d adjust his bill accordingly wasn’t much explanation.”

  Caprice had switched to plan B and phoned Monty Culp, and he’d finished the job for them Monday. Bob’s call after the fact with an apology hadn’t been enlightening at all.

  “Thank goodness your painter could take away Bob’s tarps, pans, and brushes,” Eliza said, wrinkling her nose at the idea of the house hunters seeing them.

  Monty had assured Caprice he could stow it all in his garage. Bob was supposed to pick everything up tomorrow.

  She thought about the fact that Bella was supposed to meet Bob tonight at the community center. Would he show up for that?

  Eliza glanced toward the large dining room, with its humongous table and ornate, high-backed chairs. “Nikki’s food smells wonderful. I’m sure some of our guests came just for that.”

  Soon some of the open house guests would be sitting at that table, imagining themselves in this house as they sampled Nikki’s food. Her sister had built a reputation as carefully as Caprice. But when they’d teamed up, her catering business had garnered considerable notice. The wealthy in the surrounding area often hired her to cater lobster and bison dinners, as well as wedding receptions.

  “I sampled the cassoulet,” Eliza said to Caprice. “It’s mouth-watering. In fact, I think I’m going to snitch some with one of the baguettes and hibernate in my home office. I can close off that room, don’t you think?”

  “You might have someone knock.”

  “If someone who wants to buy peeks in, I won’t care. But maybe I can get some work done.”

  At these open houses, Caprice’s job was to oversee everything that was going on. After a few more words with Eliza, she decided to check on Nikki.

  The kitchen was as elaborately baroque as the rest of the house. Everything about Eliza and her house shouted glamour, which was the exact impression she was going for. Most people would think the kitchen was the last place one could employ baroque design, but metallic glass paint and jewel-toned wallpaper could work wonders. The wallpaper had already been there, as had the ornate lighting fixture. Caprice had changed the hardware on the cabinets to a scrolled metallic design and hung window treatments that picked up the deepest emerald in the wallpaper. Shiny, ruby-red canisters hand-painted with intricate flower designs decorated the counter.

  After consulting with Caprice, Nikki had decided to use sapphire-blue serving china and napkins. They were a dramatic contrast against the white linens spread on the table and sideboard, which held an array of warm buffet dishes, all with delicious aromas wafting from them. Nikki had prepared coq au vin; beef bourguignon; chips de citrouille (fried pumpkin slices), based on a recipe originating in the Perigord region of France; and chou rouge (braised red cabbage) from the Lorraine region. Nikki knew her foods, no doubt about that, as well as how to present them in the most pleasing way.

  In the kitchen, a waiter served everything from baked apple Brie to marinated artichokes to cheese puffed pastry to crudités. Glancing around, Caprice found Nikki in an alcove near the pantry closet. She’d just stowed a few of her serving trays inside.

  “You’ve outdone yourself again. The guests are gobbling down your food as if they can’t get enough.”

  Nikki’s brown brows drew together. “I just hope I don’t run out of anything. This seems to be a bigger crowd than usual.”

  “Denise said she
had tons of inquiries this time.” Denise Langford was the luxury broker who often handled the houses Caprice staged. “Have you seen Denise?”

  “I think she had some questions for Eliza, but I don’t know if she found her.” Nikki closed the pantry door.

  “Eliza was headed for her home office. I’ll tell her Denise wants to see her. Have you heard from Bella in the last couple of days?”

  “No, have you?”

  “No, but there’s a reason I haven’t,” Caprice said.

  “Do I even want to know?” Nikki rolled her eyes.

  “I don’t approve of what she’s planning to do.”

  “Is she thinking about leaving Joe?”

  “I don’t think so. Not quite that serious.”

  “So, spill. Tell me.”

  Nikki didn’t have to wheedle much. Caprice asked, “Remember Bob?”

  “Of course, I remember Bob. He broke Bella’s heart. You hire him for jobs.”

  “Bella met him for coffee, and she’s planning on seeing him again this evening.”

  Nikki gave a low whistle. “Old fires could reignite. Are they having coffee again . . . like in a public place?”

  “I don’t know. She said he had a board meeting at the community center. They’re going to connect there afterward. Then I don’t know what they’ll do.”

  “You’re worried she’ll do something stupid.”

  “She’s upset enough to do something rebellious. That’s just as bad. And the more I think about it . . .”

  “You want to stop her.”

  “I don’t know about stopping her, but I feel I should do something. I think I might just go to the community center after we’re done here and barge in on their rendezvous.”

  “She’s going to hate you for that.”

  Would Bella hate her? Or would she thank her when she could see reason again?

  Her ruminations about the best way to help Bella distracted Caprice as she mingled with prospective buyers, listened to their comments about the decor, and decided if she wanted to change anything for future house showings. Eventually she made her way to Eliza’s office to tell her Denise was looking for her if the agent hadn’t found her yet. This house was big enough to get lost in!

  The door to Eliza’s office was partially open. Caprice rapped softly and stepped inside.

  The room was as ornately adorned as the rest of the house, but maybe a little less so since Caprice had staged it. They’d removed a bookcase and a curio cabinet to make the walking space more expansive. Caprice had arranged for the gold-trimmed white scroll desk to face anyone who came in. She’d also created a sitting area with Louis the Fourteenth chairs, an antique light fixture with jeweled cups, and a few more mauve and deep purple rugs to make the polished floors more hospitable. She’d let Eliza keep the deep-purple velvet drapes because, after all, this was her office, and she probably spent more time here than in the rest of the house.

  Eliza looked up when Caprice rapped on the partially open door and walked in. “Did Denise find you?”

  Caprice could see that Eliza’s attention was elsewhere because she looked down again at the papers on her desk without commenting.

  “Eliza?”

  “I’m sorry. What did you say?” Her client’s inattention was terribly unlike her. She was always sharp and seemed to be on top of everything.

  “Is something wrong?” Caprice asked, stepping farther inside.

  Eliza bit one of her perfectly lined and colored full lips, hesitated, and then sighed. “I don’t know when I’m going to be moving to L.A.”

  The first question that came to Caprice’s lips was—But you do still want to sell the house, don’t you? However, she didn’t ask it because Eliza was worried about something, and Caprice sensed it would be better to find out what that was first.

  “Are you afraid the house won’t sell quickly?”

  “No, not that.” She glanced at the cell phone on her desk as if she might have received a call. “My investment backing for Connect Xpress in L.A. has fizzled, and now I don’t know if I can open the business there.”

  “Were you getting a loan through the bank?”

  “Oh, no. I’m using private funding with a partnership agreement. Jeff Garza was going to invest.”

  Caprice recognized that name. “Doesn’t he own a security systems company?”

  “Exactly. He’s involved in a lot of community organizations, too.”

  “He’s on the board of the community center, isn’t he?”

  “Yes. He’s heading up the fund-raiser to bring more improvements to the center.”

  “My mother served on the board with him.”

  A wry smile crossed Eliza’s face. “And probably didn’t like him very much?”

  Diplomatically, Caprice didn’t answer. Her mom had commented more than once that Jeff Garza was opinionated and arrogant.

  Eliza shook her head. “That’s okay. A lot of people don’t. They say he’s a control freak. But he was a willing investor, and they’re not always easy to find. I want to franchise Connect Xpress someday, and I need a wealthy, connected partner to do that.”

  “So he’s pulled out altogether?”

  “No, not altogether. Apparently he made some bad investments, and he wants me to give him a month to see if they’ll improve. I know it will take at least a month for the house to sell and for me to settle on it. My concern is—what if he pulls out after that month?”

  “You could look for other investors in the meantime.”

  “I could. That’s what I was thinking about when you came in. I’m even considering flying to L.A. with whatever proceeds I make on the house to try to find investors there. It’s a dilemma. But I’ll figure it out.”

  Eliza was a savvy businesswoman, and Caprice knew that she would solve her problem. It didn’t sound as if she was giving up the idea of selling the house.

  Just then there was a rap on the door, and Denise peeked in. “Am I interrupting?”

  “No, especially not if you have good news for us,” Caprice quipped.

  Denise laughed. “No, we didn’t sell the house yet. But we have three very interested prospects. I’ve made appointments with them to come back for a second look later in the week. They all feel the real estate market is at a critical point, and before it takes off again, they want to take advantage of it. The one gentleman didn’t have his wife with him, so, of course, he wants to bring her along to see it.”

  “I’ll coordinate my schedule to make sure I’m not here for the showings,” Eliza assured her.

  While Caprice was interested in the buyers, she knew she could do more good circulating while Eliza and Denise compared their schedules.

  She’d started to move toward the door when Denise stopped her. “I wanted to talk to you too. If the planets line up right, I could have a hugely famous client on my list.”

  “Would I know him or her?” Caprice asked, curious.

  “I can’t say until the party has signed on. But I did want to tell you to take extra care with the Sumpter estate.”

  In Caprice’s mind, the Sumpter estate was everything an estate should be. Two stories and sprawling, it had a pool with a pool house and was surrounded by black wrought-iron security fencing. Colin Sumpter, who had already moved to Italy, had decided on a Wild Kingdom theme for the open house the following weekend.

  The fact that Denise was telling her to take extra care was a bit insulting, but she said lightly, “You know I always take care with every house I stage—big, small, or in-between.”

  Denise looked a bit chagrined. “Yes, I know you do. And I think the Wild Kingdom theme is going to be fantabulous. Still, I just wanted you to know that if I sign this party on, he or she might stop in at the open house. Tell Nikki, too, so she’s prepared.”

  Like Caprice, Nikki always tried to be prepared, but Caprice didn’t mention that. Instead, she was intrigued by the prospect of someone famous dropping in. A corporate mogul? A politician? A fashion desi
gner? And if any of the above, why would they come to Kismet?

  Caprice was still pondering that question when she pulled into the community center’s parking lot a few hours later. She’d stopped at home to check on Shasta and let her romp in the backyard while she’d changed into a Beatles T-shirt, red denim pedal pushers, and flip-flops. Sophia had meowed several times when she’d opened the bedroom door. The feline was totally put out with her because she’d had to spend another few hours in the bedroom while Shasta had the run of the downstairs.

  After giving Shasta and Sophia food, water, and a little attention, Caprice had decided to leave them in the house together. After all, she wasn’t going to be gone that long, and they did have to learn how to get along. When she was at home with them, they each found their own space and didn’t bother each other. Hopefully they’d do the same while she was gone.

  The community center was located just outside the downtown area, within walking distance of the stores, restaurants, and professional buildings. It was also near two complexes of low-income apartments, each consisting of about fifty units.

  The building that housed the community center had once been a warehouse, but it had been renovated twenty years ago. It needed renovations again. Fund-raising, apparently led by Jeff Garza, was going on to make that happen. A chain-link fence surrounded the outside basketball court. Inside were a game room, an arts and crafts room, a couple of offices, and a meeting room. Her mother had said something about the storage area and the rooms beyond the game room still being in a state of flux. That area was near the back door and didn’t concern Caprice as she entered the game room and spotted the partially completed mural on the wall.

  The room had recently been given a fresh coat of beige paint. There were finished murals on two walls. One that depicted teenagers standing in a group talking caught her attention. It was detailed and artistically done. A third mural was sketched on the wall on the far side of the room. She supposed each wall would have a mural of its own. The work there was good, and she caught sight of a couple of the kids studying it with interest. Two other boys were duking it out at the pool table, and teens at card tables played cards or used electronic devices. This was a place for kids to come so they weren’t lonely. Here they could escape their family life . . . or the lack thereof.