Deadly Décor (A Caprice De Luca Mystery)

When Caprice ran outside, she stopped short at what she saw. Green paint spilled across the asphalt from an overturned can. In the midst of that paint, a man lay, his head bashed in and bloodied.

Caprice’s sister, Bella, knelt beside him, crying, saying over and over, “He doesn’t have a pulse. I can’t find a pulse.” She was struggling with the body, trying to turn it over, apparently intending to attempt CPR.

As soon as Bella pushed the man to his back, Caprice recognized him. Bob Preston lay there in the puddle of green paint, and he looked . . . dead.

STAGED TO DEATH

DEADLY DECOR

Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

“It’s a crime to cover that up!”

Caprice De Luca watched Eliza, with her symmetrically styled, sleek, ash-blond hair, anchor her hands on her slim hips and pout.

As a home-stager, Caprice often fought battles with her clients about de-cluttering their homes to present them in the best form to the buying public. In this case, however, de-cluttering wasn’t the issue . . . color was. Eliza Cornwall had decorated her mansion in countless shades of purple. The deep purples especially had made Caprice’s eyes roll more than once.

Before she could respond with just the right amount of tact, Bob Preston ordered, “Stop complaining, Eliza.”

The painter was balanced on an eight-foot ladder, but that didn’t stop his flow of words. “Caprice told me Baroque Bedazzle is your theme. Everything will show up better with this cream and pale green as its backdrop.”

“It really will, Eliza,” Caprice reassured her client. “You know we’ve discussed this color scheme backward and forward.” Caprice thought about the hours she’d invested in this particular home-staging process.

“And upside down too, I imagine,” Bob wisecracked, with a wink for Caprice.

Caprice often used Bob and his painting crews. Bob himself wasn’t averse to personally picking up a paintbrush and working hard when he was short-handed. He had light brown hair and myriad muscles, and was six feet tall. He could also charm the paint off the wall. Caprice knew about his lady-killer tendencies because her sister, Bella, had dated him seriously years ago. Today he wore a red, chest-hugging T-shirt and jeans that weren’t any too loose.

The way Eliza was looking at him . . . the way Bob spoke to her with familiarity . . . Caprice suddenly wondered if Eliza and Bob had hooked up. Eliza was in her late thirties, so she might be six to eight years older than Bob, but in this day and age, that difference didn’t much matter.

“What if the house doesn’t sell?” Eliza asked, with panic in her voice. “What if I have to stay in Kismet instead of moving to L.A.?”

“I can’t imagine Christmas in L.A.,” Bob remarked laconically, as he expertly wielded the paint roller toward the ceiling. “Are you sure you want to trade Pennsylvania’s seasons for sunny weather all year, not to mention mudslides, earthquakes, and wildfires?”

When Caprice saw the corners of Bob’s mouth twitch up, she knew he was teasing. Another reason to believe he and Eliza could have once been involved . . . or were maybe involved
now
.

“I won’t miss the ice and snow, or Kismet’s small-town gossip mill. Not one little bit,” Eliza muttered.

Caprice thought about Eliza’s comment. Kismet, located outside of York, and a bit farther from Harrisburg, did have a grapevine that tangled through its neighborhoods with more accuracy than most residents gave it credit for. But the town also had community spirit. Neighbors helped neighbors. Eliza had moved here about five years ago and started Connect Xpress, a video and online dating service. If the worth of this mansion was an accurate indicator, she was a multimillionaire.

Caprice had dealt with quite a few of those in her high-end staging business. Before she signed on with a client, they decided on a unique theme that would help the house stand out and sell more quickly than others in the same price range.

Bob, who had been born and bred in Kismet, must have agreed with Caprice’s assessment of the town rather than Eliza’s because again he quickly said, “Give it a rest, Lize. Kismet’s been good to you.”

Lize? Caprice had never heard the entrepreneur called by that nickname . . . or any other.

Eliza moved closer to Bob, ready to give as good as she got, when a reverberating
gong
traveled through the house. In the empty living room, the hollow sound echoed off the walls.

“No housekeeper,” Eliza said, as if reminding herself. “I gave her the week off because of all the rearranging and painting.” She started toward the front of the mansion.

Bob peered down at Caprice and lowered his voice. “She must be low on estrogen today.”

Bob’s attitude was friendly and conspiratorial, but Caprice wouldn’t be drawn into a discussion of her client. Uncomfortable with Bob’s comment, thinking about the best way to be diplomatic, Caprice brushed her straight, long, dark-brown hair over her shoulder. The seventies hairdo with bangs was a nod to the retro fashion sense she appreciated the most.

As Bob eyed her fifties-style summer dress and white sandals, he considered her silence and shook his head. “You women know how to stick together. But that’s a good thing, I guess.” He grinned as he stretched to reach an unpainted area close to the ceiling.

Changing the topic of conversation, he asked, “Taken in any strays lately? That article the reporter did on you a few months back was pretty good. Of course the tie-up of the murder you solved at the end of May was even better. You sure do know how to get press for your business.”

“What an awful thing to say!” Caprice erupted, tired of trying to be diplomatic. “I take in strays because they need a home, not to get publicity for my business. And as far as the murder, Roz was a good friend and I had to help her.”

“Whoa,” Bob said, holding up his roller to stop her. “I was just yanking your chain. Maybe Eliza’s mood is rubbing off on you. Or maybe we’re behind schedule and you’re freaking out.”

Yes, they were behind schedule, but she was
not
freaking out.

He went on, “Think about that doctor you’re dating for a better state of mind. I spotted the two of you at the Koffee Klatch the other morning. You didn’t need caffeine to get revved up over each other. That was obvious.”

Caprice felt a flush creeping into her cheeks. She’d been “dating” Seth Randolph for almost two months, but they hadn’t enjoyed many full-fledged dates. With his schedule at Kismet’s urgent care center, a morning coffee or an evening ice cream was about all they’d managed after their initial miniature golfing date. She’d fallen for Seth quickly, and most of the time, the depth of their attraction and their rapport scared her. Especially considering her track record with relationships.

Bob laughed. “When a girl blushes about a guy, she’s hooked.”

Caprice was about to tell Bob he was out of line today in several respects, but the voices approaching the living room kept her from doing so. Eliza’s voice was the loudest, but she thought she recognized the other one—

Eliza and Caprice’s sister, Bella, entered the living room, chattering. Caprice didn’t think they were acquainted. After all, Eliza Cornwall and Bella Santini didn’t move in the same circles.

Bella was saying, “I’ve heard about your match-making service and your move to L.A. I’ve always wondered how matchmakers pair people up.”

Caprice took a deep breath. Was Bella wondering about matchmaking because her marriage was in trouble?

“I have a sophisticated computer program that does the initial pair-ups,” Eliza explained. “But I also use my instincts with the video footage we shoot during the first inter view.”

“They must be great instincts if you’re going to open a Connect Xpress in L.A. too. How exciting that must be. And moving to California . . . I’ve always wanted to take a vacation there.”

“You should,” Eliza encouraged her.

“With children and a budget, that’s not in the cards right now.” Bella’s hand went to her stomach, and Caprice knew her sister was thinking about the child she carried. She wasn’t showing yet at three and a half months. But she was looking tired and a bit frazzled. In jeans and a wrinkled blouse and with her black curly hair tied back, Bella wasn’t her usual well-put-together self.

“Hey, Bella,” Bob called from his ladder. He laid his roller on the tray, then quickly hopped down. “Long time, no see. You’re even prettier than you were in high school. How have you been?”

Eliza glanced from Bob to Bella, looking perplexed and maybe a bit . . . annoyed? Caprice was perplexed herself. Why was Bella here? And why was she blushing as if she was back in high school and she and Bob were dating again?

Although Bella and Bob had split up because he’d been unfaithful, any animosity had been laid to rest years ago. The reason was simple—Bella had found Joe Santini, and they’d made a life. When Bella bumped into Bob at Grocery Fresh or at the mall, ignoring him had seemed foolish.

Bella gave Bob a first-class smile. “Busy with two kids.”

He gave her another once-over. “You and I will have to talk. Maybe we can have coffee sometime. What do you think?”

She only hesitated a few seconds. “I’d like that . . . a lot.”

Bob’s smile was rakish as he asked, “Did you come to get decorating tips from your sister?”

“No, just a sister-to-sister consultation. Can you give me a few minutes, Caprice? I just need to talk to you. When I phoned Mom, she said you’d be here this afternoon.”

Although Bella had gained color in her cheeks when Bob had complimented her, she’d looked pale when she’d walked in, and there were smudgy blue circles under her eyes.

Not sleeping? Caprice knew there was lots of tension between her sister and her husband, Joe, because of her pregnancy.

Eliza picked up the clipboard she’d left on one of the tarp-covered tables. “I have to go upstairs and work on the list for the auction people. Caprice is ruthless when she de-clutters, but I probably can’t use any of it when I move to the West Coast anyway.” With a fluttering wave, she headed for the foyer and the stairs.

Crossing to his ladder, Bob said to Bella, “I’ll give you a call soon, and we’ll go for that coffee.”

Bella showing up like this was odd, and Caprice really was worried. She said to Bob, “Excuse us,” took Bella’s arm, and pulled her out of the painter’s earshot.

She and Bella didn’t always have the most harmonious relationship. Bella thought Caprice’s penchant for taking in strays was foolish and that her fashion sense was a horror. Caprice, who liked surprises and knew how to roll with the punches, believed Bella was too rigid.

“Has something happened to Mom or Dad, or Joe or the kids?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then what’s wrong? You look . . .” Caprice didn’t quite have the word for it. Ruffled? Unnerved? Anxious? She settled for, “You look upset. And what was that little flirty thing with Bob? What are you doing?”

“I’m just going to have coffee with an old friend. That’s not a crime.”

No, it wasn’t. Still, Bob was an old flame, and she could imagine where a cup of coffee could lead when there were problems between Bella and her husband.

After a moment of silence, Bella sighed. “I need to talk to you about Joe. I don’t know what to do.”

“Where are the kids?” On a Thursday afternoon, Timmy should be at summer camp. But at four, Megan . . .

“Megan’s with my neighbor. Nellie’s really good with her, and in an emergency, she’ll watch either or both of them for me.”

“So this is an emergency?”

“It feels like it. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I’m so tired all the time.”

“Did you say you talked to Mom?”

“Not about any of this. My marriage is too hard to discuss with her. With her and Dad married thirty-seven years and perfectly happy, I don’t think she’d understand.”

“Not perfectly happy. No marriage is perfectly happy. You know they argue now and then.”

“Nothing like this,” Bella concluded dejectedly.

Maybe not, Caprice thought. Their mom was a high school teacher, their dad a mason. Money had been tight with four kids and a house that needed constant repair. But most of the time Fran and Nick De Luca had agreed about their kids and, even more important, about family issues.

“So what’s going on with Joe now?” He and Bella had had a huge blowup at their mom’s surprise birthday party six weeks ago. That was the day he’d found out Bella was pregnant. That day he’d also discovered his wife had told her sisters about it before she’d told
him
.

“He’s hardly talking to me. He spends time fooling around with the car, puttering in the garage. He’s also been away a lot at night. He comes home smelling like smoke. When I ask him about it, he says he’s been out with the guys. I don’t know what that means.”

“Have you talked more about your pregnancy?”

“I talk, but he doesn’t listen. I can tell. He just keeps saying we can’t afford another kid. I just keep saying each child is a precious gift. He knows that. I can see it in his eyes when he looks at Megan and Timmy or plays with them. With our Catholic background, he knows there’s no way I’d ever consider having an . . .” She stopped abruptly.

Bella couldn’t even bring herself to say the word.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Bee.” In serious discussions, Caprice always fell back on her childhood nickname for Bella, who was the youngest. Her sister’s name, Isabella, had been quickly shortened to Bella by everybody. But when they were little, Caprice’s nickname for her seemed to give them an added closeness.

With Bella looking miserable, Caprice could only try to imagine how she felt. She and Joe had been married more than eight years, and for the most part, they’d been happy. At least Caprice and her family had thought that was true. Now it seemed as if her sister’s marriage was falling apart.

“Is there anyone Joe might listen to? What if you sat down with Mom and Dad to discuss all of it?”

“That won’t work. Joe would be defensive from the start. It’s not just the fact I’m pregnant. He thinks I got pregnant on purpose. I mean, we got married because I was pregnant, and that was both our faults. We should have known better. He’s always said we were going to get married anyway. But maybe since our wedding, there’s always been a small part of me that doubted how he felt. And now . . . I don’t know if he believes the antibiotic I was taking counteracted the birth control. I really think he believes I did this on purpose.”

“He knew you were taking an antibiotic, didn’t he? Did you talk about the consequences of having sex while you were on it?”

Bella blushed. “One night the kids were both at sleepovers and it just happened. I guess neither of us thought I’d be in the small percentage of women who would get pregnant.” She paused and collected herself. “So . . . we’re not talking. He doesn’t want to find solutions. He just wants to be mad. Most of all, I think he’s angriest because you and Nikki knew I was pregnant before he did.”