Drape Expectations (23 page)

A shiver ran down Caprice's back. Twyla Horton could be the murderer. Or maybe she had a good reason—other than murder—for not wanting anyone to know she'd been in town. That wasn't for Caprice to figure out. She'd let the police handle it. She wanted to just go home and wait until she heard from Detective Carstead. She wanted to be with her animals, lock her doors, and hope that everything would be okay. And soon.

When Caprice entered her driveway, she pressed the remote for the garage door and drove into the garage. Snatching up her purse, she opened the door that led to her small back porch and heard Lady barking.

That was odd. Lady didn't usually bark even when she heard her coming. Not those kinds of barks anyhow. She gave little yips of joy. Maybe the storm had spooked her. Maybe the thunder had stressed her out.

When Caprice unlocked the door and entered the kitchen, Lady pranced all around her, keeping up the barking. Had something happened with one of the cats, making Lady frantic to escape into the rest of the house?

Caprice dropped her purse on the counter, patted Lady, ruffled her ears, and said, “Calm down, girl, it's okay.” When she hurried to the pet gate that led into the dining room and released the catch, Mirabelle and Sophia sat on the dining-room table. They meowed at her.

“Are you two spooked by the storm, too?” she asked.

Mirabelle and Sophia didn't answer, but Twyla Horton did. She stood in the dining room by the hutch, with a gun in her hand.

“The storm didn't seem to bother them, but my gun does. I picked your lock, if you're wondering. You really need a more up-to-date system.”

Caprice's breath stopped for a moment and she warned herself to stay calm.

Twyla said, “I've had training and I'm a good marksman, so don't try anything funny.”

Twyla's voice was a little different than usual—more nasal—and Caprice noticed she was already stuffy from being in the same area with the animals.

“Put your dog in her crate,” Alanna's sister ordered. “I would have done it, but I didn't know if she'd bite me, and I didn't want you to be suspicious when you walked in.”

No way did Caprice want to crate Lady, but Twyla's accent wasn't so sweet now, her words, not as drawn out. Had all that sweet Southern charm been an act?

“I'm going to give her a treat so she goes in more easily,” Caprice told Twyla.

“Fine, just hurry up,” Twyla ordered. “Who did you call and tell about me? When you found that bracelet, I knew you'd figure it out—if not right away, then in a short amount of time. You're a smart girl.”

Straightening her shoulders, Caprice said, “I called Detective Carstead.” Then she realized that might not have been the smartest thing to say.

“Then we're going to make this short. Get that dog in her crate. I wish you could do something with these two.”

If Twyla even thought about hurting Sophia or Mirabelle, she'd find out what a pet lover's rage could do. But rage wouldn't help Caprice right now. She had to keep her sense. She had to figure out what to do next. She had to remember everything she'd learned in her self-defense course.

Sophia meowed again, hopped to the floor, and jumped up onto her cat tree in the living room. But Mirabelle stayed on the dining-room table, her eyes on Twyla.

Since Lady readily obeyed Caprice's orders, she went into her crate. With her hands shaking, Caprice praised her and gave her a treat from the pouch on the counter, but not with the usual enthusiasm.

Caprice didn't know if she was going to die today or not. But she was going to do her best to get out of this mess. She had too much to live for. Not only her family and her pets ... but Grant, too. Thinking about all of them gave her strength . . . and objectivity.

Twyla was too cagey to give her much time when Detective Carstead knew who the murderer was. Still ... Caprice took a stab at stalling. “Why did you kill Alanna? You were
sisters
.”

“Why did I kill her? Because she told me she'd included Archer in her will. All my life, I wanted to depend on Alanna. But she was always too concerned about herself and where
she
was headed. She never even thought about me.”

“Why did you come to Kismet last month?”

“To talk about her wedding. Would you believe she didn't even offer to pay for my airfare? So I drove. I was only supposed to stay two nights. She wanted to show me bridesmaid gowns and talk about designer shoes. She was going to pay for them. I told her I couldn't be in her rock star wedding if she didn't.”

“So, why did you strangle her?”

“Because she was
so
condescending. Because I asked her to get me a good-paying job at Barton's fancy company and she wouldn't. Because that night she told me I didn't have enough drive or ambition to ever be in her league. I just got so angry because I felt so less than she was. Just because I screwed up a few times when I was a kid, she thought she was so much better than me. She went to the sideboard to pick up dress swatches. I picked up the tieback and wrapped it around her pretty neck.”

Twyla worked out at the gym. She had strength in those arms. Caprice could see the muscles now.

“Enough of that,” Twyla said. She pointed her gun directly at Caprice's chest. “Get down on your knees,” she ordered.

Thinking again of her family, a possible future with Grant, Caprice took a very deep breath and told herself she was
not
going to pass out. Then she fell to her knees and saw Twyla take plastic ties from her jeans pocket. Caprice knew those ties were going to secure her hands.

“Raise your hands above your head,” Twyla directed harshly.

As Caprice did that, Twyla sneezed.

Strategies from the refresher self-defense course gelled in Caprice's mind. Instinct took over with them. Using her elbow, she rammed it into the side of Twyla's knee.

Alanna's sister cried out and went down hard. The gun flew, sliding near Lady's crate. Caprice grabbed it, then jumped on to Twyla, sitting on her, holding the gun to the woman's head.

Removing her phone from her pocket, she shakily dialed 9-1-1.

Epilogue

Lady trotted beside Caprice. Patches walked beside Grant. The two of them strolled down the path into the York playground. The swings and sliding board were empty as Caprice stopped with Grant beside a tall sycamore.

“Do you think they'll show up?” Grant asked.

“I think they will,” Caprice assured him.

The past month had been a roller-coaster ride. Caprice had gone from nearly getting killed to dating Grant. They'd attended a carnival, enjoyed a day at Hersheypark, had dinner at a new fifties diner, and spent time together, giving their pups exercise.

“How's Ace doing?” Grant asked.

“Much better now that Len has been apprehended and is being charged with larceny for stealing the guitars and sheet music, as well as assault and battery for attacking Twyla. They couldn't pin slashing my tires on him without proof. Ace is still shaking his head over the fact that Twyla murdered Alanna . . . that Alanna stole his music ... that Len planned to promote it as his. It's mind-boggling for anyone. He trusted Len and Alanna and they both betrayed him. He thought Twyla was a sweet Southern woman. Little did anyone except Detective Carstead know that Twyla had a juvie record. I never would have believed she'd spent a stint in a juvenile detention center for breaking and entering and theft, if Detective Carstead hadn't told you.”

“You thought she was sweet, just as Ace did,” Grant pointed out.

“True.” Caprice glanced toward the swings again, wondering how she'd been so wrong. Twyla had admitted nothing to the police, though.

As if he'd read her thoughts, Grant went on to assure her: “The DA's office has a pile of evidence against Twyla, from the security video at a gas station near York on March thirtieth to the tieback she kept in her closet in Biloxi as a souvenir. And Alanna's gardener said he'd testify that she borrowed his truck the day she followed you. Telling him she'd scraped a fence and giving him cash to have it fixed didn't keep him quiet once he'd learned she'd been charged with her sister's murder. I'm not sure she intended to run you off the road ... at first. She just wanted to know what you were up to. But when she saw the chance to maybe eliminate you . . .”

Those words gave Caprice the shivers. Along with the murder charge, the DA had added reckless endangerment and aggravated assault with a motor vehicle to the list.

Twyla Horton had been arraigned and was awaiting trial, and Caprice was ready to testify, along with Alanna's gardener.

“The motive was
partly
money,” Caprice said, still analyzing everything that had happened. “Twyla was tired of living the way she was in Mississippi. And she wanted Alanna's estate. But mostly, she'd been jealous of Alanna for a long time—since they were kids. Alanna always seemed to get what she wanted. At least that's the way it looked to Twyla. She never knew about her sister's heartache in giving up a child.”

“And speaking of children,” Grant murmured.

Diane Duncan saw them and waved. She'd come in from the other side of the playground, and she was holding her daughter's hand. She looked a bit pale.

After Diane introduced her daughter to Caprice and Grant, Sherry looked up at them. “Can I play with your dogs?”

“Sure,” Grant said. He took a ball from his pocket. “I always carry this because Patches likes to fetch.” He pointed to the grassy area, where kids sometimes played softball. “Why don't you go over there with them, okay?”

Sherry grinned at them and ran toward the grassy area, the dogs scampering beside her.

“I'm nervous,” Diane admitted.

“I understand that,” Caprice said as Archer walked in the same entrance she and Grant had.

The next couple of minutes were awkward as Caprice introduced Archer to Diane. He nodded to the swings. “Why don't we go over there and talk?”

Diane gave him a shaky smile and nodded.

As Diane and Archer sat on the swings to have one of the most important conversations of their lives, Grant wrapped his arm around Caprice. “What do you think they'll decide?”

“If they have Sherry's best interest at heart, I think they'll figure out a way to share her. Archer knows he can't just jump into their lives. But I think Diane will make room for Sherry having a dad.”

As Sherry's laughter rang out, as Diane and Archer leaned toward each other, intent in conversation, Grant's arm tightened around Caprice. “I know you didn't put yourself in harm's way on purpose this time, but I worry about you solving murders.”

“There might never be another murder to solve.”

After giving her a look that told Caprice he'd like to kiss her when they were in a more private place, Grant muttered, “I can only hope.”