Deadly Décor (A Caprice De Luca Mystery) by Karen Rose Smith Page A

left the woman at the computer again, suspecting Jackie would be running that video again and again and again.
    In love . . . or with regrets?
     
     
    The following morning after breakfast, Shasta wanted to sit at Caprice’s feet and be petted more than she wanted anything else. Better than anyone, Caprice knew she not only needed food and water, she needed attention. For however long she’d been on her own out in the big world, she hadn’t received it.
    Finding photos she’d taken of Shasta on her computer, she chose a few she liked and wanted to add to a page on her Web site. She sent them to her Web mistress, along with copy. Afterward, she thought about everything she’d learned about Bob and possible suspects. She really should talk to Grant or Vince about what she’d discovered. The thing was, Shasta seemed particularly needy today. Pregnancy hormones?
    Picking up the phone on her desk, she called Grant’s and Vince’s receptionist/secretary/Girl Friday while she played with Shasta’s ears and petted her. She and Giselle were more than acquaintances and less than friends, but they had a good relationship. She asked if either Grant or Vince were free.
    Giselle said easily, “Grant is free for the next hour.”
    “So if I just show up, he’ll let me in?”
    “I’ll make sure he does. Lawyers need breaks, too.”
    “This is business,” Caprice assured Giselle.
    “Even if it wasn’t, I’d let you in.”
    Caprice envisioned Giselle, with her spiked gray hair and stylish glasses, winking at her. After Caprice ended the call, Shasta whined at her feet. The dog was well behaved. Caprice considered something she might not usually consider. Just maybe Giselle would let the two of them in.
    Fifteen minutes later, with Shasta following happily on her leash, she climbed the steps to the first floor of an old house turned into professional offices. Vince rented the first floor for his law practice. A staircase in the foyer led to the second floor. She bypassed that and opened the door into Vince’s space.
    Giselle sat at her desk and waved to Caprice. She’d spiked her hair with enough gel to make it stand up straight. Today she wore rectangular blue eyeglasses and had lined her eyes with the same blue. Even though she was fifty-four, she was fashion-conscious.
    Whenever Caprice walked into Vince and Grant’s reception area, she had to shake her head at the decor. Vince believed in being practical. A wool rug covered the floor, and he’d ordered nondescript chairs from an office supply store. A chrome lamp sat on an objectionable laminated table. Caprice knew she could make this area in this old house look elegant and welcoming. But Vince wanted no part of her ideas.
    Giselle suddenly spotted Shasta. Her eyes widened, and she said, “What a cutie. Is it friendly?”
    “She’s everybody’s best friend.” And to prove it, Shasta went over to Giselle for a head rub.
    The office manager laughed, then murmured, “This ought to be interesting. But . . . nothing ventured, nothing gained!”
    Proverbs were part of Giselle’s personal philosophy, and she often quoted them. “Did you tell Grant I was stopping by?”
    “I didn’t get a chance. He’s been on the phone. But I’ll buzz him now.”
    Hardly two seconds after she’d pushed the button, Grant opened his office door, stepped into the reception area, and spotted Caprice. Then he saw Shasta.
    He didn’t even blink. Dressed in a navy suit, with his steel-gray tie straight, he was nothing if not unflappable . . . at least usually. By now, Vince would have been exclaiming that a dog didn’t belong in his office. But Grant just motioned her into his.
    Unlike Vince’s office, Grant’s had character. It hadn’t been professionally decorated either, but he obviously had good taste. Positioned facing his desk were two wine-toned leather club chairs with brass fittings. A painting of the Grand Canyon was centered on one wall, accompanied by two sand-art