by Cochran, Peg
Mertz stood bouncing from one foot to the other. “Oh, all right. I don’t suppose it will hurt.” He sat down on the edge of the chair. “But don’t let me keep you from anything.”
“I won’t.”
Mertz turned his back to the room and trained his gaze on the front yard. Gigi headed toward the kitchen to start the dishwasher. She left the light over the stove burning in case Pia returned home in the middle of the night. She really was beginning to worry about her sister working as hard as she was in that uncomfortable studio. Although other artists she’d known had talked about being in “the zone” and losing track of everything while they worked, from the time to their own physical comfort.
Gigi grabbed her book from her nightstand and went out to the living room to curl up on the sofa.
“Anything yet?” she asked, although she already knew the answer.
Mertz shook his head without turning around or taking his eyes off Gigi’s front yard.
Gigi started to read and soon found her eyes drooping. “I’m going to go to bed, although I feel terrible leaving you here all alone like this. Can I make you some coffee or something?”
Mertz turned around briefly and smiled. “No, thanks. I’m fine. Dinner was delicious, by the way.”
“I’m glad you’ve had something to eat.” Gigi bent to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned his head so that their lips met.
Gigi got in bed still feeling vaguely guilty that she was leaving Mertz to watch alone. But he must be used to it, she reasoned with herself, as slumber overcame her. It was the policeman’s lot.
Chapter 22
When Gigi woke up the next morning, she momentarily forgot about the events of the night before. She had pulled on her robe and was starting toward the kitchen to brew some coffee when everything came back to her. She turned on her heel and headed toward the living room.
Mertz was gone, but the hideous reindeer sculpture wasn’t. There was a note on the chair Mertz had vacated. It said he was leaving to catch a few winks before going to the office, and another officer would be stationed outside during the day.
Gigi peered through the window. Crouched behind the near bushes was a uniformed patrolman. She wondered if she ought to take him some coffee. He was wearing a heavy jacket, a hat with ear flaps and warm gloves, but she could see the tip of his nose was red, and he was clapping his hands together to keep them warm. As soon as she was dressed, she’d bring him a thermos.
Gigi took a quick shower and dressed warmly in her usual jeans and a sweater. She was delivering her clients’ breakfasts, and then she was headed to Sienna’s, along with Alice, to plan baby Camille’s christening.
Gigi packed her containers and loaded them into the car. She could see Reg’s nose pressed to the glass alongside the front door, but she didn’t want to take him this time. The temperatures had dropped overnight, and he would be safer at home.
As she gave the thermos of hot coffee to the fellow standing guard over the ridiculous reindeer lawn ornament, she wondered what Pia would think if she came back and found the policeman crouching in the bushes.
The patrolman’s eyes lit up when he saw the coffee. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“How long will you be out here? Not long, I hope.”
“No, ma’am. Someone is coming to relieve me shortly. We’re taking short shifts on account of the cold.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen anyone approaching?”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am. Not yet.”
Gigi said good-bye, got in the MINI and backed down the driveway. She now had a whole new perspective on the reindeer—from this side it looked even worse. She shuddered and sent up a silent prayer. Please someone steal it, please!
Gigi hoped to make her deliveries quickly. Penelope had Hughie in her arms when she answered the door and Gigi could hear Saturday morning cartoons blaring in the background, along with the sounds of Ava and Mason squabbling. Penelope grabbed her container and hurried to the family room to referee her two older children.
Madeline answered her door still in her pajamas and robe. Gigi thought she heard Hunter’s voice coming from somewhere in the town house and hastened to leave. When Gigi got to Barbara’s, her car was in the driveway, but once again, it was a maid who answered the door. Gigi handed over Barbara’s breakfast and was back out on the road in minutes.
The rest of her deliveries finished, Gigi headed toward Sienna’s house. The roads were slightly slippery from the previous day’s snow, but Gigi pulled safely into Sienna’s driveway five minutes later. Alice’s Taurus was already parked in front of the garage, and Gigi parked behind it.
Sienna threw open the door before Gigi had even climbed the front steps.
“So good to see you.” She gave Gigi a hug. “Come on in and get warm.”
Sienna took Gigi’s coat and hung it in the closet. Gigi could hear Camille cooing from the kitchen, and Alice answering in surprisingly accurate-sounding baby talk.
Sienna had the table in the kitchen covered with a pale pink linen cloth and set with her best china plates and cups and saucers. A very impressive frosted tea cake stood on a stand, with a stack of elegantly folded linen napkins next to it.
“Everything looks so pretty,” Gigi exclaimed.
“Doesn’t it?” Alice said. She had Camille on her knee and was bouncing her up and down.
“Thank you!” Sienna’s face blushed with pleasure. “I only hope it tastes as good as it looks. But this is a momentous occasion, and I thought I ought to do it up right.”
“Well, you certainly have.”
Gigi stared at the cake and the beautiful tea things set out on the table. Some wisp of a thought floated across her mind—something to do with the murders. But what on earth could a tea cake and pretty dishes have to do with murder? She tried harder to reel the thought in, but the harder she tried, the more elusive it became.
“Earth to Gigi,” she heard Sienna say.
Gigi startled. “Oh, sorry. The cake reminded me of something, but now I can’t think of what it was.”
“Not something to do with the murders, I hope.” Alice clutched Camille to her more tightly, as if protecting her from the very word.
“Yes.” Gigi shook her head. “But unfortunately it’s gone now.”
“I find if you don’t think about it at all, it will eventually come to you,” Sienna said as she hastened to retrieve the kettle, which had begun to whistle fiercely, from the stove.
“You’re probably right.”
Gigi tried to pay attention to the conversation that flowed around her, but the kernel of an idea that had flashed across her mind as quickly as a meteor continued to plague her.
“So we’re doing iced pink cupcakes, pink lemonade, Earl Grey tea and cheese straws for something savory,” Sienna concluded.
“What?” Gigi said.
“Haven’t you heard a thing I’ve said? And you haven’t touched your cake.” Sienna pointed at Gigi’s plate. Camille was in her lap, and Sienna was feeding her a bottle.
“Sorry.” Gigi ran a hand through her hair, leaving her auburn curls in even greater disarray. “I’m just a bit distracted, I’m afraid.”
“The murders,” Alice said knowingly.
Gigi nodded. “Mertz still thinks the obvious suspect is Declan. He had a huge argument with Bradley the night Bradley was killed, and both of them were apparently having an affair with Tiffany Morse. More than enough reason in his book for Declan to want Bradley dead.”
“It would be a terrible shame if that gorgeous man was guilty,” Alice said, forking up the last bite of her cake.
“The worst of it is that my sister still has delusions about having a relationship with Declan. I don’t want to see her hurt.”
“If not Declan, then who?” Sienna cradled Camille against her chest, gently rubbing her back and urging her to burp.
“I was convinced that Tiffany was the culprit, but now that she’s gone . . .” Alice licked some crumbs off her
fingers and eyed the tea cake longingly.
Once again, the ghost of an idea teased Gigi, but once again, she was unable to grasp it before it slipped through her fingers.
“I’ve got to be going.” Alice pushed her plate away and stood up, brushing some crumbs from her lap. “I have a bunch of errands to run this morning.” She gave Sienna a squeeze. “This was lovely.”
“My car is behind yours, so I’d better get going, too.” Gigi stroked the top of Camille’s downy head. “And it looks like it’s time for Camille’s nap.” The baby’s head was tucked into the crook of Sienna’s shoulder, and a thin thread of drool dribbled from the corner of her mouth.
“No need to see us out,” Alice said as she settled her purse on her arm. “You go put the baby down.”
Gigi followed Alice to the foyer, where they retrieved their coats from the closet.
“I do hope you catch hold of whatever that idea was you had.” Alice slipped into her coat and wound a multicolored, hand-knit scarf around her neck. “I know how those things can drive you crazy.” She patted Gigi on the arm. “Just relax, and it will come to you.”
Gigi drove away from Sienna’s trying hard not to think about whatever it was she was trying to remember. Of course that was like telling herself not to think about pink elephants. She was trying so hard, she almost missed the turn into her own driveway.
She didn’t want to look at the yard and possibly see that the reindeer was still there, but it was impossible to avoid it. The reindeer continued to be on full display, and a different policeman was shivering in the bushes. Gigi promised him some warm coffee and went inside the house.
Reg skidded down the hall, trying to pretend that he’d been at the alert and ready, but Gigi could tell by the way the hair on one side of his head was matted down, that he’d most likely been fast asleep on either the sofa or the bed.
She crouched down, and he licked her face profusely, knocking her over at one point and sending her into a fit of giggles.
“Okay, that’s enough, boy, I’ve got lunch and dinner to get ready.”
Reg followed Gigi down the hall to the kitchen. On the way, she peeked into the guest room, where a lump on the bed suggested that Pia had come home and gone to sleep. Had she noticed the policeman guarding Gigi’s newest acquisition—a gift-toting, Santa hat–wearing reindeer?
Before leaving that morning, Gigi had put the fixings for Tuscan bean soup in the slow cooker. Judging by the aroma drifting from the pot, it was almost done. Gigi had the fillings for low-fat chicken potpies already made and defrosting in the refrigerator. All she had to do was fill individual ovenproof dishes, top them with a small round of pastry each and include instructions for baking.
Gigi lifted the lid on the slow cooker and tasted a spoonful of the soup. It was perfect. She packaged a handful of croutons in with each container and added an individual potpie to each Gourmet De-Lite box.
She was wiping down the counter when she noticed a teacup in the sink. Pia must have made herself some tea before going to bed. That reminded her of the lovely feast at Sienna’s and once again, that elusive thought began to tease the edges of her mind.
She finished cleaning up and was getting her coat from the closet when the doorbell rang.
Gigi pulled open the front door to find Mertz standing on her steps looking rather sheepish. He pointed to the lawn ornament. “My plan hasn’t exactly been a resounding success, has it?”
Gigi opened the door wider, and Mertz stood on the rug in the foyer stamping the snow from his shoes.
“Perhaps you need to give it time.”
“Well, the chief’s given me another day, and that’s it.” He looked totally crestfallen. “I’d better go out and find a pair of good walking shoes, because I’m probably just a hair away from having to look for a job as a security guard.”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
Mertz pulled a face. “It’s the combination of the murders and the thefts that has everyone up in arms.”
The word murder brought Gigi up short. The thought that had been eluding her all morning suddenly swam into focus.
“It couldn’t have been Declan,” she burst out, grabbing Mertz’s arm. “It had to have been a woman.”
Mertz looked confused. “What do you mean? What’s this about a woman?”
Gigi was thinking furiously. “It wasn’t a man who killed Tiffany Morse. It was a woman.”
A bemused look settled over Mertz’s face. “And how did you come to that conclusion?”
“The tea set. Tiffany had arranged everything beautifully—her best china, linen napkins, fancy cakes. She wouldn’t have done that for a man. She had to have been expecting a woman.”
“Maybe her guest was a woman. And the murderer showed up afterward. Before Tiffany had the chance to clean up.”
Gigi shook her head. She was trying to picture the scene. “No, there were two pieces of cake on the plates. They hadn’t been eaten. She was expecting a woman, and it was a woman who murdered her.”
She could tell by the look on Mertz’s face that he was considering her idea.
“But who?” He finally asked after several minutes.
“I don’t know.” Gigi bit her lip, thinking furiously. “Maybe Cheryl, Bradley’s sister-in-law. Or possibly Janice Novak.”
Mertz looked blank so Gigi explained about Janice being fired from Simpson and West.
Mertz sighed. “There’s no evidence pointing to either of them.” He glanced at his watch. “I guess I’d better get digging if I’m going to save my job.” He gestured toward the window. “We’ll have someone outside for another twenty-four hours, then we’ll move that monstrosity from your lawn.” He laughed. “It really is hideous, isn’t it? And Bob made a big deal about getting it back.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine why.” He pulled on his gloves. “I’d better be going. I just wanted to check on the situation and let you know what’s going on.” He kissed Gigi on the cheek, and she could feel the coldness of his skin against hers.
“I have to be going, too. I have my lunch and dinner deliveries to make.”
Gigi stood by the door and watched as Mertz headed down the driveway; then she retreated to the kitchen to collect her Gourmet De-Lite meals.
“Come on, Reg, you’re going, too.” Gigi pulled on her coat and gloves.
Reg scrabbled to his feet and began to run between Gigi and the back door.
She peered over her stack of containers. “You’re going to trip me, bud.”
But she made it without incident and carefully stacked the containers in the backseat as Reg made himself comfortable up front. He had his paws on the dashboard and was looking out the window eagerly.
Gigi backed out slowly, and when she came abreast of the reindeer, Reg began to bark furiously.
“Shhh, it’s all right, boy.” Gigi reassured him. “It’s fake.”
He gave a brisk shake and settled down as the reindeer slowly retreated from view.
Gigi headed toward High Street. She passed the site of the upcoming gourmet store and nearly slammed on her brakes in shock. A large For Rent sign was propped in the window. So the new shop wasn’t coming to town after all. She thought about the enormous mural Pia had been working on night and day. Would they still be buying it? Gigi worried her lower lip with her teeth. She knew Pia was counting on that sale. It was meant to fund her cross-country trip. Her sister was going to be horribly disappointed.
Gigi drove on with a knot that had suddenly formed in the pit of her stomach. She was sitting at the light at High Street and Elmwood when she remembered the traffic camera that had been installed. She glanced up at the post and saw what she thought must be it. Once again, she wondered why Tiffany had hidden that file under her rug.
The light changed and Gigi continued on to Penelope Lawson’s house. Penelope’s husband answered the door.
Gigi handed over the container.
“Thanks. Penny’s having a soak in the tub. It’s bee
n a rough morning so far.” He gestured toward the foyer where toys were scattered all over.
Gigi said good-bye and continued on with her deliveries. Barbara Simpson was her next stop. She pulled into the circular drive in front of the Simpsons’ impressive house. Barbara’s dark blue Mercedes was parked in the driveway, as it had been on Gigi’s previous visits. This time, however, it was facing away from her.
Gigi was about to get out of the car when the license plate on Barbara’s car caught her eye. It was a vanity plate with the letters SNKMS on it. When Gigi first bought the MINI she’d toyed with the idea of a vanity plate herself but had ultimately decided it wasn’t worth the extra money. Besides, she couldn’t settle on just what it would say. She looked at the letters on Barbara’s again and wondered what it meant. Not her initials obviously. Gigi sounded the letters out in her head. Snookums. The pet name Barbara had said Bradley had given her.
The car in the photograph in Tiffany’s hidden file had been a dark blue Mercedes. And Gigi was pretty certain the license plate was the same.
Suddenly, everything fell into place like the tumblers in a combination lock. She dug in her purse, found her cell and pulled it out. Her hands shook slightly as she punched in the numbers.
The phone began to ring. Come on, please pick up.
Madeline answered on the fourth ring.
“Madeline! Do you remember the photographs we found in the file under Tiffany’s carpet?”
“Of course.”
“The one of the blue Mercedes with the vanity plate?”
“Yes.”
Gigi crossed her fingers. “The date and time were stamped on the photo. Did you happen to notice what they were?”
“No, frankly I didn’t look at them.”
“Is there any way you could find out?”
“Well . . .” Madeline drew the word out hesitantly. “I happen to be at the office at the moment. There are a few things I’d planned to work on over the weekend, and of course, I left the files here. I suppose I could go back down to Tiffany’s office and check.”
“Can you do it now and call me right back?” Gigi glanced toward the closed door of Barbara’s house. How long before someone noticed her parked there?