by Peg Cochran
“That’s Tiffany Morse,” Madeline said in an undertone to Gigi. “Rumor has it she’s in line to become the first female partner at Simpson and West.”
Moments later they heard a car engine start up, and then a bright red Mustang streaked past the front window of the building, fishtailing slightly on the slick road.
“I wonder what’s got her in such a tizzy?” Madeline stared out the window. She turned toward Gigi. “I heard her arguing with Bradley earlier.” This time she barely stumbled over the name. “I was surprised the two of them were fighting. She’s Bradley’s . . .” She hesitated. “. . . Pet. If you know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes at Gigi.
Gigi nodded.
“Don’t get me wrong, she’s a good lawyer. One of the best. It’s just that Simpson, West, Donahue, Flanagan and Moskowitz—that’s the firm’s full name but obviously it would never have fit on the sign out front or on the letterhead, so we just go with Simpson and West—has never had a female partner before.” She frowned. “Mr. West once said he wouldn’t have a woman partner unless it was over his dead body, but I guess Mr. Simpson”—she blushed again—“I mean Bradley, managed to change his mind.”
Gigi supposed Madeline must be right. But if Bradley had changed Mr. West’s mind, it sure made her wonder what Tiffany Morse had done to change Bradley’s mind.
• • •
Gigi had just returned home from making her dinner deliveries when she heard the knocking sound that heralded the arrival of Pia’s beat-up old VW van. The car hissed loudly as the engine was turned off. Gigi couldn’t imagine Pia attempting to drive that thing to California—if she ever left, that is, now that she had apparently found true love, or at least, romance.
Pia came in through the back door carrying two bags of groceries. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and moisture glimmered in her short, dark hair.
“Snowing again,” she said as she dumped her purchases on the counter. “I didn’t think Sparky was going to make it up the hill.”
“Sparky?”
Pia gestured with her shoulder in the general direction of the cottage’s driveway. “I decided to name that beastly van.” She sighed. “At least it’s getting me around.”
Gigi thought of mentioning California but decided that perhaps this wasn’t the best time. “What did you buy?” she asked instead.
“I’m sorry.” Pia made a sad face. “I forgot some of the things on your list. Just the parsley, lettuce and chicken stock though.”
Those were the only things on her list, Gigi thought as she watched Pia unpack the groceries. “What did you get?”
“Twinkies!” Pia held up the cellophane-wrapped package triumphantly. “And some of that buttered movie popcorn in case we want to watch a flick on television.” She dug deeper. “Hot dogs for dinner.” She laid them on the counter. “Chocolate chip cookies, marshmallow fluff and salt-and-vinegar potato chips,” she finished triumphantly. “Do you know the Brits call chips crisps?”
Gigi shook her head. She was in shock over the contents of her sister’s shopping spree. Surely Pia didn’t think Gigi was going to eat that stuff?
“How was your lunch date? It must have gone well.” Gigi glanced at the clock. “It’s almost dinnertime.”
“Oh, I spent some time setting up a small studio I found to rent by the week. It’s out by that industrial park on the edge of town. Nothing fancy, but it will allow me to get some work done.”
Gigi was relieved. The thought of Pia bringing in paint or clay or whatever she used for her artwork to the cottage gave Gigi the shivers.
“My lunch date was dreamy though.” Pia perched on one of the stools around the island and popped the top off a can of soda—not sugar-free, Gigi noted—and took a huge gulp. “I sat at the bar and kept him company.”
Gigi felt something in her chest freeze. “Sat at the bar?” she repeated.
Pia shook her head. “Yeah. He runs this place downtown. A lot of English cuisine but nothing like the stuff we had in that commune. His food is good.”
Gigi’s mouth had dried up. “What was the name of the place?”
“Declan’s Grille. I never thought I’d fall for another Englishman, but Declan McQuaid has to be one of the dreamiest men I’ve ever met.” Pia stared into space, a rapturous look on her face.
“Oh,” Gigi said in a very tiny voice.
Books by Peg Cochran
Confession Is Murder
Unholy Matrimony
Hit and Nun
Oh, Brother! (young adult)
Truth or Dare (young adult)
Allergic to Death
Steamed to Death
Iced to Death
Writing as Meg London
Murder Unmentionable
Laced with Poison
Fatal Slip
About the Author
Peg grew up in a New Jersey suburb about twenty-five miles outside of New York City. After college, she moved to the City, where she managed an art gallery owned by the son of the artist Henri Matisse.
After her husband died, Peg remarried and her new husband took a job in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where they now live (on exile from New Jersey, as she likes to joke). Somehow Peg managed to segue from the art world to marketing and is now the manager of marketing communications for a company that provides services to seniors.
She has two cozy mystery series out from Berkley Prime Crime—the Sweet Nothings Vintage Lingerie series, writing as Meg London, set in Paris, Tennessee, and the Gourmet De-Lite series, under her own name, set in Connecticut.
Peg has two daughters, a stepdaughter and stepson, a beautiful granddaughter, and a Westhighland white terrier named Reggie. You can read more at www.pegcochran.com and www.meglondon.com.
Contents
Cover
Hit and Nun
Title Page
Copyright
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Excerpt from Iced to Death
Books by Peg Cochran
About the Author