Iced to Death (12 page)

“A sequin?” Mertz tucked into his Denver omelet and forked up a huge bite.

Gigi had gone to the Woodstone Police Station the next morning with her find as soon as she’d delivered her Gourmet De-Lite containers. The same woman had been at the reception desk, and she’d given Gigi the same knowing look when she asked for Detective Mertz. Mertz, however, was not in his office but instead catching a late breakfast at the Woodstone Diner.

Gigi watched in amazement. How could he eat such calorie-laden dishes and not gain weight? She pulled the tissue from her purse, opened it and placed it between her and Mertz. The silver sequin glinted in the overhead light.

“I found it the night of the murder.”

“You took this sequin from the murder scene?” Mertz scowled at her over a forkful of hash browns.

“I didn’t know there’d been a murder. Yet,” Gigi said defensively. “I was leaving Declan’s.” She felt her face become suffused with color as she remembered how late it had been. Hopefully Mertz had forgotten. “I was walking toward my car when I saw something sparkle in the light from the lamp. I picked it up and saw it was a sequin.” She gestured toward the silvery decoration. “I put it in my pocket and forgot about it. It was only when I was pulling out my gloves that I found it again.”

“Unfortunately, I doubt it means much of anything,” Mertz said around a mouthful of bacon. “Who knows how many people walked through that parking lot that night . . . and other nights. It could have fallen there at any time.” He gestured at the sequin. “Women seem to like these things.”

“But it could indicate that the murderer was a woman. Tiffany Morse perhaps.”

“Tiffany Morse and Bradley were lovers. Why would she kill him?”

“Perhaps because Tiffany Morse wanted to become a partner at Simpson and West, and she thought Bradley would be able to secure the position for her. She was only seeing him to get what she wanted.”

“All the more reason not to kill him, it would seem to me.” Mertz poured a stream of sugar into his coffee and stirred.

“Yes, but Bradley was unsuccessful in getting her the partnership. West wasn’t having it, and Bradley was forced to go along. Tiffany was furious.”

Gigi was gratified to see that Mertz was now sitting at attention. “Really?” He stopped with his coffee cup halfway to his mouth.

Gigi nodded. “They argued violently right before the party, when Bradley gave her the bad news. She’d been expecting to learn that her dream had come true when it was the exact opposite. She’d wasted all that time and energy at Simpson and West, and it was now obvious that she would never achieve her goal.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve managed to find out whether or not she has an alibi?” Mertz asked with a smile.

Gigi made a face at him. “No, I haven’t. That’s your job, I’m afraid.”

“Nice to know you do recognize that I have a job to do.”

Gigi made another face, and he laughed.

Mertz put down his cup and put his hand over Gigi’s. “Seriously. You’re not just trying to take the focus off of Declan?”

Gigi jumped. “No. Not at all.”

“I need to know.” Mertz’s tone was serious. “I really care about you, Gigi.” He squeezed her hand. “If you prefer this other guy, I need to know.”

“No,” Gigi said again. “No, I don’t.” She was doing it for Pia, but decided not to tell Mertz that. She didn’t want it coloring his judgment.

Mertz’s face split into a huge grin, and he quickly ducked his head. “I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he said, more to his eggs and bacon than to Gigi. “You’re beautiful and smart, and . . . and . . . easy to be with. You know what I mean?” He risked a glance at Gigi’s face. “You’re not demanding or fussy or . . .”

“High-maintenance?” Gigi suggested.

Mertz snapped his fingers. “Yes, that’s it. You’re not high-maintenance.” He stared at his hash brown potatoes. “I dated this girl once. Everything had to be a certain way. We had to go to the most highly rated restaurant, have the best seats at the theater, order the most expensive wine. Nothing was ever enough.”

Gigi made a noise to indicate she was listening.

“And I love that you make dinner for me. It’s so nice spending time at your place. It feels like home.”

Good heavens! Gigi thought. Was Mertz about to propose? She hoped not. She wasn’t ready. It was too soon. She looked around wildly for the waitress, hoping she would stop by and refill their coffees or bring fresh water or something to derail Mertz from the track he was on.

But he just forked up another mouthful of his omelet and continued eating.

Gigi was relieved. But just a teensy, tiny bit disappointed, too.

• • •

Gigi tossed and turned all night thinking about both Bradley’s murder and what Mertz had said at the restaurant. Mertz had promised to look into the origins of the sequin. She had no idea if he was going to approach Tiffany Morse or not, but she had to trust that he knew how to do his job.

She turned on her left side and pulled the covers higher. Reg, who was curled up by her knees, gave a grunt of disapproval at being disturbed. Mertz’s declaration had come as a surprise to Gigi. She knew he cared for her, but it was unlike him to verbalize it. She loved being with him, but did she love him? With Ted it had been infatuation at first sight. He had charmed her from the get-go and had slowly taken control of her life until she had become convinced she was head-over-heels in love with him.

Her mother had been wary, even taking Gigi aside on her wedding day and assuring her she didn’t have to go through with it if she didn’t want to. Gigi had laughed. Of course she was in love with Ted! She couldn’t imagine it any other way. They’d purchased a small, spare but elegant co-op in a fashionable neighborhood on the Upper East Side. Ted was a huge fan of mid-century modern, and Gigi went along with his decorating scheme even though the cottage she was now living in was far more to her taste than the place she’d shared with Ted had ever been. In the time since their divorce had become final, she’d realized she’d sublimated a lot of her own wishes and desires to Ted’s.

Mertz, on the other hand, didn’t appear to want to change Gigi in any way—her clothes, her hair, her style of decorating—it all seemed fine to him. But was she ready to commit to another serious relationship? Gigi heaved herself onto her other side, causing Reg to give another grunt of disapproval as the movement of the bed unsettled him from his peaceful slumber. How she longed to have a conversation with her mother!

Gigi’s mother had devoted her life to raising Gigi and her sister after their father died fighting a terrible fire on Boston’s north side. But with the girls grown and on their own, she had reclaimed her life and fallen in love with an executive who had swapped the corporate grind for life aboard a sailboat. They’d taken off on a yearlong cruise and, as far as Gigi knew, should be rounding the Cape of Good Hope within the next few weeks. Communication was scarce, short and filled with static.

She would have to talk to Sienna instead.

As soon as she got up, Gigi peeked into Pia’s room. The bed was empty, the quilt bundled on the floor in the same position it had been the last time Gigi had looked. Gigi supposed Pia was staying at her studio. Gigi would have to give her time to calm down. Pia’s meltdowns could last for days, but they always came to an end. Still, Gigi was slightly worried, and thoughts of Pia weren’t far from her mind.

She packed up her Gourmet De-Lite breakfasts, made her deliveries, and then turned her MINI toward the carriage house Sienna and her husband Oliver had renovated. It had been part of a larger estate, and the original house was still there, a quarter of a mile down the road—an enormous Southern Colonial–style mansion. Sienna’s front door was painted a cheerful red and had a heart-shaped wreath made of twigs hanging from it.

Gigi knocked softly on the door. She didn’t want to wake Camille if she had gone down for her nap.

Sienna opened the door with the baby on her hip. She looked concerned when she saw Gigi standing on her doorstep.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Of course.” All of a sudden, Gigi wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about Mertz and their conversation yesterday. She’d probably read way too much into it anyway.

Sienna didn’t think so.

“It sounds like he’s serious,” she said as she kneaded bread dough. Camille was sleeping peacefully in a bassinet that Sienna had rolled into the kitchen. “Like he’s ready to propose.” The dough snapped and crackled beneath her hands as she pushed it away from her and then pulled it back again.

Gigi grunted. “You think so?”

Sienna nodded, her breathing slightly labored from her exertions. “What will you say? Are you ready to settle down again?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I imagine after Ted, it’s hard to believe in love again, but if I were you, I’d make sure Mertz didn’t get away. He’s a keeper.”

She wasn’t very good at keeping men, Gigi thought—look at Ted.

“Did I tell you about Stacy?” Sienna formed the dough into a ball, rubbed oil on it and placed it in a bowl.

“No.”

“I saw her at the mall yesterday. And she was peering into the window of A Bun in the Oven.”

“Really?”

“Unless it’s just wishful thinking, it looks like Alice may be right, and she is pregnant.”

“Have you told Alice?”

“No. I don’t want to spoil the surprise if that’s what Stacy is planning.”

Gigi felt better after leaving Sienna’s. She wouldn’t worry about things or rush them or allow herself to feel rushed by them. If a relationship with Mertz was meant to be, it would unfold in its own time and at its own pace.

Gigi was headed down High Street when she noticed a group of people gathered on the sidewalk, which was quite unusual for Woodstone. Occasionally a gaggle of teenaged boys or girls might go strolling through downtown, but the sidewalks were rarely crowded. She slowed as she approached the group. They were gathered outside the police station and several of the people were carrying placards. They began to chant, but Gigi couldn’t distinguish the words. She pulled into the parking lot between Gibson’s and Declan’s, parked the MINI, and walked back toward where the crowd was standing.

As she got closer, the voices became clearer, and one of the group, a tall fellow with a navy blue knit hat pulled down low over his forehead turned toward her, and she was able to make out the words on his sign. It read
Keep Woodstone Safe
. A youngish woman turned toward Gigi as well. She had one hand on a stroller and the other holding a sign that read
Catch the Woodstone Thief.

What on earth?
Gigi hurried toward the group. An older woman in a red-and-green-plaid car coat was standing on the fringes. Gigi approached her.

“Do you know what’s going on?’

The woman whirled around. She had vivid blue eyes set in a nest of puckered skin. “It’s about the thefts.” She gestured toward one of the posters.

“Thefts?”

She nodded and fixed Gigi with a stern gaze. “The lawn ornaments. Don’t know why the paper hasn’t been onto it yet. But someone is going around taking people’s lawn ornaments. They got my Bambi, and my neighbor Sybil’s birdbath. The police aren’t doing a thing about it. We want this person caught.”

Gigi groaned inwardly. Poor Mertz! He was doing his best to catch the sneak thief—even giving up lunch on more than one occasion—but so far he had been unsuccessful.

A woman on the edge of the crowd sidled toward Gigi. Gigi recognized her as Janice Novak, the woman she’d seen in the Book Nook who Sienna said used to work for Simpson and West. Gigi was startled when she pulled an iPhone from her pocket. Where on earth had she gotten the money for that? She was dressed in her usual thrift shop–type getup—a pilled and frayed red wool jacket, baggy pants with worn spots at the knees and a pair of loafers with duct tape holding the right one together. And yet she was carrying around a telephone worth hundreds of dollars. Had she dug that out of a Dumpster, too? If so, it had probably been thrown away by accident and someone was searching for it at this very moment.

Just then the chanting grew louder, and a rough-looking man in a pair of Carhartt overalls and jacket jumped up onto the steps leading to the police station. He raised his fist in the air, and slowly the crowd quieted.

“And when are the police going to find the murderer who is roaming our streets?” He pointed in the direction of the parking lot where Gigi had left her car. “A man was killed in cold blood, and what are the police doing about it? Nothing! The streets of Woodstone are no longer safe for women and children.”

“Hear, hear,” a number of the people assembled on the sidewalk shouted.

Soon the chant was taken up by the entire crowd. “Catch the killer, catch the killer,” they cried in unison.

Gigi felt her stomach plummet. She wondered if Mertz could hear them from his office. She knew he was doing his best to solve the case, but that clearly didn’t mean much to this mob.

Janice Novak had moved closer, Gigi noticed, and she was fiddling with that expensive phone again. It seemed apparent that she had no idea how to use it. Gigi hesitated, then decided to approach her.

“Nice phone. Where did you get it?” Gigi tried to keep her tone light and non-accusatory.