Iced to Death (13 page)

Gigi ended up giving Janice fifty dollars she could ill afford in order to get her to part with the iPhone. She was about to explain that it could be important evidence in a murder case when she stopped short. What if Janice was the one responsible for Bradley’s death? She had every reason to hate him according to the stories Gigi had heard. Gigi had had to promise Janice she would contact the owner of the phone about a reward for its safe return. Gigi didn’t tell her the owner was dead. Janice had pulled her frayed sleeves down over her hands, a doubtful look on her face. But she had skulked off, leaving Gigi in possession of the cell.

Gigi tucked the phone into her purse and walked back toward her car. The crowd was still gathered in front of the police station. She hesitated, thinking she ought to take the phone straight to Mertz, but she didn’t want to brave the group that was continuing to chant outside. Besides, she wasn’t sure if Mertz would be working. Policemen didn’t keep to a regular schedule, and his seemed to change weekly depending on the caseload.

Gigi hoped that she would see Pia’s van in the driveway when she got home, but it wasn’t there. Reg greeted her with his usual enthusiasm, and she quickly clipped on his leash and took him for a stroll around the block. She was itching to check out Bradley’s phone further, but she knew Reg had been waiting long enough.

The kitchen was as clean as Gigi had left it, so obviously Pia had not been by in Gigi’s absence. Gigi’s worry notched up a level. Had Pia decided to head to California? Her things were still in Gigi’s guest room, but her possessions were so meager, perhaps she had decided to leave them behind rather than confront Gigi again?

Gigi sighed, fixed herself a cup of Earl Grey tea and sat down at the kitchen island. She pulled Bradley’s iPhone from her purse and put it beside her. Based on evidence from the cell, Bradley had texted Tiffany asking her to meet him at Declan’s. He had alluded to good news, but perhaps that had been a pretext? Had he been hoping to convince her to make up and keep the affair going? Had Tiffany fallen for the lie and then been disappointed? So disappointed that she had stabbed Bradley to death?

Hopefully Mertz would be able to sort it all out.

• • •

Bradley’s cell phone squatted on Gigi’s kitchen counter all day like an unwelcome toad. She glanced at it as she chopped, minced and sautéed her way through her next Gourmet De-Lite meal. Finally, she could no longer stand it and she picked up the telephone and dialed the Woodstone Police Station.

She wondered if the receptionist recognized her voice, but it didn’t matter. Mertz wasn’t in. In fact, he wouldn’t be in all weekend. He had been assigned to some training course in Hartford.

Gigi sighed. She would have to wait till Monday morning to see him. She planned to be at the station bright and early.

Pia still hadn’t returned by the time Gigi was ready for bed. Gigi had peeled back the curtains and looked out the kitchen window at least a dozen times hoping to see Pia’s wreck of a van pulling into the driveway. Her sister was probably fine. It was completely in character for her to disappear for days without saying a word. Nonetheless, Gigi couldn’t help worrying, and she went to bed with a heavy heart.

Gigi’s legs felt stiff as she crawled under the covers. Her sprint through downtown Woodstone had taken its toll. She thought about doing a few stretches, but it was so warm and cozy under the comforter that she couldn’t be bothered. She just hoped no one she knew had seen her desperate dash after Janice and the cell phone. What on earth would they think of her! The pedestrians on the sidewalk had gone by in a blur. She had an inkling that there had been at least one slightly familiar face among them, but she couldn’t put her finger on who it was. Probably no one.

She punched her pillow and turned onto her other side. Reg grunted and moved down toward Gigi’s feet. It wasn’t long before they were both asleep.

Gigi woke with a pounding heart two hours later. Had she heard a noise? She glanced at Reg, who was still curled up at the foot of the bed, one ear twitching in the stream of his breath. Gigi collapsed against the pillows. If Reg wasn’t responding, the sound must have been in her dreams.

She was drifting off again when Reg suddenly stirred. He lifted his head and tilted it this way and that, as if attempting to pick up a faint radio signal. Gigi sat up, too, and listened hard. Had Pia returned? She hoped so. She reached for the bathrobe at the foot of her bed and slipped into it.

Reg jumped off the bed and stood at attention, his low, deep growls soon turning to real barks.

It couldn’t be Pia, Gigi realized, because Reg would definitely not be barking that way. Gigi’s heart beat cranked up a notch. Was there an animal lurking outside? A coyote, a possum or a stray cat or dog?

Gigi turned on the bedside light and fished her slippers out from under the bed. The rosy glow from the lamp mocked her fears. It was probably nothing, but Reg wouldn’t settle down until they’d had a good look around.

She shuffled out to the living room first. The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the streetlight outside. Gigi could make out the silhouettes of the sofa and chairs and the small gate-leg table pushed up against the wall. The faint odor of smoke clung to the room. Gigi wished she hadn’t been so hard on Pia about the fireplace damper.

The kitchen was just as she left it. Gigi peered out the back window, but there was no sign of Pia’s van. She sighed in disappointment and headed back to the bedroom. Reg gave a final, disappointed growl and joined her on the bed.

Seconds later, Gigi could hear Reg’s faint snore as he settled into slumber. Her eyes refused to stay shut. She switched from her right side to her left, from her front to her back, but still, sleep eluded her. Her heart had finally stopped trying to pound its way out of her chest, but every little noise made her jump.

She was finally relaxing when the unmistakable sound of breaking glass came from the kitchen. Reg immediately bolted upright and began to bark furiously, his fur standing out around his strong, stout body. He started to leap off the bed, but Gigi grabbed him by his collar.

“No, boy, don’t go out there. We’ve got to call the police.”

Gigi had left her cell on the nightstand, and she quickly punched in 9-1-1. Reg struggled to get free, but she maintained her grip on his collar, urging him to hush. His sharp barks turned to deep growls low in his throat, but he finally stopped fighting and sat down next to Gigi on the bed, his back stiff and his ears alert.

Even above the pounding of her heart, Gigi could hear someone moving about in the darkened kitchen. What on earth were they after? She had little of great value. Her few pieces of jewelry were tucked underneath her lingerie in her bureau.

Keeping her voice to a whisper, she explained the situation to the 9-1-1 operator, who promised that a patrol car was on its way.

Gigi listened hard, but there were no approaching footsteps. So far the thief seemed to be most interested in whatever was in her kitchen. Suddenly she heard the back door slam. Reg began a fresh round of barking, and this time Gigi let go of his collar. He shot off the bed and made a beeline down the hall with Gigi right behind him. She heard a car starting up and the ping of gravel as it shot out of her driveway. It was then that Gigi finally heard the faint sounds of a police siren in the distance.

A Woodstone police car screeched to a halt in Gigi’s driveway. The strong beam of a flashlight flickered through the windows as a policeman made his way toward the back door. Gigi flicked on the lights and gasped. Broken glass was scattered across the kitchen floor, and she could hear the patrolman’s footsteps crunching on the pieces that had fallen outside.

She was reaching for the doorknob when he thumped the back door briskly.

“Come on in.” Gigi held the door wide. Reg stood at her side, eyeing the newcomer warily. Gigi turned to him. “It’s okay, boy. It’s a policeman.”

Reg cocked his head, but stayed close to Gigi’s side.

The patrolman looked around the room. He was tall and thin with bluish bags under his eyes that made him look like a bloodhound.

“You okay, ma’am?”

“I’m fine.”

“Looks like you’ve had a breakin,” he said eyeing the broken glass and the missing pane from the window in Gigi’s back door. “Any idea what they were after?”

Gigi shook her head.

“Anything missing?”

Gigi was about to shake her head again when her glance fell on the counter where Bradley Simpson’s cell phone should have been . . . but wasn’t.

“Yes,” she said, her voice trembling for the first time. “A cell phone.”

She explained the situation to the policeman, who immediately called headquarters and was patched through to Detective Mertz.

The patrolman hung up. It looked as if Mertz would be missing his second day of training in Hartford because he was already on his way over to Gigi’s.

The patrolman waited with Gigi until Mertz arrived. She made them both a cup of tea and then sat at the island with her hands around the warm mug. She’d turned the heat down before going to bed, and the kitchen was chilly. Reg was curled up on the rug by the door, occasionally opening one eye as if he were solely responsible for keeping things under control.

It wasn’t until Mertz opened the back door and strode into the room that Gigi began to shake. She felt as if she’d suddenly been afflicted with St. Vitus’ dance—her hand jerked so badly she spilled hot tea down the front of her bathrobe.

Mertz gave a brief glance to the patrolman and then took Gigi in his arms. She felt the cold on his coat and the roughness of the fabric under her fingers. He enveloped her in a strong hug, his chin tucked on top of her head. They stood like that for several seconds before the patrolman cleared his throat loudly.

“If that will be all . . .”

“Thank you, yes,” Mertz said without taking his arms from around Gigi.

Slowly the shivering stopped, and she looked up at Mertz. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I was fine . . .”

“It’s a normal reaction.” Mertz reassured her. He glanced at Gigi’s abandoned cup on the counter. “Any chance of a cup of tea? It’s freezing out there.”

“Of course.” Gigi suspected that Mertz wanted to keep her busy to get her mind off of what had just happened, and she was grateful. She brewed them each a fresh cup of Earl Grey, and they settled on the stools around the kitchen island with their mugs.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened first, and then I’ll have a look around. Is anything missing that you know of?”

Gigi felt her face flush red, and it wasn’t from the hot tea. She explained to Mertz about Bradley’s cell phone and how she had secured it from Janice Novak.

“I’m really sorry I missed that. It must have been quite a sight.”

Gigi made a face at him. “I called the station, but they said you were away on a training course. I was going to bring the cell phone in first thing Monday morning.”

“But now it’s gone. Someone wanted it back pretty badly.” Mertz glanced at the broken glass that still surrounded Gigi’s back door.

Gigi nodded.

“Any idea as to why?” Mertz tried to hide a smile but wasn’t entirely successful.

Gigi felt the heat in her face intensify. “I did glance at it. Just to see if there were any texts or calls that might explain what happened.”

“Clues?”

Gigi glanced at Mertz, but his expression was bland.

“Yes, I guess you could call them clues.”

“And did you find any?”

“Yes. Bradley texted Tiffany Morse shortly after leaving Declan’s. I think it went through around 11:58
P.M
.”

“And what did it say?” Mertz was at attention now.

“It said to meet him in the parking lot at Declan’s. He had good news for her.”

Mertz whistled. “So if she did as he asked, that puts her at the scene of the murder.”

“And she had a motive. Bradley had promised her a partnership, but then he snatched it away.”

“But you said he alluded to good news?”

Gigi twirled her mug around and around between her hands. “I think that was meant to lure her there. He was probably hoping to convince her to continue their affair.”

“But when she found out—”

“Exactly. She killed him.”

Mertz shifted off the stool. “Monday I’ll send someone around to collect the dress she wore the night of Bradley’s murder. We’ll see if that sequin matches—not that that would be conclusive—but we can also check for traces of blood.”

“You probably won’t find any blood. I think she stole Barbara Simpson’s wrap and wore it while she killed Barbara’s husband.”

“You might be right, but the forensic boys can find even the minutest trace of blood.” Mertz stretched and yawned. “Meanwhile, I’d better have a look around.”

He pulled his coat back on, and Gigi went into the living room and curled up on the sofa, the throw pulled up to her chin. She was feeling cold again and was grateful when Reg curled up at her feet. Before she knew it, her eyes were closing.

She awoke to find that Mertz had come back inside and was kissing her forehead.

She struggled to sit up. “Did you find anything?”