Iced to Death (21 page)
Gigi nodded to show she understood.
“And of course partners’ families get special treatment.” She shook her head. “The problem is George isn’t sure there’s anything he can do. The police have really begun to crack down on traffic violations, especially anything involving alcohol. They even put up that camera on the corner of High Street and Elmwood. That’s where Flanagan’s grandson was clocked doing ninety-five miles an hour. Can you imagine? Even if it was late at night. Someone could have been hurt.”
“Was he drinking?”
Penelope nodded. “Yes, he was over the limit. And underage to boot. And I guess he’s not much more than a point away from losing his license. Apparently Tiffany had been trying to prove that the camera wasn’t reliable, but she didn’t get very far. Now it’s up to George to determine what course to take. And it’s making him very ornery. He feels the whole thing is beneath him.” Penelope picked up one of the throw pillows on the sofa and began to run her fingers through the border of fringe. “Besides, he’s afraid he won’t be successful, and they’ll can him.” She laughed. “Well, maybe that would be the push he needs to join up with Oliver and get out of that rat race.”
Gigi was digesting this bit of news when a pitiful wail came from above.
Penelope glanced at her watch. “Sounds like Hughie’s up. That wasn’t a very long nap.”
“I’d better be going.” Gigi took the opportunity to get to her feet.
The wail became louder and rose to an ear-shattering crescendo.
“If you don’t mind seeing yourself out . . .” Penelope was already moving toward the back stairs that ran from the family room to the upper level.
“No problem.” Gigi buttoned her coat as she headed toward the front door.
All the way home the only thing she could think about was the information she’d gleaned from Penelope. It seemed likely that Flanagan’s grandson’s DUI was Tiffany’s last case. Gigi thought back to the folder she and Madeline had found under Tiffany’s rug. Did the dark blue Mercedes in that picture belong to the young man?
But then why had Tiffany hidden it? And was there any relation between that and her murder?
Gigi gave a groan of frustration as she pulled into the driveway of her cottage. She couldn’t go to Mertz with what she’d discovered. That would mean admitting to having snooped in Tiffany’s office. Gigi shuddered at the thought. That would not go over well at all.
Gigi spent a luxurious afternoon on the sofa curled up with a book. It had been a long time since she’d been able to relax like that. Pia had woken up and made a brief appearance—just long enough to burn a bag of popcorn in the microwave—before departing for her studio. Gigi had opened several windows, shivering under a throw on the couch, hoping to rid the house of the smell.
The shadows in the room grew darker until Gigi reluctantly left her warm cocoon to turn on some lights. She realized she was hungry, but for once, she did not feel like cooking. She poked around in the pantry until she found a container of mac and cheese Pia had purchased. It didn’t look
that
bad. Gigi read the directions, popped it in the microwave and pressed start.
Reg looked at her with sad eyes as if he were embarrassed by her sudden and unexpected lapse in judgment. Gigi turned her back on him and stirred the mixture with her fork. She took a bite. The first words that came to mind were
wallpaper paste.
How could people eat stuff like this?
Her stomach growled, and she was sorry she hadn’t saved some of her clients’ dinner for herself, but one of the women wanted her husband to try Gigi’s food so she had sent along the extra portion.
By the third forkful she was used to the taste and wondering whether there was a way to make a more flavorful, lower-calorie version. She was scraping up the last bits of macaroni when the doorbell rang.
Reg went into his usual paroxysms of barking, sliding the last few feet down the hall to the foyer. Gigi followed, still holding the container of mac and cheese. She pulled open the door.
Mertz stood on her doorstep. “Are you busy?” he asked as he stomped his feet and brushed snow from his coat.
“Not at all.”
He stepped inside and kissed Gigi briefly on the cheek. He rubbed his hands together. “It’s freezing out there, and the streets are beginning to ice up. I’m afraid the road crews will be busy tonight.” Mertz gestured toward the container in Gigi’s hands. “What’s that you’re eating?”
Gigi felt her face redden. “Macaroni and cheese,” she admitted reluctantly.
Mertz shook his head. “That’s the kind of meal I subsist on, but I never thought I’d see you eating it.” He slipped out of his coat and hung it in the closet.
“Pia left it in the cupboard,” she explained lest Mertz think she had actually gone out and purchased it. “I was hungry, so . . .”
“I guess that means you don’t have anything for a starving detective?” Mertz draped an arm around Gigi’s shoulders as they walked toward the kitchen. He peered into her container. “Not even a bite left. Must have been delicious.”
Gigi gave him a playful punch in the ribs. “Let me see what’s in the fridge.”
She opened the refrigerator and poked around. “Would eggs and bacon do?”
Mertz’s face broke into a smile. “Quite nicely. Far more nutritious than the granola bar in my pocket.”
Gigi popped some bread in the toaster and got a carton of eggs and a packet of bacon out of the refrigerator and put them on the counter. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Scrambled would be great.”
Mertz played with Reg while Gigi fried some bacon and whisked eggs in a bowl. She slipped the golden liquid into the pan of hot, melted butter, where it immediately sizzled and soon began to form soft curds. Gigi realized she was whistling to herself. Having Mertz sitting in her kitchen, relaxing with Reg, suddenly seemed just perfect.
She slipped the eggs from the pan onto a plate, added a few slices of crisp bacon, two pieces of toast, and placed it in front of Mertz. Reg’s nose twitched eagerly as he planted himself at Mertz’s feet.
Gigi made herself a cup of tea and slid into the seat opposite Mertz. He’d polished off half the meal before he looked up.
“I have a huge favor to ask of you.” He swiped his napkin across his lips. “I talked to the chief, and he agreed. Probably the only way we’re going to catch this lawn ornament thief is by setting up some kind of sting.”
“Did you talk to Manny at the junkyard?”
“I did. He wasn’t able to tell us much of anything. And his description was too vague to be of any use.” Mertz ate the last bite of his toast and licked his fingers. “Which is why the chief agreed to go along with my idea of a sting.”
“How are you going to do it?”
“Well, that’s where you come in.” Mertz looked away briefly. “I was hoping you’d let us put a lawn ornament out in your front yard. We’d have someone stationed here looking out. There’s no guarantee the guy will come by, but it’s worth a couple of man hours just in case. People are getting all riled up about the thefts—especially coming on top of the two murders. There wouldn’t be any danger to you,” he added reassuringly.
“Sure. I don’t mind.”
“Great!” Mertz pushed back his chair abruptly. “It’s in the car. Let me help you with the dishes, and then I’ll go get it.”
Together they loaded the dishwasher, then Mertz went out to his car.
Gigi heard the front door open again, and Mertz stuck his head into the kitchen. “Come and see. I’ve got it all set up.”
Gigi grabbed her jacket from the hook and followed Mertz outside, Reg at her heels. She got to the bottom of the front steps and stopped in her tracks, her mouth hanging open. Smack in the middle of Gigi’s front lawn was a giant metal reindeer with a sack of toys slung over its back and a Santa hat on its head. A single spotlight, stuck in the ground, illuminated the whole thing with a glow as bright as the midday sun. Reg ran straight toward the metal ornament, stopped a safe six inches away and began barking furiously.
Mertz eyed it proudly. “Our thief won’t miss seeing that.”
“No one is going to miss seeing that,” Gigi said when she got her jaw working again. She heard the sounds of a car coming down the street, its headlights sweeping the road. It slowed perceptibly as it passed Gigi’s house.
“One of the guys on the force loaned the piece to me. Said he didn’t need it at the moment.”
“Really? That could be because it’s not Christmas,” Gigi said eyeing the deer in dismay. What on earth were the neighbors going to think?
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Mertz asked somewhat hesitantly.
“No, it’s fine.” Gigi blinked several times but the apparition refused to go away. It was real, and it was on her lawn. “So, what’s next?” She turned to Mertz and shivered.
“Come on, let’s get back inside.” He put his arm around her, and they walked toward the steps. Reg wove in and out between them, frolicking in the snow, stopping briefly to lift his leg on a snow-covered rhododendron bush.
Gigi was grateful to get back inside. She flicked a few stray flakes of snow from her shoulders. Mertz had some clinging to his hair, and Gigi beckoned him close so that she could brush them away. That led to a kiss that took away any remaining chill Gigi might have felt.
“What do we do now?” she asked, leaning against Mertz’s shoulder.
“Wait. Police work is ninety percent waiting and ten percent action, I’m afraid.” He glanced at his watch. “I’d best be getting outside to keep watch.”
“Oh, no. It’s freezing out there. Can’t you keep watch from the living room window?” Gigi gestured toward the bay window that gave a clear view of her front yard, now complete with a heinous spotlighted reindeer sculpture.
Mertz looked doubtful. “I need to be able to take off after the fellow if he shows.” He pursed his lips. “I suppose it won’t be easy to get away with that thing. Ought to give me enough time to get out the door . . .” He still looked doubtful.
Gigi pulled over a straight-backed armless chair and placed it in front of the window. She patted the seat. “You can see everything from here. And you’re right. It’s going to take some doing to run with that thing.”
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.
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.”