by Cochran, Peg
“Her door has been shut since . . . since it happened. The police looked through everything right after the murder, but I guess they didn’t find anything significant because they said we could do what we wanted with the office. I saw the place after the police were finished searching. They were very neat, and it was hard to tell they’d even been in the room.”
That sounded like Mertz, Gigi thought.
“Tiffany’s office is on the second floor. With a window,” Madeline added, looking around her own crowded space. “She had a special antique desk brought in and hung real art on the walls. That’s what made it even more shocking.”
“What was shocking?” Gigi was thoroughly confused.
“I used the key Mr. West gave me to open the door. We’ve kept it locked ever since . . . well, ever since. So no one else has been in there. But the office has been ransacked. Papers everywhere, drawers open.” She looked up at Gigi, her eyes wide. “Someone was in there desperately searching for something.”
“Have you called the police?”
Madeline shook her head. “No. What if it was someone from the firm simply needing to find something and not caring if they made a mess? Mr. West would be furious with me for calling in the authorities.”
“But you said you had the key. How did they get in?”
“Her secretary had a key, too. She kept it in her top desk drawer. Anyone could have taken it.”
So much for security, Gigi thought.
“So you think someone from the firm might have been looking for something?”
“What else could it be?”
“It might have been the murderer. Maybe Tiffany knew something or had something that put them in danger.” Gigi ran her hands through her hair. “Do you have any idea what cases she was working on?”
Madeline shrugged. “No, not really.”
Gigi was thinking fast. They had to get into Tiffany’s office. Would she be able to convince Madeline of that?
“If we could look around, we might find something. An answer to this whole mess. I’m sure that would be a huge relief for you and Hunter.”
“You mean you want to . . . snoop around Tiffany’s office?” Madeline began to push her chair back as if by doing so she could distance herself from the idea. “We couldn’t do that. If Mr. West found out, he’d be furious. I might be fired.”
“Don’t you want to find out what happened to your future father-in-law?”
“Yes, but—”
Gigi closed her eyes and crossed her fingers behind her back. “I really don’t want to have to tell you this,” she bit her lip as if she couldn’t go on.
“What?” Madeline asked, the alarm sounding in her voice.
“The police are zeroing in on . . . on Hunter as a possible suspect.”
“No!” Madeline’s hand flew to her mouth.
“They think he was after his father’s money. For some invention of his.” Gigi crossed her fingers. She felt terrible lying to Madeline like this, but it was the only way. “He did leave the party early. I’m sure you remember that. And you told me that he’d lied about where he went that night.”
Madeline’s face had become alarmingly pale. For a minute, Gigi was afraid she might faint.
“But that’s not true. Hunter wouldn’t . . .”
Gigi remained silent.
Madeline looked at her pleadingly. “You’ve got to help us. We’ve got to do something.”
“You still have the key to Tiffany’s office?”
Madeline nodded eagerly.
“We need to get into her office. How late do people usually work?”
Madeline shrugged. “It depends. Sometimes all night. But I don’t think that will be a problem. If someone is staying late, they generally have their head down and don’t notice what’s going on.”
“What would be a good time?”
“Ten o’clock maybe? Just about everyone will have left by then unless they’re under a huge deadline.”
“Where should I meet you?” Gigi was relieved to see that Madeline was going along with her scheme.
“It’s probably best if you don’t park in our lot. It would be better to park where you won’t be noticed—Declan’s maybe. I’ll be by the door, and I’ll keep an eye out for you.”
Gigi was about to leave when Madeline grabbed her arm. “Do you think we’ll find something? We have to.” She gulped down a sob. “Hunter didn’t do anything, I know it. He’d never hurt his father.”
Gigi squeezed her hands into fists. She’d lied to Madeline and now Madeline was all upset. It wasn’t fair. But she had to get to the bottom of this. She just had to.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure everything will turn out okay.” She gave Madeline a quick hug. “I’ll see you at ten o’clock by the front door.”
By the time Gigi got back to her car and Reg’s exuberant greeting, she had nearly managed to convince herself that lying to Madeline had been for Madeline’s own good. In reality, she was hoping to prove to Mertz that Declan was not responsible for Bradley’s murder. Because if he was, her sister’s heart was going to be broken again. Never mind that she and Declan had never even had a proper date. In Pia’s mind they were practically engaged and just a walk down the aisle away from eternal romantic bliss.
Gigi drove home through the back streets again, but there was still no sign of Pia’s VW bus anywhere. Ralph’s pizza truck was at her curb when she got home, however, and Pia’s VW was at the head of the driveway. Gigi pulled in behind it and got out. Reg began tugging her toward the street so Gigi thought she would give him a walk now rather than later.
Reg pulled her past the neighbors’ house—an elderly couple who had lived there for more than fifty years. Their front door opened, and Mrs. Prescott wobbled down the steps and tottered toward the mailbox at the end of their driveway. She held her coat closed with one hand and had a kerchief covering her permed gray curls.
“Good afternoon, Hermione,” Gigi called loudly, knowing that her neighbor was hard of hearing.
“Eh? Good afternoon you say?” Hermione pulled a stack of mail from her box and waited as Gigi and Reg caught up with her. She gestured toward the pizza delivery truck outside of Gigi’s house. “Aren’t you running that diet business no more? I seen that truck there a couple of times this week already.” She pointed a bony finger in the direction of Gigi’s house. “I wouldn’t think pizza would be something you’d be eating real regular.”
“It’s not me; it’s my sister.” Reg gave a tug, and Gigi let the leash out slightly.
“That girl with the short hair?” Hermione made a twirling motion above her head.
Gigi nodded.
Hermione stared at Gigi, her watery blue eyes wide open. “Don’t you cook for her? You cook for all those strangers—you can’t even do that much for your own sister?”
Gigi wished she could close her eyes and just disappear. Were other people thinking the same thing?
She smiled at Hermione. “My sister likes pizza unfortunately.”
“Of course she does,” Hermione said illogically. “Everyone likes pizza. Can’t say I blame her, can you?”
“No, no, I can’t.” Gigi gave Reg a discreet tug in the direction of home. “Nice seeing you, Hermione.” Gigi waved good-bye.
By the time she’d dragged Reg to the back door, she was fuming. Pia had to stop ordering pizza. Better yet, Pia had to find somewhere else to live. Gigi couldn’t take it anymore.
When Gigi entered the kitchen, Pia was seated at the island, pizza box flipped open and a piece in her hand. She waved the slice toward the box when she saw Gigi.
“Want some?” she mumbled indistinctly around a mouthful.
Gigi shook her head curtly.
“What’s the matter?” Pia ran a hand through her short hair, making it even spikier than usual.
“Nothing.” Gigi tried to smile, but the movement felt forced and she abandoned the attempt.
“Look, I’m sorry if I’m in your way.” P
ia closed the pizza box and began to gather up the crumpled paper napkins that littered the island.
Gigi let her shoulders drop. “No, don’t be silly, it’s fine. I’m just a little tense, that’s all.” Thinking about the night ahead and rummaging through Tiffany’s office was making her more nervous than she wanted to admit. She could only imagine how Madeline must feel.
“I’ll make you some tea,” Pia offered.
“No, that’s okay.” Gigi just really wanted to be alone to think.
Fortunately, Pia threw the remains of her pizza crust in the box and stood up. “There’s more if you want some.” She pulled her jacket from the hook by the back door and struggled into it. Her arm caught on the lining and she swore briefly. “I’m heading to the studio. See you later.”
“Don’t you think you’re working too—” But before Gigi could finish the sentence, the door slammed in back of Pia, nearly dislodging the framed poster of sage, or Salvia officinalis, that hung on Gigi’s kitchen wall.
• • •
Gigi left the cottage with plenty of time to spare. She left Reg lying on the rug in the front hall, his head on his front paws and a disappointed look on his face. She had no idea how long she would be and couldn’t risk leaving him in the car, even though he was making it clear he disagreed with her decision.
The streets of Woodstone were quiet, and there were only a few cars in the lot next to Declan’s. Gigi parked in the back, hoping her MINI would escape notice. For once she wished she had purchased a slightly less recognizable car—a Taurus or Focus wouldn’t have caught anyone’s attention.
She sat for a moment behind the wheel of the darkened car. She was early and didn’t want to have to hang around in front of Simpson and West waiting for Madeline to open the front door.
Finally, at one minute to ten, she got out, locked the MINI and began walking in the direction of the law firm. The wind whistled down the street, shaking the bare trees and making Gigi shiver. She was glad when she finally reached the front doors of Simpson and West. She heard Madeline turn the latch as she approached, and the door was pushed open.
Gigi quickly ducked inside. The lobby was dimly lit, the reception desk tidied for the night. She noticed the retreating back of a night watchman as he disappeared through one of the doors, and her breath caught in her throat. She gestured toward him mutely.
“Don’t worry about him,” Madeline reassured her. “It’s fine as long as you’re with me. Besides, he’s more interested in taking a nip out of the bottle he keeps in the housekeeping closet than catching intruders.”
Madeline swiped her employee badge in the slot next to the elevator, and the doors whooshed open. Neither woman spoke as they watched the indicator sweep toward the second floor and stop, with a final quiver, just as the doors opened.
“Her office is down here,” Madeline said in hushed tones as she fished a key from the pocket of her suit jacket.
The hallway was dimly lit at this time of night, but Gigi noticed that a pool of light spilled out of an office further down the hall. She gestured toward it. “Someone’s here.”
“Probably just working late. Don’t worry about it.”
Suddenly a man came out of the office. His suit jacket was off, his shirtsleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. He had a sheaf of papers in his hand and barely looked up as he swept past Gigi and Madeline, who had flattened themselves against the wall.
Gigi felt sweat breaking out under her arms, but Madeline seemed unperturbed as she inserted the key in the lock and pushed open the door. A cloud of stale air seeped out. Madeline felt along the wall for the light switch. They both started and blinked furiously as the overhead fixture blazed on. Madeline strode toward the desk and clicked on a small brass reading lamp, motioning to Gigi to turn the other light off.
The lamp trained a bright circle of light on top of the desk, leaving the corners of the office dark with shadows. Gigi looked around. File drawers gaped open like giant tongues sticking out, and papers and folders were spewed across the top of the desk as if scattered by a strong breeze. Someone had indeed been looking for something. But what?
“Where should we start?”
Madeline shrugged her shoulders. “I have no idea. The desk probably. That’s where she’d keep whatever she was working on most recently.”
Gigi certainly had no idea what to look for as she flipped through a stack of folders, and Madeline looked through a second pile. All the folders were carefully labeled and appeared to pertain to various tax cases Simpson and West was handling for their clients. She was beginning to think this hadn’t been a very good idea. What did she think she was going to find? A note with the murderer’s name written on it?
She tossed the last of the folders on the desk, ready to admit defeat.
“Anything?” she asked as Madeline put down the last of her files.
“No. These are all tax cases. I can’t imagine they have anything to do with the murders.” She chewed on the side of her index finger. “Maybe the intruder found what they were looking for and took it away.”
“That’s possible. But judging by the mess they made, it wasn’t easy to find. No, I suspect that whatever it is, it’s still here somewhere.”
The sound of something squeaking came from the corridor, and they both froze. Madeline peeked around the edge of the door.
“It’s just the cleaning lady with her cart.”
Gigi let out her breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t think this was such a great idea. I don’t know what I expected to find.”
“That’s okay. I know you’re trying to help me and Hunter.” Madeline sniffed and dabbed at her eyes.
“I guess we’d better go.”
“What do we do next?” Madeline looked at Gigi, her nose reddening and her eyes brimming with tears.
“I don’t know. But I’ll think of something.”
Gigi could have kicked herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She had no idea what that something was going to be.
Gigi turned on the overhead light, and once again the sudden glare had them blinking furiously. Madeline switched off the lamp on the desk and was walking toward the door when the heel of her black suede booties caught on the edge of the oriental throw rug Tiffany had placed between her desk and the door.
“Oh,” Madeline gave a little cry as her ankle twisted, and she began to fall.
Gigi rushed to her side. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Madeline rubbed her ankle. “I don’t think it’s sprained or anything.”
Gigi held out her hand and pulled Madeline to her feet. Madeline tested her foot gingerly and gave a crooked smile. “It’s fine.”
They both looked down and noticed that the edge of the rug, which had caught on the heel of Madeline’s boot, had been peeled back. And peeking out from underneath it was a manila file folder.
“What the . . .” Gigi said as she bent to retrieve it.
She picked up the folder and several photographs spilled out. Gigi picked them up and glanced through them quickly. They appeared to be snapshots of cars heading through downtown Woodstone.
“What are these do you suppose?” Gigi held one up for Madeline to see.
Madeline took it by the corners and studied it. “Looks like these were taken by that camera they installed at the intersection of High Street and Elmwood to catch people running the light. See?” She pointed at the picture. “The camera is situated so that it gets a good shot of the car’s license plate. The police use these to send out tickets.”
Gigi looked at the photo again. Madeline was right. It was the back end of a Mercedes with the vanity plate SNKMS. “What would she be doing with these, I wonder?”
“I have no idea. Traffic violations are hardly the sort of thing we handle. And Tiffany’s specialty was tax law.” Madeline picked up the folder the photo had been in. “Strange. There’s nothing written on here.” She turned the manila folder over and looked at the back. She waved it toward Gigi. “N
o label, no paperwork, nothing.”
“Are all the pictures the same?”
Madeline spilled the rest of them out onto the desk. “No.” She pointed at one photo of the tail end of red pickup truck and another that was clearly the back of a Land Rover.
“What on earth was it doing under the rug?” Gigi pointed at the folder in Madeline’s hands.
“I can’t even begin to imagine. It looks like she was hiding it.”
“Do you think you can find out what she was working on? Maybe that will give us some idea of what to look for. You could ask her secretary?”
A horrified look crossed Madeline’s face.
“After all, if the police think Hunter . . .” Gigi let the words hang. She didn’t have to wait long.
Madeline nodded her head briskly. “I’ll ask Betty if she knows anything.” She bundled the pictures back into the folder and held it out. “What should we do with it?”
“I would put it back under the rug. Just in case it has anything to do with Tiffany’s murder.”
The very words sent a chill through Gigi, and she shivered violently.
They turned out the light and slipped from Tiffany’s office into the corridor. Gigi was relieved to see it was empty. The fewer people who saw her sneaking around the halls of Simpson and West, the better.
After all, one of them might very well be a killer.
Chapter 20
Gigi once again took a circuitous route home through the back roads of Woodstone where several industrial parks were located, along with Moe’s Towing and Storage, the bus depot, an electrical plant, and the building where the Woodstone Times was printed. The sidewalks were cracked and buckled, and the few scrawny trees were sickly looking.
It was eerily quiet as Gigi drove along the shadowy street. A few of the streetlamps were out, making it even darker. She couldn’t imagine Pia wanting to come here late at night, by herself, but where else would she find a cheap place to use as a studio?
Gigi’s head swiveled left and right, looking for any sign of Pia’s VW bus. She was coming up to a long, low building on her right that had multiple doors along the front. All the dirt-encrusted windows were dark, save one where a faint glow of light was visible through the grime.
