Iced to Death (A Gourmet De-Lite Mystery)

by Cochran, Peg

  And right outside was Pia’s van.

  Gigi slammed on her brakes and pulled into the parking lot. The macadam was split and pitted, and she shuddered as the left wheel of the MINI sank into a deep pothole. She pulled up next to Pia’s van and got out.

  An icy wind immediately grabbed her scarf and tossed it over her face. Gigi clawed it away frantically. The whole place was giving her the creeps, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

  She stood outside the door that was directly in front of Pia’s van. She hesitated. Would knocking scare Pia? Gigi knew it would certainly scare her if she were alone in a place like this. She decided she would use her cell and call Pia instead. She debated getting back in her car, but it didn’t seem worth the effort. She huddled in the lee of the door and scrabbled through her purse for her phone. The cold made her fingers stiff and awkward, but she finally found it. She pulled off her gloves and hit the speed dial number for Pia.

  Pia sounded startled when she answered. “What’s wrong? Is something wrong?”

  “No,” Gigi reassured her. “But I’m right outside your door.”

  “My door? What do you mean? You’re here at the studio?”

  “Yes, and I’m freezing, so I’d be really grateful if you’d let me in.”

  Gigi waited while Pia dealt with the lock on the door. She was terrified of what she was going to find. Was Pia stockpiling lawn ornaments in this place? Was she the Woodstone thief the police were desperate to catch? Gigi remembered some pieces Pia had made a long time ago—an assortment of all sorts of things—hubcaps, a deflated soccer ball, a handful of tools—arranged into a sort of collage. Some of the items had been partially melted with a welding iron so that they drooped like the objects in a Salvador Dali painting. Pia had called it found art, probably because she had found all the elements while roaming the streets and picking through junkyards. There had been a certain appeal to the arrangement, although Gigi couldn’t imagine anyone hanging it on their wall. Was Pia doing something like that on a bigger scale? Using parts of lawn ornaments belonging to the citizens of Woodstone?

  Pia finally unlocked the door. It was dented and warped and stuck slightly so that she had to tug to get it open.

  “How did you find me?” Pia asked as soon as Gigi entered the studio.

  “Your van. It’s parked right outside.”

  Pia bit her lower lip. “I knew I should have pulled it around back, but it was cold, and I didn’t feel like walking around to the front of the building.”

  The room itself was frigid, and Pia had on a paint-stained men’s shirt with the buttons missing over a thick wool sweater and was wearing fingerless gloves. She moved aside, and Gigi was able to look around. The room was quite large, and Pia had used several halogen work lights on tripods to light the space. A scarred wooden table, with a stack of books propping up a broken leg, was littered with tubes of paint, a handful of brushes and several sticks of charcoal.

  An enormous piece of paper was tacked to one wall and was covered with a sketch that mirrored the huge canvas leaning against the other wall. The painting was a scene of the French countryside with lavender in the foreground and a field of sunflowers in the background. It was very beautiful.

  Gigi approached it in awe. “This is fabulous. I feel like I can almost smell the flowers.”

  Pia ducked her head. “Thanks. I’m quite pleased with it myself.”

  Gigi glanced around quickly but there was no sign of the missing lawn ornaments. She felt relief wash over her. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  Pia shrugged. “Dunno, really. I never like showing my stuff until it’s done.”

  “Are you going to sell it?”

  “It’s a commission actually. For that new gourmet shop that’s opening in town.”

  “Oh.” Gigi’s spirits plummeted. The place was going to look incredible with this fabulous piece on the wall. Evelyn had nothing like it for Bon Appétit. How would she compete?

  “Why were you so determined to find my studio?” Pia squeezed a blob of bright blue paint onto her palette and dabbed at the right corner of the canvas where a brilliant sky lit the fields below.

  “Oh. No particular reason. Just curious.” Gigi felt her face getting red.

  “Would you like some tea? I’ve got an electric teakettle.” Pia gestured toward the far wall where a kettle was plugged into an outlet. Next to it were two of Gigi’s mugs.

  “No, thanks. I should be going home.”

  “Satisfied now?” Pia paused with her brush hovering over the palette.

  “Yes.” Gigi pointed at the painting. “It really is beautiful.”

  She left Pia’s studio feeling very small. Very small indeed. Of course her sister wasn’t responsible for the theft of the lawn ornaments. How could she have thought such a thing? Instead, Pia was working on one of her best works so far, and working hard under less-than-ideal circumstances. Gigi shivered again as she thought of being alone in this desolate place.

  She beeped open the MINI and got behind the wheel. She couldn’t wait to get home to her comfortable cottage and curl up in her warm bed with Reg at her feet.

  • • •

  Gigi hit the snooze button twice the next morning. Her late-night sleuthing had worn her out. She dressed, put on some coffee, threw on her jacket and headed to the end of the driveway to collect her newspaper. Reg followed behind her. He lifted his leg on several bushes and nearly disappeared into one. Gigi heard a lot of rustling before Reg backed out slowly. He was probably after some small woodland creature, Gigi thought, which had eluded his capture.

  Pia’s van was missing from the driveway. Her sister must still be at the studio. Gigi felt a pang of guilt. Pia really was working awfully hard.

  By the time Gigi got back inside, her coffee was ready. She poured a cup, climbed onto one of the stools around the island and opened up the Woodstone Times. The paper was cold to the touch, and Gigi wrapped her hands around her mug to warm them. Once again, there were several letters to the editor demanding to know what the police were doing to solve the two recent murders and to catch the lawn ornament thief. Gigi winced as she read them. She imagined Mertz would be hearing from his boss, and it wouldn’t be good.

  Gigi sighed and folded up the paper. She had to get moving and get her clients’ breakfasts prepared and delivered. She had prepared the dish the day before—baked oatmeal with bananas and blueberries that only needed to be warmed in the microwave. She was packing everything in her Gourmet De-Lite containers when she had a thought. Perhaps Pia would like something to eat. She microwaved one portion and also filled a thermos with the remains of the hot coffee. It would certainly be a more nourishing breakfast than Pia’s usual toaster pastries or powdered sugar doughnuts.

  Gigi delivered her clients’ breakfasts quickly. Her route took her past the Woodstone Police Station, where a small crowd was again gathered outside. Gigi was able to read one of the placards that demanded an immediate arrest of the criminals responsible for both the murders and the thefts. She passed the site of the new gourmet shop, but it was obvious, even from the street, that nothing had been done inside yet. Finally, she headed toward the far side of town and Pia’s studio. It occurred to her that Pia might already be on her way back to Gigi’s cottage, so she was relieved to see Pia’s van parked in the same spot as the previous evening. What she didn’t expect to see was another car parked right next to it—a late-model Land Rover that made Pia’s vehicle look like even more of a wreck.

  Gigi pulled in next to the two cars and hesitated. Maybe she ought to leave well enough alone? She glanced at the container of food and the thermos on the seat next to her. She squared her shoulders and got out.

  Pia looked slightly startled when she opened the door. She was wearing the same sweater and fingerless gloves as the night before, but had taken off the paint-stained workshirt. Her pixieish hair was even more disheveled than usual, and she was clutching a Styrofoam container of coffee.
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  She opened the door just wide enough to see who it was.

  “I’ve brought you some breakfast.” Gigi handed her the Gourmet De-Lite container. “Although I see you already have some coffee. I don’t want to disturb you . . .”

  “Thanks.” Pia gave a tired smile. “That’s very nice of you. I’m about ready to wrap it up here.” She gave a big yawn.

  “Yes . . . well . . . I’ll get going then.”

  Pia began to shut the door but not before Gigi caught a glimpse of a man standing in the far corner of the studio.

  A man who looked an awful lot like Declan McQuaid.

  Gigi drove away in a rush, her tires kicking up bits of loose gravel as she pulled out onto Broad Street. So Pia and Declan were . . . Her mind didn’t want to finish the sentence. It was now more important than ever that she prove Declan wasn’t responsible for the two murders. It would kill Pia if he were arrested.

  Gigi was so distracted by her thoughts that she missed the turn onto Elmwood Street that would take her back to High Street and the center of town. She pulled into the nearest driveway to turn around. When she looked to her right, she noticed a large metal sign with one corner missing announcing that she had arrived at Manny’s Junkyard. Underneath, in smaller letters, it read—We take scrap metal, car parts and all sorts of junk. When in doubt, bring it in.

  Gigi was about to back out onto Broad Street when she saw something that made her change her mind. She put the MINI in drive and cruised into the parking lot of Manny’s Junkyard.

  The front gate was open. Pieces of metal, car parts and all sorts of junk were piled as high as Gigi could see. She hoped there wasn’t a junkyard dog. She looked around cautiously, thinking back to an experience she’d had at Moe’s Towing and Storage.

  “Can I help you?” A man called, coming down an aisle that had been created through several mounds of twisted metal. He was bald with a gray beard and was wearing a blue shirt with Manny embroidered above the pocket.

  “Manny?”

  “One and the same,” he said, pointing to his name on the sign. “What can I do for you?” He pulled a rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands.

  “I was curious about this piece over here.” He followed Gigi to the front of the lot. “I wondered if you remembered who brought it in.”

  Gigi gestured to a lawn ornament that was slightly bent and twisted, but was clearly a frog playing a violin. The very same piece she’d seen someone swipe from that front yard on Elmwood Street.

  Manny scratched the side of his head with one hand and stroked his beard with the other. He gestured toward the piles of junk behind him. “You see all this stuff here?”

  Gigi nodded.

  “Yeah, well, there’s a lot of it, isn’t there?”

  Gigi nodded again. She had a sinking feeling that Manny wasn’t going to be able to help her.

  “There’s no way I could remember every single person who comes here with an old radiator, some copper wire or a piece of sheet metal, is there?”

  Gigi shook her head.

  “But!” Manny paused dramatically. “I do happen to remember that piece. It was only a couple of days ago. Fellow by the name of Jimmy brought it in. The metal isn’t worth all that much, but what’s not much to me might be a king’s ransom to someone else. You know what I mean?”

  Gigi certainly did.

  “Jimmy’s brought me a couple of pieces like this. He’s a nice guy.”

  “Do you know where he got them?”

  “Don’t know, don’t ask and don’t tell, that’s my motto.”

  “Haven’t you seen the stories in the Woodstone Times?”

  Manny shrugged. “I’m not much for reading papers. Get all the news I need from the television.”

  Which wouldn’t include a local story like missing lawn ornaments.

  “Someone has been swiping lawn ornaments from front yards all over Woodstone. Ornaments just like that one there.”

  Manny’s look turned hostile. “Hey, lady, I’m not dealing in stolen goods, all right? Like I told you, I don’t know where Jimmy got the stuff, and it’s not my business to ask or my problem. You have a problem with it, I suggest you talk to the police.” He turned his back on her and began to walk away. “And I suggest you leave now,” he tossed over his shoulder.

  Gigi didn’t need to be told twice. She was back in her car in a nanosecond and sped out of the driveway before another minute had gone by.

  Chapter 21

  Gigi headed straight to Mertz’s office. She racked her brain frantically as she drove—she needed to explain to Mertz why she didn’t immediately report the theft of the lawn ornament to him. It would be too embarrassing to admit that she thought her own sister was responsible. What would he think of Pia? Worse, what would he think of her?

  By the time Gigi arrived at the Woodstone Police Station, she had decided that her best line of defense was to say nothing. No need to report having seen the piece stolen. She would just say that she noticed it at the junkyard and wondered if had been one of the pieces that had gone missing from a Woodstone resident’s lawn.

  The receptionist barely hesitated to wave Gigi on through. She didn’t even bother to ask if Gigi knew the way.

  Mertz was at his desk munching on a granola bar when Gigi arrived. He jumped to his feet immediately.

  “What a nice surprise.” He hugged her and gave her a brief kiss.

  “Please, sit.” He pulled an empty chair closer to his desk.

  Gigi perched on the edge and wet her lips.

  Mertz frowned. “You look terribly serious.”

  Gigi fiddled with the fringe on her scarf. “I think I might have a clue in the missing lawn ornaments case.”

  “Really?” Mertz sat up straighter and pulled a yellow pad toward him. He plucked a pen from a holder on top of his desk. “Shoot.”

  Gigi explained about turning around in Manny’s parking lot. “This one piece caught my eye so I stopped and went in. It was a metal sculpture of a frog playing a violin. It stood out against all the twisted metal and car parts.”

  Mertz was quickly jotting down notes. “I’ll head over there right away.” He picked up the phone, barked some orders and began to reach for his coat.

  Gigi hesitated. Should she tell him about Jimmy?

  “What’s the matter?” Mertz paused with one arm in the sleeve of his coat. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”

  Gigi drew a circle on the carpet with her right foot. “Well, I did ask Manny, the junkyard owner, if he knew who brought the piece in. He said it was some guy named Jimmy.”

  Mertz sighed. “There are a lot of Jimmys out there. I’m not sure how helpful that’s going to be.”

  “Manny said he’s brought stuff in before. All lawn ornaments.”

  “But no last name, I gather?”

  Gigi shook her head. “No. But I wonder . . .”

  Mertz smiled. “You wonder what? Have you been snooping again?”

  “Oh, no.” Gigi crossed her fingers behind her back. Well, she hadn’t been snooping exactly. More like overhearing and certainly that didn’t count, did it?

  “Bradley Simpson has a brother-in-law named Jimmy. His wife works at the recording studio where I went to make the commercials for Branston Foods. I heard her on the phone talking to someone about their financial troubles. Manny said the metal from the lawn ornaments doesn’t bring in much, but for someone who’s desperate . . .”

  Mertz sighed, louder this time. “Unfortunately, I can’t use that as a basis for arresting the guy.” He stopped with his hat halfway to his head. “But maybe we could set up a sting . . .” He leaned over and pecked Gigi on the cheek. “I’ve got to get going. You know the way out?”

  Mertz turned right down the corridor, and Gigi turned left. She was pushing open the front door when her cell phone rang. By the time she located it at the bottom of her purse, the ringing had stopped. She checked the number and saw the name Simpson and West on th
e call log. The only person who would call her from there was Madeline.

  Gigi hit redial as she walked toward her car. Madeline picked up on the second ring. Her voice was low—practically a whisper.

  “Gigi? Listen, I’ve got some news. I can’t talk over the phone. Can you meet me for a quick cup of coffee at the Woodstone Diner?”

  Gigi glanced at her watch. Lunch for her clients was going to be a healthy veggie wrap that wouldn’t take long to prepare. “Sure.”

  “Great. I’ll see you there in five.”

  Gigi clicked off the call and spun on her heel, turning in the other direction, toward the Woodstone Diner.

  Two of the booths were occupied when she got there. There were four women in one having a late breakfast. Gigi imagined they were headed to the mall afterward for some shopping. A single man sat in the other booth, nursing a cup of coffee and scrolling through the texts on his phone. Gigi thought he was probably a salesman looking for a place to get in from the cold and check his messages.

  She grabbed a booth way in the back and had barely sat down when the door opened and Madeline came in.

  “Hey,” she said as she unbuttoned her camel hair coat, folded it carefully and placed it on the seat beside her.

  The waitress immediately glided up and slapped menus down on the table. She started to walk away, but Gigi called out to her.

  “Just a coffee for me, please.”

  “I’ll have a cup of tea.” Madeline pushed the menus toward the edge of the table.

  The waitress nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. Gigi could understand—cups of tea and coffee didn’t bring much of a tip.

  Madeline rubbed her hands together. They were red from the cold. She was quiet as they waited for the waitress to return with their order. As soon as the woman was safely back behind the counter, Madeline began to talk, keeping her voice low so that Gigi had to lean closer to hear.

  “I talked to Betty, Tiffany’s secretary.”

  Gigi nodded encouragingly. “Yes?” She pulled a napkin from the dispenser and put it under her cup to soak up the coffee that had sloshed over the edge.