Iced to Death (A Gourmet De-Lite Mystery)

by Cochran, Peg

  “Maybe someone else will buy it?” Gigi’s mind was half on the conversation, half occupied with wondering how long before she got her bath. She could feel her bruised muscles stiffening inch by painful inch.

  “It’s too big to go anywhere else. Who would have a wall that large?”

  “Another store maybe?”

  Pia snorted. “I can’t see the Shop and Save being interested, or Abigail’s or the Silver Lining.”

  Gigi felt bubbles of excitement stir in her stomach. “Maybe not, but what about Bon Appétit? Evelyn is redoing the shop in a sort of country French style. Your mural would be perfect.”

  Pia lifted her head from the cushions. “Do you think so?” Even she sounded slightly excited.

  “I can ask her. Personally, I think it would be perfect with the changes she’s already made.”

  Pia sat up abruptly. “Would you ask her? I won’t charge her anything near what I was asking Peter Werks.”

  “I’ll call her on Monday. It’s too late now. Besides, if I don’t get into a nice hot bath, I’m going to stiffen up like the Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz.”

  Pia gave Gigi a quizzical look.

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” she said as she headed toward the bathroom.

  “Are you hungry?” Pia called after her. “I can throw together some vegetable soup. I picked up a crusty loaf of bread on my way home.”

  “Sounds great,” Gigi said.

  Would wonders never cease?

  • • •

  Gigi woke up on Sunday morning and stretched luxuriously. She didn’t deliver food to her clients on Sundays, so there was nothing she absolutely had to do for the entire day. The idea was intoxicating.

  Mertz called early to ask if he could bring over some bagels and croissants for breakfast. Gigi took a quick shower, pinned her damp, curling hair up on top of her head and donned her best pair of jeans and the sweater that brought out the color of her eyes. She had brewed coffee, set out a pitcher of orange juice and grilled some bacon by the time Mertz got there.

  Reg jumped all over him trying to get his attention, but Mertz had eyes only for Gigi. He gathered her in his arms and stood with his head resting on top of hers.

  “I spent a terrible night last night thinking about what might have happened if I hadn’t gotten your message in time. That woman was determined to shoot you.”

  “And she almost got away with it,” Gigi murmured against Mertz’s chest. His coat felt rough against her cheek. “If it hadn’t been for Reg disarming her, I would have been in big trouble.”

  “Good boy!” Mertz said, glancing at Reg, who sat patiently next to them waiting for his fair share of attention. Mertz waved the white paper bakery bag he had in one hand. “I’ve got some good things for us to eat.”

  Gigi pulled away. “And I’ve got coffee and bacon going. We just have to pour the orange juice.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” Mertz followed Gigi out to the kitchen, where she’d set out woven mats, linen napkins and silverware on her small kitchen table.

  The door to Pia’s room was still shut, and Gigi imagined she would be sleeping in. She’d heard the television going until quite late last night.

  Mertz put his napkin in his lap and helped himself to some of the bacon on the platter. “I’m still amazed that you made the connection between Barbara Simpson and the murders,” he said as he spread cream cheese on his poppy seed bagel.

  “I didn’t at first,” Gigi admitted as she stirred her coffee. “She’d managed to convince me she was really sick at Hunter’s party. Apparently I was the only one who was fooled—the others all thought she’d had a little too much to drink, which was what she wanted them to think—that she’d had a relapse.”

  “And that she was tucked up in bed at home when the murder occurred. Guardian confirmed that she turned off the alarm to enter the house long before Bradley was killed.”

  “And everyone assumed she was too inebriated to go out again.” Gigi took a bite of her buttered croissant and chewed thoughtfully. “She’d stolen Bradley’s cell phone earlier in the evening—I remember his complaining that he couldn’t find it when he wanted to call a taxi for Barbara. Barbara, meanwhile, planned to use it to text Tiffany to get her back to the scene.”

  “And hopefully make her the scapegoat. Barbara had a lot of nerve; I’ll have to say that for her.” Mertz washed down a bite of bagel with a gulp of coffee. “She used that shawl thingy of hers to cover up her clothes when she committed the murder, having already established that it was missing. She could have thrown it away or burned it, but instead she brought it back to the scene, making it look as if she was being framed.” He shook his head. “That was almost a little too clever.”

  Gigi nodded. “It was good luck for her that Declan was heard arguing with Bradley that night. It gave him motive as well as means.” Gigi was quiet for a moment. “I couldn’t bear the thought of it being Declan. It would have broken my sister’s heart.” She nibbled on some crumbs from her croissant. “I’m still worried about her. Declan’s made it clear he isn’t interested in anything long term.”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

  They both jumped as Pia’s voice came from the doorway.

  “Declan and I had a long talk, and he made it clear he wasn’t interested in me. No hard feelings though.” Pia smiled. “He’s commissioned me to do a mural to put behind his bar. He stopped by that day”—she leveled a glance at Gigi—“the day you also showed up, to see my work. He liked it, and I’m going to start on something for him next week.”

  “Oh,” Gigi said in a tiny voice.

  “I knew what you were thinking.” Pia grabbed one of the croissants and leveled it at Gigi. “But I was annoyed with you so I decided it would serve you right to let you think the worst for a little longer.”

  “Oh,” Gigi said again while Mertz turned to glance out the window, an amused look on his face.

  “I’m heading to the studio so I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” Pia grabbed a piece of bacon from the platter and started toward the back door.

  Gigi felt her face get red, and when she looked at Mertz, she could see his was doing the same.

  “Barbara insisted she and Bradley were once lovebirds, too,” Gigi said. “But then he became more distant and ultimately abusive until she felt the only way out was to kill him.”

  “She wanted his money, too,” Mertz pointed out. “That was her ultimate revenge—spending Bradley’s fortune and enjoying her life while he was dead in his grave.”

  Gigi shivered. “I just can’t imagine it. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Murder never does.” Mertz had the last sip of his coffee. “I hope you noticed that Rudolph is no longer gracing your front yard.”

  “I certainly did.”

  “I have to apologize because I know you’d become quite fond of him.”

  Gigi was about to open her mouth to protest when she realized he was kidding. “Was it Jimmy?”

  “Yes and no.”

  Gigi gave Mertz a confused look.

  “It was a young man named Jimmy but not the Jimmy who is Barbara Simpson’s brother.”

  “Really?”

  Mertz helped himself to another bagel. “It seems young Jimmy is a freshman at Woodstone High School. According to his mother, he suffers from something called OCD, or obsessive-compulsive disorder. He is supposed to take medication but doesn’t always comply. He recently became obsessed with lawn ornaments and started stealing them and hoarding them in the family garage. His mother didn’t know what to do—she made him take that frog and violin piece to the junkyard, others she’s taken to consignment shops in other towns. She was afraid that if anyone found out, Jimmy would go to jail.”

  “Will he?”

  “No, I doubt it. It’s out of my hands, but I suspect the court will recommend further psychiatric treatment and insist he stick to his medication regimen.”

  Mertz stood u
p and began gathering the dirty dishes. Gigi threw the empty bakery bag in the garbage can and wiped down the kitchen table.

  Dishes done, Mertz put his arm around Gigi. “What do you say we adjourn to the living room sofa?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

  • • •

  The snow had melted and the sun was out the day of Bon Appétit’s grand reopening. It was also the launch party for Branston Foods’ new line of Gourmet De-Lite dinners.

  Gigi chose her outfit with care. Reg watched from the bed as she pulled various garments from the closet. The look on his face clearly registered his approval or disapproval. Gigi tried to ignore him as she went through her clothes.

  In the end she chose a wool sweater dress in a soft sage green that was nipped in at the waist with a wide, brown suede belt. She had a pair of matching brown suede boots that would go perfectly with it. She spent some time washing and styling her hair into soft waves that framed her heart-shaped face. She didn’t usually wear much makeup but she added a little eye shadow and mascara to her everyday routine and finished it off with a slick of peach lip gloss. When she stood back from the mirror to admire the effect, even she had to admit that she looked pretty good.

  The glance Mertz gave her when he picked her up confirmed that she was definitely at her best. His hands lingered on her shoulders as he helped her into her coat, and standing behind her, he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. Gigi sighed with satisfaction and snuggled against him briefly. Her life had truly taken a turn for the better.

  Mertz had recently acquired a new car and he ushered Gigi into the front seat with a flourish. She pulled the seat belt around her and settled back into the comfy seat.

  “This is quite a big day for you,” Mertz said as he got behind the wheel. He glanced at Gigi quickly, giving her a big smile.

  “Yes, I guess it is.”

  “You look gorgeous.” Mertz leaned over and brushed Gigi’s lips with his.

  The contact sent a zing through her that set fire to her confidence. She raised her chin a bit higher. “I think everything is going to turn out okay.”

  “I know it is,” Mertz said as he put the car in gear. He stopped suddenly. “Is Pia coming? Does she need a ride?”

  Gigi shook her head. “She drove over earlier to check on the placement of her mural. I told her we would meet her there.”

  “Okay.” Mertz shifted into reverse and backed down the driveway.

  Bon Appétit was packed when they got there. Earlier Gigi had delivered several boxes of light hors d’oeuvres for Evelyn to serve—bread sticks wrapped with prosciutto, bruschetta topped with tomato compote, leaves of endive tipped with goat cheese, and plenty of other delicacies. Evelyn had arranged them beautifully on tables she had rented for the occasion.

  Gigi did a quick check to make sure everything was in order. Branston Foods had sent over the company chef, a supply of frozen Gigi’s Gourmet De-Lite dinners and a microwave. He was busy heating up a selection of the dinners and setting them out in bite-size portions.

  Sienna came up to Gigi with one of the samples in her hand. “These are delicious! I know what I’m making Oliver on nights when I don’t want to cook.”

  Evelyn bustled over as soon as she saw Gigi. She had a jeweled headband holding back her customary bob and was wearing a bright turquoise cashmere cardigan over her black dress.

  “Everything has turned out so wonderfully.” She enveloped Gigi in a big hug. Gigi could smell the faint notes of Chanel No. 5 contrasting with the scent of Ivory soap. “Even if I no longer have to worry about the competition, the renovation is going to completely revitalize Bon Appétit.” Evelyn clucked her tongue. “I had no idea how complacent I’d become until now.” She gestured around the shop. “The new décor is just what was needed and your sister’s mural!” She clapped her hands together. “It’s a masterpiece and is absolutely the finishing touch.”

  Gigi glanced past Evelyn to where Mertz was standing surrounded by several women. She felt a sudden sharp jolt of jealousy, but then Mertz looked up and smiled at her, and the feeling dissipated just as quickly as it had arrived.

  Pia stood in front of her mural, her short hair becomingly tousled and her leggings and long, hand-knit sweater making her look every inch the artist she was. Three or four people stood with her, gesturing toward the large painting that now dominated one wall of Bon Appétit.

  Several more people came up to Gigi exclaiming over her frozen dinners, and soon, Evelyn’s new freezer case was completely emptied. Victor Branston and his wife breezed in at the last minute, coats unbuttoned and faces red from the cold.

  Branston pumped Gigi’s hand vigorously. “What a success,” he exclaimed as he smoothed his silver mustache with one hand and held Gigi’s with the other. “Georgia,” he called to his wife, who was hovering over the hors d’oeuvres table, filling her plate. “We must get going.” He turned to Gigi. “I apologize, but we have another commitment for the evening. It must seem terribly rude to you, but I’m afraid it can’t be helped.” He leaned closer to Gigi and whispered in her ear, “Invitation from the chairman of the board.”

  Gigi assured him that she understood completely, and he rushed toward the door, pulling the protesting Georgia along in his wake.

  Noise swirled around Gigi’s head. The room was warm and suddenly felt oppressive. She eased her way through the crowd toward the front door. She caught Mertz’s eye as she went past, and he quickly excused himself from the middle-aged blonde in the designer outfit who was bending his ear and followed Gigi outside to the sidewalk.

  The moon was full and the inky black sky was clear and sprinkled with twinkling stars. Gigi wrapped her arms around herself as the brisk air washed over her.

  “Cold?” Mertz took Gigi in his arms and steered her into the shadows under the bright canopy with Bon Appétit written on it in script.

  Gigi relished the cool air on her face and the warmth coming from the secure circle of Mertz’s arms. She felt him digging in his pocket and backed away slightly.

  He pulled a black velvet box from his jacket and handed it to Gigi.

  She stared at it quizzically. “But,” she protested, “you’ve already given me a beautiful Valentine’s Day present.”

  Mertz ducked his head. “Open it,” he encouraged her. “This is something else.”

  Gigi lifted the lid on the box. Nestled inside, on a white satin cushion, was a sapphire ring surrounded by diamonds. Gigi didn’t know what to say.

  Mertz dropped to one knee and took Gigi’s hands in his. “Will you marry me?”

  His voice cracked slightly, and Gigi’s heart went out to him.

  “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  Mertz sprang to his feet. He plucked the ring from the box, and Gigi held out her hand. “I hope you like it. It belonged to my grandmother.” He made a face. “I’m afraid a policeman’s salary—”

  “It’s perfect.” Gigi cut him off. “Just perfect.”

  She would have said more, but Mertz’s lips enveloped hers and they stood like that until the cold sent them scurrying back to the warmth inside.

  Recipes

  Gazpacho

  Gazpacho is a lovely, light soup to serve in the summer, although it’s delicious any time of year. I like to think of it as “liquid vitamins” because of all the nutrient-rich veggies in it. You can leave out the olive oil garnish to further reduce the calories, but the oil does add a note of “silkiness” to the soup.

  1 small red onion

  1 small green pepper, seeded

  2 cucumbers, peeled and seeded

  1 or 2 large cloves garlic, peeled (depending on your taste)

  2 large tomatoes

  2 cups tomato juice or V8 juice

  Salt and pepper to taste

  2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

  2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

  Cut all the vegetables into small chunks and place in a food processor. Process until desired consistency. Pour into a large bowl and
add the tomato juice or V8, salt and pepper, balsamic vinegar and olive oil. Stir well and refrigerate until completely chilled. Taste for seasoning and add more salt if necessary.

  Approximately 8 servings, 70 calories each

  Curried Chicken Thighs

  This slightly exotic dish is a whole meal in one pan.

  1 tablespoon olive oil

  1 onion, diced

  1 garlic clove, minced or pressed

  4 skinless chicken thighs

  1/2 cup chicken broth

  1/2 small cauliflower, microwaved two minutes

  4 small red potatoes, in large dice, microwaved two minutes

  3 teaspoons curry powder

  1 teaspoon cumin

  1 teaspoon garam masala

  11/2 14.5-ounce cans diced tomatoes

  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

  Heat the olive oil in sauté pan over medium heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion is wilted. Add the chicken thighs and cook 3 to 4 minutes, until slightly browned. Add the chicken broth and scrape up any browned bits from the pan. Add the remainder of the ingredients and cook in a 350-degree oven approximately 45 minutes, until temperature of the chicken thighs reaches 165 degrees on a meat thermometer.

  4 servings, 350 calories each

  Lighter Chicken Tetrazzini

  4 tablespoons butter

  1/2 pound mushrooms, sliced

  1 tablespoon dry sherry

  4 tablespoons flour

  11/2 cups chicken broth

  1/2 cup 1% milk