Steamed to Death

by Peg Cochran

“I suppose the police need to be certain there’s nothing suspicious about the death.” Sienna plucked a canapé from Gigi’s newly refilled tray and popped it into her mouth.

  “Speaking of the police, where are they?” Alice wiped her hands on her apron.

  “I think they’re still upstairs poking around.” Sienna dabbed at her lips with a cocktail napkin.

  “And one of them is posted at the front door,” Gigi added.

  Alice nodded. “That whiny young man, what’s his name?”

  “Derek?” Gigi supplied.

  “Derek. He came through a couple of minutes ago and said they were doing all sorts of things in Felicity’s bedroom.” Alice shivered.

  Just so they stayed upstairs, Gigi thought.

  “Time I took that tray around.” Alice said, pointing at the loaded platter that still sat on the table.

  “You’re right; we should get back out there.” Gigi began to struggle to her feet.

  “You sit for a bit. I don’t mind,” Alice said. “I’m curious to see what the crowd looks like.”

  “Then be my guest.”

  Sienna struggled up from her seat. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Again.” She sighed.

  Gigi sank back into the chair. She glanced at Reggie and Tabitha, who were napping under the table. She could do with a nap herself. She’d been working hard, and she was exhausted. She let her eyes drift closed. Just for a moment, she promised herself.

  When she opened them, Detective Mertz was standing in front of her, the suggestion of a smile hovering around his mouth.

  Chapter 5

  Gigi jumped to her feet so suddenly she barked her elbow against the table edge. It hurt like the dickens, but she didn’t want to look stupid in front of Mertz, so she gritted her teeth and plastered a smile on her face. She stuck her hand behind her back so she wouldn’t be tempted to grab at her smarting joint.

  She and Mertz had had a run-in several months ago when he all but accused her of poisoning her client with peanut oil. Gigi found him annoying, overbearing and unbelievably attractive in equal measures.

  Tonight was no exception.

  “I was, er, resting for a moment.” Gigi immediately put the width of the kitchen island between them.

  “There’s no crime in that, as far as I know.” This time Mertz actually did smile. It softened the hard planes of his face and put some light in his ice blue eyes.

  Gigi smiled back. “No, I guess not.” She tried to relax, but there was an attraction between them that always made her nervous and awkward. If Mertz ever got around to asking her out, she was pretty sure she would say yes with indecent haste.

  “I’m hoping you can fill me in on some details.”

  “Certainly.” Gigi stood up straighter and matched his formal tones.

  “Was Mrs. Winchel in the habit of taking saunas?”

  For a moment Gigi couldn’t think who on earth he was talking about, but then she realized that Felicity was, in her private life, Mrs. Winchel.

  “I honestly don’t know. I suppose she must have been.”

  “So presumably Mrs. Winchel knew how the apparatus works.”

  Gigi nodded. “I would guess so.”

  “Had any of the guests already arrived when Mrs. Winchel . . .” He hesitated, seeing the expression on Gigi’s face. “I suppose I ought to call her Miss Davenport to avoid confusion.”

  Gigi managed to hide her smile. “That’s a good idea.”

  “Had any of the dinner guests already arrived,” he continued, “when Miss Davenport went up to take her sauna?”

  “No.” Gigi grabbed the sponge from the sink and began wiping down the kitchen island, catching the crumbs in the palm of her hand. She couldn’t stand being idle, and she couldn’t stand mess.

  “Who was in the house?”

  Gigi wondered what all these questions were leading up to, but she knew better than to ask. She rinsed out the sponge and began wiping down the front of the refrigerator. “Let me think.” Everything had gone blurry in her mind, and she had to concentrate to recall the events of the afternoon. “Mr. Winchel was here. Anja was here, but then she went out to get something.” Gigi stopped with her sponge halfway down the front of the fridge. “Actually Anja went out before Felicity went into the sauna. But Derek was here. I’m honestly not sure about Alex Goulet, but Vanessa and Don Bartholomew were definitely here.”

  Mertz jotted some things in his notebook, his dark brows drawn together in concentration. He glanced up with an almost apologetic look on his face. “And when did you arrive?” He looked down again quickly as if to avoid Gigi’s eyes.

  “I got here yesterday. I’m staying here. I had a . . . a plumbing problem at home and couldn’t use my kitchen. Felicity kindly suggested I come here.”

  Mertz nodded and continued with his note taking, his head bent over his notebook. Gigi thought she heard him sigh as if to say Crisis averted. She no longer blamed him for suspecting her in the death of her client, but she suspected he was still blaming himself.

  Mertz glanced up, his brows still furrowed together, a solicitous look on his face. He put a hand on Gigi’s arm. “Are you okay? This can’t be easy for you.”

  His sudden concern brought tears to Gigi’s eyes.

  “Sure. I’m fine.” She bent her head quickly and went back to her cleaning. She took a last swipe at the side of the refrigerator and worked up the nerve to ask the question that had been dancing around the fringes of her thoughts the whole time.

  “But wasn’t it an accident?”

  Mertz’s shoulders slumped in resignation. “We have reason to believe it was anything but.”

  • • •

  Gigi was in the kitchen late the next morning when the back door opened. Anja backed into the room, attempting to subdue her umbrella, which the wind was toying with, trying to turn it inside out. Gigi shivered as a blast of cold, wet air blew across the room.

  Anja finally managed to close her umbrella. She gave it a final shake out the door before propping it in the corner. “It is raining—how do you say it?—cats and dogs out there.”

  Anja’s nose was bright red, and Gigi noticed that her eyes were as well. Was it the wind and the cold, or had she been crying?

  Anja turned her back on Gigi, and Gigi thought she heard her give a loud sniff.

  “Is everything okay?” Gigi asked tentatively. Anja was clearly a private person, and Gigi didn’t want to intrude.

  Anja turned around, and Gigi noticed she was dabbing at her eyes with a damp tissue. Anja’s mouth worked for several seconds before she found her voice. “People in the town are . . . talking.”

  “Talking?”

  Anja nodded her head vigorously. “They are all talking about Madam’s death.”

  Gigi put a hand on Anja’s arm. “It’s natural they would be. I’m sure she was very well liked in Woodstone.”

  “No, no, you do not understand.” Anja twisted the shred of tissue between her fingers and bit her lip. “They are all saying that she committed suicide.”

  “Suicide!” Gigi grabbed the kettle from the stove and began to fill it. She would make Anja some tea. The woman was shaking like a leaf. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I know.” Anja collapsed in a chair at the kitchen table. “Madam would not do that. She had everything to live for.”

  “That’s right.” Gigi plunked the kettle on the stove. “What woman would go on a diet, buy a new dress and plan a party . . . all to commit suicide before she had the chance to enjoy any of it?” She adjusted the burner and leaned against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. “The police did say it wasn’t an accident,” Gigi mused.

  “Not an accident?” Anja looked startled. “But what else could it be? It’s not suicide.” Her jaw set in a firm line.

  “I don’t know,” Gigi admitted. “Murder, perhaps?”

  • • •

  Later that morning Gigi decided she needed a break and headed into town and the Book
Nook. Sienna was back, now that she was no longer working for Felicity, trying to catch up with all her responsibilities at the store.

  Gigi was enveloped in the worn but comfortable sofa in the area of the store known as the coffee corner. Patrons often spent hours there thumbing through books. She nursed a mug of her favorite coffee. Rain continued to pelt the front windows of the shop, and the bright fall colors of the leaves outside were muted by ethereal strands of fog.

  “Anja said everyone is talking about Felicity’s death. Some have gone so far as to label it a suicide.”

  “Really?” Sienna looked up from her calculator where she was plugging in numbers. “I know everyone is gossiping about it, but I hadn’t heard that. Hopefully that means they’ve stopped talking about the nonexistent affair between Felicity and Oliver.”

  “Mertz did say he was quite sure it wasn’t an accident, but surely he can’t be hinting at . . . murder.” Gigi looked at Sienna. “One murder in Woodstone already seems . . . too much.”

  “I know what you mean.” Sienna plugged in some more figures and hit total. She frowned. “Maybe she did commit suicide? On the other hand, the police could be wrong, and it was simply an accident.”

  “I hope so.” Gigi took a sip of her coffee.

  The bell over the front door jingled, and they both looked up, startled.

  “It’s miserable out there,” Alice complained as she entered. She shook the drops of rain from her hair. “Where is that famous Connecticut autumn all the tourists come to see?”

  “Have some tea.” Sienna gestured toward the teakettle. “It will warm you up.” Sienna herself was sipping a mug of her favorite herbal brew.

  “I think I will, thanks.” Alice picked up a mug, but before she could do anything more, her excitement obviously got the better of her. “You won’t believe it!” she declared, looking from Gigi to Sienna and back again as if to judge their reactions.

  “What?” they chorused.

  “Joe, that’s my Stacy’s husband, stopped by the house, and . . .”

  “And?”

  “Well, you know Joe’s on the force. He’s got the inside scoop, so to speak. And he’s always been really generous in sharing stuff with me. He’s a good boy. A real good boy.” She looked sad for a moment, as if she were reflecting on Stacy’s marital discontent.

  “And?” Sienna asked.

  Alice’s eyes glowed like diamonds. “You are not going to believe this!”

  Gigi wanted to scream. Whatever Alice had to say, she wished she’d get on with it.

  “Joe told me . . .” Alice lowered her voice and looked toward the front window of the Book Nook. The only thing visible through the streaks of rain was the hazy outline of Declan’s Grille across the street.

  Alice took a deep breath. “Apparently the police have reason to suspect that Felicity’s death wasn’t an accident,” she finished triumphantly.

  “That’s what Mertz told me,” Gigi said.

  Alice looked deflated. She reached for a tea bag and added hot water to her mug, her face averted.

  “Did he tell you why they suspect—”

  Alice was already shaking her head. “I don’t think he knew himself. He only knew this much by, you know, keeping his ear to the ground, so to speak.” Alice smiled proudly. “He did say that there was something on the scene that had convinced Detective Mertz.”

  “I wonder what that was.” Sienna glanced from Alice to Gigi. “I know Anja, Felicity’s housekeeper, would be very relieved if it’s proven Felicity’s death wasn’t a suicide. On the other hand, murder isn’t much of an alternative.”

  Gigi was quiet. An idea was already percolating in her mind. Winchel had asked her to stay on for a bit and provide meals and ultimately a luncheon after Felicity’s funeral. Anja also needed help in the kitchen since the police had asked Winchel’s houseguests to stay in the area for a few days, and Winchel had insisted they stay with him. Besides, Hector’s Plumbing and Heating still hadn’t come up with the appropriate piece of kitchen pipe, so Gigi was glad of the offer.

  Sienna regarded her with narrowed eyes. “Okay, give. What’s up? You’ve got that look.”

  “What look?” Gigi asked innocently.

  “The look. The one you get when you’re about to suggest we do something insane like break into someone’s porch for evidence.”

  “I had no choice,” Gigi protested.

  “Well, whatever it is, we can’t let you do it alone.”

  • • •

  Gigi spent the rest of the morning working on some recipes for Branston Foods. The good news was that she would serve the finished products to Winchel and the rest of Felicity’s houseguests for lunch.

  Anja was serving the meal, and everyone was in the dining room waiting to eat, when Gigi got out her cell and called Sienna and Alice. She reached Alice first and whispered into the phone, “The coast is clear,” before hanging up.

  She dialed Sienna and went through the same scenario. Then she hovered near the back door until they arrived.

  “Oh, that rain refuses to let up,” Alice declared.

  “Sssh,” Gigi and Sienna said in unison.

  Alice’s hand flew to her mouth. “Sorry.”

  “We can go straight upstairs.” Gigi pointed to the back stairs, which went from the mudroom by the back door up to the second and third floors.

  “This is so exciting,” Alice said, and they shushed her again.

  They got to the door of Felicity’s bedroom, and Alice suddenly came to a halt. “I . . . I’m not sure I want to go in there.” She swiped a hand across her eyes. “It was so . . . horrible, seeing that poor woman like that.”

  “Then you can stand watch,” Sienna said decisively.

  “Well, all right, I guess I’ll go with you,” Alice said, obviously not wanting to be left out.

  They tiptoed across the acres of ultra-plush carpeting toward the master bath. Alice’s head swiveled this way and that. “I didn’t really get a chance to look around before. I was too upset. This is some setup, don’t you think?” She plunged her hand into the cashmere throw that was casually draped across a rose-colored chaise longue.

  “It’s a little fancy for my taste.” Sienna crossed the room quickly.

  Gigi realized she couldn’t even begin to imagine living in a room like this, so there was no point in thinking about it. The bedroom in her little cottage was perfect as far as she was concerned—small but homey and comfortable.

  “Is this where it happened?” Sienna stood at the entrance to the bathroom.

  Despite her earlier attack of nerves, Alice peered over Sienna’s shoulder eagerly. Gigi was the only one holding back. Sienna opened the sauna door and peered in. The bench inside was large enough for several people. Gigi had never seen a sauna before, but this one looked as if everything was in order.

  “Do you think it malfunctioned somehow?” Gigi examined the knobs and dials that she supposed set the temperature and the time.

  “But that would make it an accident, and the police don’t think it was for some reason.”

  “True.”

  Sienna pushed the door to the sauna closed and sighed in defeat. “I can’t imagine what the police saw in here, can you?”

  Alice shook her head, and Gigi was about to do the same when she stopped abruptly. She moved closer to the sauna door and examined it carefully, running her fingers across the smooth wooden finish.

  “I think I know what they saw,” she said, straightening up with a look of triumph on her face.

  “What? Don’t keep us in suspense,” Sienna demanded.

  “See that?” Gigi ran her hand across the wooden door again.

  “What?” Alice adjusted her glasses on her nose. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Feel it,” Gigi suggested.

  Alice delicately brushed her fingertips across the sauna door. “Feels like it’s scratched.”

  “Exactly!” Gigi said.

  Sienna shrugged. “So what?”<
br />
  “So,” Gigi explained, “I think someone might have put something in front of the door. To block it.”

  Alice’s hand flew to her mouth. “Then it was murder,” she said, her blue eyes round with shock.

  “What do you think they used?” Sienna looked around the bathroom. “It had to have been something close at hand.”

  Gigi nodded. “My best guess would be a chair of some sort.” She gestured toward the sauna door. “Wedged under the handle. Hardly foolproof, but if Felicity panicked . . .”

  “But when I found Felicity”—Alice gulped hard, and her face blanched white—“she was already half out of the sauna.”

  “The killer must have hung around and removed the chair thinking the police would be none the wiser.” Gigi wandered into the bedroom, and the other two followed. “It may have even been the killer who opened the sauna door to make it look as if Felicity tried to get out.”

  Gigi looked around the room. It didn’t lack for chairs—plump chairs, straight chairs, reclining chairs. Any one of them could have been the one the murderer used. She wondered if there might be some sort of mark on the back, and began examining them one by one. Nothing.

  She glanced at a chair in the corner that had an almost abandoned look, as if no one ever sat in it. Something caught her eye. Maybe . . . She moved around the room examining the other pieces of furniture.

  “Well, Anja certainly isn’t much of a housekeeper,” Gigi declared suddenly. “But I think I’ve found our chair.”

  She was rewarded by the dumbfounded looks on the faces of Sienna and Alice.

  “This is going to be good.” Sienna sat down on the edge of the bed and put a hand to her back.

  “How on earth?” Alice sputtered.

  “If you look around”—Gigi waved a hand toward the furniture in the room—“you’ll see that Anja, or whoever does the housekeeping, is in the habit of vacuuming around the bed, chairs and so forth.”

  “My mother always taught me to move everything to one side and do a decent job. A job worth doing is a job worth doing well,” Alice quoted.

  Gigi pointed at the carpet. “You can see that things haven’t been moved. The carpet is so thick, the feet of all the furniture have left indentations in the pile. If,” she added, feeling more like Miss Jane Marple by the minute, “the housekeeper moved them regularly, the marks would not be so distinct.”