by Peg Cochran
Gigi pressed on. “And then you waited until she was in the sauna, and you blocked the door knowing that she would be too woozy to get herself out.” She gulped. “And you raised the heat as high as it would go.”
Gigi glanced at Sienna. She sat with one hand on her belly, which protruded through the opening in her robe. Gigi felt terrible. She didn’t want to upset Sienna, but she could see no other way. Sienna had to tell the police where she was that afternoon!
Gigi knelt by Sienna’s chair and took Sienna’s hands in her own. They were frigid. She rubbed them gently. “The only way out is to tell the police the truth, don’t you see?”
Sienna turned her head away. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” Gigi gave her hands an encouraging squeeze. “You can tell me if you like, and I’ll give the information to Mertz. You won’t even have to talk to him.”
“I can’t.” Sienna gave a loud sniff.
“Why not?” Gigi asked again, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice. She couldn’t begin to imagine what could be so bad that Sienna didn’t want to reveal it.
“It was horrible.” Sienna sniffed again and swiped a sleeve across her nose. “They made me sit in this stuffy little room without even a glass of water, until your horrible Detective Mertz got there.”
“He’s not my Detective Mertz,” Gigi said, thinking of the previous evening. So Mertz had gone straight from dropping Gigi off to the station to question Sienna. “It will only get worse if you don’t tell them what they want to know.”
“It’s so embarrassing.” Sienna turned to look at Gigi.
“Embarrassing?” Gigi squeaked. “Embarrassing is when you leave the restroom and don’t realize you have toilet paper stuck to your shoe. Embarrassing is when you call someone by the wrong name. Embarrassing is not knowing you have spinach caught between your teeth.”
Sienna’s expression turned sheepish. She twiddled with the ends of her bathrobe tie, rubbing them between her fingers and turning them this way and that.
Gigi grabbed Sienna’s hands and forced Sienna to look her in the face. “What could be worse,” she said slowly and carefully, “than going to jail for a crime you didn’t commit.”
“You’re right.” Sienna bit her lip and looked away for a moment. “Besides, Mertz knows I’m taking insulin.”
Gigi sat up straighter. “He does?”
Sienna bowed her head, and her hair formed a curtain across her face. Gigi couldn’t see her expression. “He asked me whether Oliver or I had access to insulin. I couldn’t lie.” She looked up. “He only had to ask my doctor to find out.”
“Then all the more reason to tell them what you know.”
“It’s about Oliver,” she said so softly that Gigi could barely hear her.
For a moment Gigi wondered if Oliver was having an affair. Perhaps he really had been seeing Felicity, and the story wasn’t made up? Somehow she couldn’t believe it. Oliver was devoted to Sienna, especially now with the baby coming. It had to be something else.
“Tell me what it is. Just dump it all out. Remember what you said about how it hurts less if you pull the bandage off quickly?”
Sienna nodded. She put her hand over her mouth and mumbled something.
“What?”
“I followed him.”
“Oliver?”
Sienna nodded. “I had to see where he was going.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s been going . . . somewhere . . . lately.” Sienna clenched her eyes shut tightly. “And money’s been missing from our joint account.” She grabbed a napkin off the table and began twisting it between her fingers. “I thought . . . maybe . . . the two were related. So I followed him.”
“And?”
“It was the afternoon of Felicity’s murder.” Sienna gave an exaggerated shiver. “The wind was biting, and a light rain had started. He . . . Oliver . . . was driving toward New Haven, and I followed. About ten miles from the city, the rain really picked up, and it was hard to see. But I managed to keep him in sight.” She looked at Gigi. “I couldn’t imagine where on earth he was going.”
Gigi was quiet and let Sienna talk.
“He was heading for some place I’d never been before. I didn’t know what to expect. He pulled into this parking lot. There was a sign at the entrance, but I was so busy keeping my eye on Oliver’s car that I missed it. He got out and so did I.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “It was pouring, and I got soaked. I remember thinking that all this had better lead to something.”
“Did it?”
Sienna nodded. “I followed him, discreetly of course, to the door of this rather elaborate building. Finally I was able to read the sign.”
“What was it?” Gigi realized she was holding her breath.
“A casino,” Sienna responded, her laugh catching in her throat. “The Riverwoods Casino. He’s been gambling,” she said flatly.
• • •
If Gigi hadn’t promised Sienna to talk to Mertz, there was no way on the face of the earth that she would be headed toward the Woodstone Police Station that morning. She was still mad at Mertz for not telling her that they were bringing Sienna in for questioning last night, but she realized she had been rather rude about the whole thing. He was just doing his job, and he had taken her out for a nice dinner, or at least tried to.
Gigi found herself slowing down as she approached the police station. She wished she’d worn something . . . nicer . . . and had done more with her hair than run her hands through it. But it couldn’t be helped. If she didn’t do this now, she might lose her nerve.
She was as surprised as Sienna to discover that Oliver was gambling. It wasn’t like him. Sienna said he’d never gotten involved in it before, and they’d been married for over ten years. Oliver hadn’t noticed her following him, but Sienna planned to broach the topic when the time was right.
Gigi pulled into the police station lot and parked. She gave a quick glance into the rearview mirror, but there wasn’t much she could do with her appearance. She’d left her purse at home, taking only her keys and her license along to Sienna’s, and didn’t have her compact, a lipstick or even a comb.
Gigi sat for a minute, rehearsing what she would say to Mertz, then got out, locked the MINI and walked up the path to the front door of the station. The lobby was quiet, and the woman behind the desk was drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. Gigi went up and tapped on the bulletproof glass that protected the front-desk personnel from anyone crazy enough to carry a gun into a police station.
“Hello?”
The woman stopped with her sugar-and-cinnamon donut halfway to her mouth. “Yes?”
“I’d like to see Detective Mertz, please.”
“Not here,” the woman mumbled around a mouthful of pastry.
A sense of relief washed over Gigi so abruptly that her knees almost buckled.
“Fine. I’ll come back another time.”
Gigi had to stop herself from running out of the building. She yanked open the front door and bolted for the sidewalk where she walked briskly toward the parking lot next to Declan’s Grille. She was almost to where she had parked the MINI when she sensed someone behind her. She glanced over her shoulder.
“Hey.”
Gigi stopped.
“You look like someone who could use a good cup of coffee.”
It was Declan McQuaid acting dreadfully chipper for so early in the morning. He was headed toward the back door of his restaurant, his keys in his hands.
“We don’t open until noon, but I’ve already got a pot of coffee going. Let me give you a cup.”
“That would be great.” Gigi silently vowed for the one millionth and hopefully final time that she was never leaving the house again without combing her hair and at least putting on some lipstick.
Declan fell into step beside her as they headed toward his restaurant. The sign was unlit, and the grate was still pulled down over the front window. Declan fished a wad of keys
from his pocket, selected one and opened the front door.
The interior smelled of freshly brewed coffee along with the residual scents of rich food and the tangy aroma of slightly stale beer. Gigi found it oddly comforting. She perched on a bar stool as Declan retrieved thick white mugs and filled them with freshly brewed coffee.
“I’ve got the timer set so that when I arrive in the morning, the coffee is ready.” Declan grinned, and Gigi noticed the laugh lines around his eyes and the darker flecks in his blue eyes. She thought he noticed her looking, and she quickly took a sip of her coffee to cover her confusion.
“Mmm, this is delicious.”
“Glad you like it. To my mind, a good cup of coffee is one of the most important things in life.”
Declan continued to grin, and Gigi again noticed those attractive laugh lines. Warmth rose up her neck and spread, and she quickly hid her face in her mug.
Declan went behind the bar and scrambled through a stack of papers. He came back brandishing one of them. “I think I’ve got the menu for my Thanksgiving Day dinner hammered out.”
He took the stool next to Gigi and spread the paper out on the bar. His shoulders were wide, and they nearly touched Gigi’s as they sat side-by-side. He ran a finger down the list, and Gigi tried to concentrate.
“I do know that Thanksgiving is all about the bird.” Declan gestured toward the first item on his list. “I found a farm a few miles from here where they raise turkeys, and I’ve ordered fresh ones for the day. I’ll be able to pick them up two days before, and that’s about as fresh as you’re going to get.”
Gigi nodded agreement. For one moment, she could smell the bird roasting in the oven, the creamed onions simmering on the stove and the pumpkin pie cooling on the counter. Thanksgiving was her favorite holiday for a reason.
“What else do you have there?” Gigi ran an eye down the neat column of menu items. “Stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, creamed onions and peas.”
“What do you think?”
“There’s one thing missing.”
“What’s that?” Declan made a sad face, and Gigi laughed.
“Sweet potatoes. You absolutely have to have sweet potatoes.”
Declan felt around in the pocket of his flannel shirt, pulled out a stubby pencil and carefully wrote in sweet potatoes on the piece of paper.
“Do you have any good recipes?”
Gigi was suddenly conscious of how close together they were. She felt a trickle of sweat make its way down her back.
“I have lots of good recipes. My favorite is the casserole with the miniature marshmallows on top.”
Declan wrinkled his nose. “That sounds heinous.”
Gigi laughed. “It’s quite good, actually, if terribly sweet.”
“Let’s do that one, then, shall we?” Declan turned so that he and Gigi were face-to-face, their knees touching, eyes locked.
Gigi took a deep breath to steady herself. Declan had made it very clear he was only out for a good time. Gigi was looking for something more.
“I’ll send you the recipe,” she said as she slid off the bar stool. She feigned looking at her watch. “Sorry, but I’ve got to get going.”
Declan gave an amused smile, and Gigi suspected that she wasn’t the first female to bolt from his attractiveness only to be reeled in later like a hapless pike caught on the hook. Gigi had the impression that he was willing to bide his time to get what he wanted.
She practically bolted out the door and onto the sidewalk, running full tilt into a pedestrian.
“Sorry,” she said as she glanced up.
Right into the cold, uncompromising stare of Detective Mertz.
Chapter 21
Gigi had heard other women talk about the so-called walk of shame—leaving your boyfriend’s apartment first thing in the morning wearing the clothes from the night before. And that’s exactly how she felt as Mertz glanced pointedly toward the closed and shuttered front of Declan’s. Well, she had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of! Absolutely nothing!
Mertz merely looked deflated. Gigi was shocked to see his shoulders slump. She wanted to tell him that nothing had happened between her and Declan, but the words refused to form. Mertz looked as if he cared . . . but what if he didn’t? She’d make a fool of herself.
“I need to talk to you,” she said, smiling, hoping he could read the message in her eyes. “I have some information on your murder case you might be interested in hearing.”
“Really?” Mertz’s voice was glum. “We can go to my office, then.” He gestured toward the police station down the street.
It felt like the longest walk of Gigi’s life. They were both silent. Several times she tried to say something, but the words still refused to come. Finally, they were at the station and walking down the hall toward his office.
Mertz led Gigi into his office where she perched on the edge of the wooden chair meant for visitors. Mertz dropped into his desk chair, sending it rolling backward. It caught on the edge of the carpet and stopped. He pulled himself closer and leaned his elbows on the desk.
He smiled at Gigi. “Okay, shoot. What is it you wanted to tell me?”
Gigi’s mouth had gone dry suddenly. “Sienna has an alibi,” she finally blurted out.
Mertz’s eyebrows shot upward. “That’s great. Let’s hear it.”
Gigi looked at him askance. Was he teasing her? “Sienna wasn’t anywhere near Felicity’s house the afternoon Felicity was murdered. She was following Oliver.”
Mertz’s eyebrows shot up again. “Following Oliver?”
Gigi stared at a spot just above Mertz’s right ear. “Yes. She was concerned about . . . something . . . and she followed him.”
“Where did he go?” A faint smile hovered around Mertz’s mouth.
“To a casino. Just outside of New Haven.” Gigi felt as if she were giving out someone else’s secrets, and she could feel her face getting hot.
“What did he say?”
“What do you mean?” Gigi twisted the fringe on her scarf into a braid.
“Well, when Sienna confronted Oliver, what did he say? He must have been pretty upset to have been caught out like that.”
“I don’t know,” Gigi mumbled. “She didn’t actually talk to him.”
“She didn’t actually talk to him?” Mertz repeated.
Gigi felt her cheeks burning. “No. But she definitely saw him.”
“But she didn’t speak to him, and he didn’t see her.”
“That’s right.”
Mertz leaned his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers. When he answered, his voice was gentle.
“Frankly, Gigi, this just doesn’t ring true to me. Don’t you think it sounds like your friend Sienna is trying to give both of them an alibi?”
Gigi’s breath caught in her throat. She realized that in trying to be helpful, she had pushed Sienna from the proverbial frying pan into the fire.
How was she going to break it to her?
• • •
Gigi’s newest client, Bea Dennis, lived at the other end of Woodstone, in a new development that had sprung up between it and the next town. She had recently opened a jewelry store in downtown Woodstone—the sort of place where one could get a gold bracelet to celebrate a graduation, a silver teething ring to commemorate a birth or a strand of pearls to mark a wedding or anniversary.
Gigi had spent the day immersing herself in cooking—trying not to think about Declan, trying to forget Mertz and trying to put off talking to Sienna. She’d chopped and diced and minced and pureed, but still the thoughts swirled in her head. How was she going to convince Mertz that neither Sienna nor Oliver had had anything to do with Felicity’s death?
Gigi packed up the chicken rollatini she’d made for Bea and stowed it in the back of the MINI. It should be a quick trip, so she let Reggie tag along. He sat happily in his accustomed seat, sniffing the air rushing in from the barely cracked window.
“Sorry, bud.” Gigi zapped the window
up the rest of the way and turned on the heat. “It’s a little chilly for someone not sporting your thick fur coat.”
Borne by a brisk wind, brown, curling leaves skidded across the road. Gigi glanced at the landscape rushing past the window. Some brightly colored leaves still clung here and there, but the skeletal branches of the trees were already visible. Autumn was almost over.
She found Bea’s house easily enough. Bea had a skeleton dangling from the lamppost and a blow-up ghost on the front steps. The wind blew the ghost toward Gigi as she mounted the stairs. She jumped and then looked around quickly, hoping no one had noticed.
Bea answered the door almost immediately. She had on pink sweats with a large B embroidered on the zip-up top, and fuzzy black slippers.
“I just got home and couldn’t wait to change. We were incredibly busy this afternoon. But that’s good.” She smiled at Gigi. “Come in, come in.”
Gigi stepped into the foyer where a braided rug provided a splash of color against the pale wood floor.
“It smells delicious.” Bea sniffed the container. “And I’m starved.” She smiled almost apologetically. “Unfortunately, I had to skip lunch we were so busy. And it’s not even Christmas yet.”
Gigi nodded and was about to say good-bye when Bea took a breath and was off and running again.
“I heard all about your diet service when one of my customers told me that Felicity Davenport had hired you. That must have been so exciting.”
Gigi opened her mouth, but Bea rushed on, her penciled brows rising toward her graying hairline.
“You could have knocked me over with a feather when that other actress from the soap walks into my shop. Vanessa Huff. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
Gigi had been inching toward the open door, but that stopped her. “Vanessa Huff?”
Bea nodded. “She plays Daphne on For Better or For Worse.”
“I know.”
“She came in to buy herself a little treat. Said she owed it to herself on account of something that happened a long time ago.”
“Really?” Gigi tried to provide encouragement, but fortunately, Bea needed virtually none in order to continue.
“I thought she was after a charm for a bracelet or perhaps a thin gold chain. You know, something like that. But no, she picked out our most expensive item—a diamond tennis bracelet.”
