by Peg Cochran
“What do they say?”
Gigi held her breath. Maybe Martha’s experience at Al Forno hadn’t been as bad as Carlo thought. He was something of a perfectionist, after all.
Gigi began reading Martha’s tidy, precise handwriting, and her hopes fizzled like wet firecrackers. Martha hadn’t enjoyed Al Forno at all, that was for sure.
“Bad?” Sienna asked.
Gigi nodded, wadding the papers back up into a ball. “Yes. It doesn’t look as if Carlo and Emilio would have gotten a good review.”
“But that doesn’t mean they had anything to do with Martha’s death, does it?”
Gigi shrugged. “I don’t know. Carlo did tell me that he’d sunk virtually all of his money into the restaurant. He couldn’t afford for it to fail. That certainly gives him a solid motive for wanting her out of the way.”
Evelyn was nursing a mug of tea behind the counter of Bon Appétit when Gigi pushed open the door the next morning. She needed a half pound of Kalamata olives, a tube of anchovy paste, oyster sauce, mini-gherkins and a new lemon zester.
Evelyn looked up from the paper she was reading as the bell over the front door tinkled melodically. She pushed the paper to one side and leaned her elbows on the counter as Gigi approached.
“Morning.” Evelyn’s greeting was as economical as she was.
Gigi smiled and returned the greeting. She dug around in her purse with one hand and triumphantly pulled out her shopping list. She spread it out on the counter, and Evelyn peered at it upside down.
“Anchovy paste,” she read as she reached for the shelf behind her and selected a tube with a red and green wrapper. She placed it on the counter and ran her finger down the list to the next item.
The bell over the front door tinkled again, and Evelyn looked up, a curtain of bobbed gray hair falling over her cheek. Gigi swiveled toward the door as well.
“I thought that was you through the window,” Alice trilled. She was wearing new-looking khaki pants and a crisp, fitted white shirt. Gigi could tell right away that she’d lost more weight.
“I had to tell you,” Alice exclaimed as she approached Gigi and Evelyn, “I’ve just been to the doctor, and I’ve lost another ten pounds! And all those numbers he always goes on about have improved, too! The bad ones are down, the good ones are up, and I’m thrilled,” she finished triumphantly.
“You on Gigi’s plan?” Evelyn cocked her head in Gigi’s direction.
“Yes.” Alice nodded. She twirled around as she approached the counter. “Like my new outfit?”
“You look fantastic,” Gigi said. It made her feel so good to see Alice’s success. For a minute she almost forgot about Carlo, Martha’s purse, Al Forno and Branston Foods—who still hadn’t called her, but she wasn’t going to think about that right now.
“Anything I can get you?” Evelyn pointed at Gigi’s shopping list. “Just need one or two more things for Gigi here.”
Alice shook her head. “Not while I’m on Gigi’s plan, I’m afraid.”
“Say.” Evelyn spun around suddenly. “You hear about the to-do over at Martha’s place last night?”
“To-do?” Alice asked eagerly, her eyes alight with excitement.
Gigi went very still—as if that would keep her face from turning tomato red, which she could tell it was already doing. She felt hot flames licking at her cheeks and faked a coughing spell, hoping that would account for her crimson complexion.
“Water?”
Gigi shook her head and fanned her face with one hand. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.”
“So tell us about this to-do,” Alice demanded.
“Yes,” Gigi chorused weakly.
“Well,” Evelyn began with relish, resting her arms on the counter and inviting them to lean in close. “It’s like this.” She looked around, but the tiny shop remained as empty of other customers as it had been moments ago. “I was watching television. A rerun of that cop show Jim likes. Then all of a sudden, sirens, lights flashing, the works.” She blinked at them triumphantly. “Just like on the program.”
“No kidding!” Alice licked her lips and leaned in even closer.
Evelyn nodded. “And get this. Two cop cars pulled to a stop right in front of Martha’s house.”
“No!” Alice’s eyes were as round as two cherries. “Everything always happens on my days off! What happened then?”
Evelyn held out a hand. “I’m getting to it. Don’t rush me.” She put up a hand and readjusted her tortoiseshell hair band. “The cops spilled out and rushed up Martha’s drive.”
“And then?”
Evelyn scowled. “Well, I can’t see much more than that from my house, can I?” She scowled harder, her brows nearly meeting in the middle of her broad forehead. “I was in my robe and slippers, and by the time I went upstairs and changed, they were gone.” She snapped her fingers.
Gigi let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. Obviously Evelyn hadn’t seen much of anything. Certainly not her and Sienna skulking around in the bushes, or it would be all over town by now.
“Later Adora told me she’d called them,” Evelyn continued, and Gigi’s breath caught in her throat again. Her heart went to double-time as if she were running a marathon. “Apparently”—Evelyn’s voice dropped even lower—“Adora thought she’d heard someone prowling around the yard.”
“No!” Alice exclaimed again. “Did they catch the person?”
“Well, no.” Evelyn’s face settled into lines of disappointment. “It seems it was all a mix-up of some sort. Just someone out walking their dog, Adora said.”
“Oh.” Alice’s face fell as well.
“Of course”—Evelyn pulled the edges of her cardigan together over her ample chest—“I could tell you about some other goings-on in our neighborhood that you wouldn’t believe,” she finished triumphantly.
“What do you mean?” Gigi tried not to sound interested, although she could feel the pulse in her neck speeding up.
Evelyn wagged a stubby forefinger at them. “I’ve seen a man coming and going from Adora’s house at all hours,” she sniffed, her stubby nose in the air. “Stocky fellow with dark hair. Couldn’t tell who it was, of course. Too dark, and he was too clever to stand under the streetlight long enough to be recognized.” She turned a beady stare on Alice and Gigi. “That Adora isn’t as lily white as she makes out.”
“Have you seen him recently?”
Evelyn nodded. “Last night, as a matter of fact. I was letting Oscar out for his last evening walk when I saw the fellow disappear around the back of Adora’s house. Still didn’t get a good look at him,” she added ruefully.
“Who could it be?” Alice’s eyes were calculating.
“Someone who doesn’t want to be seen, that’s for sure.”
“But why?” Gigi looked from Alice to Evelyn.
“He’s married,” Alice offered. “What else could it be?”
Evelyn leaned back and brayed, her mouth pulled tight over her teeth. “Adora thinks she’s so clever. But everyone knows,” she crowed triumphantly.
Chapter 12
“Maybe Adora’s mystery man isn’t a lover,” Gigi said as she swiped a soapy sponge across the hood of the MINI.
“What else could he be?” Sienna’s voice was muffled as she bent over to scrub a stubborn spot just above the right wheel well.
“I don’t know.” Gigi dropped her sponge into the bucket of soapy water. “A cat burglar?” She waited until Sienna had finished her side of the car, then uncoiled the garden hose.
“Don’t you think he would have struck by now?”
“Maybe Martha saw him sneaking into Adora’s house, and he killed her?” Gigi turned on the spigot and motioned for Sienna to stand back. She aimed the stream of water at the car and hosed off the suds.
“Seems pretty extreme to me.” Sienna grabbed a couple of towels from the stack they’d brought out with them and handed Gigi one.
“The whole idea of murder seems extr
eme to me,” Gigi said, panting slightly as she rubbed down the hood of the car. Gigi finished drying the last section of the MINI and stood back for a moment to admire the shine.
Sienna unreeled the cord on the vacuum cleaner and looked around for the plug.
“Over there.” Gigi pointed to a spot next to the garage door, half-hidden behind a slightly overgrown rhododendron. She opened the rear door of the MINI, and Sienna pushed the power button on the vacuum cleaner. Gigi took the hose from her and began on the backseat. “But how does the mystery man tie in with the notebook and Martha’s purse?” She half disappeared into the backseat as she worked the vacuum cleaner wand over the upholstery. Reg didn’t shed much, but there were still some white hairs clinging to the fabric, along with a fair number of crumbs.
“Maybe they aren’t related.” Sienna grabbed the bucket of used, dirty water and tossed it away from the car. It ran down the driveway in a sudsy stream.
“But don’t you think that would be too coincidental? Martha’s purse just happens to get stolen, and it happens to get stolen the same day someone kills her? I can’t believe there isn’t a connection between the two. And I’m afraid the connection points to Carlo.”
Something glinted on the floor of the MINI. It was half under the passenger seat, and Gigi stretched out an arm to grab it. It looked like a pen. She’d probably dropped it at some point without realizing it.
Her hands closed around the object, and she pulled it out, steadying herself with one arm braced against the backseat. She was about to toss it into the glove compartment when she realized it wasn’t a pen.
“What on earth…?”
“What is it?” Sienna peered over Gigi’s shoulder at the object.
“I thought it was a pen,” Gigi began. She turned the item this way and that.
“It is a pen.” Sienna held out a hand, and Gigi passed her the item. Sienna held it up to the light. “It’s not a normal pen, though. It’s an EpiPen.” She slapped a palm to her forehead. “I should have thought of that!”
“Thought of what?” Gigi took the pen from Sienna and gave it a closer look. “What’s an EpiPen?”
“It’s really a hypodermic, see?” Sienna pointed to the needle just visible through the clear plastic of the barrel. “And it contains epinephrine.”
“Epi-what?”
“Epinephrine,” Sienna repeated. “People with severe allergies to peanuts or bee stings or things like that carry it. It keeps their heart beating and their airway open until they can get to the hospital.”
“But what’s it doing in my car?” Gigi stared from the pen to the backseat. “Unless…” She nibbled her lower lip with her teeth. “Unless it fell out of Martha’s purse when I tossed it into the backseat.”
“Was the zipper open?”
“Possibly.” Gigi’s brows drew together over her eyes. “I remember pulling it out of the car and fiddling with the zipper as we walked toward the house. So, yes, I think it was unzipped.”
“This is what the killer was really after.” Sienna held the pen aloft triumphantly.
Gigi nodded slowly. “I think you’re right.”
“Without her EpiPen, Martha would have no way of treating her reaction to the peanut oil the killer put on her food.”
Gigi’s heart contracted. The sun went behind a cloud, momentarily casting an ominous shadow across the driveway and the front lawn. Someone had taken Martha’s purse to prevent her from getting at her EpiPen. She shuddered. How frightened Martha must have been when she felt her throat closing up as she reacted to the peanut oil the killer had added to her food.
There really was a ruthless killer out there somewhere, Gigi thought. And all evidence pointed toward its being Carlo.
Gigi circled through the tiny parking lot behind the police station. Two cruisers were parked perpendicular to the building, and the rest of the spaces were filled with an assortment of vehicles ranging from a bright yellow Hummer to an old model Volkswagen Beetle with peeling tape over a cracked rear window. There was no room for Gigi’s MINI. And this was no place to double-park, even though she didn’t plan on being more than a minute.
She pulled back out onto High Street. A spot had opened up right in front of the station, but it was small and cramped, and she wasn’t taking any chances on parallel parking. It would be just her luck to have Detective Mertz come out and catch her struggling again.
Gigi pulled into the lot at the end of High Street in a space fairly close to the sidewalk. She retrieved a Gigi’s Gourmet De-Lite container with Alice’s name on it from the backseat.
The sidewalk was empty except for a dog panting in the heat outside of Brown’s Hardware. Gigi had been tempted to bring Reg with her but didn’t want to leave him in the car in such sultry weather.
Gigi pushed open the front door, and a uniformed receptionist buzzed her through an interior door.
“That for Alice?” She gestured toward the container in Gigi’s hand as she reached for the phone. “That gal is sure losing some weight,” she commented as she tugged at her belt, which created a slight indentation where her waist should have been. “I oughta give it a try myself.” She laughed, then began to cough and wheeze.
Alice appeared around the corner, looking even slimmer than the last time Gigi had seen her. Her hair was attractively styled, and Gigi was surprised to see that its customary gray had become a flattering ash blond.
Gigi held out the container with Alice’s name on it.
“Why don’t you come on back?” Alice waved a hand in the direction of her cubicle. “I’ve got a fresh pitcher of iced tea. You look like you could use a cool drink. No sugar,” she added with a twinkle in her eye.
Did she look that bad, Gigi thought? She put a hand to the back of her neck and lifted up her hair. She could feel the moisture there and could sense the hair curling messily around her face. She could even imagine the glowing shine on her nose and forehead. She mentally crossed her fingers that they wouldn’t run into Detective Mertz. Although, she decided she wasn’t going to think about why that should matter until later. Much later.
Of course, they ran smack into him in the hallway. He was exiting what looked like a conference room and had a sheaf of papers in his hand. They went flying like leaves in a windstorm.
“I’m so sorry.” Gigi bent to retrieve them at the same time that Mertz did, and they bumped heads. Gigi felt the heat rising from her toes to the top of her head like molten lava spilling over the sides of a volcano.
Mertz gave her a crooked smile that disappeared so quickly she wasn’t sure it had even been there. He fumbled awkwardly with the documents, seemingly engrossed in lining the edges up perfectly.
“Come on. Let me get you that cold drink.” Alice linked her arm through Gigi’s.
“I have some news for you,” Mertz began, the words coming out in a bark that startled Gigi.
She stopped in her tracks. “Yes?”
“We’ve closed the case,” he murmured looking everywhere but at Gigi. “The death of your client, Martha Bernhardt, that is.” He gestured at Gigi with the stack of papers. “Accidental death. Somehow peanut oil was used in her food in spite of all precautions…”
Gigi noticed how he avoided the use of pronouns. As in the second person singular. As in the accusatory sounding you and you put peanut oil in Martha’s food. The heat that had risen to her cheeks earlier intensified to blast-furnace level. She tried to say something, but her tongue had become stuck to the roof of her mouth.
“Anyway,” Mertz shrugged. “I thought you’d want to know.” He stared at Gigi for a moment, and she couldn’t tell if he was blushing slightly or it was the red haze of fury in front of her eyes. “Well, I guess that’s it.” He spun on his heel suddenly and headed in the other direction, his shoulders stiff and set.
“Very interesting.” Alice glanced at his retreating back. She turned an appraising eye on Gigi.
“What is?”
“I think he likes you.”
She threw herself into one of the Windsor chairs arranged around the breakfast table and opened the paper to the second page and the continuation of the story.
It was just as Mertz had said. The police had concluded their investigation and determined that Martha’s death was an accident caused by an allergic reaction to peanut oil. The reporter had obviously tracked down Barbie Bernhardt, because there were several quotes from her confirming that Martha’s last meal had come from Gigi’s Gourmet De-Lite.
Gigi’s stomach did a belly flop and landed somewhere in the region of her knees. This was the final straw, the last nail in the coffin of her fledgling business. After reading this, no one would ever want to do business with her again.
As if to confirm that fact, the phone rang abruptly. Gigi answered slowly, half suspecting who it was going to be.
She wasn’t wrong.
“Yes, of course I understand,” she said politely, although of course she didn’t understand at all. “Yes, I can see how there just isn’t any other option.”
She hung the phone up slowly. The deal with Branston Foods was off. Even though she had expected it, the news still hit with the force of a twister. Her stomach dropped even lower.
She was doomed.
“I don’t know what to do,” Gigi wailed, snapping the long, thin piece of crostini in half and then in half again. She put it down on the table without taking even a nibble.
She and Sienna were seated at the table Carlo and Emilio kept for favored guests—tucked in a quiet corner, away from the kitchen, with a view across the lawn and down to the river, where heat shimmered off the sluggishly moving water.
Sienna twirled her stemmed water glass in her fingers. “Why did Barbie have to talk to that reporter? What a bitch! She must have known that this would land you in the soup. No pun intended,” she added as she took a sip of her water.
