by Peg Cochran
Devon spread his hands open on the desk. “What is it you want me to do?”
Gigi inched forward in her chair and leaned her elbows on the edge of the desk. “I’d like you to run a story asking if anyone saw anyone around my car or Martha’s the day she was killed.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Devon’s mouth quirked into a smile, making him look even younger.
Gigi’s “Irish” rose to unprecedented heights. “Why not?”
Devon leaned back in his hair, crossing one leg over the other. His finger snaked beneath one of the holes in his jeans and rooted around aimlessly. “Because it’s not a story. The Woodstone Times prints stories,” he explained as patiently, as if they were children. He leaned forward, and his chair snapped back into place.
“It doesn’t have to be a big piece. It doesn’t even have to be on the front page.” Gigi was chagrined to notice that a wheedling tone had crept into her voice.
“Just a little bit on the back page,” Sienna piped up. “You know as a…what do you call it…a filler.”
“That’s it.” Gigi stabbed the air with her finger. “Instead of those little bits you always put in like ‘Geriatric Finishes Marathon’—”
“Or, ‘Child Wins Blue Ribbon at County Fair’,” Sienna chimed in.
Devon was shaking his head. “But those things are news, even if they don’t interest you. This. Just. Isn’t. News.” He stared at Gigi briefly before his gaze returned to his picture frame.
Gigi groaned inwardly. She couldn’t give up. She couldn’t. She looked at Sienna helplessly, but Sienna just shrugged and looked equally helpless.
What was it that Sienna was always urging her to do? Ask the universe; that was it. Well, she had nothing to lose by putting the question out there. Okay, universe, she intoned to herself, tell me what to do. She sat back in her seat, closed her eyes and waited.
“You could take out a classified ad.”
Gigi’s eyes flew open. Who said that? The universe had spoken, and it sounded an awful lot like Devon Singleton.
Devon watched her expectantly, his eyebrows raised and disappearing under his shaggy brown hair.
“Yes…” It was a possibility.
“One of those colored classifieds—” Sienna interjected.
“With a box around it,” Devon added with satisfaction.
“Yes!” Gigi punched the air with her fist then subsided back into her chair. “How much?”
Devon named a figure.
Gigi groaned. Her budget was tight enough already, but she’d have to make it work somehow.
It was just too important not to.
“Anything?” Sienna asked the minute Gigi pushed open the door to the Book Nook. She was perched on ladder, a stack of books tucked into the crook of her arm.
Gigi shook her head. “No, not yet. And yes, I checked my phone and it’s working just fine.” She slumped into one of the overstuffed armchairs near the shelf where Sienna was shelving books and leaned her chin in her hands.
Sienna made her way down the ladder, kicking at her long, gauzy skirt to get it out of the way. “We’ve got to do something. I can’t stand waiting,” she pouted. “You know what I’d like to know?”
“What?” Gigi asked dejectedly.
“I’d like to know who has been sneaking around Adora’s house and why.”
“It has to be Winston, don’t you think? It looks like he and Adora are having some sort of affair.”
“Which means it probably doesn’t have anything to do with anything. At least not anything to do with Martha’s murder.”
“We need to find out for sure.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning we…I mean I…need to stake out Adora’s house one night and see if it really is Winston who Evelyn saw sneaking around.”
“No way I’m letting you do that by yourself.” Sienna grinned and jumped to her feet.
They decided to take Sienna’s car because it was black. They parked around the corner from Adora’s house, well away from the streetlight. Gigi felt a little foolish dressed in dark jeans and a black top. Though that was nothing compared to Sienna, who was wearing camouflage cargo pants and a black leather vest over a black T-shirt.
A sliver of a moon hung over the quiet street, making it just possible to negotiate the crooked sidewalk without tripping. Slowly, they picked their way along, sidestepping tree roots and yawning cracks. The houses were modest and neat with a light over most of the front doors. A perfectly ordinary scene, yet Gigi couldn’t help but shiver.
They kept to the shadows as they made their way down the block and around the corner.
“Where should we wait?” Sienna whispered in Gigi’s ear.
Gigi looked around. They weren’t going to be inconspicuous no matter what they did. People just didn’t hang out on street corners in Woodstone.
“Maybe we can crouch behind those bushes over there?” Gigi pointed toward some gnarly looking shrubs across the street from Adora’s house.
They got into position and turned their gaze on their target. The light was on over Adora’s front door as well as in some of the downstairs rooms. Gigi thought she saw a shadow cross the large bay window where the shades had already been drawn for the night.
An owl hooted in the tree behind them, and Gigi jumped half a foot.
“What is it?” Sienna whispered.
“Nothing. Just an owl. It just scared me, that’s all.”
Sienna grunted.
Within a few minutes they felt hot, cramped and bored. And not a little foolish.
“What if he doesn’t come tonight?” Sienna hissed under cover of the noise from a passing car.
Gigi shrugged. “Then we’ll have to come back until he does.”
“I don’t know why I thought this was going to be exciting,” Sienna murmured. “It always looks exciting on television.”
“I know. I don’t think I could stand to be a detective if this is what it’s like.”
An hour later, Gigi rubbed her calf where a cramp had started and was growing. It felt like something was gnawing at her leg. She changed position to see if that would help. Suddenly there was a faint noise from across the street, along with a sense of motion.
Gigi and Sienna peered into the darkness.
“Is that him, do you think?”
“I don’t know.” Gigi squinted, straining her eyes to see in the darkness. The moon had ducked behind a cloud. The fixture over Adora’s front door cast a pool of light that ended abruptly in inky blackness.
Gigi half rose, peering over the scrubby bush behind which they were hiding.
Another noise. “Get down.” Sienna grabbed the edge of Gigi’s T-shirt and pulled.
They waited a couple of seconds, then very slowly straightened their legs enough to see over the top of the withering boxwood hedge.
In a streak of tawny fur, a cat shot out of the shadows and disappeared down the sidewalk.
“Oh, my gosh.” Sienna put a hand to her chest.
“Can I help you, ladies?”
A man came up behind them, and this time they both screamed.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He had a small, rat-faced dog tucked under his arm.
“We’re just…just…” Sienna looked at Gigi helplessly.
“We’re just fine,” Gigi declared firmly.
But the fellow had already lost interest. His dog was straining to get down, and as soon as its paws touched the sidewalk, the two were off down the street. “If you’re sure,” he tossed over his shoulder, but he didn’t wait for their answer.
“This is ridiculous.” Sienna pulled down her vest. “No one’s coming tonight. We might as well go home.”
“Just a couple more minutes.” Gigi listened as intently as she could over the rapid booming of her heart. She thought she heard a car—it sounded like it was a block or two away. Suddenly, the engine was cut, and the chirp of crickets filled the air again.
“Do you think�
�?”
“Shhh.” Gigi tugged Sienna back behind the bush. “This might be our man.”
“Winston?”
“Yes.” Gigi watched the darkness intently, willing Winston to appear. She cocked her head. Was that the sound of someone approaching?
“We need those night goggles like they have on television.”
“Shhh.” Gigi shushed Sienna again. “I think I hear someone coming.”
“I don’t hear anything,” Sienna grumbled, but she crouched down beside Gigi and clamped her lips shut.
“There,” Gigi hissed excitedly, pointing across the street.
At first it looked as if the shadows were moving slightly, and Gigi stared hard, half-afraid to blink. Finally, a dark form took shape and separated slightly from the swaying shadows of the tree branches.
“Someone’s there.” Gigi grabbed Sienna’s elbow, nearly knocking her off balance.
Sienna put down a hand to steady herself. “Where?”
“Right there.” Gigi straightened, hoping to get a better view. There was definitely a dark mass stealthily approaching Adora’s house. Any moment now it would be plunged into the pool of light over her front door. Gigi held her breath. Had she been right about Winston?
The outline of the creeping figure became clearer and better defined. Gigi could make out dark pants and a dark, short-sleeved shirt. Any second now the creeping figure would reach the light from the lamp, and she would have her answer.
Then the light went out.
Chapter 14
“Are you sure?” Sienna asked for the third time as they made their way back along the darkened sidewalk to her car.
“I’m positive.”
“You’re sure it couldn’t have been Winston?” Sienna rephrased the question, perhaps hoping it would yield a different answer.
Gigi shook her head stiffly. “No, it most definitely wasn’t Winston. I mean, I still think she’s having an affair with Winston as well, but it was definitely Emilio I saw this time.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Neither can I.” Gigi turned to face her friend. “I can’t believe that Emilio is sneaking around under cover, having an affair with Adora!”
“I wish I had gotten a better look at him,” Sienna lamented.
“I just saw him for that one moment. When Adora opened the door, and the light from her living room shone onto the steps.”
“But why sneak around like that?” Sienna stubbed her toe on a raised section of sidewalk and almost lost her balance. “They don’t have anything to hide.”
“She probably doesn’t want Winston to find out. Especially if she’s using Winston’s attraction to her to get the things she wants, like a new theater for the Woodstone Players.”
“That’s true,” Sienna murmured. “And if Winston killed Martha, Adora had better be careful.”
“That’s right,” Gigi agreed. “There’s nothing to stop him from killing Adora when he finds out she’s been two-timing him.”
“Or Emilio, too, for that matter.”
Gigi felt as if someone had slid an icicle down her back. She shivered. Hopefully Sienna wasn’t right—but you could never be too sure.
Gigi realized she had a problem the minute she walked into her kitchen. Martha’s purse crouched on her counter like a large, poisonous spider. Sienna had been after her to turn it over to the police. But how was she going to do that without admitting to having kept it for as long as she had? Her only real option was to put it back where Reg had found it—in Martha’s bushes. Gigi shivered. She did not relish the thought of creeping through the streets of Woodstone in the dark again. Even if she could talk Sienna into coming along. Their luck was not going to hold forever, and this time someone might see them.
The thought that it might be Detective Mertz catching them made Gigi shiver again. Although this time the shiver wasn’t altogether unpleasant. She shook her head to chase away the thought. The last thing she needed was to develop fanciful notions about Detective Mertz. She was done with men. Done. D-o-n-e.
She was tipping some dry food into Reg’s bowl and thinking about Adora and Emilio. Sienna thought she was being overdramatic in thinking that Emilio might be in danger, too. But news headlines she’d seen over the years flashed through her mind in bold, black-and-white, 72-point type. “Man Kills Cheating Wife and Lover.” “Lover Killed by Jealous Boyfriend.” All of a sudden, it seemed perfectly possible that Winston would go after Emilio. She’d have to warn him.
But then she’d have to admit to having spied on him. Maybe it would be better to approach Carlo and see what he knew. Perhaps she could put a bug in his ear to keep an eye out for Emilio—without actually telling him why.
Emilio was behind the bar polishing glasses when Gigi pushed open the door to Al Forno.
He immediately threw down his rag and bustled over to where she was standing, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dimness of the restaurant’s interior. The lunch rush was over, and the tables were empty but for a group of women in red hats laughing and talking in the back.
“Cara.” He took her by the elbow and steered her toward the bar. “So good to see you. It has been too long, no?” He slipped behind the counter again and reached for a bottle. “A little port perhaps? I have a lovely white one from Portugal you must try.” Before Gigi could answer, he took a small glass from the shelf, filled it, and pushed it toward her.
He snapped his fingers at Lara, the waitress, who was refilling salt and pepper shakers at one of the stations. Her head jerked up, her blond ponytail flicking back and forth.
“Lara, please be a dear and bring our friend here an appetizer platter.” He turned toward Gigi. “You are hungry, no?”
Gigi nodded, realizing that she was indeed hungry. She’d forgotten to eat lunch again. Although Emilio always assumed everyone was hungry.
“Me, too.” Emilio patted his rather protuberant stomach. “We can share. A few roasted peppers, some giardiniera, a little grilled melanzana…” He smacked his lips in anticipation.
Lara put down the pepper mill she’d been holding, nodded in their direction and disappeared through the swinging door into the kitchen.
Gigi perched on the edge of her stool. Where was Carlo? She hoped she would be able to get him alone. She tried to see into the kitchen as the door swung to and fro, but it was impossible.
Several minutes later, the swinging doors flew open again, and Lara backed through them, a large platter in one hand and several small plates in the other. She eased them carefully onto the counter.
Gigi’s stomach rumbled as she surveyed the contents of the platter. Emilio grabbed the serving fork, filled a plate and placed it in front of Gigi with the command to eat.
Lara retreated through the swinging door again, and, try as she might, Gigi couldn’t see past the door into the room beyond.
She was nearly finished with the wonderful grilled and marinated vegetables Emilio had served her, and there was still no sign of Carlo. Finally, she couldn’t wait any longer. “Is Carlo around?” she asked, as casually as possible.
“Carlo?” Emilio clapped his hands together, his eyes shining. He laughed. A deep guffaw that shook his belly and turned his face red. “Of course,” he declared. “Carlo.” He winked at Gigi, and she drew back in alarm. “Why would you want to talk to a silly old fool like me?” He thumped himself on the chest, leaned close and winked again. “Especially when there’s a handsome young man like Carlo around, eh?” He turned toward the kitchen and bellowed, “Carlo?”
Gigi felt her face ignite. Now Emilio was going to think she had a crush on Carlo. How embarrassing!
Emilio waited expectantly, but there was no response. “Dio, mio, where is that silly boy?” He tossed his rag onto the counter and wagged a finger at Gigi. “You stay here. He must be in the stockroom.”
He disappeared into the kitchen, and Gigi could faintly hear him calling Carlo’s name.
She sat, waiting, hoping that Carlo had gon
e out and Emilio wouldn’t find him. She slowly shredded the white paper cocktail napkin under her drink, becoming more hopeful as the minutes ticked by.
Finally, the kitchen door burst open and Carlo was propelled through it, Emilio’s hand at his back. He smiled when he saw Gigi, and the intensity of the heat coloring her face increased.
Carlo’s look of confusion turned to one of pleasure when he saw her. He glanced at her and then at the bar.
“I see my uncle has already given you something to eat.”
Emilio made a big show of looking at his watch. “Porca miseria. I almost forget,” he exclaimed. “I am supposed to call the suppliers about the delivery of the olive oil.”
“But—” Carlo began before Emilio shushed him with a dismissive wave of his hand.
“I will take care of it, Carlo, don’t worry.” He motioned toward Gigi. “You two have a nice visit with each other, eh?”
They both stared at the swinging kitchen door as Emilio disappeared behind it.
“So…” Carlo began.
“So…” Gigi began at the same time. They laughed, and she felt herself relax. Although how on earth was she going to broach the subject of Emilio and Adora with Carlo?
Carlo pushed the empty appetizer platter to one side and leaned his elbows on the bar. “You wanted to tell me something?” he asked hopefully.
Gigi cleared her throat. “Yes.” Better just get to the point, she thought. “I’m worried about Emilio.”
“Emilio?” Carlo glanced over his shoulder at the closed kitchen door. “Why?”
Gigi fiddled with the pieces of her shredded napkin. She cleared her throat again. It felt dry and raspy. “I think he’s been…” She paused, trying to think of a delicate way to put it. “…seeing Adora,” she finished. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” she hastened to add, seeing the look on Carlo’s face. “It’s just that…” She paused again, wondering whether Carlo was going to believe her or think she was crazy.
“Yes?” Carlo nodded his head in encouragement.
