Steamed to Death (17 page)

She smiled when she saw Gigi. “I just got in the perfect dress for you!”

Gigi made a sad face. “I probably won’t be able to afford it.” Did she want to torture herself by having a look? Or worse, trying it on?

“You must see it.” Deirdre went to one of the racks and clicked through the hangers. She pulled out an item and held it in front of Gigi.

It was an exquisite dress, beautifully constructed and not too fancy. The blue-green would be perfect with Gigi’s coloring. She tried not to look at it too closely. She knew she couldn’t afford it. She couldn’t even afford to think about it. Or look at it. Or try it on.

Gigi departed Abigail’s with a bright, shiny, new shopping bag on her arm and a huge dent in her bank account. Deirdre had given her a very good price for the dress, but it had still been extremely expensive—especially for someone who spent most of her time in jeans and T-shirts and a stained apron. Gigi didn’t know what had come over her. Why did she feel such a need to impress Mertz tonight? Was it the deafening sound of her biological clock ticking double time, or was she feeling guilty because of her attraction to Declan?

She glanced at her watch and realized she’d have to hurry. She threw the dress in the backseat of the MINI and dashed out of the parking lot, bumping up and down over the curb in her haste.

She felt a burning sense of shame over her spontaneous purchase that had her stomping on the gas and speeding down High Street in her irritation with herself.

She arrived at Felicity’s house, parked her car and headed quickly for the kitchen.

She put together a simple boeuf bourguignon, browning the meat and onions carefully for maximum flavor. Anja was feeling slightly better and thought she would be up to doing the final preparations and the serving. Gigi put the stew in the oven and wiped down the counters. Almost time to go home and primp for her date with Mertz.

Date.
The word hit her over the head with the force of a rogue rolling pin. She and Mertz were actually going on a date. She hadn’t been on a date in years. A few well-meaning friends had tried to fix her up after Ted left, but the evenings had been disasters. The men were all wrong, and Gigi hadn’t been ready. This date, however, had possibilities. And that thought scared Gigi half to death.

Gigi was alternately dreaming about and feeling guilty over the new dress waiting in the bag from Abigail’s. It would take some digging, but she knew she had the perfect pair of shoes somewhere in the depths of her closet—left over from her New York days. High-heeled, black suede peep-toes. They didn’t make them much more “come hither” than that.

Gigi had gone to the Auberge Rouge Web site and checked out their menu. She didn’t want to be distracted by Mertz’s presence as she tried to decide what to order. So far she’d narrowed it down to the osso bucco—a wonderful dish that took many hours to prepare—or the duck with wild rice and lingonberries. Duck wasn’t something she generally made for herself, and she hadn’t had it since that French restaurant Ted had taken her to for their last anniversary, ten days before he announced he was leaving. She’d had a strange aversion to duck for several years afterward, but it had finally passed.

Gigi was tossing her soiled apron into the laundry when she heard a peculiar noise.

She stopped for a moment and listened. The noise became louder and clearer. Gigi dashed into the hallway where she nearly collided with Anja, who had half run, half fallen down the stairs. Her mouth was open in another scream, but she managed to stifle it when she saw Gigi.

“What is it?” Gigi grabbed her by the shoulders.

Anja’s mouth moved, but nothing came out.

Gigi gave her a gentle shake. “What’s wrong?”

“Derek,” Anja bleated.

“Is he ill?”

Anja shook her head, and her blond hair spun wildly around her face. “No.”

“What is it, then?” Gigi demanded.

“He’s dead.”

Chapter 15

Gigi felt the blood drain from her face and rush south toward her feet. For one moment, she thought she might faint, but she took a deep, restorative breath and steadied herself.

Perhaps Anja was mistaken. She
had
to be mistaken. Maybe Derek had been experimenting with drugs and had taken something that had put him in a coma-like state?

Gigi mounted the stairs slowly, not looking forward to what she was going to find. Anja was uttering little cries of anguish under her breath and twisting a handkerchief around and around in her fingers. Gigi wanted to scream at her to stop.

Derek’s bedroom was that of a young man in transition between childhood and adulthood. A pinup of some scantily clad celebrity jostled for space on a wall crowded with Harry Potter posters. One shelf on the bookcase was given over to model cars while the others were crammed with textbooks, popular magazines and the latest thrillers.

Derek looked as if he were sleeping, but when Gigi dared to get close enough to check, she realized he wasn’t breathing. She stifled the scream that rose in her throat.

“We’d better call nine-one-one.”

Anja didn’t move, and Gigi had to take her by the arm and lead her back into the hallway.

“You stay here.” She shepherded Anja to a padded velvet bench at the top of the stairs. “And make sure no one goes in there.” Gigi already had one foot on the top stair. “I’ll get my cell phone and call the police.”

Gigi gave a doubtful backward glance at Anja as she headed down the stairs. The woman was dreadfully pale, and Gigi prayed she wouldn’t faint. Maybe she should have told her to put her head down?

She nearly fell down the last steps and ran directly into Winchel.

“Oh.”

“In a hurry?”

Gigi took a deep breath. She didn’t want to tell him about Derek until she’d already called the police. “I left something on the stove,” she fibbed, feeling the usual stab of guilt that was a relic from her Catholic school days. Even white lies, told to protect someone’s feelings, caused her a pang of remorse.

Fortunately Winchel merely nodded and continued down the hall toward the library.

Gigi dug her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and, with shaking fingers, punched in 9-1-1. Then she walked down the seemingly endless hall to the library to break the news to Winchel.

• • •

Winchel heard her out, his face etched in stoic lines, only the clenching of his jaw betraying the slightest hint of emotion.

“Can I get you a drink?” Gigi asked.

“Thanks.” Winchel put his head in his hands, and Gigi thought she heard him groan.

She fixed him a scotch and water that was more scotch than water and put it on the desk. He didn’t look up as she tiptoed from the room. Hopefully he would have a few moments of peace before the police arrived.

Five minutes later, Gigi heard the front door open and then Winchel’s deep voice. The police had obviously arrived. She waited in the kitchen, listening to the sound of footsteps overhead punctuated by the occasional shouted command. She thought perhaps she ought to make some tea. It would do her and Anja good, if nothing else.

Gigi was pouring out hot water when a quiet knock at the back door startled her. A few drops of boiling water landed on the top of her hand, and she winced. She pulled open the door, wondering if one of the policemen had gone around back.

Alice was standing on the doorstep, her gray hair caught by the wind and tossed around her face.

“I heard the news at the station, and I hoped that you’d be here.” She was breathless.

Gigi opened the door wider. “I’m making some tea. You look as if you could use a good, hot cup.”

“It is getting cold out there.” Alice threw her jacket over one of the kitchen chairs. She sat down at the table opposite Gigi and cupped her hands around the mug of warm tea Gigi handed her. “Terrible about that young man. Even if he did strike me as rather useless.” Alice took a sip of her tea and looked up at Gigi. “It looks as if our chief suspect is now dead.”

“I know.” Gigi’s shoulders slumped. She sighed.

“How is Winchel taking it?”

“Stoically, of course.”

Alice nodded. “Just as you’d expect.”

“How is Stacy?”

Alice frowned. “You can imagine. Now that Joe can’t work, she’s even more unhappy. They’ve got that huge mortgage on that big house. Why she talked him into it, I’ll never know. She might have to get a job herself, and she’s not at all happy about it. Most of her friends are staying home, but they have children to care for.” Alice stared into her tea. “She knows I’ve always worked. Even when her father was alive, I did something part-time to help out. If we wanted things, we knew we had to earn the money for them. Kids!” She threw her hands in the air. “They want everything handed to them today.”

Gigi thought about Declan’s fund-raising plans and nearly opened her mouth but clamped it shut quickly. It wasn’t up to her to tell Alice about it.

Gigi glanced at her watch and was startled when she saw the time. She had to get home and start getting ready for her dinner with Mertz. She was about to retrieve her new dress from the coat closet to show Alice when she heard someone walking down the corridor toward the kitchen, their sharp footsteps striking the wood floor with the sound of authority.

Gigi looked up to find Mertz framed in the doorway, a very apologetic look on his face.

“I’m really sorry about tonight. I’ll make it up to you, okay?” He gave a sketchy salute and turned on his heel.

Gigi sat slumped over her now empty cup of tea. “It hadn’t occurred to me that we’d have to cancel tonight.”

Alice patted her hand. “I can understand how disappointed you are, but he did say he’d make it up to you. You guys will go out another night.”

Gigi sighed. “I guess I’d gotten myself all worked up that it was going to be today.” She wiped a corner of her eye with her napkin. “The way things have been going with us, who knows if there will be a next time.” She struggled to smile. “I guess I’ll go home and rustle up something to eat from the fridge.”

“You could go out and eat some worms.”

For a moment, Gigi was startled, but then, in spite of herself, she began to laugh remembering the childhood ditty they used to sing.

Her laugh was cut short when Mertz reappeared in the doorway. “Can I speak with you?”

“I’ve got to be going.” Alice jumped up from her seat and grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair.

Mertz stood silently and watched her go, not saying anything until the kitchen door had closed behind Alice.

“I’m really beat.” He sat down in the chair Alice had vacated and ran a hand across his forehead.

Gigi was startled. She’d never seen Mertz unbend an inch let alone admit defeat. “You need a cup of coffee.” She pushed off from her chair and began to rummage in the pantry for the bag of Sumatra blend she’d brought to Felicity’s.

Mertz didn’t object but sat at the table with his head in his hands.

Now Gigi was really worried. She placed a scoop of coffee into the fancy coffee machine that made only one cup at a time. She added water and stood back as it gurgled and spit a cup of java into the mug she’d placed under it.

She slid the cup in front of Mertz.

Mertz ran a hand through his closely cropped hair, and Gigi thought she heard him groan as he took a sip of the bracing brew.

She slid into the seat opposite and waited for him to speak.

“The mayor’s all over this.” Mertz took a second draft and closed his eyes in appreciation. “Winchel’s a real big shot in town. And Felicity put the town on the map. Everyone’s screaming for an arrest.” He looked up at Gigi.

“There are plenty of leads,” Gigi declared authoritatively. “Derek Winchel stood to receive a substantial inheritance from Felicity, so he was at the top of my list.” She glanced down into her empty cup. “We’ll have to scratch that one, I guess. But there’s still Don, Felicity’s manager, and Vanessa.” She frowned. “Even Winchel himself.”

Mertz looked up, an eyebrow raised.

“Winchel stands to inherit a fair amount of Felicity’s money as well.” Gigi couldn’t believe Mertz was actually talking about the case to her. She felt encouraged to continue. “And Don cashed in on a policy he took out on Felicity right before she died.”

Mertz’s head snapped up. “He did, did he?”

“And he got very touchy when he discovered I’d been asking questions about him.”

Mertz gave a tired smile. “I’ll bet.”

“Even Vanessa has a motive of sorts. With Felicity out of the way, she stands to take the lead in
For Better or For Worse
. Vanessa is sporting some really spectacular jewelry all of a sudden. I’m thinking Don might have bought it for her with some of the proceeds of that insurance policy.”

Mertz looked at Gigi over the rim of his coffee cup. He wiped a hand across his face as if he were trying to wipe something away. “Unfortunately there’s no real, hard evidence to connect
any
of those people to Felicity’s death.” He smiled at Gigi, but it was a tired, sad smile.

“We’ll have to find evidence. We’ll—”

Mertz held up a hand and opened his mouth but then shut it again.

A strange feeling began to form in the pit of Gigi’s stomach. She had a feeling that Mertz was about to say something she wouldn’t like hearing. Something really bad.

“What?” she demanded.

Mertz shook his head as if trying to clear it. “You know the prescription pill bottle you found in Derek’s bedroom?”

Gigi nodded, and the feeling in her stomach intensified. She felt as if she were going to be sick.

“What?” she said again.

Mertz looked down at his coffee cup as if seeking guidance from its depths. “We found prints on it. Other than Felicity’s.”

“Yes?” Gigi’s heart was pounding so hard she was sure Mertz could see it.

“The prints belonged to your friend.”

“Friend?”

Mertz nodded and managed to look even sadder. “Yes. Sienna Paisley.”

• • •

Gigi stood in the kitchen and chopped furiously at a red onion for the salad. If anyone asked, she would say she wasn’t crying—it was the onion making her eyes tear. She closed them for a moment. She’d been so excited about today. A real dinner date with an attractive man. And a new dress. It didn’t get any better than that. But everything had disintegrated into a pile of ash. And she was facing the fact that the police still thought her best friend was responsible for a murder. She desperately wanted to go home, but Anja was a mess, and Gigi had promised Winchel she would stay. She wished she’d brought Reg with her—he always cheered her up—but the young girl next door was going to take him out and give him his dinner in her absence.