The Woodstone Diner had actually been transported from some place in New Jersey and plunked down on Woodstone’s High Street. It was as authentic as they came, right down to the obligatory open-faced turkey sandwiches, meat loaf specials and wisecracking but soft-hearted waitresses. The moneyed weekend crowd enjoyed it in a perverse, “anti-chic” kind of way.
Gigi nodded at the gray-haired, barrel-chested man sitting at the counter and slid into the last booth on the right. The waitress hurried over and slapped a menu down on the table.
“I’m waiting for someone. She should be here any minute.” Gigi folded her hands on top of the menu.
“Gotcha.” The waitress spun on her heel, returning several seconds later with a tumbler of ice water and two place settings.
Gigi took several sips of the water. Being nervous had made her throat dry. She watched out the window, scanning the street for the arrival of a UPS truck. The waitress had
finished wiping down all the booths and the counter before the door opened and Donna Small walked in.
Gigi half rose in her seat, motioning with her arm, before she realized it must be obvious that she was the only person in the establishment named Gigi.
“Hi,” Donna Small said with a smile as she slid into the booth opposite Gigi. She wiped a hand across her forehead, which glistened with perspiration. “Hot out there.”
Gigi motioned for the waitress, who was already on her way with a tall glass of iced tea and a straw. She put them both on the table in front of Donna.
Donna laughed. “I always stop here on my break.” She peeled the wrapper off the straw and plunged it into her glass. “They know what I like. Iced tea and a slice of their delicious pound cake.” She smiled ruefully and tugged on the waistband of her shorts. “I don’t need either of them, of course.”
That was good, Gigi thought. At least her reward of free meals might mean something then. She’d omitted that little detail from her ad in the paper, and most people would probably assume a reward meant cash.
The waitress reappeared with a slice of pound cake and slid it in front of Donna. She turned to Gigi and raised her overly plucked eyebrows.
“I’ll have a…a…diet soda.” Gigi opened the menu and tried to speed read. “And a dish of vanilla ice cream.”
The waitress took her menu and retreated to the counter.
“That was a miracle I saw your ad.” Donna brushed crumbs off the front of her brown uniform blouse. “I don’t usually read the
Woodstone Times
, but someone had left it in one of the booths so I picked it up to read on my break. There wasn’t much in it, and by the time I’d finished my cake, I was up to the classifieds.”
Gigi held her breath.
“I was surprised to see your ad,” Donna continued as she tore the tops off two packets of sugar and dumped them into her glass of iced tea. “Not to mention curious. I mean, the classifieds are usually all about used cars, lost pets and personals.” She grinned at Gigi.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” Gigi admitted. “I needed to know if anyone had been seen by my car that afternoon.” She was quiet for a moment as the waitress slid her dish of ice cream in front of her. “I think someone might have tampered with the food I was bringing to my clients.” She spread her hands out on the table. “I make diet meals for a small group of clients. Gigi’s Gourmet De-Lite, it’s called. I’m afraid this will ruin me.”
Donna’s head bobbed up and down as she nodded. “I noticed your car in the parking lot of that old barn where the theater is.” She lowered her head shyly. “I’m saving for a MINI myself.” She jerked a thumb in the direction of the diner parking lot. “I get sick of driving that enormous dusty heap around all day. A MINI seems like it would be fun.”
“It is.” Gigi fiddled with the wrapper from her straw. “But how can you be sure it was the same day?” she asked finally, holding her breath, hoping for the right answer.
“Well, I passed the theater first and slowed down to get a good look at your car. I’m thinking about a blue one myself, but the red sure is perky looking.” Donna took a long draft of her iced tea and swiped a paper napkin across her mouth. “Then I delivered a package to Simpson and West, the law firm over there on High Street.”
“Yes. I know them.”
“It took forever. I had to get it signed for, and the girl at the desk was a temp and didn’t want to risk giving me her
John Hancock in case it wasn’t allowed, so I had to wait for the big guy’s secretary to come out to reception and do it. She took her ever-lovin’ sweet time, I can tell you.” She ran a hand under the open-necked collar of her shirt and across the back of her neck. “Some people just like to show you how much better than you they are. It’s annoying, but honestly, I feel kinda sorry for them.”
Gigi tried to look interested, wondering if any of this had anything to do with anything.
“By the time I beat it out of there, there was all this commotion going on outside. Sirens wailing, police cars flying past. Turned out someone hit a tree in the middle of that roundabout where High Street veers to the left and goes up the hill,” she pointed in vaguely that direction.
Gigi squirmed forward in her seat. “Yes, that was the day. The day I’m talking about.”
Donna ran her fingers up and down her glass, leaving trails in the condensation. “Yeah, well, that’s the day I noticed your car.”
“Yes. And you did notice someone sort of hanging around my car?”
Donna wet her finger and pressed it against the crumbs left on her plate. She nibbled them off her index finger. “I did. And it worried me.” She ducked her head. “In my mind, I was kind of pretending like your car was mine. Like I already had my own MINI, and there it was.”
Gigi nodded eagerly. She had to stop herself from shrieking. It was taking Donna so long to get to the point, her ice cream had already melted.
“It was a young kid. A teenager, I think.”
“A teenager?” Gigi asked. Disappointment settled in her gut like a stomach virus.
Donna nodded. “He…at least I think it was a he…had short hair…and
was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of shorts. Kind of khaki colored I think.”
Gigi tried to swallow her disappointment, but it created a bitter lump in her throat that didn’t want to move and nearly choked her.
“You’re sure it was a young guy?”
“Yeah. Pretty sure.” Donna tilted her glass back, extracted an ice cube and began to chew on it. “He looked to be in his late teens. And he had blond hair,” she added triumphantly as if that was what Gigi was waiting to hear.
Gigi tried to smile, but her face felt paralyzed, and she was sure it looked like a Halloween mask frozen in mid-grimace.
Donna didn’t seem to notice. “All I really saw was the kid hovering around your car. I can’t say for sure if he actually touched it or opened the door or anything.”
“No, of course not.”
Donna looked at her with her eyebrows raised.
“That’s really helpful,” Gigi managed to get out, although her mouth had become so dry, it felt as if her tongue were permanently cemented to the roof of her mouth.
Donna swirled her straw around and around her empty glass. “You’d kind of mentioned a reward in the ad…”
“Yes!” Gigi declared brightly. “I’m offering a week of my gourmet diet meals for free!”
Gigi was gratified to see that Donna now looked as stunned as she felt.
The atmosphere inside the Woodstone Theater had shifted, Gigi noticed when she got there with her lunch delivery. The time till opening night was growing shorter, tempers were
even shorter still and the air vibrated with unreleased tension.
Gigi eased open the inner door to the theater and stood for a moment to let her eyes adjust. Adora was center stage in mid-dialogue with Emilio’s character. She turned suddenly and pointed toward the back of the theater. “Who opened the door?” she demanded.
“It’s all right,
cara
, we can start over.” Emilio tried to put a hand on Adora’s arm, but she brushed it off. Alice and Barbie hovered stage left, shifting uncomfortably. Winston, who lounged in the second row with his feet propped on the seat in front of him, looked over his shoulder at the open door and then back at Adora again.
“We’ll never get through this if we keep getting interrupted.” Adora slammed the prop she’d been holding—a book—down on an antique-looking wooden side table that made up part of the living room set that surrounded them.
“I’m sorry,” Gigi called out. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ve brought the food.”
Adora put a hand to her eyes and looked out past the spotlight that illuminated the stage. “Then leave it in the lobby. We have to get through this scene, or we’re not going to be ready for opening night. We’ll just have to wait to eat.”
“Sorry,” Gigi said again as she backed out the door and let it close quietly behind her. She took a deep breath. She hadn’t meant to interrupt. Usually when she arrived, everyone was standing around waiting for the food and practically pounced on her the second they saw her.
She sat down on a long, dusty, velvet-covered bench that had been placed under a row of framed posters announcing past Woodstone Theater performances. Her shoulders
drooped. She still couldn’t believe what Donna had told her. A teenage boy? Maybe it had been nothing more than a prank? A prank that had gone terribly, terribly wrong. It didn’t seem possible now that she would ever be able to clear her name. The police had closed the case, and she had run out of ideas. She might as well give up.
The front door to the theater opened, and Sienna came in, her long cotton skirt swishing around her tanned legs. “I hoped I’d catch you here.” She collapsed on the bench next to Gigi and used the hem of her gauzy tunic to blot her upper lip. “What happened with the UPS woman yesterday?” She turned to look at Gigi, her brows drawn together over her green eyes. “I’m assuming it’s not good news, or you would have called me.”
Gigi nodded, glumly. “She did see someone around my car the day Martha died. Unfortunately she was quite positive that it was a teenage boy wearing a T-shirt and shorts.”
“Oh no.” Sienna put a warm hand on Gigi’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “That is bad news, isn’t it? And she was absolutely positive?”
“Yes. She even noticed he had blond hair. She was quite certain about that.”
The inner door to the theater burst open and Adora shot through it. Emilio followed close behind. Once again, he tried to put a hand on her arm, but she shook it off. “Where’s my lunch?” she demanded as soon as she saw Gigi.
“There is no need to get so upset,” Emilio began before Adora cut him off with a withering glance.
She snatched the wig off her head and glared at him, then turned her glance on Barbie and Alice, who had emerged from the theater, blinking in the sudden light.
“You don’t understand. Any of you.” She looked from
one cast member to the next. “Amateurs,” she spat out, then turned on her heel and ran out of the theater.
Alice watched her go. “Temper, temper, temper,” she chided. “Just because she once had a bit part in a Broadway play.” She shook her head and held out a hand for her Gourmet De-Lite container. “You know”—she opened the lid and peered inside—“I used to think this was a ridiculously small amount of food. Couldn’t imagine how someone my size was going to survive on so little. But now”—she ran a finger around the loose waistband of her trousers—“I can barely finish it.” She looked up at Gigi. “Can you believe it?”
“Your appetite has shrunk back to normal.”
At least someone had benefited from this whole enterprise, Gigi thought. Alice had lost weight and was really going to wow them at her daughter’s wedding.
Barbie took her lunch and smiled warily at Gigi.
Winston materialized at Barbie’s elbow. “Come on, old girl, let’s go outside while you eat that. Hopefully we’ll catch something of a breath of fresh air out there.” He took her arm and led her toward the door.
Gigi was left holding Adora’s container. She looked around, but Alice and Emilio had also disappeared. “I hope she isn’t long. I’ve left Reg in the car. The windows are down, but still…”
Sienna gestured toward the bench. “Oh, just leave it there for her. Serve her right if it spoils.”
“I don’t know. I could put it back in the cooler and wait for her—”
“Don’t be silly. Adora acted appallingly. There’s no reason why you should hang around waiting for her to come back from wherever she’s gone to have her temper tantrum.”
“Well, if you’re sure…”
“I am.”
Sienna held open the door. “Come on. I could do with some air myself.”
The parking lot was empty as they bumped and dragged Gigi’s cooler over the rutted macadam toward her car.
“I managed to snag a spot in the shade.” Gigi pointed to where the MINI sat under the spreading branches of one of the trees.
“Aren’t those seed things going to get all over it?” Sienna gestured toward the ground under the tree, which was littered with pods.
Gigi shrugged. “At least it will be cool.” She craned her neck. “I guess Reg must have fallen asleep. Usually he’s got his head hanging out the window watching every blade of grass twitch.”
Sienna laughed. “He is a good watchdog, that’s for sure.”
“What’s that on your windshield?” Sienna stopped and bent down to fix the strap on her sandal.
“I don’t know.” Gigi frowned at the square of white paper that fluttered under one of her wipers. She laughed. “It can’t be a ticket, thank goodness.”
“Probably some sort of advertisement. I’ll heave this into the car”—Sienna kicked lightly at the cooler—“and you go check it out.”
Gigi reached across the hood of the car, careful to keep her dress from brushing against the MINI, and grabbed the piece of paper. It was an ordinary sheet that looked like it had been torn from the kind of notepad you’d keep by the phone or on your desk. The top edge was jagged, and there was a corner missing. It had been unevenly folded in half.
“What is it?” Sienna asked, pausing as she tried to
maneuver the cooler into the backseat. “I think you’re going to have to help me with this.”
“Just a sec.” Gigi unfolded the note.
She read the words, but at first they didn’t make sense. They were easy enough to read, written in childish block capitals in black ink. For a second, the words swam before her eyes before coming back into focus.