• • •
Gigi left the cottage with plenty of time to spare. She left Reg lying on the rug in the front hall, his head on his front paws and a disappointed look on his face. She had no idea how long she would be and couldn’t risk leaving him in the car, even though he was making it clear he disagreed with her decision.
The streets of Woodstone were quiet, and there were only a few cars in the lot next to Declan’s. Gigi parked in the back, hoping her MINI would escape notice. For once she wished she had purchased a slightly less recognizable car—a Taurus or Focus wouldn’t have caught anyone’s attention.
She sat for a moment behind the wheel of the darkened car. She was early and didn’t want to have to hang around in front of Simpson and West waiting for Madeline to open the front door.
Finally, at one minute to ten, she got out, locked the MINI and began walking in the direction of the law firm. The wind whistled down the street, shaking the bare trees and making Gigi shiver. She was glad when she finally reached the front doors of Simpson and West. She heard Madeline turn the latch as she approached, and the door was pushed open.
Gigi quickly ducked inside. The lobby was dimly lit, the reception desk tidied for the night. She noticed the retreating back of a night watchman as he disappeared through one of the doors, and her breath caught in her throat. She gestured toward him mutely.
“Don’t worry about him,” Madeline reassured her. “It’s fine as long as you’re with me. Besides, he’s more interested in taking a nip out of the bottle he keeps in the housekeeping closet than catching intruders.”
Madeline swiped her employee badge in the slot next to the elevator, and the doors whooshed open. Neither woman spoke as they watched the indicator sweep toward the second floor and stop, with a final quiver, just as the doors opened.
“Her office is down here,” Madeline said in hushed tones as she fished a key from the pocket of her suit jacket.
The hallway was dimly lit at this time of night, but Gigi noticed that a pool of light spilled out of an office further down the hall. She gestured toward it. “Someone’s here.”
“Probably just working late. Don’t worry about it.”
Suddenly a man came out of the office. His suit jacket was off, his shirtsleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. He had a sheaf of papers in his hand and barely looked up as he swept past Gigi and Madeline, who had flattened themselves against the wall.
Gigi felt sweat breaking out under her arms, but Madeline seemed unperturbed as she inserted the key in the lock and pushed open the door. A cloud of stale air seeped out. Madeline felt along the wall for the light switch. They both started and blinked furiously as the overhead fixture blazed on. Madeline strode toward the desk and clicked on a small brass reading lamp, motioning to Gigi to turn the other light off.
The lamp trained a bright circle of light on top of the desk, leaving the corners of the office dark with shadows. Gigi looked around. File drawers gaped open like giant tongues sticking out, and papers and folders were spewed across the top of the desk as if scattered by a strong breeze. Someone had indeed been looking for something. But what?
“Where should we start?”
Madeline shrugged her shoulders. “I have no idea. The desk probably. That’s where she’d keep whatever she was working on most recently.”
Gigi certainly had no idea what to look for as she flipped through a stack of folders, and Madeline looked through a second pile. All the folders were carefully labeled and appeared to pertain to various tax cases Simpson and West was handling for their clients. She was beginning to think this hadn’t been a very good idea. What did she think she was going to find? A note with the murderer’s name written on it?
She tossed the last of the folders on the desk, ready to admit defeat.
“Anything?” she asked as Madeline put down the last of her files.
“No. These are all tax cases. I can’t imagine they have anything to do with the murders.” She chewed on the side of her index finger. “Maybe the intruder found what they were looking for and took it away.”
“That’s possible. But judging by the mess they made, it wasn’t easy to find. No, I suspect that whatever it is, it’s still here somewhere.”
The sound of something squeaking came from the corridor, and they both froze. Madeline peeked around the edge of the door.
“It’s just the cleaning lady with her cart.”
Gigi let out her breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t think this was such a great idea. I don’t know what I expected to find.”
“That’s okay. I know you’re trying to help me and Hunter.” Madeline sniffed and dabbed at her eyes.
“I guess we’d better go.”
“What do we do next?” Madeline looked at Gigi, her nose reddening and her eyes brimming with tears.
“I don’t know. But I’ll think of something.”
Gigi could have kicked herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth. She had no idea what that something was going to be.
Gigi turned on the overhead light, and once again the sudden glare had them blinking furiously. Madeline switched off the lamp on the desk and was walking toward the door when the heel of her black suede booties caught on the edge of the oriental throw rug Tiffany had placed between her desk and the door.
“Oh,” Madeline gave a little cry as her ankle twisted, and she began to fall.
Gigi rushed to her side. “Are you okay?”
“Fine.” Madeline rubbed her ankle. “I don’t think it’s sprained or anything.”
Gigi held out her hand and pulled Madeline to her feet. Madeline tested her foot gingerly and gave a crooked smile. “It’s fine.”
They both looked down and noticed that the edge of the rug, which had caught on the heel of Madeline’s boot, had been peeled back. And peeking out from underneath it was a manila file folder.
“What the . . .” Gigi said as she bent to retrieve it.
She picked up the folder and several photographs spilled out. Gigi picked them up and glanced through them quickly. They appeared to be snapshots of cars heading through downtown Woodstone.
“What are these do you suppose?” Gigi held one up for Madeline to see.
Madeline took it by the corners and studied it. “Looks like these were taken by that camera they installed at the intersection of High Street and Elmwood to catch people running the light. See?” She pointed at the picture. “The camera is situated so that it gets a good shot of the car’s license plate. The police use these to send out tickets.”
Gigi looked at the photo again. Madeline was right. It was the back end of a Mercedes with the vanity plate
SNKMS
. “What would she be doing with these, I wonder?”
“I have no idea. Traffic violations are hardly the sort of thing we handle. And Tiffany’s specialty was tax law.” Madeline picked up the folder the photo had been in. “Strange. There’s nothing written on here.” She turned the manila folder over and looked at the back. She waved it toward Gigi. “No label, no paperwork, nothing.”
“Are all the pictures the same?”
Madeline spilled the rest of them out onto the desk. “No.” She pointed at one photo of the tail end of red pickup truck and another that was clearly the back of a Land Rover.
“What on earth was it doing under the rug?” Gigi pointed at the folder in Madeline’s hands.
“I can’t even begin to imagine. It looks like she was hiding it.”
“Do you think you can find out what she was working on? Maybe that will give us some idea of what to look for. You could ask her secretary?”
A horrified look crossed Madeline’s face.
“After all, if the police think Hunter . . .” Gigi let the words hang. She didn’t have to wait long.
Madeline nodded her head briskly. “I’ll ask Betty if she knows anything.” She bundled the pictures back into the folder and held it out. “What should we do with it?”
“I would put it back under the rug. Just in case it has anything to do with Tiffany’s murder.”
The very words sent a chill through Gigi, and she shivered violently.
They turned out the light and slipped from Tiffany’s office into the corridor. Gigi was relieved to see it was empty. The fewer people who saw her sneaking around the halls of Simpson and West, the better.
After all, one of them might very well be a killer.
Gigi once again took a circuitous route home through the back roads of Woodstone where several industrial parks were located, along with Moe’s Towing and Storage, the bus depot, an electrical plant, and the building where the
Woodstone Times
was printed. The sidewalks were cracked and buckled, and the few scrawny trees were sickly looking.
It was eerily quiet as Gigi drove along the shadowy street. A few of the streetlamps were out, making it even darker. She couldn’t imagine Pia wanting to come here late at night, by herself, but where else would she find a cheap place to use as a studio?
Gigi’s head swiveled left and right, looking for any sign of Pia’s VW bus. She was coming up to a long, low building on her right that had multiple doors along the front. All the dirt-encrusted windows were dark, save one where a faint glow of light was visible through the grime.
And right outside was Pia’s van.
Gigi slammed on her brakes and pulled into the parking lot. The macadam was split and pitted, and she shuddered as the left wheel of the MINI sank into a deep pothole. She pulled up next to Pia’s van and got out.
An icy wind immediately grabbed her scarf and tossed it over her face. Gigi clawed it away frantically. The whole place was giving her the creeps, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
She stood outside the door that was directly in front of Pia’s van. She hesitated. Would knocking scare Pia? Gigi knew it would certainly scare
her
if she were alone in a place like this. She decided she would use her cell and call Pia instead. She debated getting back in her car, but it didn’t seem worth the effort. She huddled in the lee of the door and scrabbled through her purse for her phone. The cold made her fingers stiff and awkward, but she finally found it. She pulled off her gloves and hit the speed dial number for Pia.
Pia sounded startled when she answered. “What’s wrong? Is something wrong?”
“No,” Gigi reassured her. “But I’m right outside your door.”
“My door? What do you mean? You’re here at the studio?”
“Yes, and I’m freezing, so I’d be really grateful if you’d let me in.”
Gigi waited while Pia dealt with the lock on the door. She was terrified of what she was going to find. Was Pia stockpiling lawn ornaments in this place? Was she the Woodstone thief the police were desperate to catch? Gigi remembered some pieces Pia had made a long time ago—an assortment of all sorts of things—hubcaps, a deflated soccer ball, a handful of tools—arranged into a sort of collage. Some of the items had been partially melted with a welding iron so that they drooped like the objects in a Salvador Dali painting. Pia had called it
found art
, probably because she had found all the elements while roaming the streets and picking through junkyards. There had been a certain appeal to the arrangement, although Gigi couldn’t imagine anyone hanging it on their wall. Was Pia doing something like that on a bigger scale? Using parts of lawn ornaments belonging to the citizens of Woodstone?
Pia finally unlocked the door. It was dented and warped and stuck slightly so that she had to tug to get it open.
“How did you find me?” Pia asked as soon as Gigi entered the studio.
“Your van. It’s parked right outside.”
Pia bit her lower lip. “I knew I should have pulled it around back, but it was cold, and I didn’t feel like walking around to the front of the building.”
The room itself was frigid, and Pia had on a paint-stained men’s shirt with the buttons missing over a thick wool sweater and was wearing fingerless gloves. She moved aside, and Gigi was able to look around. The room was quite large, and Pia had used several halogen work lights on tripods to light the space. A scarred wooden table, with a stack of books propping up a broken leg, was littered with tubes of paint, a handful of brushes and several sticks of charcoal.
An enormous piece of paper was tacked to one wall and was covered with a sketch that mirrored the huge canvas leaning against the other wall. The painting was a scene of the French countryside with lavender in the foreground and a field of sunflowers in the background. It was very beautiful.
Gigi approached it in awe. “This is fabulous. I feel like I can almost smell the flowers.”
Pia ducked her head. “Thanks. I’m quite pleased with it myself.”
Gigi glanced around quickly but there was no sign of the missing lawn ornaments. She felt relief wash over her. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
Pia shrugged. “Dunno, really. I never like showing my stuff until it’s done.”
“Are you going to sell it?”
“It’s a commission actually. For that new gourmet shop that’s opening in town.”
“Oh.” Gigi’s spirits plummeted. The place was going to look incredible with this fabulous piece on the wall. Evelyn had nothing like it for Bon Appétit. How would she compete?
“Why were you so determined to find my studio?” Pia squeezed a blob of bright blue paint onto her palette and dabbed at the right corner of the canvas where a brilliant sky lit the fields below.
“Oh. No particular reason. Just curious.” Gigi felt her face getting red.
“Would you like some tea? I’ve got an electric teakettle.” Pia gestured toward the far wall where a kettle was plugged into an outlet. Next to it were two of Gigi’s mugs.
“No, thanks. I should be going home.”
“Satisfied now?” Pia paused with her brush hovering over the palette.
“Yes.” Gigi pointed at the painting. “It really is beautiful.”
She left Pia’s studio feeling very small. Very small indeed. Of course her sister wasn’t responsible for the theft of the lawn ornaments. How could she have thought such a thing? Instead, Pia was working on one of her best works so far, and working hard under less-than-ideal circumstances. Gigi shivered again as she thought of being alone in this desolate place.
She beeped open the MINI and got behind the wheel. She couldn’t wait to get home to her comfortable cottage and curl up in her warm bed with Reg at her feet.
• • •
Gigi hit the snooze button twice the next morning. Her late-night sleuthing had worn her out. She dressed, put on some coffee, threw on her jacket and headed to the end of the driveway to collect her newspaper. Reg followed behind her. He lifted his leg on several bushes and nearly disappeared into one. Gigi heard a lot of rustling before Reg backed out slowly. He was probably after some small woodland creature, Gigi thought, which had eluded his capture.
Pia’s van was missing from the driveway. Her sister must still be at the studio. Gigi felt a pang of guilt. Pia really was working awfully hard.
By the time Gigi got back inside, her coffee was ready. She poured a cup, climbed onto one of the stools around the island and opened up the
Woodstone Times
. The paper was cold to the touch, and Gigi wrapped her hands around her mug to warm them. Once again, there were several letters to the editor demanding to know what the police were doing to solve the two recent murders and to catch the lawn ornament thief. Gigi winced as she read them. She imagined Mertz would be hearing from his boss, and it wouldn’t be good.
Gigi sighed and folded up the paper. She had to get moving and get her clients’ breakfasts prepared and delivered. She had prepared the dish the day before—baked oatmeal with bananas and blueberries that only needed to be warmed in the microwave. She was packing everything in her Gourmet De-Lite containers when she had a thought. Perhaps Pia would like something to eat. She microwaved one portion and also filled a thermos with the remains of the hot coffee. It would certainly be a more nourishing breakfast than Pia’s usual toaster pastries or powdered sugar doughnuts.
Gigi delivered her clients’ breakfasts quickly. Her route took her past the Woodstone Police Station, where a small crowd was again gathered outside. Gigi was able to read one of the placards that demanded an immediate arrest of the criminals responsible for both the murders and the thefts. She passed the site of the new gourmet shop, but it was obvious, even from the street, that nothing had been done inside yet. Finally, she headed toward the far side of town and Pia’s studio. It occurred to her that Pia might already be on her way back to Gigi’s cottage, so she was relieved to see Pia’s van parked in the same spot as the previous evening. What she didn’t expect to see was another car parked right next to it—a late-model Land Rover that made Pia’s vehicle look like even more of a wreck.
Gigi pulled in next to the two cars and hesitated. Maybe she ought to leave well enough alone? She glanced at the container of food and the thermos on the seat next to her. She squared her shoulders and got out.
Pia looked slightly startled when she opened the door. She was wearing the same sweater and fingerless gloves as the night before, but had taken off the paint-stained workshirt. Her pixieish hair was even more disheveled than usual, and she was clutching a Styrofoam container of coffee.
She opened the door just wide enough to see who it was.
“I’ve brought you some breakfast.” Gigi handed her the Gourmet De-Lite container. “Although I see you already have some coffee. I don’t want to disturb you . . .”
“Thanks.” Pia gave a tired smile. “That’s very nice of you. I’m about ready to wrap it up here.” She gave a big yawn.
“Yes . . . well . . . I’ll get going then.”
Pia began to shut the door but not before Gigi caught a glimpse of a man standing in the far corner of the studio.
A man who looked an awful lot like Declan McQuaid.
Gigi drove away in a rush, her tires kicking up bits of loose gravel as she pulled out onto Broad Street. So Pia and Declan were . . . Her mind didn’t want to finish the sentence. It was now more important than ever that she prove Declan wasn’t responsible for the two murders. It would kill Pia if he were arrested.
Gigi was so distracted by her thoughts that she missed the turn onto Elmwood Street that would take her back to High Street and the center of town. She pulled into the nearest driveway to turn around. When she looked to her right, she noticed a large metal sign with one corner missing announcing that she had arrived at Manny’s Junkyard. Underneath, in smaller letters, it read—
We take scrap metal, car parts and all sorts of junk. When in doubt, bring it in.
Gigi was about to back out onto Broad Street when she saw something that made her change her mind. She put the MINI in drive and cruised into the parking lot of Manny’s Junkyard.
The front gate was open. Pieces of metal, car parts and all sorts of junk were piled as high as Gigi could see. She hoped there wasn’t a junkyard dog. She looked around cautiously, thinking back to an experience she’d had at Moe’s Towing and Storage.
“Can I help you?” A man called, coming down an aisle that had been created through several mounds of twisted metal. He was bald with a gray beard and was wearing a blue shirt with
Manny
embroidered above the pocket.
“Manny?”
“One and the same,” he said, pointing to his name on the sign. “What can I do for you?” He pulled a rag from his back pocket and wiped his hands.
“I was curious about this piece over here.” He followed Gigi to the front of the lot. “I wondered if you remembered who brought it in.”
Gigi gestured to a lawn ornament that was slightly bent and twisted, but was clearly a frog playing a violin. The very same piece she’d seen someone swipe from that front yard on Elmwood Street.
Manny scratched the side of his head with one hand and stroked his beard with the other. He gestured toward the piles of junk behind him. “You see all this stuff here?”
Gigi nodded.
“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of it, isn’t there?”
Gigi nodded again. She had a sinking feeling that Manny wasn’t going to be able to help her.
“There’s no way I could remember every single person who comes here with an old radiator, some copper wire or a piece of sheet metal, is there?”
Gigi shook her head.
“But!” Manny paused dramatically. “I do happen to remember that piece. It was only a couple of days ago. Fellow by the name of Jimmy brought it in. The metal isn’t worth all that much, but what’s not much to me might be a king’s ransom to someone else. You know what I mean?”
Gigi certainly did.
“Jimmy’s brought me a couple of pieces like this. He’s a nice guy.”
“Do you know where he got them?”
“Don’t know, don’t ask and don’t tell, that’s my motto.”
“Haven’t you seen the stories in the
Woodstone Times
?”
Manny shrugged. “I’m not much for reading papers. Get all the news I need from the television.”
Which wouldn’t include a local story like missing lawn ornaments
.
“Someone has been swiping lawn ornaments from front yards all over Woodstone. Ornaments just like that one there.”
Manny’s look turned hostile. “Hey, lady, I’m not dealing in stolen goods, all right? Like I told you, I don’t know where Jimmy got the stuff, and it’s not my business to ask or my problem. You have a problem with it, I suggest you talk to the police.” He turned his back on her and began to walk away. “And I suggest you leave now,” he tossed over his shoulder.
Gigi didn’t need to be told twice. She was back in her car in a nanosecond and sped out of the driveway before another minute had gone by.