Gigi headed straight to Mertz’s office. She racked her brain frantically as she drove—she needed to explain to Mertz why she didn’t immediately report the theft of the lawn ornament to him. It would be too embarrassing to admit that she thought her own sister was responsible. What would he think of Pia? Worse, what would he think of her?
By the time Gigi arrived at the Woodstone Police Station, she had decided that her best line of defense was to say nothing. No need to report having seen the piece stolen. She would just say that she noticed it at the junkyard and wondered if had been one of the pieces that had gone missing from a Woodstone resident’s lawn.
The receptionist barely hesitated to wave Gigi on through. She didn’t even bother to ask if Gigi knew the way.
Mertz was at his desk munching on a granola bar when Gigi arrived. He jumped to his feet immediately.
“What a nice surprise.” He hugged her and gave her a brief kiss.
“Please, sit.” He pulled an empty chair closer to his desk.
Gigi perched on the edge and wet her lips.
Mertz frowned. “You look terribly serious.”
Gigi fiddled with the fringe on her scarf. “I think I might have a clue in the missing lawn ornaments case.”
“Really?” Mertz sat up straighter and pulled a yellow pad toward him. He plucked a pen from a holder on top of his desk. “Shoot.”
Gigi explained about turning around in Manny’s parking lot. “This one piece caught my eye so I stopped and went in. It was a metal sculpture of a frog playing a violin. It stood out against all the twisted metal and car parts.”
Mertz was quickly jotting down notes. “I’ll head over there right away.” He picked up the phone, barked some orders and began to reach for his coat.
Gigi hesitated. Should she tell him about Jimmy?
“What’s the matter?” Mertz paused with one arm in the sleeve of his coat. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”
Gigi drew a circle on the carpet with her right foot. “Well, I did ask Manny, the junkyard owner, if he knew who brought the piece in. He said it was some guy named Jimmy.”
Mertz sighed. “There are a lot of Jimmys out there. I’m not sure how helpful that’s going to be.”
“Manny said he’s brought stuff in before. All lawn ornaments.”
“But no last name, I gather?”
Gigi shook her head. “No. But I wonder . . .”
Mertz smiled. “You wonder what? Have you been snooping again?”
“Oh, no.” Gigi crossed her fingers behind her back. Well, she hadn’t been snooping exactly. More like overhearing and certainly that didn’t count, did it?
“Bradley Simpson has a brother-in-law named Jimmy. His wife works at the recording studio where I went to make the commercials for Branston Foods. I heard her on the phone talking to someone about their financial troubles. Manny said the metal from the lawn ornaments doesn’t bring in much, but for someone who’s desperate . . .”
Mertz sighed, louder this time. “Unfortunately, I can’t use that as a basis for arresting the guy.” He stopped with his hat halfway to his head. “But maybe we could set up a sting . . .” He leaned over and pecked Gigi on the cheek. “I’ve got to get going. You know the way out?”
Mertz turned right down the corridor, and Gigi turned left. She was pushing open the front door when her cell phone rang. By the time she located it at the bottom of her purse, the ringing had stopped. She checked the number and saw the name
Simpson and West
on the call log. The only person who would call her from there was Madeline.
Gigi hit redial as she walked toward her car. Madeline picked up on the second ring. Her voice was low—practically a whisper.
“Gigi? Listen, I’ve got some news. I can’t talk over the phone. Can you meet me for a quick cup of coffee at the Woodstone Diner?”
Gigi glanced at her watch. Lunch for her clients was going to be a healthy veggie wrap that wouldn’t take long to prepare. “Sure.”
“Great. I’ll see you there in five.”
Gigi clicked off the call and spun on her heel, turning in the other direction, toward the Woodstone Diner.
Two of the booths were occupied when she got there. There were four women in one having a late breakfast. Gigi imagined they were headed to the mall afterward for some shopping. A single man sat in the other booth, nursing a cup of coffee and scrolling through the texts on his phone. Gigi thought he was probably a salesman looking for a place to get in from the cold and check his messages.
She grabbed a booth way in the back and had barely sat down when the door opened and Madeline came in.
“Hey,” she said as she unbuttoned her camel hair coat, folded it carefully and placed it on the seat beside her.
The waitress immediately glided up and slapped menus down on the table. She started to walk away, but Gigi called out to her.
“Just a coffee for me, please.”
“I’ll have a cup of tea.” Madeline pushed the menus toward the edge of the table.
The waitress nodded, her mouth set in a grim line. Gigi could understand—cups of tea and coffee didn’t bring much of a tip.
Madeline rubbed her hands together. They were red from the cold. She was quiet as they waited for the waitress to return with their order. As soon as the woman was safely back behind the counter, Madeline began to talk, keeping her voice low so that Gigi had to lean closer to hear.
“I talked to Betty, Tiffany’s secretary.”
Gigi nodded encouragingly. “Yes?” She pulled a napkin from the dispenser and put it under her cup to soak up the coffee that had sloshed over the edge.
Madeline shook her head. “Unfortunately, she didn’t know much of anything.” She rolled her eyes. “Tiffany was working on a case that Mr. Flanagan himself had asked her to handle. He’s a partner in the firm, although his name isn’t on the actual masthead.” Madeline took a sip of her tea and grimaced. She reached for a packet of artificial sweetener, tore it open and dumped the contents into her cup. “She didn’t know what the actual case was. Just that it was somehow related to Mr. Flanagan.”
“And?” Gigi prompted.
“That’s all. That’s all I’ve been able to find out. It was supersecret, and Betty herself never even saw the files. Apparently all the paperwork went to Mr. Flanagan’s secretary. She’s been with the firm for forty-five years, and rumor has it, she knows more than all of the partners put together.”
Frustration washed over Gigi like a tidal wave. She felt like she was taking one step forward and two back. There had to be some other way to discover what it was that Tiffany had been working on. Why else would someone have searched her office? It didn’t make any sense.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to find out anything more,” Madeline said as she sipped her tea. “But I do have some good news.” A brief smile crossed her face.
“Yes?” Gigi was too disappointed to be more than mildly enthusiastic.
“I talked to Hunter. You know he wouldn’t tell me where he went the night his father was . . . was . . . murdered.” Madeline looked down at her cup. “I finally got him to talk about it. Apparently after that speech his father gave, he decided not to approach him for the money for his invention. He’d hoped to keep it in the family, but Bradley had made it obvious that he had no interest in what Hunter was doing. Hunter had already been approached by a representative from a Japanese firm. They were very interested in providing him with the needed capital.”
Gigi tried to look surprised although Madeline wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know.
“Hunter had been resisting the idea, but after bolting from Declan’s, he called the woman who was here from the investment company and asked to meet up with her. He’d decided to accept their offer.”
“So he was with her when his father was killed?
Madeline nodded. “Yes.”
Gigi was disappointed—another lead that hadn’t panned out. But she was happy for Madeline. If that woman could verify that Hunter was with her when Bradley was killed, Hunter was no longer a suspect. Unfortunately, that made one less person standing between Declan McQuaid, Pia’s current love of a lifetime, and an arrest for murder.
Gigi and Madeline finished their drinks just as the waitress slid their tab across the table.
Gigi fished a couple of dollars from her wallet. “Let me take care of this.”
“Thanks.” Madeline retrieved her coat and buttoned it up. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful. Betty really had no idea what Tiffany was up to.” She frowned as she tightened her belt around her waist. “It’s very unusual. Whatever Tiffany was working on must have been top secret.”
• • •
Pia was home and asleep when Gigi arrived back at her cottage. She was relieved. She didn’t want to hear about Declan’s visit to Pia’s studio. She was terrified that Pia’s heart was going to be broken.
Gigi went about preparing her clients’ lunches and dinners. She was dropping them both off at once this time since the weather forecast for later in the day was quite dire. High winds and whiteout conditions. Gigi thought about what Tiffany had said as she washed lettuce for a salad. What case could be so top secret that Tiffany’s secretary wasn’t even allowed to see the papers, and did it have anything to do with her murder or with Bradley Simpson’s?
Gigi glanced out the window, where snowflakes had already begun to fall and a strong wind was shaking the trees like an invisible hand. She shivered. It would be so nice to stay inside and curl up with a book. She gave herself a little shake. She really had it easy. She thought back to her days in New York, slogging through all kinds of weather, struggling to get on crowded buses and subways, walking for blocks in the frigid temperatures. Now all she had to do was deliver these meals to her clients, and then she’d be able to spend the rest of the day warm and snug in her cottage.
Reg was waiting by the door as Gigi slipped into her coat.
“Sorry, not this time, buddy. You stay here and keep Pia company, okay?”
He tilted his head this way and that, his ears twitching, as if to say,
okay, I understand. I’ll guard the fort, don’t worry.
Gigi ran the scraper over the MINI’s windows as quickly as possible. The wind blew snow in her face, and it felt like icy pinpricks against her bare skin. She threw the scraper in the backseat and slid behind the wheel.
Barbara Simpson’s car was parked at the far end of the circular driveway, facing Gigi, but it was still the maid who opened the door to Gigi’s ring and accepted the Gourmet De-Lite containers. Gigi wondered how Barbara was doing. Was her grief slowly lessening or was it too soon for that?
Gigi dashed into Simpson and West with Madeline’s containers, leaving them in the hands of the receptionist. The snow was coming down more heavily, and the wheels of the MINI lost traction on the icy road several times.
Penelope Lawson was Gigi’s last stop. She dashed up the front steps of the Lawsons’ brick Colonial. A woven grapevine heart wreath hung from the front door, nearly obscured by clumps of newly fallen snow. Gigi shivered as she waited for Penelope to answer the door.
“Gigi!” Penelope flung open the door. “You must be freezing. Come in and have something warm to drink. I’ve just made some cocoa.”
Gigi was about to politely refuse when she noticed a shattered vase on the floor of Penelope’s foyer, a little pile of shards of glass right next to it.
Penelope noticed her glance. “Oh, that. The kids have kept me running, and I haven’t had a chance to deal with it. I got it swept into a pile, and that’s as far as I’ve been able to get. George was in a bit of a temper this morning and knocked it over on his way out.” Penelope sighed. “Sometimes I wish he’d quit that firm. Oliver—you know Sienna’s husband—wants George to join up with him in his practice, but George is worried about the money.” She swept a hand around the hallway. “This place is a money pit, and with three children to put through college, he’s afraid to make the move.”
Gigi had already changed her mind about leaving and was following Penelope out to her vast kitchen and family room. Penelope opened a cupboard and took out two mugs with red-and-white-striped candy cane handles. She filled them each with cocoa and handed one to Gigi.
The warm mug felt good in her cold hands.
Penelope took a sip then stopped abruptly and looked at Gigi over the rim of her cup. “Don’t worry, it’s sugar-free.”
A thumping sound came from above.
“Just the kids. Hughie’s having a nap and Mason and Ava are supposed to be resting in their rooms.” She rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t sound like they’re getting much rest.” She motioned toward the sofa. “Do you want to sit down?” She quickly picked up the sections of newspaper that were scattered across the cushions.
Gigi joined her on the couch.
Penelope turned toward Gigi suddenly. “Please don’t think badly of George. He’s just upset about this case that got dumped in his lap. Tiffany Morse was supposed to be handling it, but well”—Penelope rolled her eyes—“we all know what happened to her.”
“Really?” Gigi tried to look innocent as she took a sip of her cocoa. “Is it a very complicated case?”
Penelope rolled her eyes again. “No, and that’s what’s really got George in such a snit. It’s ridiculous to ask someone with his experience to handle this. But the orders came from Flanagan, and he’s a partner so . . .”