Steamed to Death (6 page)

“Sounds like this could be a wonderful opportunity for our resident ingénue, Vanessa.”

Sienna snorted. “Indeed. Vanessa is doing everything she should to score a bigger part on the show—and lots of things she shouldn’t.”

“Alex did drop a few hints along those lines.” She wondered if this was a good opportunity to bring up the newspaper and Oliver’s picture. “I saw the
New York Post
,” Gigi began.

Sienna shook her head tersely. “That ridiculous thing! Felicity wasn’t content to leave the publicity campaign in my hands but decided to come up with that absurd story to get her name back in the gossip columns.” Sienna smiled sadly. “Silly woman.”

“Where is Oliver?”

“Oh, Gigi.” Sienna looked at her with wide eyes. “You don’t think for a minute that I believed that stupid story, do you? Oliver is absolutely furious with Felicity. At first he refused to come to the party tonight, but I convinced him that would only stir up more rumors. I guess when he ran to the Shop and Save to pick up some milk for me, people were staring at him and pointing. He was mortified.”

Sienna ran a hand over her belly. “But I told him he can’t bury his head in the sand. He should be along shortly, although I doubt the police will let him in.”

Gigi glanced at the foyer out of the corner of her eye. Mertz was still speaking with Winchel, whose posture was getting stiffer by the minute. Even from a distance, she could sense his impatience at being told what to do when he was usually the one doing the telling.

“I’m going to sneak off to the kitchen and put my feet up,” Sienna whispered to Gigi.

“Go ahead. There’s a pitcher of iced tea in the refrigerator. Help yourself.”

Gigi was turning around when Alex came up behind her.

“Mind if I sneak one of those?” He reached out and snatched one of the salmon hors d’oeuvres off the tray Gigi had set on the table. He inclined his head toward the foyer. “I don’t know why the police don’t ring for the ambulance to come get the body and let the rest of us go about our business.”

“I guess when a death is even remotely suspicious—”

Alex’s laugh cut her off. “I think the police have been watching too many television shows. I’m sure it was just a sad, sad accident.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “Do you suppose they’ll question us? Ask us where we were this afternoon and all that?”

He laughed, but Gigi had the distinct feeling that he was nervous. And that he very much didn’t want the police asking any questions.

A flash of bright red caught Gigi’s eye. Vanessa was deep in conversation with Don. Gigi picked up the tray and used it as an excuse to sidle closer.

She caught the word
policy
before Vanessa whirled around.

“Hors d’oeuvres! I’m starved!” Vanessa smiled, but her eyes were shadowed.

Vanessa helped herself and began nibbling at the bread like a rabbit. Don waved the tray away with a pained look. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of antacids. He popped one into his mouth, hesitated, then popped in another.

Gigi’s tray was almost empty. She made her way through the crowd toward the foyer. She noticed that Winchel had joined his important New York visitors, but she didn’t see Detective Mertz anywhere. A patrolman was standing at the door, shoulders back, spine straight. Gigi shivered. She supposed he’d been stationed there to keep them from leaving.

Alice was in the kitchen arranging a new tray of hors d’oeuvres. She was subdued, but Gigi was glad to see that some of her usual ruddy color had returned.

“Here you go.” She handed Gigi the tray.

“I’m going to sit for a minute.” Gigi pulled out a chair opposite Sienna, plopped into it and stretched out her legs.

“Want me to take this around?” Alice brandished the canapés.

Gigi shook her head. “I think everyone has had enough for now.”

Gigi turned to Sienna. “Any news from Oliver?”

“He texted me that the police wouldn’t let him in.” She was silent for a moment. “This is all so odd.” She inclined her head in the direction of the living room. “Everyone eating and drinking as if this were a real party, as if Felicity wasn’t upstairs . . . dead.”

“I do wish the ambulance would get here,” Alice said. “It seems wrong leaving her there like that.”

“I suppose the police need to be certain there’s nothing suspicious about the death.” Sienna plucked a canapé from Gigi’s newly refilled tray and popped it into her mouth.

“Speaking of the police, where are they?” Alice wiped her hands on her apron.

“I think they’re still upstairs poking around.” Sienna dabbed at her lips with a cocktail napkin.

“And one of them is posted at the front door,” Gigi added.

Alice nodded. “That whiny young man, what’s his name?”

“Derek?” Gigi supplied.

“Derek. He came through a couple of minutes ago and said they were doing all sorts of things in Felicity’s bedroom.” Alice shivered.

Just so they stayed upstairs, Gigi thought.

“Time I took that tray around.” Alice said, pointing at the loaded platter that still sat on the table.

“You’re right; we should get back out there.” Gigi began to struggle to her feet.

“You sit for a bit. I don’t mind,” Alice said. “I’m curious to see what the crowd looks like.”

“Then be my guest.”

Sienna struggled up from her seat. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Again.” She sighed.

Gigi sank back into the chair. She glanced at Reggie and Tabitha, who were napping under the table. She could do with a nap herself. She’d been working hard, and she was exhausted. She let her eyes drift closed. Just for a moment, she promised herself.

When she opened them, Detective Mertz was standing in front of her, the suggestion of a smile hovering around his mouth.

Chapter 5

Gigi jumped to her feet so suddenly she barked her elbow against the table edge. It hurt like the dickens, but she didn’t want to look stupid in front of Mertz, so she gritted her teeth and plastered a smile on her face. She stuck her hand behind her back so she wouldn’t be tempted to grab at her smarting joint.

She and Mertz had had a run-in several months ago when he all but accused her of poisoning her client with peanut oil. Gigi found him annoying, overbearing and unbelievably attractive in equal measures.

Tonight was no exception.

“I was, er, resting for a moment.” Gigi immediately put the width of the kitchen island between them.

“There’s no crime in that, as far as I know.” This time Mertz actually did smile. It softened the hard planes of his face and put some light in his ice blue eyes.

Gigi smiled back. “No, I guess not.” She tried to relax, but there was an attraction between them that always made her nervous and awkward. If Mertz ever got around to asking her out, she was pretty sure she would say yes with indecent haste.

“I’m hoping you can fill me in on some details.”

“Certainly.” Gigi stood up straighter and matched his formal tones.

“Was Mrs. Winchel in the habit of taking saunas?”

For a moment Gigi couldn’t think who on earth he was talking about, but then she realized that Felicity was, in her private life, Mrs. Winchel.

“I honestly don’t know. I suppose she must have been.”

“So presumably Mrs. Winchel knew how the apparatus works.”

Gigi nodded. “I would guess so.”

“Had any of the guests already arrived when Mrs. Winchel . . .” He hesitated, seeing the expression on Gigi’s face. “I suppose I ought to call her Miss Davenport to avoid confusion.”

Gigi managed to hide her smile. “That’s a good idea.”

“Had any of the dinner guests already arrived,” he continued, “when Miss Davenport went up to take her sauna?”

“No.” Gigi grabbed the sponge from the sink and began wiping down the kitchen island, catching the crumbs in the palm of her hand. She couldn’t stand being idle, and she couldn’t stand mess.

“Who was in the house?”

Gigi wondered what all these questions were leading up to, but she knew better than to ask. She rinsed out the sponge and began wiping down the front of the refrigerator. “Let me think.” Everything had gone blurry in her mind, and she had to concentrate to recall the events of the afternoon. “Mr. Winchel was here. Anja was here, but then she went out to get something.” Gigi stopped with her sponge halfway down the front of the fridge. “Actually Anja went out before Felicity went into the sauna. But Derek was here. I’m honestly not sure about Alex Goulet, but Vanessa and Don Bartholomew were definitely here.”

Mertz jotted some things in his notebook, his dark brows drawn together in concentration. He glanced up with an almost apologetic look on his face. “And when did you arrive?” He looked down again quickly as if to avoid Gigi’s eyes.

“I got here yesterday. I’m staying here. I had a . . . a plumbing problem at home and couldn’t use my kitchen. Felicity kindly suggested I come here.”

Mertz nodded and continued with his note taking, his head bent over his notebook. Gigi thought she heard him sigh as if to say
Crisis averted
. She no longer blamed him for suspecting her in the death of her client, but she suspected he was still blaming himself.

Mertz glanced up, his brows still furrowed together, a solicitous look on his face. He put a hand on Gigi’s arm. “Are you okay? This can’t be easy for you.”

His sudden concern brought tears to Gigi’s eyes.

“Sure. I’m fine.” She bent her head quickly and went back to her cleaning. She took a last swipe at the side of the refrigerator and worked up the nerve to ask the question that had been dancing around the fringes of her thoughts the whole time.

“But wasn’t it an accident?”

Mertz’s shoulders slumped in resignation. “We have reason to believe it was anything but.”

• • •

Gigi was in the kitchen late the next morning when the back door opened. Anja backed into the room, attempting to subdue her umbrella, which the wind was toying with, trying to turn it inside out. Gigi shivered as a blast of cold, wet air blew across the room.

Anja finally managed to close her umbrella. She gave it a final shake out the door before propping it in the corner. “It is raining—how do you say it?—cats and dogs out there.”

Anja’s nose was bright red, and Gigi noticed that her eyes were as well. Was it the wind and the cold, or had she been crying?

Anja turned her back on Gigi, and Gigi thought she heard her give a loud sniff.

“Is everything okay?” Gigi asked tentatively. Anja was clearly a private person, and Gigi didn’t want to intrude.

Anja turned around, and Gigi noticed she was dabbing at her eyes with a damp tissue. Anja’s mouth worked for several seconds before she found her voice. “People in the town are . . . talking.”

“Talking?”

Anja nodded her head vigorously. “They are all talking about Madam’s death.”

Gigi put a hand on Anja’s arm. “It’s natural they would be. I’m sure she was very well liked in Woodstone.”

“No, no, you do not understand.” Anja twisted the shred of tissue between her fingers and bit her lip. “They are all saying that she committed suicide.”

“Suicide!” Gigi grabbed the kettle from the stove and began to fill it. She would make Anja some tea. The woman was shaking like a leaf. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I know.” Anja collapsed in a chair at the kitchen table. “Madam would not do that. She had everything to live for.”

“That’s right.” Gigi plunked the kettle on the stove. “What woman would go on a diet, buy a new dress and plan a party . . . all to commit suicide before she had the chance to enjoy any of it?” She adjusted the burner and leaned against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. “The police did say it wasn’t an accident,” Gigi mused.

“Not an accident?” Anja looked startled. “But what else could it be? It’s not suicide.” Her jaw set in a firm line.

“I don’t know,” Gigi admitted. “Murder, perhaps?”

• • •

Later that morning Gigi decided she needed a break and headed into town and the Book Nook. Sienna was back, now that she was no longer working for Felicity, trying to catch up with all her responsibilities at the store.

Gigi was enveloped in the worn but comfortable sofa in the area of the store known as the coffee corner. Patrons often spent hours there thumbing through books. She nursed a mug of her favorite coffee. Rain continued to pelt the front windows of the shop, and the bright fall colors of the leaves outside were muted by ethereal strands of fog.

“Anja said everyone is talking about Felicity’s death. Some have gone so far as to label it a suicide.”

“Really?” Sienna looked up from her calculator where she was plugging in numbers. “I know everyone is gossiping about it, but I hadn’t heard that. Hopefully that means they’ve stopped talking about the nonexistent affair between Felicity and Oliver.”

“Mertz did say he was quite sure it wasn’t an accident, but surely he can’t be hinting at . . . murder.” Gigi looked at Sienna. “One murder in Woodstone already seems . . . too much.”

“I know what you mean.” Sienna plugged in some more figures and hit total. She frowned. “Maybe she did commit suicide? On the other hand, the police could be wrong, and it was simply an accident.”

“I hope so.” Gigi took a sip of her coffee.

The bell over the front door jingled, and they both looked up, startled.

“It’s miserable out there,” Alice complained as she entered. She shook the drops of rain from her hair. “Where is that famous Connecticut autumn all the tourists come to see?”

“Have some tea.” Sienna gestured toward the teakettle. “It will warm you up.” Sienna herself was sipping a mug of her favorite herbal brew.

“I think I will, thanks.” Alice picked up a mug, but before she could do anything more, her excitement obviously got the better of her. “You won’t believe it!” she declared, looking from Gigi to Sienna and back again as if to judge their reactions.

“What?” they chorused.

“Joe, that’s my Stacy’s husband, stopped by the house, and . . .”

“And?”

“Well, you know Joe’s on the force. He’s got the inside scoop, so to speak. And he’s always been really generous in sharing stuff with me. He’s a good boy. A real good boy.” She looked sad for a moment, as if she were reflecting on Stacy’s marital discontent.