apron. “But I don’t know if it’ll be enough to keep up that big house they bought. Joe did a lot of jobs on the side—bringing in some extra, you know.”
“Maybe Stacy can get work?”
Alice shrugged. “I think she’s going to have to. She quit her job at the diner to get them moved into their new house, and now I was kind of hoping that there’d be a baby soon, but with this happening . . .”
“Stacy is young. She has plenty of time.”
Alice nodded. “True enough.” She clapped her hands briskly. “Enough of that. What can I do?”
“If you wouldn’t mind peeling the potatoes.” Gigi gestured toward a bag of red-skins on the counter.
“Wasn’t that Detective Mertz’s car in the driveway?” Alice inclined her head toward the front of the house. “Thank goodness he didn’t arrest Sienna. I can’t imagine what that would do to her in her state.”
“Just questioning her was bad enough.”
“What’s he doing here? I wonder.”
“He must be talking to Mr. Winchel about something.” Gigi shook her head. “I wish he weren’t so stubborn. I have some leads for him, but there’s no point in even bringing it up.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe if I had something concrete . . .”
Alice nodded. “Policemen have very analytical minds. They like the facts and nothing but the facts.”
“It might help to know what he’s talking to Winchel about.”
Alice’s face brightened for the first time. “I agree. Is it possible to eavesdrop?”
“I think so.” The thought of getting caught with her ear to the proverbial door made Gigi’s stomach suddenly turn over. “They’re in the dining room. Mr. Winchel was finishing up a late breakfast when Mertz showed up. I heard Anja showing him in. If we’re very quiet we can stand in the butler’s pantry and ease the door open slightly.”
Alice all but rubbed her hands together in excitement. She followed close on Gigi’s heels as Gigi pushed open the door between the kitchen and the butler’s pantry. It was a smallish room lined with glass-fronted cabinets filled with serving pieces and glassware. Under the counter on one side were rows of specially lined drawers for silverware, and on the other side was a dishwasher, and next to it, a full-size refrigerator. Felicity had liked to entertain and had made sure her house was well equipped for it.
The swinging door to the dining room was partially glass, but the glass, which was original to the house, was etched in a lacy pattern that obscured a clear view and turned everything beyond into shadows. Gigi hoped it would be enough to prevent Mertz and Winchel from seeing her and Alice. She eased the door open an inch and leaned as close as she could to the crack. Alice was right behind her—she could feel her breath on the back of her neck.
Winchel and Mertz were seated at the dining table, Winchel relaxed in his chair at the head, his breakfast things pushed to one side. Mertz was stiff and formal. Gigi got the impression that he would have been much more comfortable standing. Their voices were low and barely discernible. Gigi closed her eyes in concentration.
“What are they saying?” Alice whispered into her ear.
“Shhh.” Gigi strained even harder. This time she caught a few disjointed words . . . autopsy . . . findings . . . report . “Something about an autopsy,” Gigi whispered as quietly as she could.
She closed her eyes again and tried to focus. Mertz’s voice rose slightly, and his words drifted toward Gigi loud and clear. Alice must have heard, too, because she gasped and accidentally leaned against Gigi.
Gigi lost her balance and fell forward, swinging open the door and catapulting herself into the dining room with Alice close behind.
Chapter 9
Gigi had experienced many awkward moments in her life. Not to mention many embarrassing ones. But on a scale of one to ten, this latest rated at least a seismic twenty. It was the tsunami of embarrassments.
“Maybe Stacy can get work?”
Alice shrugged. “I think she’s going to have to. She quit her job at the diner to get them moved into their new house, and now I was kind of hoping that there’d be a baby soon, but with this happening . . .”
“Stacy is young. She has plenty of time.”
Alice nodded. “True enough.” She clapped her hands briskly. “Enough of that. What can I do?”
“If you wouldn’t mind peeling the potatoes.” Gigi gestured toward a bag of red-skins on the counter.
“Wasn’t that Detective Mertz’s car in the driveway?” Alice inclined her head toward the front of the house. “Thank goodness he didn’t arrest Sienna. I can’t imagine what that would do to her in her state.”
“Just questioning her was bad enough.”
“What’s he doing here? I wonder.”
“He must be talking to Mr. Winchel about something.” Gigi shook her head. “I wish he weren’t so stubborn. I have some leads for him, but there’s no point in even bringing it up.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe if I had something concrete . . .”
Alice nodded. “Policemen have very analytical minds. They like the facts and nothing but the facts.”
“It might help to know what he’s talking to Winchel about.”
Alice’s face brightened for the first time. “I agree. Is it possible to eavesdrop?”
“I think so.” The thought of getting caught with her ear to the proverbial door made Gigi’s stomach suddenly turn over. “They’re in the dining room. Mr. Winchel was finishing up a late breakfast when Mertz showed up. I heard Anja showing him in. If we’re very quiet we can stand in the butler’s pantry and ease the door open slightly.”
Alice all but rubbed her hands together in excitement. She followed close on Gigi’s heels as Gigi pushed open the door between the kitchen and the butler’s pantry. It was a smallish room lined with glass-fronted cabinets filled with serving pieces and glassware. Under the counter on one side were rows of specially lined drawers for silverware, and on the other side was a dishwasher, and next to it, a full-size refrigerator. Felicity had liked to entertain and had made sure her house was well equipped for it.
The swinging door to the dining room was partially glass, but the glass, which was original to the house, was etched in a lacy pattern that obscured a clear view and turned everything beyond into shadows. Gigi hoped it would be enough to prevent Mertz and Winchel from seeing her and Alice. She eased the door open an inch and leaned as close as she could to the crack. Alice was right behind her—she could feel her breath on the back of her neck.
Winchel and Mertz were seated at the dining table, Winchel relaxed in his chair at the head, his breakfast things pushed to one side. Mertz was stiff and formal. Gigi got the impression that he would have been much more comfortable standing. Their voices were low and barely discernible. Gigi closed her eyes in concentration.
“What are they saying?” Alice whispered into her ear.
“Shhh.” Gigi strained even harder. This time she caught a few disjointed words . . . autopsy . . . findings . . . report . “Something about an autopsy,” Gigi whispered as quietly as she could.
She closed her eyes again and tried to focus. Mertz’s voice rose slightly, and his words drifted toward Gigi loud and clear. Alice must have heard, too, because she gasped and accidentally leaned against Gigi.
Gigi lost her balance and fell forward, swinging open the door and catapulting herself into the dining room with Alice close behind.
Chapter 9
Gigi had experienced many awkward moments in her life. Not to mention many embarrassing ones. But on a scale of one to ten, this latest rated at least a seismic twenty. It was the tsunami of embarrassments.
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