Iced to Death by Peg Cochran

lot.” Declan picked up one of the mugs of coffee and held it to his lips.
    “We found his wallet and identification in his jacket pocket. It seems he was the host of tonight’s party—Bradley Simpson.”
    Gigi gasped. “What . . . what happened?”
    “Was it hypothermia?” Declan stopped with his mug halfway to his mouth.
    Mertz gave Declan a strange look as he shook his head. “No, as a matter of fact, it wasn’t.” Mertz had crossed his arms over his chest, and Gigi thought he looked terribly forbidding.
    Declan put his mug down and leaned back in his chair. “What was it then?” He didn’t sound particularly interested in the answer.
    “We found an ice pick protruding from his head.” Mertz glanced at Gigi quickly, as if to make sure she was okay. “It looks like murder.”
    “How awful,” Declan said.
    Gigi was unable to find her voice.
    Mertz looked at Declan. “Do you happen to know,” he said very casually, crossing one leg over the other, “how an ice pick with the name
Declan’s
carved into the wooden handle ended up in Bradley Simpson’s temple?”
    • • •
    It was nearly three A.M . Sunday morning by the time Gigi turned into the driveway of her cottage. The place was completely dark—Pia hadn’t even left the light on over the front door. Was she in bed asleep or had she gone to her studio? Gigi slipped out of her shoes by the back door and tiptoed past the guest room. The door was cracked, but it was too dark to see inside. Besides, the way Pia always left the bedclothes in such a tangle, it would be impossible to tell if there was a body in the bed or not.
    Gigi undressed without even turning on the light and slid beneath the covers. She groaned. She was tired from her head down to her very toes. Her eyes, however, refused to stay shut. The scene in Declan’s parking lot kept running through her mind. She missed Reg’s cozy warmth, and although she hugged her pillow to her chest, it was no substitute for his comforting presence. The thought that if she had a husband, she’d have a warm body to snuggle up to ran across her mind like a blip on a radar screen. No use in thinking about that now. She had the feeling that it was going to take a while for Mertz to come around . . . if ever.
    Gigi hardly slept all night and was almost glad when it was finally time to get up the next morning. She padded out to the kitchen and measured coffee and water into the pot, leaning her elbows on the counter, her eyes closing, as she listened to the machine gurgle and spit. The aroma began to revive her, and she retreated to her bedroom to pull on some clothes.
    She filled a travel mug with the freshly brewed coffee and headed out the door toward her car. She scraped some fresh snow off the MINI’s windshield and began the short drive to Alice’s house.
    Alice was in her bathrobe and holding a cup of coffee when Gigi rang her bell a few minutes later. Reg was right beside her, giving excited yelps.
    “I hope I didn’t wake you.” Gigi bent down so Reg could lick her face.
    “Nope. I’ve already made my coffee.” Alice gestured to the mug in her hand. Her eyes twinkled. “So, it was a late night, was it?”
    Gigi nodded. “Stacy wasn’t feeling well so Declan sent her home. I lent a hand with the waitressing.”
    “Stacy wasn’t feeling well?”
    Gigi heard the alarm in Alice’s voice. “Nothing serious, or I’m sure she would have called you. Seemed like some kind of stomach bug. She couldn’t keep anything down.”
    Gigi looked at Alice and was surprised to see the sparkle in her eyes.
    Alice clapped her hands. “That’s wonderful.” Her face was lit and glowing.
    Gigi failed to see how Stacy having a stomach virus could be termed wonderful.
    “Don’t you see?” Alice asked.
    Gigi shook her head. She most certainly did not see.
    “Stacy must be pregnant! I’m going to be a grandmother.” Alice brushed at a tear that had formed in the corner of her eye.
    Gigi thought Alice