Steamed to Death by Peg Cochran

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.
    “And?” Sienna asked.
    Alice’s eyes glowed like diamonds. “You are not going to believe this!”
    Gigi wanted to scream. Whatever Alice had to say, she wished she’d get on with it.
    “Joe told me . . .” Alice lowered her voice and looked toward the front window of the Book Nook. The only thing visible through the streaks of rain was the hazy outline of Declan’s Grille across the street.
    Alice took a deep breath. “Apparently the police have reason to suspect that Felicity’s death wasn’t an accident,” she finished triumphantly.
    “That’s what Mertz told me,” Gigi said.
    Alice looked deflated. She reached for a tea bag and added hot water to her mug, her face averted.
    “Did he tell you why they suspect—”
    Alice was already shaking her head. “I don’t think he knew himself.