Free Allergic to Death by Peg Cochran Page B

threw her hands into the air.
    “Well, you want to know what I heard?” The blonde paused dramatically. “I heard it was something quite different that caused Martha’s accident.”
    And she turned and looked straight at Gigi.
    Gigi held her breath. Had she read the story in the day’s paper? Soon everyone would know, and she’d have to leave Woodstone…go back to the city. She panicked and for a moment didn’t realize what the blonde was saying.
    “I heard”—the blond paused dramatically—“that her car had been tampered with.”
    Gigi expelled her breath in a loud whoosh . She raised a hand to her forehead and realized it was shaking. She quickly shoved it into her pocket, hoping the others hadn’t noticed.
    “Really?” Evelyn breathed.
    The blond nodded. “Do you think maybe that neighbor of hers, what was her name—Adora? Do you think maybe she had something to do with it? Maybe she got tired of arguing with Martha and fiddled with her brakes or something?”
    Evelyn brayed again. “I don’t think Adora would know one end of a car from the other, let alone how to disengage the brakes. Besides”—she pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders—“you wouldn’t kill someone just because their dog had piddled in your flower bed, would you?”



Chapter 6

    The scent of onion, garlic, oregano and mint wafted from Gigi’s oven as she pulled out a pan of turkey meatballs with Greek seasoning. The fragrant vapor curled around her, and she inhaled deeply, her stomach growling. She was hungry. She spent so much time feeding others that sometimes she forgot to feed herself. She plucked one of the tiny meatballs from the sheet and popped it into her mouth. She fanned her face furiously. It was hot! But very good, she decided as she chewed carefully. Her clients would like them. This recipe was a keeper.
    Gigi set the pan on the counter and began to crumble feta cheese for the salad. She thought back to her conversation earlier with Evelyn and the blond lady at Bon Appétit. Was it possible that Martha had irritated Adora enough to kill? She shook her head—she couldn’t see it. If Adora had clubbed Martha over the head with a garden gnome in a fit of pique…maybe. But this must have been premeditated.Someone had to have doctored Martha’s lunch with the peanut oil. It didn’t make sense.
    No, money was far more likely to be at the root of poor Martha’s death. And who had the most to gain? Barbie and Winston. With Martha dead, Winston’s responsibility was effectively over. He and Barbie could spend the alimony money any way they wanted.
    Gigi passed her calendar and stopped to flip the page. The new sheet boasted a stunning shot of St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church in downtown Woodstone. Lush, white peonies bloomed against the darker brick of the church, and the trees were thick with fresh, green leaves. Gigi realized it was the first of June already, and her rent was due.
    She retrieved her checkbook from its accustomed spot in her desk drawer and opened it to a fresh check. She stopped with her pen poised above the blank “Pay to the order of” line. With Martha dead, who was she to send the check to? Worry niggled at the edges of her mind. What if Martha’s heir wanted to move into the cottage? Where would she go? One of those featureless, boxy apartments near the train station? She shuddered. This place was home. But surely the new heirs, whoever they were, would want the income from the rent?
    She pulled the telephone directory from her lower desk drawer and thumbed through it. Simpson and West were the only lawyers in town, and most people went to them for their everyday legal needs. Perhaps Martha had done the same.
    William West wouldn’t tell Gigi anything over the telephone, save confirming that Martha had been a client of the firm’s, but he would see her in his office that afternoon.
    Gigi hung up the phone, made a note in her diary and headed back to the kitchen to begin boxing