Steamed to Death Excerpt

Chapter 1

Giovanna “Gigi” Fitzgerald was relishing the bite of hernewly

sharpened chef’s knife in the plump, ripe neck of the zucchini

lying on her cutting board when she noticed anominous

sign. A very ominous sign.

Water was puddling on the floor by her feet, and theminiature

lake was spreading by the second. Within moments

it was lapping at the toes of Gigi’s sneakers.

The water was coming from the cupboard under the sink. She

opened the door cautiously and bolted backward aswater

sprayed out, soaking the legs of her jeans and enlarging the

creeping flood on her floor.

Her cottage was old but in decent shape. Gigi had spent several

hundred dollars on an inspection before signing the papers

that put the charming, hundred- year- old house in her name.

Not that the inspection really made any difference. She’d

been determined to have the cottage no matter what—it

was the first place she’d felt at home in many years.

She knelt down and, shielding her eyes from the spritzing water,

examined the pipe. It was caked with rust and looked to

be original to the house. Maybe if she’d paid the inspector more

he would have taken the trouble to bend down and examine

the plumbing under the sink?

Gigi sighed. The timing couldn’t be worse. She was inthe

midst of preparing some test recipes for Branston Foods. They

were interested in producing a line of Gigi’s Gourmet De-Lite

Dinners, and she had to create a number of dishes that

would translate well to being flash frozen and stuffed into

a cardboard container.

And she had all the hors d’oeuvres to create for Felicity Davenport’s

upcoming party to celebrate the fact that her soap

opera, For Better or For Worse, had won the newly created

Merrill Award. Felicity had originally hired Gigi to help

her lose weight. Felicity had joined the cast of the soap in

her twenties and had quickly become the star, but now, in

her forties, she’d found that creeping middle- aged weight gain

was not making her any more attractive to the camera. Felicity

had also hired Gigi’s best friend, Sienna Paisley, to

organize her comeback campaign, which would launch when

Felicity was ready to emerge, like a butterfly from its chrysalis,

having lost twenty pounds and been made over from

head to toe.

Sienna had given up a six- figure income as

a publicist to move to Woodstone, Connecticut, to run the

Book Nook and hopefully, start a family. Her husband Oliver’s

new law practice had been slow to take off, and they

needed the income.

Gigi supposed she ought to turn the water off at thesource.

She remembered that there was a valve of some sort in

the basement. She dried her hands on her jeans and headed

down the dark, winding staircase.

Gigi found the control after several false starts. The knob was

covered with cobwebs, and she shuddered as the thin strands

tickled the backs of her hands. There.

The water was off. That would at least stop the lake

that was slowly forming on her kitchen floor.

Gigi climbed the stairs back to the kitchen, swiping at the insistent cobwebs still clinging to her hair. She retrieved the phone book from her desk drawer and ran her fingerdown

the listing marked “Plumbers.”

There were two. No one answered at the first location. Gigi

listened to the brief message before clicking off. She glanced

at the phone book again. It looked like it would have to

be Hector’s Plumbing and Heating.

 

“Pipe’s sprung a leak,” Jackson, or at least that was the name embroidered

above the pocket on his shirt, said, rising from his

knees.

Gigi bit back a sharp retort. “Really?” she said with only a

hint of sarcasm.

Jackson nodded his head. “Yup. Big leak. The pipe’s all rusted

out.” He knelt down again, his knees giving a creak that

sounded like a gunshot. He opened the cupboard door and

stuck his index finger through a hole in the pipe. “You need

a new pipe,” he concluded.

“Can you replace it for me?”

“Gotta order it first.”

“How long will that take?” Gigi twirled a strand of auburn

hair around her finger— something she always did when

she was stressed.

“Dunno. A couple of days maybe.”

Gigi groaned. “But I can’t wait that long. Isn’t there something you

could do temporarily?”

“Like what?”

I don’t know, you’re the plumber, Gigi wanted to say, but she

bit her tongue again. “Like maybe a patch or something?”

“Wouldn’t hold.”

Gigi felt like stamping her foot. There had to be something that

could be done!

Jackson took a dog- eared pad from his back pocket. “Do you

want me to order the pipe for you?”

“Yes,” Gigi all but screamed. “Obviously there’s no alternative.”

Jackson looked confused.

Gigi gestured toward the paper in his hand. “Yes,” she repeated.

“Please order the pipe for me.”

Jackson licked the end of his pencil and laboriously penned

a note.

“Want me to call you when it comes in?

“Of course.”

“It’s just a leak. Nothing to get all worked up about,” Jackson

said, replacing the notepad and pencil in his pocket. “We’ll

have it fixed for you in no time,” he called over his shoulder

as he left.

No time! Gigi thought. She wondered what sort of eternity no time amounted to. She paced the kitchen, furiously darting

evil glances at the offending pipe. She had to have her

kitchen back. There was only so much she could do without

water. Correction. She couldn’t do anything without water.

She felt panic rising in her throat like a tidal wave. She

stared at the vegetables spread out across her worktable. They

all needed to be washed before she could do anything with

them. Fortunately, Felicity was her only client at the moment.

She’d offered a sum handsome enough for Gigi to take

a break from providing meals for upward of a dozen people

at a time. And she’d asked Gigi to prepare light and tasty

hors d’oeuvres for the huge bash she was planning. The entire local “A” list had been invited along with a smattering of New York people plus Felicity’s manager, leading man,

and costar. Woodstone had been buzzing about the event

for weeks. Gigi had enlisted Alice, who worked parttime at

the police department, to help.

The phone rang, and for one delusional minute Gigi thought

it might be Jackson calling to say the new piece of pipe

had arrived, and he’d be right over to install it. Of course,

in reality, Jackson was probably still in her driveway trying

to  fit his key into the lock of his truck door.

Gigi grabbed the receiver. “Hello?”

“Gigi? It’s Felicity.” Gigi recognized the actress’s fruity tones and well- practiced modulation even without the introduction.

Gigi groaned. What was she going to say if Felicity asked her

how things were going? She’d always been taught that honesty

was the best policy, but more than once that had landed

her in hot water.

“Actually, Felicity, I’m in a bit of a bind. My kitchen pipe sprang

a leak, and the plumber won’t be able to fix it for several

days.”

Felicity made a sound that Gigi took to mean she was sorry

to hear that, but then Felicity quickly plowed ahead with

what she had planned to say herself. “Listen, some of our

guests for the party are arriving early, and a few may be

spending a day or two with us afterward. It’s turning into something

of a house party since we’re all currently on hiatus from

the show. Our housekeeper normally does the cooking

for me and Jack, and it’s perfectly fine, but I’d like to

offer my friends something a notch above. Is there any chance

you’ll consider acting as chef for a few days?”

“Ah. . . ah . . . sure,” Gigi stuttered.

“It would probably be easiest if you just moved in temporarily. My

kitchen is state-of- the- art, and I have a verycomfortable

spare bedroom you should find suitable.”

“I don’t know . . . I can’t leave Reg— he’s my dog—alone—”

“Bring him,” Felicity said in a voice that clearly brooked no

opposition. “We’ve a golden, and she’s pining for some canine

companionship.”