Too Many Cooks by Joanne Pence Read Free Book Online Page B

closed. All his friends will be there and probably all his enemies. So I managed to get an invitation for us.”
    â€œOh, you did?”
    â€œRight. Since everyone is asking why he was in the Sierras, and since Henry’s wife fainted dead away when she heard Karl was dead, I just knew you’d want to go to the party—I mean, the service.”
    He sighed. “Angie, I’m sure the talk means nothing. It’s just gossip.”
    â€œBut aren’t you curious? After all, the top restaurant owners and cooks in North Beach will be there, all in one place, all secretly thankful their prayers to get ridof Wielund’s have been answered. You don’t want to miss that.”
    Paavo’s talk with Rebecca about the murdered waitress, Sheila Danning, came back to him. The place where she’d worked was one of the fancy North Beach restaurants, a French one. Something here made him suddenly uneasy. “You’re pretty sure the other restaurant owners will be there?”
    â€œI know it. After all, Wielund’s was the place for everyone who was anybody to be seen, so I’m sure his memorial will be the same. I’ll point the other owners out to you.”
    It was too much of a reach to imagine that the death of a ritzy restaurant owner had anything to do with the murder of a waitress who’d just been in town a few months. But then, if Angie’s friends were right in speculating about Karl Wielund’s death, and if there was a connection with Danning…
    â€œWhat time should I be here Sunday night to pick you up?” he asked.
    She grinned. “Come by for dinner. That’ll give us plenty of time.” She shut the lights and walked toward the door. “Before we leave, I’d like to check on one of our tenants, an older woman named Calamatti. She’s been acting awfully strange lately.”
    â€œAlzheimer’s?”
    â€œNo. She worries constantly about the economy.”
    â€œSo do politicians.”
    â€œSee what I mean?”
    They got on the elevator and she pushed the button for the basement, where the parking garage was. “I thought you wanted to check on Mrs. Calamatti,” Paavo said.
    â€œI do.”
    As they stepped off the elevator, a noise in the corner of the dark garage stopped him. He took hold of Angie’s arm, ready to pull her out of harm’s way, but she placed her hand on his, stopping him.
    â€œMrs. Calamatti?” she called.
    â€œYes. Is that you, Angie? My goodness, you sound so close. It’s amazing.”
    Angie glanced at Paavo and chuckled softly at his puzzled expression. “Not really. I’m right here.”
    Paavo followed her around the corner of the basement to the area where a dumpster stood at the bottom of the garbage chute. Beside it, a thin white-haired woman wearing a floral housecoat held her hands out in front of her, gnarled string running from one hand to the other.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” Angie asked, stepping up to the old woman.
    â€œI was thinking about the baby. She died, you know.”
    Paavo saw Angie shudder and felt a chill go up his own back. “What baby?” Angie whispered.
    â€œMine. She got sick. A high temperature. We couldn’t help her. It was a long time ago. But I thought I had left her baby pictures here. Would you like to see her pictures, Angie? Such a pretty baby.”
    â€œCome on.” Angie put her arm around the woman and gently led her away from the garbage. Paavo followed. “Let’s go upstairs.”
    â€œI can’t imagine where I put them.”
    â€œWe’ll look for them tomorrow.”
    â€œThank you, Angie. You’re a good girl.” Mrs. Calamatti glanced back at Paavo and raised one finger, string dangling from it. “Prepare for the Depression!”
    Paavo held the doors as Angie led Mrs. Calamatti into the elevator. “Don’t worry about him,” Angie said. “He