Cooking Spirits: An Angie Amalfi Mystery (Angie Amalfi Mysteries) by Joanne Pence
Authors: Joanne Pence
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shoulders. “I guess that’ll mean I’m really a married
man.”
His simple words touched her heart. “A rite of passage, I’d
say. But no matter where we live, you’ll really be a married man.” She smiled
up at him. “I know seeing this at night isn’t ideal. You can’t tell a thing
about the paint, the roof, the yard…all those important things. But as to the
feel of the place, the layout…?”
They returned to the living room and she watched him look
over the woodwork, the large stone fireplace, the hardwood floors, high
ceilings. “It’s a good house for us,” he said. “You’re right that I’d want to
see it in daylight, but I find it hard to imagine that my impression will
change.”
Paavo’s positive reaction thrilled her. The house put on
quite a show for him, she thought. For the first time, she felt welcome
here…despite the perfume. What had she been worried about?
She watched him as he stood at the living room windows and
looked out at the ocean, the big tough detective who was also the kindest, most
gentle man she had ever known. Yes, she thought. She could see the two of them
happily living in this house.
“What are you thinking, Paavo?” she asked stepping to his
side.
His hand clasped hers. “I know you’ve got some concerns
about this house’s past.”
“Not me!” she said quickly. “It was all Connie’s fault! She
pointed out that with the furniture here, she felt as if the prior tenants
could walk into the house at any time—that she felt their presence! But Cat
explained the furniture is simply to ‘stage’ the house so it looks better.”
“Connie, hum?” he said.
“That’s right!” she insisted.
“So if we bought the house, the furniture stays?”
“No way! For one thing, all this
furniture is over thirty years old!”
“Practically antiques,” Paavo said, trying not to smile.
“I particularly can’t wait to get rid of that sofa.” She
pointed to the overly modern, low back, no arm sofa in moss green with gold
lame stripes. “It’s butt-ugly, if you ask me.”
Just then, a watercolor of a mountain lake in the dining
area fell off the wall. Angie started so badly she nearly jumped out of her
skin.
Paavo went over to it and found that the nail still
protruded from the wall, so he simply had to lift the picture up and rehang it.
“Odd,” he said.
That did it! Wide-eyed, she looked all around. Time to get out. No sense pushing her luck. “Let’s lock up
and get out of here,” she said, speaking more rapidly than she thought
possible. “I’m suddenly ravenous for dinner. Let’s find a place to eat. Fast!”
Chapter 13
GAIA WYNDOM’S CELL phone bill lay
on Paavo’s desk when he arrived at Homicide the next morning. He had been
unable to find any indication that she had a cell phone in her home, and even
her employment records showed only a landline. The landline showed no personal
calls beyond her boss trying to check on her health. Once again, Paavo had been
left wondering if the woman had any kind of a life.
Yet, indications were that she had an affair with Taylor
Bedford, hard though it was to believe. She might have had a split personality
but they still needed some way to communicate.
He did a check of AT&T, Sprint, Verizon, and
T-Mobile—the big carriers in the San Francisco area—and sure enough, a cell
phone record for her showed up with AT&T.
Call after call went to one number only—Taylor Bedford’s
cell phone. Long calls were made in the evening, and just a few short ones on
weekends. The pattern of calls confirmed the story the bartender at Harrigan’s told Yosh . Taylor
Bedford and Gaia Wyndom were having an affair.
He looked over Bedford’s cell service and discovered he had
two cell phones, along with a family landline. One was for calls related to his
business and his wife; the second was exclusively for Gaia.
From what he and Yosh had learned
about the two victims, it was hard to imagine them together.
man.”
His simple words touched her heart. “A rite of passage, I’d
say. But no matter where we live, you’ll really be a married man.” She smiled
up at him. “I know seeing this at night isn’t ideal. You can’t tell a thing
about the paint, the roof, the yard…all those important things. But as to the
feel of the place, the layout…?”
They returned to the living room and she watched him look
over the woodwork, the large stone fireplace, the hardwood floors, high
ceilings. “It’s a good house for us,” he said. “You’re right that I’d want to
see it in daylight, but I find it hard to imagine that my impression will
change.”
Paavo’s positive reaction thrilled her. The house put on
quite a show for him, she thought. For the first time, she felt welcome
here…despite the perfume. What had she been worried about?
She watched him as he stood at the living room windows and
looked out at the ocean, the big tough detective who was also the kindest, most
gentle man she had ever known. Yes, she thought. She could see the two of them
happily living in this house.
“What are you thinking, Paavo?” she asked stepping to his
side.
His hand clasped hers. “I know you’ve got some concerns
about this house’s past.”
“Not me!” she said quickly. “It was all Connie’s fault! She
pointed out that with the furniture here, she felt as if the prior tenants
could walk into the house at any time—that she felt their presence! But Cat
explained the furniture is simply to ‘stage’ the house so it looks better.”
“Connie, hum?” he said.
“That’s right!” she insisted.
“So if we bought the house, the furniture stays?”
“No way! For one thing, all this
furniture is over thirty years old!”
“Practically antiques,” Paavo said, trying not to smile.
“I particularly can’t wait to get rid of that sofa.” She
pointed to the overly modern, low back, no arm sofa in moss green with gold
lame stripes. “It’s butt-ugly, if you ask me.”
Just then, a watercolor of a mountain lake in the dining
area fell off the wall. Angie started so badly she nearly jumped out of her
skin.
Paavo went over to it and found that the nail still
protruded from the wall, so he simply had to lift the picture up and rehang it.
“Odd,” he said.
That did it! Wide-eyed, she looked all around. Time to get out. No sense pushing her luck. “Let’s lock up
and get out of here,” she said, speaking more rapidly than she thought
possible. “I’m suddenly ravenous for dinner. Let’s find a place to eat. Fast!”
Chapter 13
GAIA WYNDOM’S CELL phone bill lay
on Paavo’s desk when he arrived at Homicide the next morning. He had been
unable to find any indication that she had a cell phone in her home, and even
her employment records showed only a landline. The landline showed no personal
calls beyond her boss trying to check on her health. Once again, Paavo had been
left wondering if the woman had any kind of a life.
Yet, indications were that she had an affair with Taylor
Bedford, hard though it was to believe. She might have had a split personality
but they still needed some way to communicate.
He did a check of AT&T, Sprint, Verizon, and
T-Mobile—the big carriers in the San Francisco area—and sure enough, a cell
phone record for her showed up with AT&T.
Call after call went to one number only—Taylor Bedford’s
cell phone. Long calls were made in the evening, and just a few short ones on
weekends. The pattern of calls confirmed the story the bartender at Harrigan’s told Yosh . Taylor
Bedford and Gaia Wyndom were having an affair.
He looked over Bedford’s cell service and discovered he had
two cell phones, along with a family landline. One was for calls related to his
business and his wife; the second was exclusively for Gaia.
From what he and Yosh had learned
about the two victims, it was hard to imagine them together.
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