Too Many Cooks by Joanne Pence

suddenly they nearly bumped into him. Paavo whipped out his gun, pulled Greuber back and behind him, then inched forward to see what had alarmed the landlord. He didn’t see a thing. “What’s wrong?”
    â€œIt wasn’t like this before,” Greuber whispered.
    â€œBefore?” Paavo asked.
    â€œI…I checked the house right after word came of Wielund’s death, just to make sure everything was okay. It’s even neater now. As if…as if Wielund came back and cleaned it up.”
    â€œYou’d better go outside, Mr. Greuber.”
    With bulging eyes, Greuber looked from Paavo’sgun to his face, then ran down the stairs and out the door.
    Standing in the square hall at the top of the stairs, Paavo looked around. To his left was a narrow living room beside a narrow kitchen, to his right two small bedrooms, and before him a bathroom.
    â€œI’ve never heard of dead men coming back to clean house,” Yosh said.
    â€œLet’s make sure no one’s still hanging around and then get the crime unit out to dust for prints.”
    The front door slammed shut, loudly, making the windows rattle the way a door does when left open and caught by a burst of wind.
    Paavo glanced quickly at Yosh, then took the stairs two at a time. He ran out the front door and onto the sidewalk.
    Greuber was starting his car’s engine. Paavo raced toward him. “Greuber, wait!” he yelled, grabbing the passenger-door handle. Greuber sped backward off the driveway, nearly pulling Paavo’s arm out of the socket. His bad shoulder felt like a hot poker had pierced it. Grimacing, he clutched his arm tight against him, doing all he could to stay on his feet as a fierce, throbbing pain made his stomach turn and the sidewalk seem to sway like a rowboat in a hurricane.
    In the far reaches of his mind, he saw Greuber’s white face watching him; then Greuber jerked the transmission into drive, gunned the engine, and tore down the street.
    â€œDamn!” Paavo said through clenched teeth, both at his shoulder and at the uneasy feeling that filled him as he watched the car disappear.
    Yosh’s face showed his concern. “You all right?”
    Paavo slowly eased his hand off his arm. “Sure. It’s nothing.” He drew in a breath. “Jammed my finger on the door handle.”
    Something flickered across Yosh’s eyes before he turned from Paavo to glance down the now-empty street. “Some men just spook easy, I guess.”
    â€œI guess,” Paavo echoed. The two looked meaningfully at each other. If they believed Greuber wasn’t running from some very real, very tangible fear, they were ready to believe in the tooth fairy.
    Paavo stared back at the house, brows locked. “He must have seen or remembered something. I think we better have a long talk with Mr. Greuber real soon.”
    Yosh nodded. “I’ll check out the garage soon as I radio the crime unit.”
    Slowly rotating his shoulder, trying to make it feel somewhat normal again, Paavo went back into the house. He opened doors, closets, and even cupboards as he passed them. Standing by the desk, he used his handkerchief to flip through papers—bills, for the most part, and a few letters from Germany. He spotted an address book and opened it to the first page. Arbuckle’s Seafood…Andy’s Barbershop… Angelina Amalfi . He stared at her name a moment. She’d said Wielund was a friend. Could he have been more, or wanted to be more? But she was only twenty-four, and Wielund was double that. Much too old for her. Wasn’t he?
    â€œThe garage is full of stuff,” Yosh called from downstairs. “I’ll poke around, see if I find anything.”
    Hearing him, Paavo covered the address book with his handkerchief and slipped it into his pocket. He crossed under the archway between the living roomand the kitchen. “I just thought of something,” Paavo