Read Online Cooking Most Deadly by Joanne Pence - Free Book Online

give you the time of day?”
    â€œHe’ll come by when he can.”
    â€œStop kidding yourself, Angie. He’s not right for you. Ditch him!”
    â€œStan!”
    â€œAll right, don’t ditch him, then. But how often does someone get asked to audition for a TV show? You deserve a celebration. And the best part is, you don’t even have to dance with me if you don’t want to.”
    She smiled, but shook her head.
    â€œDon’t say no. If he doesn’t call or show up by nine tonight, that means he’ll be working late, right? Then you and I can go celebrate your good fortune. Okay?”
    â€œWell…” It might be interesting to take her marriage survey to the Sound Works, at that. She’d never bothered to notice how many—if any—of the couples there were married. And, if they weren’t, what did that say about married life? She gazed at Stan. What did he think of marriage? She did want a man’s opinion, and he was a friend.
    He jumped to his feet. “Angie, come back! You were way out there. I’ll see you at nine-oh-five.”
    â€œJust one thing, Stan. I want to drive by Paavo’s house on the way. I don’t want to call. I just want to see if he’s there or not.”
    â€œSure, Angie, whatever you say.”

CHAPTER TEN
    The fourteen inspectors who made up the Homicide detail of the city and county of San Francisco were divided into seven two-man teams. From 9:00 A.M. Monday until 9:00 A.M. Friday, one team was responsible for every homicide that took place in the city, around the clock. Another team took the weekend murders—9:00 A.M. Friday through Monday morning. In the three and a half weeks between on-call time, the inspectors were expected to do all the paperwork, work with assistant DAs on cases being prepared for trial, and appear in court—grand jury, preliminary hearings, and actual trials. Oh yes, and find the murderers.
    Paavo looked at the clock on the wall in Homicide. It read 8:30 P.M. He and Yosh had been the on-duty team since 9:00 A.M. Monday, and only two murders had occurred—Ellis’s and one that resulted from a bar fight. The suspect, who had ten eyewitnesses to his pulling out a gun and blasting the victim, was in custody.
    Ellis’s murder was another matter. Early that morning Paavo had telephoned the two women who’d bought dresses the day before at Carole Anne’s Dress Shoppe, next door to Sans Souci Jewelers, and this time he’d beensuccessful reaching them. Both assured him they’d seen nothing unusual. Nonetheless, he’d asked them to come to Homicide to talk to him in person, and found that each could remember a couple of men and women loitering near the jeweler’s. One in particular, a small, bearded old man, caught the attention of both women. It wasn’t much, but better than nothing.
    The fingerprint dusting had turned up nothing. The store owner had his cleaning service wash the glass cases each evening so that they’d sparkle the next day. The only prints found on the glass belonged to the victim, Nathan Ellis.
    â€œYou must be exhausted, Paavo.” Inspector Rebecca Mayfield stopped beside his desk and smiled at him. She was Homicide’s newest member, an assistant inspector. Tall, perfectly proportioned, with long blond hair that fluffed around her shoulders like cotton candy, she could almost guarantee an entire squad of patrol officers volunteering to help with any investigation she was involved with.
    â€œYou’re here pretty late yourself,” Paavo replied.
    â€œI’m helping Calderon with his jumper. No note, and from all appearances, the guy had everything to live for. Anyway, my own cases seem to be running me around in circles.” She pulled a chair alongside his desk and sat down. “Maybe a little breather will give me a fresh eye. Could be I’ll pick up on something I’m missing now.”
    â€œGood