Read Online Cooking Spirits: An Angie Amalfi Mystery (Angie Amalfi Mysteries) by Joanne Pence - Free Book Online Page A

would
only have reason to talk to her if had a problem, such as his clients not
getting something on time or mistakes in billing. Salesmen almost never needed
to go to Records.”
    “I see,” Paavo said. That didn’t help much.
    Otto swallowed a couple of times before he asked, “Rumor has
it Gaia committed suicide. But that’s hard to believe. Do you think the two
deaths are connected? Could the killer be someone here at work? Everyone’s
talking about it. We’re all scared.”
    “We don’t know that Ms. Wyndom was
murdered,” Paavo said. “Why is her suicide hard to believe?”
    “She was very quiet. Hardly spoke to anyone, just did her
work. When she did talk, her conversation was all about her cats, how being a
vegetarian was morally superior, and the TV shows she watched. I mean, with her
life, what would make her want to commit suicide? Nothing, I’d say.”
    “There were no cats in her house,” Paavo said.
    “Really?” Otto looked perplexed.
“Maybe they died. Maybe that’s why she killed herself! She was devoted to
them.”
    “If you think of anything at all about either of them, give
me a call.” Paavo handed Otto his card.
    Otto cocked his head then raised his eyebrows, and in a low
voice asked, “How about over cocktails some evening?”
    Paavo’s eyes narrowed. “Did you and Mr. Bedford go out for
cocktails?”
    Otto gave a knowing grin. “We certainly did.”
    Paavo nodded. “Interesting. If you
have something to discuss, you can find me at Homicide. Just call that number.”
He headed toward and elevator and hit the up button.
    “Oh, all right. You can’t get blame a guy for trying. These days,
who knows?” Otto followed him, standing close as Paavo waited for the
elevators. “The executive suites, I suppose.”
    “That’s right,” Paavo said.
    “You’ve met Greenburg then?” Otto referred to the company’s
founder, Thomas Greenburg.
    “He wasn’t in last time I was here.”
    Link shrugged. “Wouldn’t have mattered. If you expect to find out anything from Mr. Greenburg, you’re going to be a
very, very disappointed boy. Do come back and see me anytime.”
    The elevator doors opened, and Paavo got on. Alone.
    Thirty-five year old Thomas Greenburg was a computer genius
who started Zygog Software seven years earlier. It was now worth hundreds of
millions of dollars and remained privately owned. Considering the problems
Facebook and a few other software companies had when they tried to go public,
Greenburg planned to keep it that way. There were other differences between
Zygog and better known software businesses. One, it wasn’t in Silicon Valley,
and two, it made a huge profit based on a physical product, not simply advertising
dollars.
    A secretary directed Paavo down a long hall. She told him to
knock on the door, and then as if to acknowledge that she knew that wasn’t the
way things were supposed to be done, she tightened her lips and gave a small
shrug of the shoulders before spinning on her heel and returning to her desk.
    Paavo knocked twice more before he heard a mumbled, “Come
in.”
    Greenburg didn’t stand or otherwise acknowledge him, but
kept staring at his computer screen and occasionally hitting one key, then
staring some more. He sat on the edge of his chair, elbows on his knees as he
bent forward, eyeglasses just a few inches from the monitor. He wore a
sweatshirt, Levis, and Nikes. The shoes seemed to be the most expensive thing
in his office. His shaggy red hair looked uncombed and he looked unwashed.
    Paavo waited a moment then moved closer, badge in hand.
“Paavo Smith, Homicide. I’m here to talk to you about Taylor Bedford and Gaia Wyndom .”
    Greenburg hit another button, then pushed his glasses up on
his nose and frowned. “I heard they were killed.”
    “Both are dead, yes,” Paavo said.
    “Terrible.” Greenburg hit about ten keys in rapid
succession.
    “What do you know about them personally? Were they involved
in anything new or