Read Online If Cooks Could Kill by Joanne Pence - Free Book Online Page A

fell asleep she dreamed she tracked him down. After devastating him with her charms into a mass of quivering unfulfilled desire, on his knees, pounding the floor with frustration, she picked his wallet from his back hip pocket, took out all his money, rolled it up, and slid it into her ample cleavage.
    â€œConnie, forgive me!” he begged.
    â€œDie, worm.”
    She sashayed away in a blaze of day-glo pink and matching four-inch spike heels. Comfortable ones. Definitely a dream.
    She got up, showered, and used half a tube of Max Factor’s Erase trying to hide her bags before putting on the rest of her makeup.
    Yesterday, she’d searched her apartment for something, anything, Squire might have left behind to give her some clue of where he was living, but she’d found nothing. Big surprise. He didn’t own anything to leave behind.
    He’d told her he was staying near Wings of an Angel. She wondered if even that was true. Heck, maybe he didn’t even know Dennis Pagozzi, and the whole thing was a scam to get a free dinner, a free night’s lodging, and some ready cash.
    What a stupid, schmaltzy, ignoramus sap she was! She was going to swear off men forever. She’d had it. End of story. Finito.
    She was almost out the door to head for work when Angie phoned, singing the praises of Dennis Pagozzi.
    â€œI’d like to know why you met him when he was supposed to have been my date,” Connie snapped.
    Angie’s reply was measured. “He was sorry he missed you, and he’s going to call.”
    Like this girl was born yesterday. “Well, let’s forget about my job,” Connie mewled. “I’ll just sit here by the phone all day.”
    â€œHe’s handsome, and a sharp dresser. You’ll be gaga over him, trust me in this,” Angie urged.
    â€œIf gaga is close to nuts, I don’t have far to go,” Connie muttered.
    Angie tried to change the subject. “Anyway, what’s this I hear about you having dinner with some stranger? Earl told me about it. Some bum who was looking for Dennis as well? What was that about?”
    â€œDamned if I know,” Connie said brusquely. “Earl was right. He was a bum. I don’t know, and don’t care anything about him. Now, I’m going to work.”
    Connie hung up the phone, in no mood to hear any more about how great her missed blind date was, orhow much Angie was in love, and definitely not how Angie thought everyone else in the world should be in love as well. Sometimes she could be really hard to take.
    Before stepping out of her apartment, Connie looked at herself in a mirror to make sure no one had taped a sign to her back that said “Sucker.” How did guys like Squire even find her?
    Right then and there, she was determined to find him , and when she did, he’d be one sorry bastard. His ribs might not be broken now, but just wait.
    Helen Melinger was sweeping the sidewalk when Connie approached. “Hey, there!” Helen barked in her usual gruff way. “So, you finally decided to get your butt back to work!”
    â€œBuzz off!” Connie unlocked the door and slammed it behind her.
    Helen leaned on the broom, gawking at her usually cheerful neighbor.
    Â 
    â€œHello?” Angie said into the telephone as she shut off the Cuisinart. Ground pork, veal, and pork fat were swirling around with eggs, seasonings, and a heavy splash of cognac.
    â€œAngelina Amalfi? This is Don Evans. I’m Director of Production at Sara Lee, Incorporated.”
    With the phone wedged between her ear and neck, she cut a whole goose liver into tiny one-quarter-inch squares. “As in Sara Lee cakes?”
    â€œExactly. We’ve heard wonderful things about your Comical Cakes, and—”
    â€œI don’t own that business anymore. I’m sorry.” She would have hung up, but her hand was slimy and she reached for a napkin first.
    â€œWait!” the voice cried.