Read Online To Catch a Cook: An Angie Amalfi Mystery by Joanne Pence - Free Book Online Page A

chair pillows were slashed, drawers pulled out, books and magazines opened and strewn all over. A throbbing in his temples beat dully in synch with the heavy beat of his heart.
    A quick walk-through left him ready to explode in rage and frustration. Nothing, it seemed, had been stolen. He would talk to Aulis’s neighbors, find out what they saw and heard.
    Once he found out who was behind this, there’d be no stopping him. The bastard would pay in blood.
    When he returned to the living room, Angie moved toward him. “What would you like me to do?” she asked.
    “Nothing! Don’t touch a thing.”
    He was immediately ashamed of his tone with her, especially when she gazed at him with quiet understanding. “I’ll look for his address book,” she said. “You’ll need to make some phone calls, Paavo, to let his close friends know what’s happened.”
    He hadn’t thought of that. He stood again unmoving as a moment of excruciating silence went by. God, how was he going to get through this? He turned toward the bedroom.
    In the top drawer of the pine highboy, Aulis kept important papers. Paavo and his sister had been taught to never go near that drawer if they valued their skins. Aulis had a “system” and if the system was in any way disrupted, it meant he might not pay bills on time or find important papers, and the stability of the world order would fall into disarray.
    It was heartrending to see that most crucial drawer on its side, the contents littering the floor. Grimly he righted the drawer, knelt down, and began to stack the papers.
    He didn’t have to dig too deeply through old tax filings, Social Security notices, property tax billings, and other such documents before coming across the medical policy. Along with Medicare, Aulis had good coverage and should be well taken care of.
    As he gathered up the rest of the papers and envelopes to return to the drawer, an envelope from the Ford Motor Company caught his eye. He added it to the stack. It was odd, though. Aulis had never owned a car. Didn’t even like cars, Paavo thought. Had Aulis harbored some secret passion for a Mustang GT? Curious, Paavo pulled it out of the pile and opened it.
    Inside was a photograph and another, smaller envelope. He pulled out the photo, and his blood ran cold.
    Three people stared at the camera. One of them,looking very young and very innocent, was his mother.
    He knew her immediately, even though he had seen only one other picture of her. That other picture, one of his most valued possessions, showed him standing on her lap, leaning across a table and staring intently at a birthday cake with two candles. His hair was blond and wispy—it hadn’t turned dark brown until his teens—and he wore canary-yellow short pants with matching suspenders over a white shirt. His cheeks were puffed out and he seemed to be blowing hard. His mother was holding him at the waist and laughing.
    She was a pretty woman, her face fine-boned, with white, almost translucent skin. He couldn’t tell the color of her eyes—they were Kodak-flash red in the photo—but her hair was auburn, shoulder length, and parted on the side. Her head was cocked and her hair swung free and easy except for a strand of it tucked behind one ear.
    His only vivid memories of his mother were seeing her laugh in that picture, and hearing her cry as if her heart had broken.
    In this newly found photo, she looked very serious. Her eyes squinted against the sun, causing her brow to furrow, and her lips were set firmly. Her hair was cut in an over-the-ear bob, the bangs so short they only covered the very top of her forehead. Her pink dress was big and boxy, with a high-necked Peter Pan collar. She held a black-haired baby in her arms in a way that showed off the baby’s frilly matching pink dress and booties. The baby had to be Jessica. She had a knockout smile even at that young age.
    The woman in this picture didn’t mesh at all with the image he had of his mother. She