Cooking Spirits: An Angie Amalfi Mystery (Angie Amalfi Mysteries) (6 page)

Diane sniffed. “Well, I hope I’m still available when you
come crawling back. Be sure to call me as soon as you decide, or I may have to
disappoint.”

“I couldn’t have that,” Angie said, trying not to sound too
sarcastic.

“I should hope not.” With that, Diane left.

Angie no sooner got rid of Ms.
LaGrande
than Cat unexpectedly showed up at her door. She stormed into the apartment
then swirled around to face Angie. “You want Connie to be your realtor, fine!
Let her handle the house sale!” Cat loudly harrumphed.

“Relax, Cat!” Angie went into the kitchen to make her a
mimosa. She had plenty remaining. “This has nothing to do with Connie. The
questions are mine, and I’m sure Paavo, too, will want to know the answers. Why
did the owner stop renting out the house, and what happened that
caused
others not to buy it? They’re simple questions and
should have simple answers.”

Cat took off her coat,
then
walked
to the kitchen doorway, arms folded. “Who cares as long as you like the place?
Are the answers really that important?”

Angie looked Cat straight in the eye as she held out the
drink. “Yes!”

Cat heaved a sigh and gave a disgusted shake of the head.
She took the drink to the sofa,
then
perched on the
edge of it. “All right, if you must know. For a long time, when home prices
were doing nothing but going up, the house was considered the owner’s nest egg.
Now, times have changed. That’s all.” She reached for a cinnamon roll and took
a big bite.

Angie sat in a chair, interested in hearing all
Cat
had learned. “That doesn’t answer my question. Why didn’t
it sell?”

 Cat put the roll down, professed it delicious,
then
took a couple of sips of her drink before explaining.
“The house did sell…several times. But the people who bought it backed out
before the sale was finalized. It happens all the time.”

Angie scooted forward. “Do you mean they changed their minds
and backed out?
All of them?
That doesn’t make sense!”

“Calm down. It’s nothing. They had reasons that had nothing
to do with the house.”

Angie folded her arms, her gaze shooting daggers at her sister.
“Such as?”

Cat drank some more, then put the glass on a coaster on the
coffee table. “One realized she had acrophobia, and couldn’t stand being so
close to a drop off. Although it’s called a cliff, it’s not a sheer drop.
People can, and do, climb on it all the time. Anyway, another said the constant
sound of the waves made her nervous. You know that most people love to hear the
sound of waves, and find it soothing and relaxing and oh, so very—”

“Is that all?” Angie interrupted.

“Well, let me see.” Cat picked up the glass again, taking a
big gulp of the champagne-orange juice mix this time. “There was the couple who
got a divorce. Luckily their marriage fell apart before they signed the final
papers.”

“Great luck,” Angie muttered sarcastically. Cat didn’t even
notice. Angie’s brows crossed.
“Any more?”

Cat cleared her throat. “Well…I mustn’t leave out the woman
who had a, uh, nervous breakdown before signing papers. The bank denied her
loan at that point, so she shouldn’t really count.”

“Okay, I guess. That would certainly tie the place up for
months with each transaction. But that doesn’t answer my other question. Why
didn’t they continue to rent the house?”

“You know renters, they mess up places. The owner wanted it
to look nice to sell it.”

“For two years?”

“Maybe…maybe no one wanted to rent it for a while.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice dropped.
“
Maybebecausethefirstrentersdied
.
”

“What was that? Did you mumble…
”

“Who cares what happened!” Cat said loudly. She began eating
the rest of her cinnamon roll, saying a few words between bites. “None of it
matters if you like the house. Just get Paavo to see it. If you buy it, I’m
sure you’ll both be happy as clams.”

Angie looked at her suspiciously. “Who said clams are happy?
What else was it you said?
Something about first renters?”

Cat finished the roll and then knocked back the rest of her
mimosa. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” she said innocently. “Now,
let’s think about something else. How
are your wedding
plans coming along?”

“
Maybe because the first renters
…?” Angie tried to
recall…then, she felt herself go cold, as if all the blood drained from her
body. She jumped to her feet.
“
Died!
That’s
what you said, wasn’t it?
‘Maybe because the first renters
died.’
What’s that supposed to mean? Are you telling me a couple died
while renting the house?!”

“They…apparently, they died while living in the house. But
it happened years and years ago.”

“What!”

“Don’t worry! They didn’t die inside the house.” Cat sounded
indignant. “California law says I must disclose it if anyone died
inside
the house, for pity’s sake!”

“Well, that’s good!”

“Realtors have rules, you know. And a murder must be
disclosed.”

“A murder?
They were
murdered?”
Angie
shrieked.
“Where?”

Cat swallowed.
“Out on the cliff.
They were found near the edge of the cliff, both shot to death. But it’s not
even part of this property, it’s beyond it. And it happened before the owner
put up the fence.”

“Oh, my God!
A
murder!”

“It’s nothing to worry about. Besides, it happened years and
years ago.”

“How many years ago?”

“The early 1980’s I believe.”

“What?
The 1980’s?
Wait a minute. I
thought you said the house has been empty since those renters…well, since they
died. Did I misunderstand?”

“Not exactly.”

“Didn’t you say the house has been empty two years?”

“I said it’s been for sale for two years.”

“And it’s been empty…?”

“Thirty…plus.”

Angie said nothing for a long while, then sat back down and
slowly and calmly asked, “Are you saying no one has lived in the house since
renters were murdered there over thirty years ago?”

“Look on the bright side.” Cat gave her a big smile. “The
place is practically new! It hasn’t been worn at all.”

“Ah ha!”
Angie cried. “So, you’re
trying to push some loser house off on me!”

“It’s not a loser house! It’s a lovely house that has simply
had bad luck. And I never tried to push it off on you! You’re the one who
insisted you see it while I told you to ignore it, that it’s had a troubled
past. But
nooooo
!
You had to see it!
You can’t blame the house for that! Or me!” Cat stood and poked Angie in the
shoulder with her forefinger. “You, of all people, should understand bad luck.
Think of all the jobs you’ve tried, and haven’t gotten anywhere with. You’ve
been a food columnist, did radio, television,
ran
a
cake baking business, tried to become a chocolatier—”

Angie pushed her hand away to stop the obnoxious jabbing of
her shoulder. Even as a kid, Cat had skinny, pointy, fingers of steel and used
them with relish.
“All right, all right!
I get the
message.” Memories of all those jobs…and others…rushed at her in a wave of
failure.

“Just as no one can blame you for the problems with your
jobs,” Cat preached, “so you can’t blame the house just because the right
person hasn’t bought it yet. Maybe you and Paavo are the right people. You
should be sympathetic towards it!”

Angie seethed. “If I thought the house had feelings, maybe I
would be!”

“But yesterday you loved the place. Why should this matter?”

“Apparently, it mattered to all the others who wanted to buy
it!”

Cat looked stricken, then laughed, a bit too loudly.
“Silly girl.
When can Paavo see it?”

o0o

So far, Paavo had not found a reason for anyone to want
Taylor Bedford dead, yet nothing about the case felt as if it were a random
murder. The M.E. had placed the time of death as sometime Saturday evening,
when
Larina
Bedford said Taylor should have been in
Sacramento with some clients. Something told Paavo that he and
Yosh
were going to be spending a lot of time tracking down
out of town clients and at the company’s headquarters.

After long hours with nothing to show for them, the two
detectives decided it would be best to go home and start again fresh in the
morning.

Home for Paavo didn’t mean going to his small house, but
being with Angie. He called and asked her out to dinner to make up for missing
dinner with her two nights in a row, but she insisted on cooking for him so he
could relax. He liked that since she cooked better than any restaurant he knew
of. She planned some “Italian comfort food”—
spaghetti carbonara
with
homemade bread, red wine, and a garden salad with a variety of green
vegetables, tomato, cucumber, and avocado.

He knocked on the door and she opened it almost immediately.

Even after getting to know her better than any other person
in his life, the beauty and warmth of her smile when she greeted him still awed
him. He liked nothing more than to look into her wide-set brown eyes as he put
his arms around her and kissed her. After a while, he took off his jacket,
removed his shoulder holster and gun and left them on a table in the corner of
the living room while she poured him a beer, his beverage of choice, and a
glass of chardonnay for herself.

He loosened his tie as he settled his long body on the sofa.
She put Miles Davis on the stereo since Paavo liked jazz,
then
sat down beside him. He put an arm around her.

“Tell me about your house-hunting adventures,” he said. “Did
Cat come up with any places you like?”

Angie nestled her head on his shoulder. “She did do that.
The problem with most places is the price. Most houses in neighborhoods I like
are outrageously expensive. Unless my job prospects change, we can’t begin to
consider them.”

The last thing Paavo wanted was to have Angie talking about
her job prospects, or lack of them. To him, she was bright, clever, and
talented, and had a knack for cooking right up there—to his palette—with chefs
in the fancy restaurants she sometimes dragged him to. He felt sure she could
be another Wolfgang Puck, Emeril, or any of the numerous big-time chefs she
talked about. But for whatever reason, that ability had never led to a good
job.

“I don’t want you to feel you have to work, Angie. If the
wolf is at the door, that’s one thing, but let’s not start out married life
with that kind of burden. We’ll simply wait until the right place in the right
neighborhood comes on the market.”

More than most people, homicide detectives knew San
Francisco wasn’t all quaint cable cars and popular tourist attractions. Like
any big city, there were areas that weren’t safe during the day, and became
hell holes at night. Innocent people died or were maimed simply because they
were caught in the cross-fire. He’d never forgive himself if he did anything
that put Angie in danger--especially when she did that so well by herself.

“Actually,” she said, sitting upright. “I did find one house
that I like, that’s in a great neighborhood and is affordable.”

“Oh?” It wasn’t like her not to blurt out good news. “What’s
wrong with it?”

“Why would you think that?”

“Nothing.”
He lied. “Tell me about
it.”

“Right now, I’m still checking it out. The house has been on
the market for a couple of years. It’s a lovely place in the Sea Cliff, with an
unobstructed view of the Pacific Ocean.”

“The Sea Cliff?
You mean the area where,
not long ago, your sister tried to sell a house and found a dead body inside?”

“Yes, Cat knows the area extremely well.” Angie didn’t seem
to realize what was wrong with this picture.

Paavo shook his head. “Those places cost a million plus.
What are you thinking? You know that’s out of our reach no matter how generous
your father will be with the loan terms. Sometimes I wonder if it’s a good idea
to get involved in a house at this point in our lives.”

“Don’t worry so,” she said, giving him a quick kiss. “What
if I told you the house was listed for $600,000? It’s a lot of money, but not
for San Francisco, and not for that area.”

The unbelievable price stunned Paavo. His little cottage
would sell for between $400,000 to $500,000 not because of the house but
because of the value of the land it sat on. “As I asked earlier, what’s wrong
with it?”

She grabbed his hand. “Do you think it’s a good deal if
everything checks out?”

“Check it out really carefully,” he cautioned.

“Wonderful!” She gave him a big hug. Finally, he saw the
Angie he knew and loved as she bubbled over with enthusiasm. He was about to
kiss her when she popped her head up. “As soon as my questions get answered,
I’ll take you to see the place. I hope, I hope, I hope it all turns out as I—”

“Hope?” he offered.

“Yes!” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. He
tried to hold her, but she sat up again. “Now, before we have dinner and can
talk about other things, there’s one little bit of information you can help me
with.”

“Oh?”

“The last couple who lived there were murdered…not in the
house, but behind it, on the cliff above China Beach. It happened sometime in
the 1980s. Would you be able to find out who they were and why they were
killed?”

“We should have some sort of record,” he said. “But that was
over thirty years ago. You don’t think that’s why the house’s price is so low,
do you?”