Cooking Spirits: An Angie Amalfi Mystery (Angie Amalfi Mysteries) (16 page)

“She wasn’t a happy person. Lonely, I’d say.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t hear about her death from anyone,”
Paavo said.
“And didn’t read about it in the newspaper.”

Marilee brusquely tucked a lock of hair behind an ear as if
all these questions wearied her. “I don’t pay attention to the news. I hate
hearing or seeing anything about all the death and destruction going on in the
world. I’m much happier ignoring it. The only newspaper I look at is the local
one, and I’m afraid people living around me don’t care about the terrible
things that happen in San Francisco.”

“You recently faced the death of someone else close to you,”
Paavo said.

Marilee stiffened. “Oh?”

“Taylor Bedford,” Paavo said.

Marilee paled. “I should have expected the police would turn
up information about his personal life.” Her jaw clenched and her breathing
became quick and shallow. “Have you learned who killed him yet?”

“We were hoping you could help us.”

She looked from Paavo to
Yosh
. “Do
you think there’s a connection between his death and Gaia’s? That’s so hard to
imagine! According to Taylor, he rarely saw her at work, and their jobs had
nothing in common.”

“Right now, you’re the only connection between the two of
them.”

Her eyes widened. “Me? You think this had something to do with
me?”

Paavo’s expression was cold. “We were told he kept your
relationship a secret. That he never even spoke about you to anyone.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Her tone was harsh. “He wanted
to announce to the world the way he felt about me. He even pursued me at work!”

“Pursued you at work? What do you mean? You didn’t work with
him, your sister did.”

She looked stunned a moment. “What I mean is…is that I
didn’t tell him for a long time that I wasn’t Gaia.”

“Why not?”

She folded her hands, fingers intertwined. “When we met, he
thought I was Gaia. It was easier, in some ways even more exciting, if I
pretended to be my twin.
The poor waif, coming out of her
shell thanks to the love of a rich, powerful man in her company,
yada
yada
.
I felt I was in
an old Harlequin romance come to life.” She chuckled. “I’m a romance writer, if
you didn’t know. Paranormal romances—sexy vampires, sexy shape-shifters, sexy
werewolves, occasionally sexy humans. They’re very popular these days, and sell
remarkably well.”

“And you make enough to live on?”

“More than you can imagine,” she said with a cloying smile.

“I see.” Paavo said. “Did you ever tell him who you were?”

“Eventually,” she said.

He noticed her fingers turning white she clutched them so
tightly.
“When?”

“A couple of weeks ago.”

“How long ago did your affair begin?” he asked.

“I’d say, um, six months ago.
In the
spring.”

“And all that time he thought you were Gaia?” Paavo couldn’t
believe that degree of deception.

“What did it matter?”

“I think it would have mattered a great deal to him.”

Marilee sighed. “I’m not proud of what I did. It started out
as a lark. I never dreamed I would fall in love with him.”

“Go on,” Paavo urged.

“I met Gaia one day after work. We walked into a nearby bar
to talk about some financial stuff, but we no sooner entered than she froze.
She didn’t want him to see her—or us—I’m not sure which. She pointed him out as
a big shot in sales and from the way she talked and stared at him, I could tell
she was smitten. It made me curious.”

“And then what?” Paavo asked.

“A couple of weeks later, I saw him in a grocery store,
Safeway, in the Marina district. We began talking. We left the store and went
out for coffee. I liked him, and we shared many interests. Once we started
talking, it seemed we never stopped.” A shadow crossed over her face.
“Until now.”

“You just happened to meet him and just happened to talk to
him?”

She shrugged. “You could say that. And didn’t I already say
that Gaia, who never even dated, was half in love with him? I wanted to find
out why.”

“I assume you knew Bedford was married.”

“Of course.”

“Wasn’t that a problem?”

“Not for me. I didn’t care. Marriage means nothing to me.
Neither does having children. My parents didn’t have a happy marriage, Inspector.
And, as I’m sure you found out since you’ve done so much snooping into my
private life, Gaia and I do not have other close relatives. I would say the
gene for procreation doesn’t run in our family. I’m quite happy to be
independent.”

“But you said Taylor wanted to tell the world about the two
of you. That must have included his wife.”

“It did,” she said. “Taylor didn’t like ‘cheating’ on his
wife as he put it. He was very twentieth century that way. He repeatedly asked
his wife for a divorce, but she refused to agree to an amicable one. She
threatened to take everything he owned if he walked out on her.”

“What did you think of that?”

She shrugged.
“Nothing.
It was his
problem, not mine.”

“Why didn’t you come forward, talk to the police, when you learned
he had been murdered?”

“I didn’t have anything to offer about
who
did it. And his wife would have been there. I didn’t want to see her.”

“Or you had something to do with his murder,” Paavo said.

“Do I look like a murderer, Inspector?” Marilee asked. “I
didn’t kill him. I was probably the only person in the world who truly loved
him.”

Paavo paused a moment in the questioning. “What did Taylor
say when you told him you weren’t Gaia?”

“He said that explained a lot. And he didn’t care. He loved
me.”

Paavo looked up at
Yosh
to see
Yosh
had some questions of his own.
Yosh
shook his head.

Paavo was ready to leave, but not before one last question.
“What do you think happened to your sister and Taylor Bedford?”

“I’m not sure I should speculate,” she said.

“Try it,” Paavo suggested.

“His wife knew about the affair, and I’m sure she thought it
was between Taylor and Gaia. I suspected all along that she paid someone to
kill Taylor. Now that I learn Gaia is dead, she probably hired someone to kill
her as well. It’s her style to keep her hands clean, Inspector, no matter how
much shit she makes fly. Trust me on that.”

 
o0o

By the time Paavo finished filling in Lt. Eastwood on the
Marilee/
Urda
interview, it was early evening. Since
Angie told him she was going to a ‘girl’s night out’ with friends, Paavo
decided it would be a good opportunity to pay a visit to the Night Hawk, the
bar around the corner from the station where he used to work before his
promotion and move to the Hall of Justice. In San Francisco, instead of each
station or precinct having its own robbery, homicide, and other investigative
divisions, a Bureau of Investigations had been established in the Hall of
Justice. As a result, Paavo rarely saw his old co-workers.

“Hey, Paavo!” a voice called the moment he walked into the
bar.

Paavo turned to see Joel Rhodes waving at him. Joel was a
good guy, one he and Matt used to drink with on occasion. “Good to see you,
Joel,” Paavo said as they shook hands then walked up to the bar. Joel already
had a beer, and Paavo ordered one.

“What are you doing slumming around here?” Joel asked with a
grin.

“Just wanted to see what you guys are up to. You haven’t
been making trouble like usual, so I kind of lost touch.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while. Ever since”—Joel’s voice dropped—“Matt’s
funeral.”

“I still can’t believe I won’t see him again.” Paavo took a
sip of his beer. “But what have you been up to?”

Joel told him the latest gossip in the precinct, and Paavo
talked about life in homicide, as well as Matt’s widow starting to date some
guy who wasn’t a cop. They drank more beer, shot some pool. A couple of new
cops that Paavo hadn’t met before joined them. All were nice guys, but Paavo
quickly realized he had no place in their lives, and they had none in his.

While he was there, feeling like a fish out of water, his
phone rang. To his amazement, it was Bianca, Angie’s oldest sister.

Chapter 18

ANGIE, CATERINA, AND Maria sat on
the ugly green and gold sofa and equally outdated side chair in the living room
of the house on Clover Lane. On the table in front of them were glasses of
chardonnay, plus a bowl of plain and chocolate-covered pretzels and another of
cashews.

Outside, the stars were hidden by heavy clouds, and the only
sound was that of waves lapping on the beach far below.

“I don’t like this,” Maria muttered. “It feels like
blasphemy.”

“It’ll be fine,” Angie said, checking her watch. It was
nine-fifteen; Connie was late. “Connie insists this person is quite good. Her
séance will prove that the house isn’t really haunted.”

“It’s hard to prove a negative, Angie,” Maria said.

“Unless that negative has no logic or common sense,” Cat
said, staring daggers at Maria.

A howling wind kicked up. The lights flickered and then went
out. Angie opened the front door and saw that lights were out throughout the
neighborhood. The wind grew worse and it started raining. Fortunately, Angie
had brought a lot of candles for the séance, and lit them now.

She hadn’t thought Caterina would be here. She had only
invited Maria, but then Maria phoned Cat and berated her for trying to sell
Angie a haunted house. Cat told Maria she was crazy, and then phoned Bianca to
complain about Maria interfering with her business. Bianca suggested Cat attend
to prove Maria wrong, and so here she was.

Now the three of them sat nervously by
candlelight, not saying a word.
Even Angie had to confess to being a bit
spooked.

Finally, the doorbell rang. Angie jumped to her feet.
“That’s got to be Connie!” She hurried to open the door.

Angie didn’t know what to make of Connie’s friend. At least
she didn’t show up wearing a turban, a billowy full length dress, a cape, or
rows of silver necklaces like seers in the movies. She had short, frizzy hair,
and wore flat sandals and a smock-like paisley print dress over a rotund
figure. She towered over the Amalfi sisters. The rings she wore on each finger
looked so tight, they seemed in danger of cutting off her circulation.

“No power?” Connie asked as she stepped out from behind
Madame Hermione into the living room.

“It went out a few minutes ago,” Angie replied.

“That makes the atmosphere even better. Let me introduce my
friend.” Connie made quick introductions. “Do you want to start now, Madame
Hermione?”

“Let’s not settle down quite yet, Connie,” Hermione said. “I
need to get a sense of the house, of the spirits I’m supposed to call up. Let
me walk around here a bit, inside and out. And in the meantime, perhaps our
hostess can put some chairs around a table.”

She opened the door to the back yard and a harsh, cold wind
immediately smacked her. Her hair flew back so forcefully it was almost
straight, and her dress swirled around her, the hem flapping in the breeze. She
quickly shut the door again. “Well, perhaps not the outside. I’ll need a
candle.”

Angie handed her one.

“Ah…” Madame Hermione touched her forehead with her
fingertips as she glided from the living room towards the master bedroom. “I
feel something. A presence! Yes, there is certainly something ‘other’ in this
house.”

“She’s the thing that’s ‘other’,” Cat muttered. “This is
already ridiculous and it hasn’t even started yet!”

“This is about more than making another sale, Cat!” Maria
insisted. “It’s about Angie’s happiness!”

Angie didn’t want to hear their arguing and hurried after
Hermione, wondering what she was up to. The bedroom was empty.

Connie pointed to the bathroom. Hermione was in there
holding the candle high, looking at the ceiling, and turning in a circle.
“Don’t even ask,” Connie whispered. Angie shrugged.

Hermione came out, briefly stepped into the den, looked at
the stairs to the upstairs bedrooms, and turned away from them. Finally she
fluttered, as much as a 300-pound woman can flutter, across the living room to
the kitchen. “Nothing!” she cried. “Whoever lived here wasn’t much of a cook.”

Angie didn’t follow her into the kitchen, but instead
muttered, “I don’t know if that’s good news or bad.”

“Madame Hermione is
what’s bad news
,”
Cat said, disgusted. Angie had forgotten her sister had the hearing of a
Doberman. “This is a joke. I thought better of Connie, frankly. Are you sure
you don’t want to just call it quits now, Angie?”

“Don’t be silly. Connie went to a lot of trouble to arrange
this séance, and we’re going to see it through,” Angie said as Hermione and
Connie returned to the living room. She picked up the chardonnay bottle.
“Connie? Madame Hermione?”

“Yes!” Connie said, holding out a glass for Angie to pour.

“I suggest not.” Madame Hermione frowned at Connie and then
everyone else with wine. “We need all our faculties for this event. Afterward,
however, wine and perhaps some little
nibblies
would
be most satisfying.”

The only “little
nibblies
” Angie
had brought were the nuts and pretzels already out, and Madame Hermione looked
as if she could down an entire bowl in one gulp.

They gathered all the candles together, placed them in the
center of the dining room table, and sat around it.

Madame Hermione ordered them to hold hands. She sat at one
end of the table, Angie opposite her, with Maria and Cat on one side, and
Connie on the other.