To Catch a Cook: An Angie Amalfi Mystery (23 page)

His arms closed around Angie, gathering her to him, needing her, her love, her warmth, her essence, kissing her and touching her as if to make sure she was really there and all in one piece. He tasted her tears, felt them against his face, and they cut through all his defenses. He shattered inside and tears stung his eyes.

She returned his kisses and caresses, trying to soothe him. His voice was broken and tear filled. “I was so scared…. I can’t, I don’t know if I could have stopped her…. God, Angie, I don’t know…I don’t think I could have shot—”

“Hush, Paavo.” She placed her fingers against his lips, stopping such words, words no son should ever have to say. “You couldn’t have hurt her, Paavo. You couldn’t have. She’s your mother.”

Blue eyes seemed to study her and found her understanding, her acceptance, and her love. He sagged against her. With both a smile and also tears in his voice, he whispered, “Yes, she is my mother.”

Angie held him close and kissed him lightly and sweetly at first, until the fire between them ignited, and her kiss grew into a tongue-touching, body-pressing, rapture-building, heart-filling kind of kiss, one that went on and on and showed him fully how happy she was to be alive, happy to be with him, and euphoric over his words about her, about the two of them together. That was what mattered. That was everything.

Forty-eight hours, Nikolai had said. She and Paavo would clean off the sweat and smell of death at the hotel, check out of it, and then she would go
with him back to the little house on Filbert Street. Cecily knew where it was, and it was in a safe, secluded location. She and Paavo would wait there. They had forty-eight hours.
She’ll come
, Angie told herself.
I’m sure she’ll come
….

A week later, Paavo sat on the edge of Aulis’s hospital bed, Angie on a chair at his side. Two days earlier, the old man had come out of his twilight sleep, and with each passing hour had grown stronger and more lucid. His vital signs were excellent, and the prognosis was for a full recovery.

Propped up with pillows, Aulis was eager to hear what had happened since he’d lost consciousness. The doctors had finally given Paavo and Angie the okay to relate the whole story. What they told him, though, was a simple, sanitized version, leaving out most of the dangerous parts.

But Paavo did tell him he had learned about his past.

“I’m glad you finally know the truth,” Aulis said. “So many times I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid for you, and of what you might want to do if you learned. I think Cecily’s way of handling this was right. If the people who were involved were still so dangerous thirty years later, her instincts to save her children were good ones. I’m glad she got to see what a fine man you turned out to be. You do Mika proud. It’s like having him back again.”

“Thank you,” Paavo said, touched by the words about his father.

“The irony of it all,” Angie added, “is that we had to make Tucker Bond a hero by saying he’d died trying to rescue me from kidnappers. His shooting has now been added to the long list of Koba’s crimes. To blame the Russian Mafia was, unfortunately, the simplest explanation for his murder, and Partridge’s, and all the earlier gunplay.”

“I suppose it doesn’t do much good for anyone to point out what really happened,” Aulis said.

“None at all,” Paavo replied.

“It’s grim.” Aulis shook his head, and they all silently thought about the strangeness that had transpired.

“What isn’t grim is that Angie has a new business,” Paavo said, trying to make the mood upbeat again. “She’s on television!”

“Really?” Aulis smiled. “Well, she’s pretty enough, that’s for sure. She could be Vanna White if she wanted to.”

“She’s doing even better.” Paavo gave her hand a quick squeeze. “Video restaurant reviews.”

Angie felt a little sick inside. It was a subject she’d carefully avoided, and had hoped Paavo had forgotten about. No such luck.

“Ah! I’ve never heard of anything like that.” Aulis’s voice was so filled with enthusiasm, she would have gladly crawled under the bed.

“That’s the idea,” Paavo said. “Angie came up with it all by herself. It’s a winner.”

“Paavo…” She looked from one man to the other. “I’m afraid that idea didn’t work out. I’m going to have to drop it.”

“You are? Why?”

“Well…” How could she tell him? She drew in her breath. “After I did my first review on TV, I was
hit with four lawsuits. One was brought by the restaurant owner, who claimed I had no right to show the interior of his business on television.” Her throat became dry. “Another was from the cook, saying I had slandered him.” Beads of perspiration broke out on her forehead. “Another came from the waiter. He said he should have been paid standard actor’s rates because he’s a member of some actors’ guild waiting for a big break. And the last”—the room began to spin—“the last plaintiff is a customer, who’s suing for alienation of affection because my camcorder caught him at the restaurant with a woman who wasn’t his wife. Now his wife wants a divorce, and he says it’s all my fault!”

Paavo sucked in his breath.

As Angie drank some water to compose herself, the old man chuckled. “Well, at least, child,” he said to Angie, “you did get back your Christmas present, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes and no,” she said, feeling a little better. “Paavo realized that the brooch must have gone to the forger, Jakob Platnikov. Platnikov had a granddaughter who liked it and had put it in her back-pack to show a girlfriend in school, knowing her grandfather usually didn’t work on jewelry until evening. But when she came home he was dead. Paavo explained to the girl that the brooch was very valuable and had to go back to its owner. Even though she’d kept it hidden from others who asked about it, she gave it to him.”

“So you do have it?” Aulis asked.

“No. Its rightful owner, we learned, was the Hermitage in Saint Petersburg. A friend, a retired museum curator, helped us send it back to them with a letter saying it was being returned compliments of Mika Turunen and Sami Vansha.”

“Ah, that’s good. Very good.” Aulis shut his eyes
as she spoke, and now, even though he commented and wore a smile on his face, she could see how tired he had grown. Soon his breathing deepened, and he was asleep.

Paavo caught Angie’s eye and motioned toward the door. She nodded, stood, and moved quietly toward it. Paavo stopped in the doorway and took her hand. At the same time, he gazed back at Aulis. He loved these two, and felt their love for him. And for the first time in his adult life, he was able to accept the love they had to give. It was such a cliché, he wanted to laugh at himself, and yet, knowing who his parents were and why they had left him meant more to him than he could ever have imagined.

He felt as if he had needed to get over that hurdle before he could know where his heart was. And now he knew. It was with the people who mattered more than anything else in his life—with Angie, with Aulis, and with the mother who loved him, wherever she might be…

ANGIE’S PASTA WITH PROSCIUTTO AND SUN-DRIED TOMATOES

This is one of Paavo’s favorite dishes. The mincing and chopping take a little time, but the actual cooking goes very fast.

¼ cup butter or margarine

¼ cup olive oil

4 garlic cloves, minced

½ tsp. crushed red pepper

¼ lb. thinly sliced prosciutto, cut into thin strips

½ cup drained sun-dried tomatoes, chopped

¼ cup fresh basil, chopped

¼ cup fresh Italian parsley, chopped

1 spring onion. chopped

1 lb. angel-hair pasta

Parmesan cheese

Cook angel-hair pasta (about 7 minutes) and drain thoroughly.

Put butter and oil in a large skillet, and melt them over a medium-low heat. Add the garlic and red pepper and cook until the garlic is golden (1–2 minutes), stirring frequently. Next add the prosciutto, tomatoes, basil, parsley, and onion. Heat thoroughly (4–5 minutes).

Place pasta in a large serving dish. Pour sauce over pasta and toss, mixing sauce throughout.

Serve with Parmesan cheese.

ANGIE’S AMARETTO-PECAN BREAD PUDDING

This is another of boyfriend Paavo’s favorites. It’s not traditional bread pudding, but is similar to Mexican-style
capirotada
, with a hint of Italy. It’s one of Angie’s specialties.

12 slices French bread, crusts removed

2 teaspoons butter

1 ½ cups sugar

1 ½ cups water

1 cup apple juice

2 tablespoons butter

½ cup raisins

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 ½ teaspoons Amaretto (or omit Amaretto and use an extra ½ tsp. vanilla here)

6 oz. soft cream cheese

¾ cup pecan pieces

1 teaspoon cinnamon

Whipped cream or nondairy (Cool Whip-type) topping

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 9-by-13-inch baking dish (use the 2 tsp. of butter here). Tear bread into bite-sized pieces and place it in the buttered baking dish. Toast in the oven for ten minutes.

While bread is toasting, put the sugar in a large saucepan. Over medium high heat, stir the sugar continuously while it melts. When it is melted (it will turn a light caramel color), stand back from the saucepan as much as possible and add the water
and apple juice to the sugar. Watch out—when the cold liquid hits the melted sugar, the caramel will splatter, bubble up, and most of it will solidify. Keep it on the heat and soon the caramel will liquefy again. Keep stirring. Add the butter and raisins. When the caramel is completely liquefied, remove the saucepan from the heat. Stir in the vanilla and Amaretto.

Pour the mixture over the bread pieces in the baking dish. Be sure to saturate all the bread with liquid. Drop dollops of cream cheese throughout the bread. Sprinkle the top with pecans and cinnamon. Bake at 350 degrees for 20 to 25 minutes.

Serve the pudding warm, topped with whipped cream or nondairy topping. Serves 6 to 8.

Many people generously gave their time, knowledge, and insight to help me pull together the elements of this book. First of all, thanks to everyone on Clues-N-News, particularly Jan Daugherty, a font of understandable medical knowledge, and to Amy Sikes Haskins (and her mother, Monti, who got us together), Joe Fernandez, Liz Jennings, Erika Lockhart, and Barbara Truax. Extra special thanks go to my agent, Sue Yuen, for her help, patience, and wonderful suggestions; to my editors, Carolyn Marino for believing in Angie and Paavo, and Jeffery McGraw for his infectious enthusiasm; and of course, to my husband, David, who’s always there to help me get “unstuck.”

Writing this book deepened my appreciation and admiration for those in my family who, as young people alone or with family members, crossed troubled seas searching for a better life in the United States. This book is dedicated to the memories of those adventurous voyagers: Francisco Lopez, Esperanza (Ida) Moldes, Guiseppe Addiego, and Michelina (Madeline) Lucchese.