If Cooks Could Kill

by Joanne Pence

  Angie gave Connie a kick, but she was too scared to reply.

  “Damn you! Talk to me!” He fired the gun. Connie and Angie screamed and cringed. “This time I won’t miss!”

  “Don’t! Please,” Connie whimpered.

  “Veronica?” he whispered, then stepped closer. “Veronica, is that you?”

  “Yes,” Connie murmured.

  “Oh, God!” he cried, joyous now. “I thought you were dead. I thought I’d killed you. But then I saw you near the jail, and I realized how much I still love you. We’ll go away like we planned. I never cared about the money. I just want you.”

  As Lexington spoke, Earl and Vinnie quietly eased a package of firecrackers out of one crate, Roman candles and bottle rockets out of another.

  “Come on, Veronica. If you love me, you’ll come to me.”

  Suddenly, a man’s voice shouted from the kitchen, “Hello? Is Angie Amalfi around? My God! There’s a man hurt here!”

  Angie and Connie exchanged glances. “I’m here!” Angie yelled. “I’m downstairs! Call the—”

  Lexington spun around as footsteps hurried down the stairs and a little man wearing green clothes and a sour expression limped into the storeroom. He stormed past Lexington as if the pudgy bald fellow didn’t exist. “Where are you, lady? Is this another one of your stupid charades?” He walked right up to the crate Angie hid behind. “I see you! You can’t hide from me!” He threw the car keys on the crate. “I tried to give it to him, I really did. I want my money!”

  Angie gaped at him. She’d forgotten all about the new car she’d ordered for Paavo.

  “Shut the hell up!” Lexington roared.

  Angie covered her head with her arms.

  The leprechaun whirled around. “Who do you think you’re—” His gaze dropped from Lexington’s face to the gun in his hand. “Ohmygod! You mean that guy upstairs was really…”

  “Get over there!” Lexington ordered, waving his gun. The human pickle turned chalky white.

  Suddenly a barrage of what sounded like machine-gun fire erupted. Lexington dived to the ground, firing as he hit.

  The leprechaun bolted into a corner. At the same time, Vinnie lit a Roman candle and Earl a bottle rocket.

  Connie reached into a crate and came up with a handful of cherry bombs. She grabbed a couple of Vinnie’s matches, lit the bombs one by one, and tossed them at Lexington.

  He crawled from one side of the storeroom to the other to avoid the firepower.

  Pinwheels skittered across the floor, whistling and shooting off multicolored sparkles. Aerial spinners whirled overhead, missles and rockets launched, star-bursts lit the ceiling, while more packets of firecrackers blasted.

  The leprechaun sobbed.

  “You tricked me!” Lexington shrieked. “You don’t love me. This is a game.” He stood, pointing the gun. “Another of your games.”

  While Earl and Vinnie tried to figure out how to light a smoke bomb, Angie pulled a can of hairspray out of Connie’s purse, then grabbed one of Vinnie’s matches.

  Earl, Vinnie, and Connie saw what Angie was up to, and all began to shout, “No! Don’t!” as she aimed a plume of hairspray at a box of firecrackers and then threw a match at it.

  The spray ignited and she lobbed the hairspray canister onto the crate.

  Angie and her friends hit the ground, arms over their heads, as Lexington raised his gun at Connie.

  The crate exploded, knocking Lexington across the room. He hit a wall and dropped.

  Fire from the first crate caused the others to go off, and the room became a smoke-filled mass of firecrackers, sparklers, whistles, and lights. A Fourth-of-July vision of hell.

  When the smoke and ringing in her ears lessened, Angie heard Paavo’s voice. “Angie, are you in here? Can you hear me?”

  “Hide!” she cried. “It’s the parole officer! He’s a killer.”

  “I know. I’ve got him handcuffed.”

  At his words and calm tone, Angie popped her head up over what remained of the fireworks crates. Her hair was singed, her face, clothes and hands black with soot. “Thank God!” she said, and ran into his arms. “What are you doing here?”

  Paavo held her, then brushed some soot from her nose and cheeks. “I came to tell you to stop sending people in crazy costumes to see me. Also, to warn you to watch for Lexington, especially after learning the Fresno police suspected he killed a pawnshop owner.” He faced Lexington. “Was it to hide your trail, or to make Veronica seem more dangerous, or both?”

  Lexington, who was sitting handcuffed on the floor, stunned and looking crazier than ever, didn’t answer.

  As Paavo spoke, Connie, Earl, and Vinnie also stood and dusted soot and gunpowder off themselves. He scrutinized them. “What the hell happened in here?”

  “Lexington confessed,” Angie blurted, with a quick glance at her friends. “That’s all.”

  As Paavo’s eyes narrowed and his lips tightened, the sound of police entering the restaurant reached them. Paavo pushed Lexington ahead of him up the stairs. The others followed.

  In the kitchen, Butch had stopped the flow of blood from Pagozzi’s shoulder, and Dennis was conscious. Angie called for an ambulance as the place filled with cops responding to Angie’s and Butch’s earlier nine-one-one calls, plus several neighbors’ complaints about an all-out war having broken out in the small restaurant.

  Paavo Mirandized Lexington and turned him over to the uniforms for the trip to City Jail.

  “You used me,” Lexington yelled at Connie as he was being led out the door. “You deserved to die! I loved you, you bitch! And I killed you! Maybe I’m not as dumb as you thought, Veronica!”

  Finally, the paramedics took Dennis to the hospital, Butch with him, and Angie, Paavo, Connie, Vinnie, and Earl were left alone in the restaurant, shaken and saddened by all that had occurred.

  Paavo went back down to the storeroom and looked at the now burned and smoldering crates with Chinese lettering, the firecracker paper, rocket and sparkler remnants lying all over the floor. “What is all this stuff? It looks like fireworks, but they’re illegal in this city.”

  “It’s confetti,” Angie said immediately.

  “That’s right,” Vinnie agreed. “Chinese confetti.”

  “We had some popcorn down here, too,” Connie added. “When Lexington wasn’t looking, Angie put it in a box of confetti and lit the box.”

  “Yes!” Angie cried, giving Connie a thumbs-up. “It began to pop, and this is the result.”

  Paavo frowned. “If that’s the case, where’s the popcorn now?”

  “I was hungry,” Earl said. “Sorry, boss, but I t’ink I ate da evidence.”

  Paavo looked from one to the other, then said simply, “Let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

  A charred and still smoking green hat popped up from behind a cabinet in one corner and a quaking voice called out, “May I please go home now?”

  Chapter 33

  Exhausted, Connie entered her apartment, kicked off her shoes, and flopped onto the sofa. The insurance claim on her shop had been approved, and for the past week she’d been picking out paint colors and wallpaper, and had gone on a buying spree for figurines and knickknacks, plus a line of more upscale home decorations—brass and pewter and pottery pieces, unique tea, coffee, and chocolate sets, rustic crockery—things Angie had convinced her to buy, the kind of merchandise shoppers couldn’t find at Macy’s home store. It was fun and filled her with new enthusiasm for her business.

  She flipped through her mail and stopped at a letter from Zakarian Jewelers. Inside was a check for $10,000 in reward money. Her heart nearly stopped at the sum.

  She and Angie had retrieved her porcelain-face doll from a pawnshop with the ticket found at Veronica’s. At first, they were puzzled, but soon realized what the doll had been used for. Angie handed Connie the doll, saying it was hers to do with as she wished, and then left.

  A half million dollars’ worth of diamonds lay hidden in the
doll’s stuffing. Connie could have tried to smuggle them out of the country, fenced them, or turned them in. Her choice.

  Her life.

  Angie was giving her the chance to do with it as she wanted, but she’d seen firsthand what wrong choices could do to a man, or a woman. She’d turned them in, and then offered to split the reward, if any, with Angie.

  Angie refused any part of it, only saying she was glad for the choice Connie had made.

  Check in hand, Connie brewed a cup of tea, glancing again and again at the tidy sum.

  After all the trouble she’d had, it was only right to do something special with at least a small part of the money. But what?

  This whole mess had started with a blind date, a date who’d stiffed her. Maybe she could create a dream date for herself. One so hot it sizzled.

  Carmel was one of her favorite places. What about a date there? Romantic images filled her head of a helicopter ride down the Pacific coast to Carmel, dining at the very best restaurant, dancing at the most fun nightspots, a helicopter ride back to the city, and then breakfast at dawn at the top of the Fairmont. Yes! She could really get into this.

  Her dream bubble burst. Who would she take?

  Girlfriends were out for something like that, fun though it would be to go with Angie, or even Helen Melinger, whose latest motorcycle-riding companion bore a striking resemblance to one of the inspectors Paavo worked with. What was with that?

  Anyway, Helen wasn’t much fun, and Angie was too busy trying to convince Paavo to take the Corvette she wanted to give him. So far, he was stubbornly refusing.

  For something this cool, Connie needed a male friend.

  If she took Stan, she’d have to shoot herself.

  Max was a possibility. The other day, she’d run into him on the street near Wings. The money Veronica had embezzled had been recovered and used to settle claims from his investors and insurance company, with some left over for his own losses. He seemed to be well on the way to regaining some of the old fire that had made him one of the top financial advisors. He acted as if he wanted to talk to her, but she was going to meet Dennis for dinner and couldn’t take the time.

  Which brought her to Dennis. His career was on the rocks, and he was going to have to find out what he was all about after a lifetime of having had it—in many ways—too easy. He needed to learn about right, wrong, and consequences, and how lucky he was that Max hadn’t pressed charges against him for conspiring with Veronica, and that there was no proof he’d profited from Wallace Jones’s counterfeit autographs.

  He was thinking about opening a video-game shop, something that would appeal to major gamers and technophiles like himself, as well as first-time Nintendo buyers. It was work he’d enjoy, and, she was sure, could make a go of.

  And of course there was Kevin. After learning all she’d been through, he’d begun calling her regularly. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d been clean for over a year, which was a record for him. The last time he’d called, they’d talked for over an hour without getting angry or uttering a single swear word. A record for them.

  What to do?

  She decided to sleep on it, and when she awoke the next morning, she had her answer. When she thought of the way all this had started, it wasn’t about a blind date. The date had come later.

  She got into her car, glad she’d have another week before her shop would reopen. After a drive across town, she pulled into a parking lot and went into a city building. The doors had just opened to the public.

  She filled out the necessary forms, waited in line, and when it was her turn, went up to a clerk, her heart pounding at what she was about to do.

  “I’d like to adopt a dog,” she said. “I live alone, with a goldfish.” She forged ahead, her words a torrent. “I’d like a female. She doesn’t need any fancy pedigree, just a mutt is fine. I don’t want one that’s big, and not too little, and not a puppy. A dog with a few years on her, some maturity, a little experience in the ways of the world, so to speak. One that doesn’t want or need much exercise. A walk a few blocks each day, and one who doesn’t mind hanging around a shop with a small backyard while her owner works. Just a nice companion.”

  The woman studied Connie’s face. “Maybe a dog who’s known love, but has had some disappointments—I mean, misfortune—and now hopes to settle down in a quiet but warm and loving home.”

  Connie brightened. “Exactly.”

  “Come this way.”

  Nervously, Connie followed her to a small room. About ten minutes later, the woman led in a medium-sized dog that resembled a cream-colored dustmop. Its stumpy tail wagged, and, peering at her through silky hair, its enormous dark brown eyes melted Connie’s heart.

  “Her owner was an elderly woman who died recently. She’s been here a month already, but few people seem to want an older dog, especially a mixed breed. She’s five years old, well trained, well behaved, quiet, and loving.”

  Connie knelt down to play with her a bit, then lifted her onto her lap. “She seems perfect. What’s her name?”

  “Oddly, she was named after a woman of ill repute in the Old West called ‘Diamond Lil’—she’s called ‘Lily.’”

  Diamond? Connie laughed. Definitely perfect. She looked the dog in the eye. “Lily, my girl, it’s you and me, now.”

  Lily gazed up adoringly, and happiness filled Connie head to toe.

  How great was that?

  From the Kitchen of Angelina Amalfi

  ANGIE’S ALMOND PRALINE MERINGUE LAYER CAKE—LE SUCCÈS

  ALMOND PRALINE

  ½ cup blanched almonds

  ½ cup sugar

  3 tablespoons water

  To make the praline, spread almonds on baking sheet and roast at 350 degrees for 10–15 minutes, until brown. Stir several times. Combine sugar and water and set over medium-high heat. Stir occasionally as liquid boils and turns thick. When sugar is caramel brown, remove from heat, add almonds, mix, and turn onto lightly oiled tray. When cold and hard (about 20 minutes), break up and grind in electric blender.

  MERINGUE

  1–2 tablespoons soft butter

  ¼ cup flour

  6 oz. ground blanched almonds

  1 cup sugar

  1½ tablespoons cornstarch

  6 egg whites

  1/8 teaspoon salt

  ¼ teaspoon cream of tartar

  3 tablespoons sugar

  1½ teaspoons vanilla extract

  1/8 teaspoon almond extract

  Preheat oven to 250 degrees. Rub butter over two large baking sheets, then dust with flour. Using an 8-inch cake pan or pot lid, make three 8-inch rings on sheets by placing the pan on the sheet and marking around edges with tip of rubber spatula. Set aside.

  Mix together almonds, sugar, and cornstarch. Set aside.

  Beat egg whites until foamy. Add salt and cream of tartar and beat to soft peaks. Add sugar, vanilla, and almond extract and continue to beat until egg whites form stiff peaks.

  Using about ¼ of the almond-sugar mixture at a time, rapidly fold into egg whites, deflating eggs as little as possible.

  Use pastry bag or spatula to place egg mixture into areas marked on baking sheets. Bake about 30–40 minutes at 250 degrees. They will not rise, but will lightly brown and are done when they can be easily pushed loose from baking surface.

  BUTTER CREAM AND CHOCOLATE FROSTING

  1 cup sugar

  6 egg yolks

  3/2 cup hot milk

  12 oz. (3 cubes) unsalted butter

  1 teaspoon vanilla extract

  3 tablespoons kirsch (or dark rum or strong coffee)

  2 oz. unsweetened baking chocolate, melted

  ½ cup almond praline (from recipe above)

  In heavy saucepan, beat sugar and egg yolks until they are a thick, pale yellow. Gradually stir in hot milk and set over medium heat. Stir 4–5 minutes until thick enough to coat spoon but do not allow to a simmer. Remove from heat. Quickly add butter a little at a time, stirring to
melt and absorb. Last, mix in vanilla and kirsch.

  Remove a quarter of the mixture. Add chocolate to it and set aside.

  Add almond praline to the remaining (¾) butter cream.

  Putting it all together:

  Build cake by placing one meringue on a cake rack. Cover with 1/3 of butter cream. Add second meringue and spread ½ of remaining butter cream on it. Cover with final meringue. Spread remaining butter cream over sides of cake. Spread chocolate frosting over top of cake.

  Optional: Press ground almonds all around sides of cake.

  PAAVO’S KARELIAN HOT POT

  1 lb. boneless beef chuck, cubed

  1 lb. boneless pork, cubed

  1 lb. boneless lamb, cubed

  2–3 large white onions, sliced

  1½ teaspoons salt

  White pepper to taste

  2 tablespoons allspice

  Butter

  Lightly brown the meat, a little at a time, in butter. Sauté the onions.

  Using a casserole, layer the meat, onion, salt, pepper, and allspice.

  Add enough water to almost cover the meat. Place a tight cover on top. Bake in a 325-degree oven for 2½–3 hours or until meat is tender. (If too much water remains in the pot—it should be almost dry—cook for 10 minutes or so at the end with the lid off.)

  Serve spooned over hot mashed potatoes or cooked wild rice.

  ANGIE’S TUSCAN BREAD SOUP

  Tuscan bread soup, or “ribollita” (reboiled), is made with leftover minestrone.

  DAY 1, MAKE A THICK MINESTRONE

  4 oz. pancetta (or bacon), diced

  1/3 cup olive oil

  1 white onion, diced

  3 garlic cloves, minced

  4 red potatoes, diced

  3 carrots, diced

  2 celery ribs, diced

  2 zucchini, diced

  3 cups fresh or canned tomatoes, diced

  20 sprigs parsley, leaves only, chopped

  ¼–½ teaspoon crushed red pepper (to taste)

  ¼ teaspoon dried oregano

  2 bay leaves, broken in half