Something's Cooking

by Joanne Pence

  She saw the revolver in his hand.

  “Don’t!” she screamed, panic overtaking her as she raised her free arm over her face, while trying desperately to break Preston’s hold. The roar of another car speeding into the tunnel filled the cavern. Crane’s eyes flickered with confusion, and he hesitated, unsure what was happening.

  The Austin Healey screeched to a halt beside Crane, and Paavo was out of the car in a moment, his gun pointed. “Drop it, Crane. Police.”

  Crane let his gun fall to the ground as soon as he heard the word police. “This must be a mistake, Officer, I haven’t done a thing,” he said, ready to say more until he recognized Paavo. Then he stopped talking.

  Paavo took a step toward him, glancing at Angie. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said to her. Then his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked again at her pale face and the unnatural way she was standing.

  Preston held her so tightly, she couldn’t move. Her eyes smarted from the pain. She prayed he’d run up the stairs away from here to escape and leave her and the rest of them alone. She waited, her every nerve attuned to Preston’s slightest move. She was afraid to cry out, afraid any sound might cause Preston to start shooting. Instead, she tried to give Paavo a warning with her eyes.

  Paavo was backing up, having recognized that something was very wrong, when Angie felt Preston make his move. As he opened the service door a crack wider, she realized the unarmed Crane was no threat to him, that it was Paavo he would be after.

  “Run!” she screamed, wrenching herself free from Preston’s grasp and stumbling, falling, as she ran toward Paavo. Preston’s shot rang out. Paavo dived to the floor—too late.

  Angie screamed as she saw the bullet hit him. She stood, unbelieving, the scream and the gunshot blast reverberated, through the tunnel, over and over.

  The force of the bullet spun Paavo so that he lay on his back, his eyes shut and his face deathly white as his shirt and jacket turned blood red.

  “No!” The anguished cry tore from her as she ran blindly to his side, dropped to her knees, and flung herself across him, her arms spread wide, desperately trying to shelter his body with her own, expecting, fearing, more shots from Preston’s gun.

  Behind her, she heard the sound of running footsteps, the revving of a car engine, the squeal of tires, and then more gunshots, shouts, and cries. She turned her head to see Preston shooting at Crane’s departing car, and the car swerving wildly as it made its way to the exit.

  Paavo’s gun was inches away, where it had dropped as he’d fallen. Her eyes darted from Preston to the gun. She crawled to it, picked it up, and then backed up so that her body was between Paavo and Jon Preston. She raised the gun, holding it firmly with both hands straight out in front of her.

  As Crane’s car disappeared from the tunnel, Preston turned around slowly, his compressed lips thin and white, his eyes red with insane fury. He sneered at her holding the gun, kneeling on the ground beside the fallen policeman. Then a smile spread across his face. “You wouldn’t have the nerve.” He smirked as he raised his gun to take careful aim at Angie.

  Angie hesitated but a moment and then squeezed the trigger. The recoil snapped through her body as a deafening roar sounded and the smell of gunpowder filled the air. Preston staggered, looking shocked. Time stopped. She watched his expression.

  He fell forward, his gun clanging loudly against the pavement. Angie sank back on her heels, unable to move. She was vaguely aware of the screech of car tires, of white, garish lights from headlamps filling the tunnel, of drivers huddled on the ground out of the lines of fire. Those people had cried out and screamed as the bullets flew, but now they fell silent.

  She dropped the gun and turned again to Paavo. She felt more scared than ever before in her life. He was still breathing; he was alive. Slipping one arm under his head, she cradled it as tears fell from her eyes. “Get an ambulance, somebody, please!” she cried. No one moved.

  The flow of blood was incredible. Her free hand went to Paavo’s chest, trying to stop it, but she couldn’t. “Help me! Somebody!” Her cries echoed.

  His eyelids flickered open briefly at her touch. “Angie,” he whispered, “couldn’t find you…couldn’t….”

  “Don’t talk,” she said, her words forced past the lump in her throat as police sirens filled the tunnel.

  “Go,” he said. “I don’t want you to…to remember this….”

  “No,” she replied. He had shut his eyes again. She felt as if her heart had stopped. “Paavo!” she sobbed as two policemen hurried to him.

  They worked quickly, letting her remain at his side as they applied what aid they could.

  She looked at his blood on her hands. The spiraling red lights of the police car flashed every second at her and turned the entire tunnel a garish, blood-red color. It was a nightmare, but this one she could not awaken from….

  Desperation filled her, and her own helplessness made her frantic. “Help him!” she cried to the other policemen. “Please, help him.”

  After what seemed an eternity, an ambulance arrived and he was lifted into it. Angie climbed in beside him.

  31

  Paavo was rushed into the operating room. Angie ran by his side until the nurses stopped her from going farther.

  They showed her to the waiting room, where she remained alone, no one approaching her until Chief Hollins arrived. He was followed by Inspector Calderon, who took her statement.

  An hour later, Officer Crossen entered the hospital with Aulis Kokkonen, who looked dazed. When he saw Angie, recognition and gratitude filled his face. He walked to her side and took both her hands in his. “I heard you helped my boy,” he said.

  “He helped me.” She choked on the words as she spoke, tears falling. “He saved my life.”

  Kokkonen only nodded.

  A lifetime seemed to pass before a doctor entered the room to tell Kokkonen and Hollins that Inspector Smith was out of surgery and in intensive care. The bullet had missed his heart, but it had done some damage to one lung, and a considerable amount of damage to the area below his left shoulder. He had lost a lot of blood. His condition was critical.

  The group breathed a collective sigh of relief that he had survived the surgery. Angie looked at the faces of the men who had come to wait and realized that Paavo was more than a fellow officer to them.

  Inspector Calderon was actually rather gentle as he told her that Preston was dead and Crane mildly wounded in the arm. The gunshot had caused Crane to lose control of his car just outside the tunnel, where he had been quickly apprehended.

  Angie and Calderon spoke a long time about Preston. Calderon seemed worried about her reaction to the news of his death, and she understood why—but Calderon hadn’t been in that tunnel. She had no regrets over what she did, only regrets that she had had no other choice. If she had not stopped Preston, he would have killed her and Paavo. Someone else would have had to go after him, and possibly that life would have been lost. She had never understood Paavo, Matt, and all the others as well as she had at that moment in the tunnel when she picked up the gun.

  Calderon left, and Chief Hollins sat beside her. He complained that his men never listened to him anymore. He had told Paavo to take a vacation, and instead he had nearly gotten himself killed. Hollins declared he should go in and finish the job, and then he had a little trouble with his nose and eyes, and fumbled with his handkerchief a bit before walking away.

  The two officers who had retrieved Angie’s car from the Shopper’s parking lot talked with her awhile, and then they, too, left her to join the other policemen in the room.

  Finally Angie sat alone, waiting.

  The hospital slowly filled with the light of morning, but no word was forthcoming from the doctors.

  Aulis Kokkonen took her arm, slowly leading her into the corridor, away from the others.

  “Young lady.” He patted one of her hands, his bright turquoise eyes looking at her deeply, as if searching her heart. “I must
speak with you. My boy told me the two of you are planning to go your separate ways.”

  She was surprised that Paavo would have spoken to Aulis about her.

  He continued. “If this is what you want, then do it now. Don’t see Paavo again. If…if he survives, then the break will have been made cleanly. That will be best for Paavo’s sake. He expects it…. Now, go home and rest. You are exhausted. We will telephone you when there is news.”

  He patted her hand again and walked away.

  She stood there, watching him go, the words he had spoken echoing in her ears.

  She walked blindly through the hospital corridors. Paavo thought she was going back to her old way of life, back to her old friends, her family, Stanfield, and the others. He expected it of her, just as she expected he’d be glad to be rid of her.

  Aulis was telling her to decide. If she wanted to leave, then do it now. Aulis said for Paavo’s sake, it would be the best time. For Paavo’s sake….

  Angie reached her car, not quite sure how she found it. A chilling breeze swept the air, and she shielded her eyes as she looked at the bright morning sky. It was a typical November morning. Pulling her jacket close about her, she got into the car and drove to Mission Dolores.

  As she entered the nave of the church, all was quiet. The comforting smell of incense filled the air. A couple of old women dressed in black were sitting in the pews, softly praying. Angie placed her fingertips in the holy water to cross herself, then walked to the statue of Mary.

  “I promised I’d be back,” she whispered. She put some money into the collection box and lit five candles for Paavo, then looked up at the serene face of the statue.

  She shut her eyes a moment, swaying slightly, and then sank to her knees on the step, tightly gripping the railing as she bowed her head in prayer.

  After the church, she stopped by his house to see if everything was all right and to feed Hercules. She left as soon as she could, unable to bear the desolation she felt as she looked around the house at Paavo’s things.

  When she returned to her apartment, the quiet seemed abnormal. No Joey or Rico to clutter up her life. The sofa looked strangely empty. It’s funny, the things one can become accustomed to, she thought.

  A telephone call to the hospital told her Paavo was still unconscious. She knew gunshot wounds of this type were a terrible blow to the body and could bring death from shock or infection as well as from the bodily damage done by the bullet. It frightened her.

  She wandered into the den, determined to get her mind off the hospital. She couldn’t. There was nowhere she could go to forget Paavo…nowhere far enough away….

  In the bedroom, it was worse. On the nightstand, in a small vase, was the rose Paavo had given her the night of Matt’s death. She remembered his tears for his friend, and now…The petals had withered, and all but a few lay on the tabletop. She picked them up and placed them, one by one, in the palm of her hand. She sat down on the bed, and her gaze fell to her dress, red with blood.

  About an hour later, the telephone rang. Her heart nearly stopped, afraid of what she might hear. She picked up the receiver.

  “Miss Amalfi? Calderon.”

  “Yes?”

  “I thought you’d want to know. He regained consciousness a little while ago. The doctors say the prognosis is good.”

  “Thank God,” she whispered.

  Exhausted, unable to do or feel anything more, she lay back on the bed covers and in a short time was granted the forgetfulness of sleep.

  32

  It was evening when she returned to the hospital. The waiting room was empty, except for Officer Crossen, who rose and approached her as she entered.

  “Looks like he’s going to be okay. He awoke a few hours ago. Mr. Kokkonen is sitting with him now.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “That’s what the doctor said.”

  Heaving a sigh of relief, she sat on a lounge chair.

  “Say, Crane’s singing like a bird,” Crossen said. “He wants to get out of this by laying the whole thing on Preston.”

  Angie looked up at Crossen. She had almost forgotten about Crane.

  “Crane said Preston had connections with a gun supplier, and Crane knew some groups wanting to buy them. He used your recipes to contact them and set up the drop. Trouble was, Preston got nervous and decided to do away with anyone who could trace the gun smuggling to him—Crane, you, and Sammy Blade. After Blade’s murder and the bomb attack on you, Crane went into hiding.”

  Angie didn’t want to hear about it any more. “Are you sure Paavo, I mean, Inspector Smith, will be all right?” she asked again.

  Crossen smiled at her insistent question. “He won’t be running up and down dark tunnels for a while. And he’ll probably get another commendation. These gun smugglers have been wanted by the Feds for some time now. Finding them is a real coup. But other than that, and a stiff shoulder on foggy San Francisco nights, it seems he’ll be okay.”

  Angie sighed with relief and ran her fingers through her hair in what she immediately recognized as a very Paavo kind of gesture.

  Crossen coughed self-consciously. “The Inspector was awake for a while. A few of us stuck our heads in to say hello.”

  “You mean he can have visitors?” She hadn’t even asked, not expecting to be allowed to see him.

  “Only for a minute. Except Mr. Kokkonen—he’s been there for hours.”

  “I see.” Her gaze drifted to the hallway that led to Paavo’s room.

  “When Mr. Kokkonen comes out, I’ll take him home. He’s been here all day.”

  She sat, unsure what to do. She didn’t want to interrupt Aulis, and had no idea how he’d react to seeing her here—or Paavo’s reaction, for that matter. She had never been one to feel intimidated by any other person, but then again, she had never cared so much about another person either. She was intimidated now. Maybe she should just go home.

  Crossen caught her eye. He seemed about to say something, but he turned away and began to pace the floor.

  Finally, Crossen turned toward her.

  “Miss Amalfi, I’ve been in there with the inspector a few times this afternoon, sort of keeping an eye on the old man, you know. I’ve watched people go in that room to visit. Each time the door opened the inspector would perk up, see who it was, then sort of sink back into the bed. It was as if whoever he was hoping to see never showed up.”

  Her brows knitted as he spoke. “I hope I’m not being presumptions, ma’am,” he continued, “but I think seeing you will do him a lot more good than seeing all the rest of us put together.”

  She felt her heart do handsprings. “Do you, Officer Crossen?”

  “I do, ma’am.”

  She stood, biting her bottom lip as she smoothed her jacket. She felt as if a thousand butterflies had taken flight in the pit of her stomach.

  She walked down the long hallway to the door and then stopped. What if Crossen was wrong? What if she was wrong and misunderstood the whole situation? What if Paavo really didn’t want to see her again?

  There was only one way to find out.

  She pushed the door open. The first one she saw was Aulis, his face sad and worried. When he saw her, he looked puzzled, and then he smiled and nodded, slowly standing and walking toward the door. As he passed her, he placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, his eyes sparkling. Quietly, he left the room.

  Paavo’s eyes were shut. His skin was colorless, except for the dark areas below his eyes. His arm, shoulder, and chest were covered with bandages, and he was hooked up to a tangle of tubes. She gasped, foolishly not expecting what she saw. They lied! she thought. They told me he was all right, but he isn’t.

  She slowly approached the bed. Paavo opened his eyes. He blinked in confusion for a moment and then seemed to remember all too well where he was and why he felt so bad. He winced and turned his head. His eyes caught hers.

  His wide, blue, translucent eyes had the same effect on her as ever. Her emo
tions were so full she thought she’d burst. Unsure as to what she should do, she stood staring into them, thinking she’d never seen anything so beautiful. Until he smiled.

  The smile washed over her, flooding her with relief. In his gaze she saw love, desire, anticipation, and perhaps, a little admiration. Her own eyes grew misty as she took a step toward him, wanting to speak—but, somehow, no words seemed adequate. She, who always had so much to say, stood mute, overwhelmed by her love for him and her relief that he would really be all right.

  “Little Angel,” he whispered. “I thought you’d gone.”

  “Never.” She blinked hard, trying to keep back the tears that threatened.

  “Never…. That’s a long time, Angie.”

  “And still not long enough,” she said softly.

  He looked at her as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “It’s all wrong for us.”

  “I can’t leave you, Paavo. I tried to listen to you—but I can’t go. I love you.” Her voice caught.

  He remained silent a moment. “Angie,” he said finally, “come over here.”

  She moved to his side.

  A grin played on his lips and he cocked one eyebrow. “That’s the first time you’ve done what I’ve asked without an argument.”

  She smiled. She had to put her hands to her eyes to wipe her tears. “That’s only because you’ve always asked the wrong thing.”

  “Maybe,” he whispered, “maybe when I get out of here I’ll be able to ask the right questions….”

  Her heart pounded. His words were spoken as if they were a joke, but his eyes were deadly serious as he studied her reaction. Her fingers intertwined with his. “I’ll be waiting, Inspector Smith.”

  His features relaxed into a smile as he let out the breath he had been holding, and then his hand tightened on hers. “Miss Amalfi, I do love you.”