The Da Vinci Cook: An Angie Amalfi Mystery
Page 29
Between her latest “sure-fire” foray into the food industry—video restaurant reviews—and her concern over Paavo’s depressed state, Angie’s plate is full to overflowing. Paavo has never come to terms with the fact that his mother abandoned him when he was four, leaving behind only a mysterious present. But when the token disappears in TO CATCH A COOK, Angie discovers a lethal goulash of intrigue, betrayal, and mayhem that may spell disaster for her and Paavo.
The bedroom had also been torn apart and the mattress slashed. This was far, far more frightening than what had happened to her own apartment. There was anger here, perhaps hatred.
“What is going on?” she cried. “Why would anyone destroy your things?”
“It looks like a search, followed by frustration.”
As she wandered through the little house, she realized he was right. It wasn’t random destruction as she had first thought, but where the search of her apartment had appeared slow and meticulous, here it was hurried and frenzied.
“Hercules!” he called. “Herc? Come on, boy, are you all right?”
For once Angie’s newest culinary venture, “Comical Cakes,” seems to be a roaring success! But in BELL, COOK, AND CANDLE, there’s nothing funny about her boyfriend Paavo’s latest case—a series of baffling murders that may be rooted in satanic ritual. And it gets harder to focus on pastry alone when strange “accidents” and desecrations to her baked creations begin occurring with frightening regularity—leaving Angie to wonder whether she may end up as devil’s food of a different kind.
Angie was beside herself. She’d been called to go to a house to discuss baking cakes for a party of twenty, and yet no one was there when she arrived. This was the second time that had happened to her. Was someone playing tricks, or were people really so careless as to make appointments and then not keep them?
She really didn’t have time for this. But at least she was getting smart. She’d brought a cake with her that had to be delivered to a horse’s birthday party not far from her appointment. She never thought she’d be baking cakes for a horse, but Heidi was being boarded some forty miles outside the city, and the owner visited her on weekends only. That was why the owner wanted a Comical Cake of the mare.
Angie couldn’t imagine eating something that looked like a beloved pet or animal. She was meeting real ding-a-lings in this line of work.
Still muttering to herself about the thoughtlessness of the public, she got into her new car. A vaguely familiar yet disquieting smell hit her. A stain smeared the bottom of the cake box. She peered closer. The smell was stronger, and the bottom of the box was wet.
She opened the driver’s side door, ready to jump out of the car as her hand slowly reached for the box top. Thoughts of flies and toads pounded her. What now?
She flipped back the lid and shrank away from it.
Nothing moved. Nothing jumped out.
Poor Heidi was now a bright-red color, but it wasn’t frosting. The familiar smell was blood, and it had been poured on her cake. Shifting the box, she saw that it had seeped through onto the leather seat and was dripping to the floor mat.
In IF COOKS COULD KILL, Angie Amalfi’s culinary adventures always seem to fall flat, so now she’s decided to cook up something different: love. But her earnest attempts at matchmaking don’t go so well—her friend Connie is stood up by a no-show jock. Now Connie’s fallen for a tarnished loner, and soon finds herself in the middle of a murder investigation. Angie’s determined to find the real killer, but when the trail leads to the kitchen of her favorite restaurant, she fears she’s about to discover a family recipe that dishes out disaster . . . and murder!
“Here’s some salad and bread, Miss Connie,” Earl said. “I don’t t’ink you need to starve just ’cause some jerkoff is late showin’ up for your date.”
“Thanks, Earl,” she murmured. “But right now, I’m not even hungry.” Okay, it was a lie, but she was too humiliated to eat.
“It’s on da house.” He left a green salad with Roquefort dressing, Connie’s favorite, and walked away. The aroma of the French bread wafted up to her. She touched it. Warm. Firm crust. Soft center. Perfect for spreading butter, which, unfortunately, was loaded with empty, straight-to-the-hips calories . . .
She checked her watch again: seven-thirty. Why bother with a guy who couldn’t tell time? She kicked off her shoes and took a big bite of buttered, crusty bread. Heaven!
Just then, like magic, the restaurant’s front door opened and a man entered, alone. Connie’s breath caught, causing her to nearly choke on the bread. She swallowed it in a scarcely chewed lump.
It quickly became obvious that the man who walked in was no football player.
Angie hates to leave the side of her hunky fiancé, Paavo, but in TWO COOKS A-KILLING, she gets an offer she can’t refuse. She’ll be preparing the banquet for her favorite soap opera’s reunion special, on the estate where the show was originally filmed! But when a corpse turns up in the mansion’s cellar, and Angie starts snooping around to investigate a past on-set death, she discovers that real-life events may be even more theatrical than the soap’s on-screen drama.
Now the cast was being reassembled for a ten-year reunion show, a Christmas reunion, and she, Angelina Rosaria Maria Amalfi, had been asked to be a part of it.
A major part, if she said so herself. She was so anxious to get to Eagle Crest, it was all she could do to stick to the speed limit.
Her father had phoned the day before. He’d gotten a call from his old friend Dr. Waterfield: the woman who was to prepare the important centerpiece meal of the show had broken her leg. Dr. Waterfield wanted to know if Angie could handle it.
Could she ever!
Against her instinct, Angie agrees to let her control-freak mother plan her engagement party—she’s just too busy to do it herself. And in COURTING DISASTER, Angie’s even more swamped when murder enters the picture. Now she must follow the trail of a mysterious pregnant kitchen helper at a nearby Greek eatery—a woman who her friendly neighbor Stan is infatuated with. And when Angie gets a little too close to the action, it looks like her fiancé Paavo may end up celebrating solo, after the untimely d.o.a. of his hapless fiancée!
Stan headed for the water, enjoying the dark, chilled air that so well matched his mood. A number of boats were moored, all rocking slightly from the tide. His peaceful solitude was broken, however, by the sound of raised but muffled voices.
His waiter berated a woman who sat on a rough-hewn, backless wooden bench at the water’s edge. His face was hard, his expression intense, and she was shaking her head, not looking at him, but staring out at the water as if it hurt to hear his words. Her feet were propped up on a railroad tie. A hooded rain parka, the cheap kind that was basically a sheet of heavy green plastic worn by slipping it over the head, covered her hair. The way she sat scrunched on the bench, the parka draped her body like a tent.
The waiter bent close, grabbed her shoulder, and said something straight into her face. She turned her head away from him and the hood slipped down. The waiter then straightened and strode away. She reached out her hand toward him, but he didn’t turn back. She raised her chin, apparently struggling to hold her emotions in check.
Angie and Paavo have had enough familial input regarding their upcoming wedding to last a lifetime. So, in RED HOT MURDER, Angie leaps at the chance to spend some time with her fiancé in a sun-drenched Arizona town. But when a wealthy local is murdered, uncovering a hotbed of deadly town secrets, Angie’s getaway with her lover is starting to look more and more like her final meal.
Angie glanced toward the door, but Paavo was already down the walk near the SUV. “What other stories?”
Rheumy eyes met hers. “This place is called Ghost Hollow, you know.”
A chill rippled along her spine. “And I’ll bet you’re going to tell me why.”
“It’s because of the stagecoach.” Lionel folded skinny arms as he watched her, then continued without prompting. “Years back, a s
tagecoach and its passengers all disappeared. The coach was carrying a shitload—I mean—a lot of money. Cash. Local folks said their ghosts could be seen out here at night, near the caves, still searching for the lost stage and their money.”
“I see.” A slight quiver sounded in her voice. Not that she believed in ghosts, of course.
Praise for
JOANNE PENCE’S
ANGIE AMALFI MYSTERIES
“First-rate mystery.”
Romantic Times
“Pence’s tongue-in-cheek humor keeps us grinning.”
San Francisco Chronicle
“A rollicking good time . . . murder, mayhem, food, and fashion . . . Joanne Pence serves it all up.”
Butler County Post
“Joanne Pence just gets better and better.”
Mystery News
“A winner . . . Angie is a character unlike any other found in the genre.”
Santa Rosa Press Democrat
“[A] great series . . . [Pence] titillates the sense, provides a satisfying read.”
Crescent Blues Reviews
“If you love books by Diane Mott Davidson or Denise Dietz, you will love this series. It’s as refreshing as lemon sherbet and just as delicious.”
Under the Covers
Angie Amalfi Mysteries by
Joanne Pence
RED HOT MURDER
COURTING DISASTER
TWO COOKS A-KILLING
IF COOKS COULD KILL
BELL, COOK, AND CANDLE
TO CATCH A COOK
A COOK IN TIME
COOKS OVERBOARD
COOKS NIGHT OUT
COOKING MOST DEADLY
COOKING UP TROUBLE
TOO MANY COOKS
SOMETHING’S COOKING
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Excerpts copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 1998, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2002, 2003, 2003, 2004, 2006 by Joanne Pence
THE DA VINCI COOK Copyright © 2007 by Joanne Pence. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition DECEMBER 2011 ISBN: 9780062189325
ISBN: 978-0-06-075806-6
ISBN-10: 0-06-075806-6
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
About the Author
Joanne Pence was born and raised in San Francisco. A graduate of U.C. Berkeley with a master's degree in journalism, Joanne has taught school in Japan, written for magazines, and worked for the federal government. She now lives in Idaho with her family, which includes a multitude of pets.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
25 Ryde Road (P.O. Box 321)
Pymble, NSW 2073, Australia
www.harpercollins.com.au/ebooks
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
77-85 Fulham Palace Road
London, W6 8JB, UK
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
10 East 53rd Street
New York, NY 10022
http://www.harpercollins.com