Cook's Night Out (20 page)

She explained that Kellogg and Rosenberg had shown up like a pair of knights in shining armor, ready to clean up the world. Their sense of justice and honor made them especially horrified at what they saw as a rogue, crooked cop. They didn't say anything to others unless asked, but what they said then—and the way they looked when Paavo's name was mentioned—was enough to add a ton of coal to the hell Paavo's life had become.

“If nothing else, we can bring Klaw in for questioning on this if we don't learn what he's really up to,” Paavo said. “Hit him with criminal conspiracy, bribery—if we have to, we can stretch it to obstruction of justice.”

“It'll slow him down,” Yosh said. “And that's what we want until we can hit him with a bigger crime—like murder.”

“Tomorrow night, at about eleven, show up at the auction,” Paavo said. “As soon as it's over, we'll nail him.”

“You're on, partner,” Yosh said.

“Good.” Now he had another reason to make sure Angie stayed well away.

The phone rang.

He picked it up. “Smith here.”

“Hey, man. Get over here quick. I'm hurt bad…”

“Snake?”

The phone went dead.

Fifteen minutes later Paavo
was in the alley. He lit a cigarette and waited.

Snake carried a cell phone, so he could have called from almost anywhere. He wouldn't have called Paavo, though, if he didn't think Paavo could find him easily and quickly.

Paavo wasn't wearing his black outfit, but instead wore a white shirt, tie, gray plaid sports jacket, and gray slacks. It wasn't a smart way to dress around here. This was the kind of neighborhood where people got nervous seeing someone hanging around who didn't belong. And for the one doing the hanging, it could get dangerous fast.

A dark figure filled the mouth of the alley. Paavo put his hand to his revolver, just to feel its presence, nothing more. The stranger began to walk toward him. He stepped on his cigarette and moved silently back, deeper into the alley. The man might be a friend of Snake. Or not.

Paavo braced himself, ready for the slightest movement.

“What you doing here?” The tough guy, now that Paavo could see him up close, looked about sixteen. Not even old enough to shave.

“Having a cigarette.” It might have been his no-nonsense tone, or the fact that he didn't back off or cower, or simply one street-smart guy meeting another, but the kid held out his hands and backed up.

“Hey, man, just asking. No sweat, okay?” He turned and ran out of the alley.

Paavo realized he was wasting time standing around waiting. He had to try to find Snake Belly.

Since the Snake had always shown up from the back of the alley, that was the place to begin the search. Five buildings had back doors that opened onto the deadend alleyway. He tried the doors, but all were locked, as he would have expected them to be. A couple of the buildings looked as though they might have some small apartments or rooms in them.

He walked out of the alley and around the block, checking out the fronts of the buildings, trying to figure which might back onto the alley and, of those, which looked most likely to be a place Snake Belly might wait for him to show up. He stopped at an empty warehouse. The windows had been broken; some were boarded up, some not. He tried the side door. It was locked, so he stuck his arm through the broken window beside the door, found the inside doorknob, and turned. The door opened with a high-pitched squeal of its hinges. He stopped, listening, and was met with silence.

Cautiously, he crept inside.

With gun in one hand, high-powered pocket flashlight in the other, he walked, footsteps from his leathersoled Florsheims echoing through the building. The warehouse was thick with age-old dust. Spiderwebs
hung from the ceiling and covered stacks of boxes long left behind.

Some sixth sense, some cop instinct, made him continue on, deeper into the warehouse. He'd gone only a few steps when he saw the reason he'd come here. Snake Belly lay facedown on the floor, blood spilling from his mouth.

“Damn.” Paavo holstered his gun and knelt, touching Snake's neck, feeling for a pulse. It was there but weak. Snake Belly's face was battered, his eyes swollen shut, his cheeks raw. His clothes were torn, as if he'd been in a fight for his life. In his hand was his cell phone.

Paavo was reaching over to pick up the phone when he heard a noise behind him. He looked up. Four men rushed out from behind some nearby boxes. He landed an elbow in the groin of the first man before the second one jumped him, knocking him backward. The cell phone skittered across the concrete floor. All four men were on him before he could reach for the gun in his shoulder holster.

“Gun!” one man shouted. They fought hard to pin him down.

He knocked one man out with an uppercut to the jaw and almost broke free, but the others stopped him. Big and powerful, they grabbed his arms, taking his gun, two holding him while the third man pounded him mercilessly, using his ribs and stomach like a punching bag.

When they let go of him, he dropped to the floor, doubled over with pain, on his hands and knees looking down at his own blood and vomit.

“We knew you'd show up here, Smith.” One of the attackers had pulled a handgun from his pocket. “We had a little pool going on how long it'd take you to find us. You were fast. I won.”

He lashed out one more time, trying to stand, desperate to break free. But his legs, his body, felt too weak, too torn apart to move. Almost immediately, the man with the gun moved closer.

Everything seemed to go into slow motion. He felt sick at heart, not scared, but only infinitely sad that it might end here in an old warehouse, before he'd had a chance to settle his score with Klaw, and before he'd had a chance to tell Angie all she meant to him. That was the worst part. Leaving Angie.

“No,” Paavo whispered.

Then everything went black.

 

Angie couldn't stand it any longer. It was nearly eleven at night. Where was Paavo?

She'd left the mission that afternoon filled with news for him, anxious to see him.

With the auction the following night, she was going to be busy, starting with supervising the move of her centerpiece at nine the next morning. She hadn't even had a chance to ask Paavo if he'd be going to the auction with her. Since he was so irritated at her bag lady plan—though why
he
should be irritated when
she
was the one shot at was a mystery—their conversation had consisted of her talking to his answering machine and him talking to hers.

She'd been sure Paavo would show up at her apartment eventually, but the night had grown late without his even calling her. Finally, at eleven o'clock she called Homicide. Laurie, the night dispatcher, was already on duty.

“This is Angie Amalfi. I'm trying to locate Inspector Smith. Is he still working?”

“I'm not sure, Angie. I just came on an hour ago. Let's see.” Angie was put on hold. “He's not at his
desk, but there was a homicide this afternoon and he got called to it. He might still be working on it.”

“I see. Thanks.” She hung up the phone.

A homicide. It was rare that an inspector who wasn't on call was given a homicide to investigate, but it was known to happen, particularly when the on-call team was overwhelmed with a rash of murders. Knowing Paavo, he'd work on this new homicide all night, get a couple hours' sleep around dawn, then get up and go back to work again.

It could be days before she'd see him. So much for their big night together.

But if she could reach him, maybe she could convince him to spend at least an hour or two at the auction. If nothing else, to eat dinner. Although billed as hors d'oeuvres, the food would be good and plentiful enough to make a satisfying meal. And she'd love to have him see her angelina. She was quite proud of it.

More than that, though, she was worried about him. She wanted to see him, talk to him about the constant craziness going on at his job, about Klaw. She didn't want him to have to deal with all that alone. He was used to being alone—she understood that—but she wanted
him
to understand that he didn't need to be anymore.

She had his key, just as he had hers, to use in case of emergency. Although they didn't feel they should barge into each other's homes unannounced, it felt good to have exchanged keys. Maybe it was only a quasi commitment, but it was a commitment nonetheless.

Looking at the key reminded her of how much she had wanted to talk to him about their plans for the future. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Reverend Hodge had told her she needed patience about their future, that someday, this time of waiting and anxiety would seem to have gone by quick as a wink. If that was the case, she must have the world's slowest eyelids.

Enough moping around. She would simply go to his house and wait for him there. Surely, he'd come home eventually. On the off chance he might still stop by her apartment on his way home, she wrote a note:

There
, she thought. That should make her feelings clear enough. Only a two-by-four would be less subtle.

When she arrived, Paavo's bungalow was dark and his car wasn't parked in the usual spot out in front. He didn't have a driveway or a garage since the house had been built before cars were invented. She locked the Ferrari and went inside.

The house was empty. Not even Hercules was there. Aimlessly walking around, she ran her finger over the back of the sofa that faced the fireplace and perused the book he'd been reading, the latest Clancy. The silence was eerie.

Opening the front door, she stepped out into the night fog that had settled onto the streets, making the street lamps indistinct. She called several times for the cat, even got a can of 9-Lives and a can opener and rattled the two together—a combination usually guaranteed to bring him racing home. But not tonight.

“Just be safe, Hercules,” she whispered into the darkness. “You and Paavo both.”

Angie switched on the radio
as soon as she woke up the next morning. It was seven
A.M.
, time for the hourly news. She'd sat up until nearly three waiting for Paavo. Finally, she'd put on a pair of his pajamas and gone to bed, hoping he'd come in and be pleasantly surprised to find her there.

Instead, when she awoke, Hercules was curled up at her feet, but Paavo hadn't come home. She'd grown used to his working all night when it was his week for being on call. Most homicides seemed to occur in the night and evening hours. But he should have gotten a little sleep, at least. She could imagine him trying to sleep with his head on his desk instead of being here with her.

The best-laid plans
, she thought with a sigh.

Since the local radio news had no reports of accidents or shoot-outs involving the police, she was able to breathe a bit easier. After making some coffee, she sat in the easy chair and phoned Homicide again. Laurie
was still there. She'd be going off duty at eight, when the day shift took over. “This is Angie again. Has Paavo come in yet?”

“He hasn't checked in with me if he is. Let me buzz Homicide.”

In a while she came back on the line. “Seems no one's around yet. Give them another half hour or so.”

“Thanks.” She hung up. She had tried to sound cheerful and carefree talking to Laurie, but right now she could scarcely breathe. Her fingers gripped the arm of her chair so tightly they ached.
It's foolish to get so worked up. He's all right. Out investigating. That's what inspectors do. Investigate
.

She took a quick shower, put on yesterday's clothes, and hurried home to change and get ready for the men who would deliver her centerpiece.

About eight-thirty, back in her own apartment, she called Homicide again. This time she got Yosh.

“Hey, there, Angie, how ya doin'?” He sounded boisterous as always. Well, if he wasn't worried…

“Just trying to find Paavo,” she said. “He didn't go home last night. Do you know where he is?”

“He didn't? Hmm.” Was that concern she heard in his voice? She pressed the receiver tighter against her ear. Was Yosh worried? “He left here after he got a call from a guy who helps him out on some cases from time to time. The guy had been hurt. Maybe Paavo took him to the hospital, decided to stay with him. We'll check around, see what we find out.”

“I'd like to do some checking, too,” she said. “What's the guy's name?”

“You know what? I'm not so sure. I only hear what Paavo calls him.”

“What's that?”

“Snake Belly.”

“Oh, dear.”

Angie hung up. The thought that Paavo had gone out in the middle of the night to care for someone called Snake Belly and hadn't yet returned was not reassuring. Paavo was no Dr. Kildare. He was the take-'em-to-the-emergency-room type.

She called around to the big hospitals and asked if Inspector Paavo Smith was in the vicinity of the emergency room or the waiting area. He wasn't.

She didn't know what else to do.

She pondered calling Homicide again. She knew she was making a royal pain of herself, but this was Paavo she was worried about. Still, Yosh hadn't sounded particularly upset; nor had Laurie. Maybe she was being too protective.

Just then she heard a heavy knock on her door.

Paavo?

Her heart pounding, relief filling her, she ran to the door and pulled it open.

A huge, hulking mass of over three hundred pounds stood before her. “You want something delicate delivered. Right, lady?”

 

“There's something really wrong here,” Angie said to Reverend Hodge when she reached him by phone. It was two
P.M.
, and they still hadn't heard from Paavo. “No one knows where Inspector Smith is. All of Homicide's looking for him, but we can't find him! Klaw's behind it. I know he is. You can't trust him.”

“What does it matter if I can trust him or not, Miss Amalfi?” Hodge replied. “I'm running my auction. It has nothing to do with Mr. Clausen or Inspector Smith.”

“I'm worried. Something's going to go wrong. I know it. I feel it.”

“What do you expect of me?” he cried. “You're nervous,
that's all. Me too! I'm very nervous! I'll admit it, all right? I'll be glad when this is over.”

“Maybe we need to postpone the event.” The words gushed out of her, words that had played in her mind all morning.

“Postpone it? Are you out of your mind? We've paid the caterers, we've collected money from twelve hundred people—thank God! And we might easily get another three hundred showing up at the door.”

“Is money all you think about? I thought you were interested in the word of God.”

“God speaks in mysterious ways. To me, he speaks about money.” She could hear his fast breathing. He was hyperventilating again.

“Reverend, calm yourself. Look at this in an objective light.”

“Objective?” he screeched. “I'll tell you about objective. I've got two truckloads of merchandise that has been donated. I can't return it, I don't want to pay to store it. Plus food. All those prunes and other things I can't remember and can't pronounce that you ordered. Forget postponing anything. You're overreacting.”

“Like hell I am!”

“I think your boyfriend's dislike of Mr. Clausen has colored your opinion of him.”

“No kidding! Listen, I could tell you things about your Mr. Clausen, and Van Warren, and even Lili Charmaine that would make your hair curl.”

“Miss Amalfi, I'm sorry. I just don't have time for your hysterics.”

“Hysterics! What hysterics? I'm telling you the truth!”

“Miss Amalfi—Angie—get ready for the auction. We'll have to be down there in a couple of hours to make sure everything is set up properly. I'm counting on you, Miss Amalfi. Go there, look at how beautiful
everything is, and I'm sure you'll be convinced, as I am, what a gem Mr. Clausen is.”

“Gem? He's fool's gold, pure and simple.”

 

Paavo opened his eyes to daylight streaming in through the warehouse windows. He pushed himself to a sitting position and nearly passed out from the effort. Slowly, all that had happened the previous night came back to him with aching clarity. He touched a throbbing spot on his head where a lump the size of a baseball had formed. His ribs and stomach hurt with each breath he took.

He looked around. Snake Belly. Where was he?

There was no sign of Snake. Not even his cell phone. Paavo reached for his gun. What was going on? Why hadn't they killed him? They said they had known he would come. That they had waited for him.

Klaw. He had to be behind the attack; nothing else made sense. Klaw wouldn't want him killed in a place like this by strangers. Klaw would want to make sure Paavo knew that
he
had been the victor in their battle.

He sat still, his eyes half shut, trying to take breaths that weren't excruciatingly painful and to let his head clear. It was hard to clear it, though, when he kept wondering what Klaw's next move was.

He'd looked for Snake at night and now the sun was up, so it had to be the next day. There was something about today…something special. What?

Then he remembered. The auction. And he hadn't yet been able to talk to Angie about not going to it.

 

Angie didn't want to look too drab compared to the items being auctioned. She selected a short, sleeveless Gianni Versace silk dress in a lemon sherbet color.
Super-high-heeled matching shoes. A diamond necklace and long, dangling diamond earrings.

She looked at herself in a full-length mirror and sighed. Usually, she enjoyed dressing up this way. But not knowing where Paavo was made her feel as if she were trudging through a fog thick as pea soup. Over and over throughout the morning and afternoon, she'd called his home, his pager, and Homicide. She'd managed to make Yosh and the others as nervous as she was. It didn't help them find Paavo, though.

About four-thirty, she drove to the Palace of the Legion of Honor. Rodin's
The Thinker
greeted her on the center terrace. One arm of the U-shaped building would hold the auction. Across the terrace, in the opposite arm, would be the buffet. Throughout was housed a museum.

The two trucks with goods to be auctioned were being unloaded. Hodge was probably over there with them on the auction side of the Palace. She wondered how he was going to deliver all the expensive items he'd taken personal charge of, or if they had already arrived. She wanted to see the Picasso.

Crossing the terrace to the opposite arm of the hall, she stepped into the room where the catered food would be placed. She stopped, awestruck. On the center table, in the place of honor, stood her angelina. It looked so much better in this setting than in her kitchen that she could scarcely believe she'd created it. Although grand in scale, it still managed to possess a delicate beauty. She practically tiptoed as she approached it. The movers had left it on the thick traylike sheet of clear plastic she had given them to carry it on. It might have looked better without the tray there, but it wasn't worth taking the chance of lifting it off.

She wondered if Lili would consider the angel
encased in the seamless chocolate globe another miracle. The way the idea had come to her, and then actually proved doable, did seem a bit miraculous. She wished Paavo could see it, and the thought brought back the empty, fearful ache that had been with her since last evening.

She rubbed a chill from her arms and made a silent prayer that he was well and safe and that he had a very good reason why he hadn't called anyone. She walked to the window, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

Through the side window she noticed an old brown van pulling into the back of the building, down in a service area parking lot. Since the museum was closed today and only people involved with the auction were supposed to be here, she figured the van must belong to one of the volunteers, and stood watching to see who had arrived this early to help her.

To her amazement, Klaw and Warren got out. They hurried to a back door and entered the building.

What were the two of them doing here already? They weren't needed—or wanted. Her fear that they were up to no good came back to her. She had to find out what they were planning. Everyone had worked too hard for them to ruin the auction, and if she could stop them, she would.

She carefully worked her way toward the doorway from the service area parking lot, cautiously listening for footsteps and peering around corners. The last thing she wanted to do was to burst in on them.

Since they weren't in the halls and there were a couple of offices in the back, she thought they must have gone into one of them. But why? She listened at one door. Silence. She listened at the next.

The sound of low male voices met her ears.

“We've got about an hour to take care of everything before the caterers show up,” Warren said. “It's set for
eight o'clock on the nose. We'd better leave about fifteen minutes early. You can't trust anyone these days.”

What's at eight o'clock?
she wondered. The auction would begin at eight-thirty. And why would Warren care about the caterers? She pressed her ear more firmly against the door.

“You think their timer might be off?” Klaw sounded nervous.

Why would he be nervous about a timer? Could Klaw be talking about the caterer and his hot foods? Every so often a plate might need to be microwaved if it turned too cold, but why would Klaw care?

“It won't be off by more than a couple of minutes,” Warren said. “Five at most. They really don't want to blow up the people who pay them. That's very bad for repeat business.”

Blow up?
She heard Klaw's laughter. No, it couldn't possibly be what it sounded like. Still, with Klaw…No, not even Klaw would do something as insane as what had just occured to her. She shouldn't be here eavesdropping on those two, especially not with the overactive imagination she possessed.

She started to turn away but froze at the next words she heard.

“I'll call Smith around six,” Klaw said. “I'd better be able to reach him by then. I wanted him out of the way for twenty-four hours, not dead. You sure they didn't kill him?”

She made a soft, involuntary cry.

“He's tough, he'll survive. Not that it'll matter for very long, though.”

“Did you hear something?” Klaw asked.

Angie tiptoed backward down the hall. She had to get out of there, get away. Find Paavo. Those bastards! God, what had they done to him?

The door to the office opened. She started running,
but Warren caught her easily. He grabbed her, pulling her back against his chest. She tried to scream, but he put his hand over her mouth and nose, cutting off her air, and dragged her back into the office.

“Mr. Warren! Miss Amalfi!” Reverend Hodge cried, running toward them down the long hallway. “Whatever is going on here?”

Warren flung Angie into the office. She gripped the edge of the desk, gasping for breath.

“Reverend Hodge,” Klaw said, standing at the door, “won't you join us?”

“What's going on?” Hodge cried, running into the room. “You hurt her! What's wrong with you?”

“They've got a bomb!” Angie said, backing away from Klaw and Warren. “It's set to go off at eight tonight.”

Hodge blanched, his gaze gripping Klaw. “She's joking, right?”

Klaw didn't reply.

Perspiration broke out on Hodge's forehead. Desperately, he looked from Angie to Warren to Klaw. “She has it wrong, doesn't she? I mean, nobody would want to blow up the auction.”

“Wouldn't they?” Klaw smoothed his jacket, tugged at his shirt cuffs. “It would be a very neat way to kill yourself, you know.”

“What?” Hodge looked at them as if they were all crazy. “Kill
yourself?
”