Cook's Night Out Read online

  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?”

  “Not literally, of course,” Klaw explained. “But everyone will think poor Mr. Clausen had been standing right next to the bomb and that’s why all they could find of him was the opal ring he always wore and some teeth.” He opened his mouth, hooked his finger to the right side and pulled back, exposing his gums. All the back teeth were gone, and the gums looked raw and bloody. Angie’s stomach flip-flopped.

  Hodge backed away, his face etched with horror. He blinked rapidly, wringing his hands. “But…but why?”

  “Axel Klaw—and Clausen—had too many debts. Too many people after him. Las Vegas types who wouldn’t leave him alone. He needed to die. But I, like the phoenix, will rise from the ashes and build my own little gambling empire right here in San Francisco. What name should I use, Van?”

  The accountant’s usually limpid features grew sickly sinister as his face spread into a half grin. “Why not Paavo Smith? He’ll be dead, too.”

  Klaw bellowed with laughter. “That’s right. Coming here to save his fair damsel in distress. He’s been a thorn in my side all my life, and the only one around who’d bother to investigate thoroughly to be sure I was really dead. Can’t have that, now can I? He could ruin everything.”

  “You could just disappear,” Hodge said. “I’ll tell everyone that you were here one day, and then you were gone. No one knows where.”

  Klaw’s mouth twisted in disgust. “You don’t hide from the boys in Vegas. They’ll find you. The only way to stop them is to die—or have them think you’re dead. This will get big press, national press. A story like this, so many deaths, blowing up this museum—they might even write about it in London. When the New York Times says I’m dead, everyone will believe it.”

  “But all those innocent people!” Angie cried.

  Klaw gave her a penetrating stare. “To put it in terms you’d understand best, dear Angelina, you’ve got to break eggs to make an omelet.” He laughed again.

  “Do something, Reverend!” Angie demanded.

  “Me?” Hodge squeaked.

  “Him?” Klaw snorted. “He’s nothing but a con man himself. I met him in Las Vegas, where he was selling retirees burial plots that had been filled for twenty years.”

  Angie didn’t speak. She just turned to Hodge, waiting, hoping to hear him deny the accusation. She couldn’t have been that wrong about everything, could she? Not Hodge, too.

  “Tell her about the money from ticket sales, Hodge. How you moved it to another account. How you planned to make off with the Picasso and other valuables you were supposed to be keeping ‘safe.’ If you weren’t so greedy and hadn’t come here for last-minute ticket sales and anything else you chose to pocket, you could be in another state by now.”

  “Reverend Hodge?” she whispered, waiting for his denial.

  “No one was supposed to get hurt, Clausen,” Hodge said. “You promised.”

  “I lied,” Klaw said briskly. “Now, although I’m finding this conversation incredibly amusing, I must get busy. We’ve got a lot to do. It’s really too bad you showed up so early, Angie. You caused a slight wrinkle in our plans. But we’ve risen to the challenge. I guess Lili will have to oversee the caterers.”

  “I can still do that,” Angie volunteered.

  He grimaced. “I’m not a fool, Angelina.” He aimed his gun at her. She shrank back, her hands against her mouth. “We’re going to go for a little walk. If you scream, I doubt anyone will hear you since the only other people here are the men unloading the auction goods, and they’re on the opposite side of the building. But if they hear you and come to investigate, I’ll shoot you, and then I’ll have to shoot them as well. So I suggest you keep your mouth shut.”

  Warren’s gun was on the reverend. “Go,” the accountant ordered, opening the door.

  Angie and Hodge walked to the back of the hallway and down the stairs to the basement. “Right this way,” Klaw said, leading them to the boiler room. It was hot and noisy, filled with steaming pipes. He glanced upward, then around the basement.

  “This looks about right,” he said.

  Angie and Hodge glanced at each other nervously. Right for what? She didn’t want to know the answer.

  “First, Hodge, the key to the storage locker where the goods and money are hidden. It’s at the airport, I assume?”

  Hodge handed it over. “Damn you, Klaw.”

  “Now, Angie,” Klaw said. “Your diamonds.”

  Her hand covered her necklace. “What about them?”

  “Hand them over.”

  “You’re going to steal my diamonds? You’re a cheap thief on top of everything else?”

  “Shut up and give them to me. Now!”

  She unfastened her necklace and earrings. “You should be ashamed,” she muttered.

  Klaw’s scowl deepened. After snatching the jewels from her hand, he nodded at Warren. They backed Angie and Hodge up against a cold-water pipe. Pulling their arms back around the pipe, they tied their wrists together with strong rope, binding them tightly to each other in such a way that they couldn’t reach any of the knots.

  “When the bomb goes off,” Klaw said, “right above this spot, it’ll act as a trigger. The sparks it causes will hit
the gas that runs these boilers, and the whole place will blow sky-high.”

  He started to leave, then paused at the stairs and turned around. “I almost forgot.” He took off his watch and placed it on the floor near them both. “That way you can see how much time you have left. Have a nice day!”

  Paavo practically fell into his car and somehow found his way home. His vision was blurry, and what little he did see was double. The trick was to figure out which was the real lane of traffic and which was the illusion. Once home, he dialed Angie’s number. When she didn’t answer, he stumbled into the bathroom and took a hot shower, letting the water soothe the aches in his bones and muscles. His chest and abdomen were covered with ugly purple splotches. His jaw was bruised and puffy, and a cut over his left eye made it hard to see. Overall, though, his face wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. He wondered if that was part of Klaw’s plan, too. But why? What the hell would Klaw care about how pretty he looked before Klaw tried to kill him?

  He touched his ribs gingerly and wondered if one or two were cracked. Even if they were, there wasn’t anything to be done about them. He wasn’t big on body casts. He leaned back against the wall of the shower, waiting until his head cleared. Finally, he got out, took a fistful of Tylenol for the pain, then called Angie again. She still wasn’t home. Where was she? He should know, but he couldn’t seem to think. It was too early for the auction, wasn’t it? He wished his brain were working better—his head felt as fuzzy as his vision.

  He called Yosh.

  “Paavo, what the hell happened to you, buddy? Angie’s been calling us all day, and we’ve been phoning all over creation!”

  “I found Snake Belly, but then some guys jumped me. They did quite a number. When I woke up, the Snake was gone.”

  “You okay? You home or at the hospital?”

  “I’m home. I’ll be okay.”

  “You sound a little funny.”

  “A concussion will do that to you.”

  “You need a doctor.”

  “I’m okay, Yosh. What’s going on?”