Too Many Cooks Read online

  Just then they heard a loud crash. Screams and shouts rang out, and then another crash. It sounded like the filming of Debbie Does the Terminator.

  Paavo and Klaw ran down the hall, reached the doorway, and stopped. What had once been a movie studio, all carefully partitioned off, looked like the set of a biblical epic: Jericho after the walls came atumbling down. Partitions had fallen, lighting equipment was strewn on the floor, and cameras knocked from their stands lay broken. A bewildered jumble of voices filled the dusty, poorly lit room. Paavo and Klaw glanced at each other briefly, each expecting the other to offer information, and then surveyed the ruins.

  Dazed actors scrambled to their feet and quickly covered themselves with their hands, protecting their professional assets. Shrieking actresses sat bolt upright on the beds and couches they’d been performing on, holding sheets and clothing under their necks, either because of newfound modesty or to keep the dust and dirt off their well-oiled bodies. Cameramen and stagehands stood stupefied, as if wondering how to begin to put things back in order.

  A bruising hulk of a man pushed a slab of plywood off himself and struggled to his feet. He brushed off his once-white sports jacket and reached up as if to be sure the thick gold chain still dangled from his neck.

  “Freddie,” Klaw thundered, “what the hell’s going on here? How’d you do all this?”

  “Me? I didn’t do nothing! That dumb broad tried to go through a phony door, for chrissake. She wouldn’t let go, and she pulled down the whole goddamn set. Then they all started falling.”

  Klaw turned purple. “Can’t you do anything right?”

  “Where is she?” Paavo demanded.

  “What?” Freddie frowned at Paavo.

  “I said where is she?”

  Freddie turned and looked down at the plywood and scratched his head. “I don’t know. I kinda lost track of her.”

  “Goddamn!” Paavo ran to the area where Freddie had been. “Angie!” he shouted, then started looking under plywood and partitions. He shoved some out of the way as he called Angie’s name, needing to find her but almost afraid of what he might discover when he did. “Yosh!” Paavo yelled for his partner. “Get in here! Help me find her.”

  “Look at this mess,” Klaw bellowed. “She’s done a Thelma and Louise on me.”

  “They make films for us?” Freddie asked.

  “Who?”

  “Thelma and Louise.”

  “Shut up, jerk. Do something about this.”

  “Let me shoot her, boss,” Freddie pleaded.

  “You don’t know where she is.”

  “I could find her.”

  Klaw told Freddie he couldn’t find an intimate part of his own body.

  “That’s not so. You’re hurtin’ my feelings.”

  “What the hell do I care how you feel?”

  “Paavo,” Yosh called. “Stop. Look who I found.”

  There in the doorway, beside Yosh, stood Angie. Relief surged through him.

  “She snuck out the back,” Yosh said, “and would have been long gone except I told her you were in here looking for her.”

  Paavo climbed over the mess. “You okay?”

  She nodded and stared at the warehouse. “Now I know how the domino theory works.”

  Paavo saw that despite her flippant words she was frightened. He touched her arm. It was ice cold. His throat tightened so he could scarcely speak. “Come on, Angie. Let’s get out of here.”

  “These people are all crazy,” she said.

  The way she trembled as they passed Klaw made Paavo murderous.

  “These broads.” Klaw chuckled after them. “They all think they’re gonna be Linda Lovelace, but then they get scared and freak out. Too bad. I thought this one showed real talent.”

  Paavo stopped at the top of the stairs and looked back. “Klaw, you’re going to wish you’d never said that.”

  “Is she all right?” Yosh asked when they were on the sidewalk.

  “She seems pretty woozy. I’ll take her to the hospital,” Paavo said.

  “No, Paavo,” Angie said. “It was scary when all that stuff started to fall, but luckily most of it landed on Freddie first. He made a good shield. I’ll be all right.”

  “I want to be sure.”

  Angie began to chuckle, and then she laughed so hard the tears ran down her cheeks.

  Paavo put his arm around her, holding her close, a worried frown on his face. “Calm down, Angie. You’re all right now.”

  “I’m not hysterical,” she said, when she could talk again. “At least, I don’t think I am. It’s just that when the partitions started going down, I saw—well, let’s just say I didn’t think anybody could do that.” She chuckled. “Then I started running.”

  Paavo arched his eyebrows.

  She leaned against Paavo’s broad chest, enjoying the security he offered. “I’ll tell you about it someday. But you’ll think I was hallucinating.”

  Yosh whistled softly. “Remember, Paav, it’s standard procedure to share what you learn with your partner.”

  “Let’s call it privileged information,” Paavo said. “I’ll use Angie’s car for now. In the meantime, why don’t you start the paperwork for a search warrant on that place? I plan to go through it with a fine-tooth comb.”

  “No sweat, partner. Take care of her, and I’ll call you soon as I get it. And don’t forget you can tell me anything, privileged or not. I mean, I’m always eager to help.”

  20

  Flashing his badge, Paavo bypassed the usual mountain of paperwork at Emergency Hospital and took Angie straight to a doctor. When the doctor finished his examination, he told Paavo she had a few bad bumps and bruises but she’d be okay. He saw she was pretty shaken and gave her a sedative to help her sleep.

  “I’m taking you to my house,” Paavo said when they were back in her car.

  “I’ll be all right,” she whispered.

  “I don’t like the idea of you being alone after the doctor gave you that sedative.”

  “Maybe so,” she said. “Paavo, Klaw knows my address. He saw it on my check. You don’t think he’d…” She bit her bottom lip.

  Paavo placed his hand over hers. “He won’t bother you. He thinks you were someone who was too curious and too foolish for her own good, that’s all.”

  “Thank God.”

  The fear in her voice hurt Paavo more than any physical blow could. He understood what was happening to her. Even though she’d gotten safely away from Klaw, her mind was assailing her with thoughts and images of what might have happened had she been trapped there. Men like Klaw and his henchmen were common in the ugly world Paavo knew, but Angie had never before had to deal with people who made a mockery of the values and regard for others that shaped her life. With them, it hadn’t mattered who or what she was. They operated on base animal instinct, where the scent of fear was as powerful an incentive as power and money. She knew they would have liked nothing more than to scare her into surrendering to them, and the knowledge of that, even though it hadn’t happened, was terrifying.

  Paavo drove straight to his house. As he opened his front door, he was greeted by the thudding feet of Hercules, who then hurled himself against Paavo.

  “This cat is so damned spoiled,” Paavo muttered.

  “Feed Hercules, Paavo,” she said.

  She refused to lie down on the bed. Despite the medicine the doctor gave her, the thought of closing her eyes and trying to sleep made her uneasy. The giddiness and euphoria she’d felt earlier over her clever escape from Klaw had evaporated, and now the memories of Klaw’s lurid face and Freddie’s strong hands were sharp and frightening.

  Paavo settled her on his sofa, gave her a pillow, and covered her with an afghan and then hovered near to pat her shoulder or brush back a wayward curl from her forehead. He wondered what had led her to go back to Axel Klaw’s studio but knew she’d tell him when she was ready. For now, he was content just to have her here.

  He thought she’d
fallen asleep when she said softly, almost calmly, “I looked through Karl Wielund’s notebook.”

  “Notebook?”

  “He used to keep notes of his recipes: what he cooked, when and why he changed the ingredients, the temperatures, all that. Mark took Karl’s notes and brought them to LaTour’s with him. In Karl’s notebook, I found a number like the ones on the films of Sheila Danning you had.”

  “You remembered the numbers?”

  “It wasn’t too hard.” Drowsily, she rubbed her eyes. “Anyway, I sort of gave the fellow at the counter, Dwayne, the impression I wanted to act in a film, and then I gave him the impression we ought to watch a movie together. He let me go into the storage room to find a film to watch. I found the outtakes for the film reel listed in Karl’s notebook. The film was an old one, nearly twenty years old, but I still recognized the woman in it. It was Lacy LaTour.”

  “You’re saying Henry’s wife made porno flicks?”

  “I saw more of Lacy in those photos than I ever want to see of her. They were sickening.”

  Hard though it was to imagine, he believed what Angie was telling him. Suddenly, it all tied together—Henry, Karl Wielund, and Henry’s wife, connected through the photos found in Wielund’s place. Paavo rubbed his chin. “So if Henry and Lacy are the link between Wielund, Wielund’s landlord, Chick, Sheila Danning, and Axel Klaw, we only need to figure out who wanted to kill four of them and why.”

  Angie nodded wearily.

  Paavo kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep, Angel.”

  “Don’t leave me.” She scooted downward so she was lying prone on the sofa, her head on the pillow. “How’s that?” she asked, patting the edge of the sofa.

  “It’s fine.” He gave a halfhearted smile at the small space and then stretched out beside her on top of the blanket. After a moment, he raised himself up on his elbow and looked at her. “Are you comfortable?”

  “Oh, yes.” She reached up to guide his head down to her chest. He gently placed a kiss in the hollow between her breasts and rested his head. She gently stroked his hair, and he felt himself relax. As much as she needed him now, so he too needed her. She was his peace, his refuge.

  “Good,” he murmured. “So am I. Now.”

  The sound of her breathing had deepened into sleep when Paavo heard a car stop in front of his house. He stepped to the side of the front window and looked out.

  “Who is it?” she asked, suddenly awake, fearful.

  “Your father,” he said wryly.

  “It can’t be!” He could hear the dismay in her voice.

  “It is. And he’s got one of the police commissioners, Pat O’Reilly, with him.”

  “Police commissioner?” Bewildered, she pushed aside the blanket and stood up. The sedative had made her drowsy and foggy-headed. “Don’t tell him about any of this, Paavo, please! Promise me.”

  Paavo gave her a sharp look and opened the front door. “Hello, Mr. Amalfi. Commissioner O’Reilly.”

  “Where is she?” Sal’s look was withering. He pushed the door wide, but halted abruptly as he stared at Angie’s pale face, her disheveled state, the blanket on the sofa. “Angelina, what’s happening to you?”

  Angie looked at Paavo, her gaze imploring him to help.

  “Everything’s fine,” said Paavo. He went to her side and touched her elbow, his gaze pointed.

  She shook her head, refusing to tell her father the truth. His heart was bad, and he’d be too upset.

  Sal’s gaze fixed on his daughter. “I heard that today you went to a porno theater, or worse. Someplace where they make the films. Those people are the worst kind: drugs, diseases, guns. I can’t believe you’d go somewhere like that. It’s not like you, not my Angelina. I can only imagine you did it because you’ve been seeing this man. His influence is no good for you, no good at all.”

  She stepped closer to Paavo, her weight heavy against his supporting hand. “No,” she said.

  Sal glared at her. “No? Then why were you there?”

  “It was nothing, Papà,” she whispered, slowly shaking her head as she took a step toward Sal. Paavo released his hold on her.

  Sal stepped closer to her, his hands twisting. “When the Commissioner heard where you were, he called me. I couldn’t believe it. My baby, in such a place. I want you to come home with me this minute.”

  Stricken, Angie turned to O’Reilly.

  “You’re the daughter of one of my best friends,” he said. “And you’re going out with someone in the department. I feel a certain responsibility.” O’Reilly glanced quickly at Paavo. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow, Smith.”

  But Paavo had already figured it out. “You were checking me out, weren’t you?” he asked Sal. “Because I was seeing Angie.”

  “What do I know about you, about your family? What does she know?”

  Paavo ran his fingers through his hair, trying not to speak the harsh words that came to mind. Instead, he only muttered, “I can’t believe this!”

  “Paavo.” Angie turned to him, her hand tentatively reaching for him.

  “Non importante, Angelina.” Sal picked her coat and handbag up off the chair. His face was florid. “Andiamo!”

  Her father’s flushed looks scared her. It was too soon after his surgery for him to become so upset. Did she have any choice but to go with him, to try to calm him? She glanced at Paavo.

  Paavo saw the hesitancy in her eyes. He’d always told himself that if she had to choose between her family and him, she’d choose her family. He’d been right. The best thing for him to do would be to make it easy for her. He took her coat from Sal and put it on her, fastening the topmost button so she wouldn’t get cold. “Go home with your father, little one,” he said. “It’s where you belong.” His hand lingeringly, lovingly, tucked a curl behind her ear.

  She seemed stunned and confused.

  “Go ahead.”

  Sal took her arm and led her from Paavo’s house. Obviously, Paavo had guessed right about what Angie wanted to do. She’d never listened to him so willingly before.

  He shut the door behind them.

  Paavo’s frustration with the case, with not yet being granted a search warrant for Klaw’s place, and with the whole business with Angie and her father went right over the top the next morning as he told Hollins how O’Reilly had been checking up on him. “Where does he get off?” he asked coldly.

  “I don’t know,” Hollins replied. The lieutenant looked equally irate. No one, not even a police commissioner, could nose around about one of his best men without his okay.

  Paavo paced back and forth in Hollins’s office. “Doesn’t O’Reilly have the brains to figure out that I was trying to get Angie out of that place?”

  “I’ll fill him in on the case. I doubt if he knows anything about what’s going on. He’s not a cop, he’s a politician.”

  “Don’t I know it!”

  “Look, if you can get her to talk to O’Reilly, the heat’ll be off for you.”

  “It’s between him and me. I don’t want her involved.”

  Hollins shook his head. “You got it bad, don’t you? Why don’t you just marry the girl?”

  That stopped Paavo in his restless pacing. For a long silent moment he stared down at the floor. Considering how Angie left last night, there wasn’t much chance of his seeing her again, let alone anything more, but he wasn’t about to go into all that with Hollins. When he lifted his head, his expression was almost savage. “She’d be in danger every time I got a case she was interested in.”

  “Just keep her out of them.”

  Amusement eased some of the grimness from Paavo’s face. “You don’t know her very well, do you?”

  Hollins chuckled. “Can’t say I do.”

  “The trouble is,” Paavo continued, “her poking her nose in my cases works. She’s found the connection between the porn studios, Sheila Danning, Karl Wielund, and, now, Lacy LaTour.”

  “Who’s Lacy?” Hollins asked.

  �
�She’s the wife of the restaurant owner, Henry LaTour.”

  “And?”

  “She used to work in porno films. Axel Klaw has one of her films, and Karl Wielund knew about it.”

  From Vice, Paavo learned that Axel Klaw was associated with drug dealers and gamblers as well as porno operations, but Klaw was the Teflon King of Porn; nothing stuck to him, no matter how big the charge.

  Klaw’s record went back twenty years. At age twenty-five, he was already a drug pusher, too smart and ambitious to use his own product.

  As Paavo turned the pages in Klaw’s file, suddenly, there in front of him, was the story he’d wanted, yet dreaded, to see.

  The record showed that a man named Alexander Clausen had been investigated in connection with the death by overdose of a nineteen-year-old woman named Jessica Smith. Some witnesses said they’d seen Jessie go into Clausen’s apartment with him, but a number of others swore Clausen had been seen in other places throughout the night. The woman was dead, and no one ever proved who was or was not with her.

  But the woman’s little brother knew. Paavo had seen his sister go with the man. And he remembered how the man’s hard, mean look had frightened him. But Jessie had said he was fun.

  Fun. God damn the man, Paavo thought. He stared at a mug shot taken years ago of the young Axel Klaw. I’ve spent a lot of years looking for you, Clausen. Now you’ve fallen into my lap, I won’t let you go again.

  21

  The sun was just peeking over the hills of the East Bay when Angie forced herself to get into her car, alone, and go for a drive around the city. She’d spent over a week at her parents’ house. It was time to go back to living: back to her job at the radio, her history class, even her so-called apprenticeship at LaTour’s.

  A week ago, when she’d awakened in her old bedroom at her parents’ home in Hillsborough, her father told her Paavo felt she was in his way and didn’t want to have to deal with her as he tried to find Chick’s murderer.

  She’d been stunned. She remembered that Paavo had found her at Klaw’s and had taken her to the hospital, where she’d been given a sedative. She rarely took medicine, and it hit her hard. After that, nothing but a faint memory of Paavo’s warmth lingered before it all blurred together. Somewhere in the back of her mind, though, a vague memory of Paavo telling her to leave made her father’s words ring true.