Two Cooks A-Killing Page 24

  Paavo nodded to Digger.

  Digger gave the signal to Minnie. She didn’t move. He gave it again. Nothing. Then Connie pushed her.

  Wearing the white chef’s gown and hat, Minnie fell from the basket. Everyone below cried out.

  Held by the straps, she dropped almost to Angie’s window and looked like she was flying—a flying, angelic chef.

  Kyle shrieked at the sight, his body straightening as he did so. “No!” he shouted.

  A shot rang out, and Kyle fell back into the room. Paavo glanced quickly behind him. The shot came from high on the hillside, the area where Junior spent his days watching, alone and lonely. Paavo turned back, his heart in his throat, to Angie, aching to help her, and not sure how.

  She had hold of the window frame and was struggling to pull herself back into the room. He knew the police would be breaking into the bedroom any moment. They’d help her.

  “Hold on,” he shouted.

  “I can do it,” she cried.

  Digger began to lower the crane, while Connie reached over and helped Minnie get hold of the end of the basket so together they could lift her back in.

  Angie’s second hand gripped the ledge. She was about to hoist herself inside when Kyle stood filling the window.

  “No!” she cried as he shoved her hard. She lost her grip and fell.

  Everyone screamed.

  Silver lunged, arms outstretched. As he took the full brunt of her weight, she nearly yanked him off the tree. The branch bent even lower with the two of them.

  She dropped low enough that Paavo grabbed her legs. She let go of Silver to wrap her arms around Paavo’s neck, wanting to never let go again.

  Without her weight, the tree limb sprang upward. Silver was jettisoned from the tree into the open arms and full, well-cushioned breasts of Gwen Hagen.

  Gwen tumbled onto a thick bed of plastic snow, Silver sprawled on top of her.

  She gazed up into his handsome face. “I think I’ve just found the leading man for my next action flick.”

  Paavo slowly and carefully lowered Angie to the ground. Other than strained and sore muscles—and being petrified with fright—she seemed unhurt.

  Holding each other tight, the two of them peered up at the window she’d fallen from. Kyle was draped over the sill, head and arms dangling, bleeding and unconscious. The police were just then pulling him back into the room.

  Chapter 36

  Three days later, Angie stood on the veranda at Eagle Crest gazing out at the horizon. The phony snow had been picked up, revealing spring flowers and a lush, green lawn.

  The Eagle Crest special had no chance of surviving Kyle’s arrest for two murders. Immediately upon hearing the news, the producer pulled the plug on it. The crew packed up and went home. Tarleton and Mariah soon followed. With the guilt of the past eleven years lifted, Tarleton was like a new man.

  Gwen had convinced the producers of her action movie to let Silver try out for the leading man role. He flew in her private plane to Hollywood.

  Rhonda gave her story to the police, Bart at her side the entire time. She was finally free to accept his love, and give love in return. Flying commercial to save money, they departed for Southern California together.

  Minnie Petite headed for New York to do the talk show circuit to take advantage of her fifteen minutes of fame as Demitasse’s girlfriend. She was slated for an appearance on Larry King Live.

  As soon as the police allowed, Serefina shouted “Arrivederci,” kissed everyone on both cheeks, and fled home to Salvatore.

  Sterling openly puzzled about what to do with his life. Eagle Crest would never again have the glory of its soap opera days. He considered selling it and moving permanently to Los Angeles. At least there he could keep an eye on Silver.

  Paavo had stayed with Angie through the police questioning and to help security keep news-hounds and paparazzi far from Eagle Crest. He ended up working side by side with Officer Baker and others in the SHPD to make sure their case was airtight. Finally, everything had quieted down and he and Angie could move on with their lives.

  Now, he stepped up behind her and put his arms around her waist. “Are you glad Christmas is over?”

  She leaned back against him, enjoying his strength, his love. “Just one more night,” she replied mysteriously.

  “Do you miss the film crew and cast?” he asked. “I know you hoped for a career—”

  “Stop. Don’t even talk about it. I never want to deal with people like that again. My father meant well…” She hesitated, not sure how much she had to explain. She turned and caught Paavo’s eye. He understood. Smiling, she gazed back at the front drive, the budding vineyards, and in the distance, the rolling hills that separated the Napa and Sonoma valleys. “He meant well, but he was completely mistaken. Someday, he’ll come to understand that.”

  “He worries about you,” Paavo said, holding her close. “I don’t blame him for that. But if he ever parades some young, rich, movie-star handsome guy in front of you again—”

  “I’ll ignore him completely,” Angie said. “I have only one thing on my mind—”

  “So do I.” He turned her around, ready for a kiss.

  “Our engagement party.”

  He gawked. “You’re kidding, right?”

  She looked shocked. “Of course not! It’s going to be the best, biggest, most beautiful engagement party the city has ever known.”

  He felt woozy. “Didn’t you say that about our wedding?”

  “That, too.” She glanced at her watch. “I’d better see to dinner. It’s almost time.”

  She dashed off to the kitchen.

  All in all, he’d rather elope.

  Since Angie had one more goose to cook, she decided to prepare an elegant dinner. For her, Paavo, and Digger—who had remained these few days to cover the story and its aftermath, which even resulted in a byline in the Los Angeles Times—it was a going-away dinner. For Junior, Sterling, and Camille—who hadn’t figured out what to do next with her life—she hoped it might be a new beginning.

  The meal was considerably simpler than the last, rolled goose breast with juniper berry rub and a caraway and apple stuffing, spinach au gratin with potatoes, braised peas and carrots with pearl onions, and pecan-topped pumpkin cheesecake.

  Sterling sat at the head of the table, Junior at the opposite end, Camille and Digger on one side, Angie and Paavo on the other. Junior had shaved his beard, cut his hair, and looked almost handsome.

  Sterling poured Waterfield wine for everyone—the real thing, since Angie unfortunately had forgotten to refill the bottles—and then Paavo proposed a toast to Junior for taking the action that ended Kyle’s stand.

  “We can’t drink to that,” Junior said. “I know Angie has tried to convince me that shooting Kyle was the right thing. I purposefully aimed so as not to kill him. As a result, he was able to go after Angie again, despite his shoulder wound.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Angie. I still have nightmares about it.”

  “Me, too,” Angie and Paavo said in unison.

  Camille faced Junior. “I think that was one of the most heroic acts I’ve ever seen. It takes strength and courage to act in a crisis. It’s the sort of thing I hope to write a serious screenplay about someday.”

  He blushed to the roots of his hairline. “I couldn’t let him hurt Angie.”

  Camille nodded. “That’s exactly the attitude I’m talking about.”

  “Well,” Sterling said to Camille, “If you’d like a quiet place to stay while you work on that screenplay, there’s plenty of room here. I’d love to have you remain as our guest.”

  Junior stared at his father. “You aren’t selling?”

  “Frankly, I like it here,” Sterling replied. “What do you say, Camille?”

  She looked stunned, then gazed from Sterling to his son. “I’d like that,” she said softly. “Thank you…both.”

  “To Junior,” Paavo said again, raising his glass.

  They
all took a sip of wine this time.

  Junior frowned at the wine. “If we’re staying at Eagle Crest,” he said to Sterling, his chin raised, “I’d like to take some classes on winemaking. What do you think?”

  Now it was Sterling’s turn to be astonished. “I think…that deserves an even bigger toast!” he cried.

  “But not now,” Angie shuddered and pushed her glass to the side. She reached for her water as the others chuckled.

  After dinner, they gathered in the family room. All the Christmas decorations were gone except for the Little Drummer Boy, which was on a shelf beside pictures of the Waterfield family.

  Angie was glad Sterling had chosen to keep him in sight. Someday the bad memories would pass, and only the happy ones would remain.

  While Junior got the fire going in the big rock fireplace—a real one this time—Angie put on a CD of Christmas carols. “I was here to cook a Christmas feast, wasn’t I?” she said by way of explanation. She served hot eggnog laced with brandy.

  Sterling lifted it in a toast. “Thank you, Angie, for staying here these extra days and helping to make this house a happy one again.”

  “Joy to the cook!” Digger shouted. “And to her friend, Connie, who I wish was still here.”

  They laughed, cheered, and toasted Angie.

  As they sipped the egg nog, jingle bells were heard in the foyer, followed by a “Ho, ho, ho.”

  “It sounds like Santa Claus!” Angie’s eyes were bright.

  “Is this a joke?” Digger asked. “Santa Claus?”

  Paavo gave Angie a sidelong glance. She shrugged and tried to look innocent. Junior helped Camille up from the sofa.

  “Let’s go see,” Sterling cried.

  Santa stood in the living room, puffing on a pipe, smoke circling his head…surprisingly like a wreath, Angie thought. “Ah, here are all the good little, or should I say, big boys and girls. Santa doesn’t usually appear this time of year,” he said, “but I had a special request, and a special Christmas present for…”

  He began rummaging around in the big sack he’d been holding on his back. He pulled out a very tiny package. “Ah, this is it. A present for”—he looked them over one by one—“for Paavo.”

  He waited as Angie and the others pointed to Paavo.

  “Angie…” Paavo began, the little present in his hand, when Santa bellowed another “Ho, ho, ho,” put his finger to the side of his nose and…walked out the front door.

  Okay, Angie thought, so he can’t do everything perfectly.

  “Open it,” she said to Paavo.

  Inside the box was a car key. “You didn’t,” he said.

  She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the front door, the others following.

  In the driveway stood a shiny new black Corvette. Paavo said, “I can’t—”

  “It’s your Christmas present a few months early,” Angie explained.

  “It’s not Christmas, Angie.”

  “Sure it is.” She extended her arms to take in him, the lovely house, the rich land, and the warm friends, old and new, surrounding them. “Christmas is more than a date on a calendar. It’s a time of joy and faith, of love and giving. It’s what we have with each other every day of our lives.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, and she held up her hand, stopping him. “Now, I’m giving. I will not worry myself sick over you driving around in that rattletrap of a car.”

  “The gift is too much,” Paavo said.

  “Don’t you know it’s back luck to say ‘No’ to Santa Claus?” she asked.

  “It is bad luck, Paavo,” Digger agreed. “It makes her happy to give it to you. Don’t be a grinch, man. You almost lost her. Don’t let something like this get between you. It’s not worth it. Ask me, I know.”

  Paavo’s gaze jumped from Digger to the car to Angie. It settled there and softened. He drew her close and she tilted her face to his. “Thank you,” he said, “for the car, for being you, and for the spirit of Christmas all year long.”

  Tears of joy filled her eyes. Then he kissed her.

  In the family room, the Little Drummer Boy smiled.

  From the Kitchen of Angelina Amalfi

  ANGIE’S CHOCOLATE-DIPPED COCONUT SNOWBALLS

  1/3 cup butter, softened

  2/3 cup packed brown sugar

  ¼ tsp. baking powder

  ¼ tsp. baking soda

  ¼ tsp. salt

  1 egg

  ½ tsp. vanilla

  11/3 cups all-purpose flour

  4 oz. sweet baking chocolate, finely grated

  ½ cup finely shredded coconut

  ½ cup finely chopped pecans, toasted

  12 oz. bittersweet chocolate, chopped

  4 tsp. shortening

  2½ cups finely shredded coconut, toasted

  Preheat oven to 350°. Put softened butter, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a bowl and beat to combine. Add egg and vanilla; beat to combine. Gradually add flour mixture and beat (when mixture becomes too thick for electric mixer, stir in remaining flour with spoon). Add finely grated sweet chocolate, ½ cup shredded coconut and pecans.

  Shape dough into 1-inch balls. Place balls 2 inches apart on ungreased cookie sheets. Bake 10 minutes or until edges are browned. Remove and cool.

  In saucepan, melt bittersweet chocolate and shortening over low heat. Stir until smooth. Dip cooled cookies in melted chocolate. Allow excess to drip off. Transfer to a cookie sheet lined with waxed paper. Sprinkle with toasted coconut. Chill about 1 hour until firm. Makes 4 dozen cookies.

  SEREFINA’S ZABAGLIONE

  Zabaglione is a traditional Italian dessert usually served warm, spooned into glasses or over sliced fruit or with plain cake. The following recipe presents it served over whipped cream with a garnish of chocolate.

  6 egg yolks

  ¾ cup sugar

  1 cup Marsala wine

  1 cup heavy cream

  1 oz. semisweet chocolate

  First prepare whipped cream: beat cream until it forms stiff peaks. Refrigerate.

  In top of double boiler (not over heat), stir egg yolks and sugar until soft and foamy, about 3–5 minutes.

  Slowly add Marsala, stirring constantly.

  Place the double boiler over gently simmering (not boiling) water. Whisk continuously as custard mixture cooks. It will foam then swell into a soft mass. When it thickens to retain a slight peak when whisk is withdrawn (about 5–8 minutes), remove from heat.

  Spoon a little cold whipped cream onto bottom of stemmed glasses. Top with hot zabaglione. Garnish with semisweet chocolate curls. Makes 6–8 servings.

  PEAR, ONION, AND CHEESE STRUDEL

  A delicious wintertime appetizer.

  6 tablespoons (¾ stick) unsalted butter

  1 white onion, chopped fine

  1 pear, peeled, cored, and sliced

  ¾ cup grated Fontina (or cheddar or jack) cheese

  3 tsp. Dijon mustard

  ½ tsp. salt

  4 sheets frozen phyllo pastry, thawed

  Preheat oven to 375°. Melt 2 tablespoons butter in heavy skillet over medium heat. Add onion and sauté until brown. Add pear and sauté about 3 minutes. Transfer mixture to bowl. Cool slightly, then add cheese, mustard, and salt.

  Melt remaining 4 tablespoons butter. Place 1 phyllo sheet on work surface. Quickly brush with melted butter, and top with second phyllo sheet. (Cover remaining 2 phyllo sheets with plastic wrap and damp kitchen towel.) Arrange half of pear mixture in log along one short side of phyllo, leaving 1-inch border at each end. Fold in sides and roll up tightly into log. Brush all over with butter. Transfer to large baking sheet. Repeat with remaining phyllo, butter, and pear mixture.

  Bake about 18 minutes or until golden brown. Cool 5 minutes. Transfer to cutting board and cut on diagonal into 12 pieces per log.

  Enter the Delicious World of Joanne Pence’s Angie Amalfi Series

  From the kitchen to the deck of a cruise ship, Joanne Pence’s mysteries are always a de
light. Starring career-challenged Angie Amalfi and her handsome homicide-detective boyfriend Paavo Smith, Joanne Pence serves up a mystery feast complete with humor, a dead body or two, and delicious recipes.

  Enjoy the pages that follow, which give a glimpse into Angie and Paavo’s world.

  For sassy and single food writer Angie Amalfi, life’s a banquet—until the man who’s been contributing unusual recipes for her food column is found dead. But in SOMETHING’S COOKING, Angie is hardly one to simper in fear—so instead she simmers over the delectable homicide detective assigned to the case.

  A while passed before she looked up again. When she did, she saw a dark-haired man standing in the doorway to her apartment, surveying the scene. Tall and broad shouldered, his stance was aloof and forceful as he made a cold assessment of all that he saw.

  If you’re going to gawk, she thought, come in with the rest of the busybodies.

  He looked directly at her, and her grip tightened on the chair. His expression was hard, his pale blue eyes icy. He was a stranger, of that she was certain. His wasn’t the type of face or demeanor she’d easily forget. And someone, it seemed, had just sent her a bomb. Who? Why? What if this stranger…

  As he approached with bold strides, her nerves tightened. Since she was without her high heels, the top of her head barely reached his chin.

  The man appeared to be in his mid-thirties. His face was fairly thin, with high cheekbones and a pronounced, aquiline nose with a jog in the middle that made it look as if it had been broken at least once. Thick, dark brown hair spanned his high forehead, and his penetrating, deep-set eyes and dark eyebrows gave him a cold, no-nonsense appearance. His gaze didn’t leave hers, and yet he seemed aware of everything around them.

  “Your apartment?” he asked.

  “The tour’s that way.” She did her best to give a nonchalant wave of her thumb toward the kitchen.

  She froze as he reached into his breast pocket. “Police.” He pulled out a billfold and dropped open one flap to reveal his identification: Inspector Paavo Smith, Homicide.