Cooking Up Trouble Read Online Free PDF

for a nature walk, so—”
    “A what?” Butz interrupted.
    “A walk in the woods.”
    The sheriff nodded.
    “Anyway, around ten or so last night, Angie—Miss Amalfi here—thought she saw a rat in the kitchen and tried to find him.”
    “Him, meaning Finley?” Butz asked. “Or the rat?”
    “My brother.”
    “I didn’t think I saw a rat,” Angie said. “I know I did.”
    “I’m sure, Sheriff,” Moira said, “all she saw was a little field mouse. Angie lives in an apartment building in San Francisco. She’s not used to such things.”
    Angie folded her arms. “I know the difference between a small mouse and a large rat. Besides, it was dead.”
    “The mouse was probably so scared it froze in its tracks,” Moira said.
    “Then why was it draped around a box of rat poison?” Angie asked.
    “Hold it, ladies!” Butz said. “Are we here to discuss a man or a mouse?”
    “I called you here to find my brother,” Moira said.
    “All right, then.”
    Angie clamped her mouth shut, annoyed that they wouldn’t listen.
    Paavo didn’t get it. Why would Moira Tay try to deny any connection between a poisoned rat and her brother’s disappearance? Was it too obvious a warning, or too silly to be one? Or was she simply too close to see it?
    On the other hand, Paavo couldn’t help but wonder if he was being too suspicious. Too much the big-city cop, as Butz might say.
    “I wasn’t worried,” Moira continued, “when Finley didn’t come home last night. He enjoys meditation—sometimes does it for hours. He’ll occasionally fast as well, to achieve an even higher level of spirituality.”
    “So your brother has stayed out all night before this?”
    “A few times.”
    One of Butz’s eyes twitched a couple of times before he turned again to Angie. “Where is your dead rat, miss?”
    “It disappeared.”
    “Just like Finley Tay,” he said.
    Angie noticed Paavo’s blue eyes sparkle and his lips begin to break into a grin—until he caught her disapproving glare.
    “Not only did the rat disappear,” she said, facing Butz again, “but so did the whole platter he was on, the one with the lentil-soy cutlets. Even the box of poison was gone.”
    “Lentil what?” Butz asked; then before she could answer, he dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Never mind. Who took it?”
    “I’m not sure.”
    “Any guesses?”
    “Well, if I had to guess, I’d say it was Miss Greer.”
    “Hilda Greer?” the sheriff asked. “From town?”
    “She’s a terrible person,” Angie said, not caring thatthe sheriff knew her. “She wouldn’t let me go into the kitchen in the morning, or let me help with lunch or dinner. What does she think I’m here for?”
    “Good question,” Butz murmured.
    Deputy Sparks snickered. Paavo noticed that he’d been spending the whole time sitting across the room staring at Angie. Paavo put his hand possessively on her waist and glared back at the man. Sparks scrunched down in his seat.
    Angie folded her arms and leaned back against the sofa.
    Butz turned to Moira. “Is anyone else here besides you two, the cook, and the gardener?”
    “Yes. The inn’s investors have all gathered to be sure that when we open in three weeks, all goes according to plan.”
    “Investors? Hmm. So Finley Tay isn’t the sole owner after all.”
    “That’s correct.”
    “Okay, who are those investors?”
    “We have Mr. and Mrs. Greg Jeffers. He was a house-painter until he married.” She hesitated before adding, “Mrs. Jeffers is wealthy.”
    “I see.”
    “Then there’s Chelsea Worthington; she’s a student, but her parents are well-to-do and saw this as a worthy investment for her. Reginald Vane, an electrical engineer from Vancouver, and Martin and Bethel Bayman. She’s a popular channeler, with quite a following.”
    “A what?” Butz asked.
    “She communicates with the spirit world,” Moira explained. “A spirit speaks through her body.”
    Butz’s face wrinkled in disgust. “Cult