If Cooks Could Kill Read Online Free PDF

curious about that date she had last night. What the hell’s wrong with her, doing this to me? Where could she be?”
    â€œGood question,” Angie said.
    â€œAagh, it’s probably just that she’s got a hangover. You know Connie around booze. She never could hold her liquor.”
    â€œTrue, but she doesn’t drink much when she’s nervous. She knows it goes straight to her head. I don’t see that as being the problem.” Angie was suddenly worried. “I think I’d better go over to her apartment.”
    â€œIf you run into her, tell her I don’t give a damn how sick she is, she’d better come to work tomorrow, or I’m coming to get her, understand?”
    â€œI got it,” Angie said, wanting to smile, but not quite sure if Helen was joking or not.
    â€œAnd congratulations,” Helen added gruffly. “Connie told me you were getting married.”
    â€œYes. My cop friend finally proposed.” She held out her hand to show off the engagement ring. Everyone she came in contact with had it stuck under his or her nose at some point before the conversation ended.
    Helen took hold of Angie’s finger, twisting it this way and that in the sunlight. “Look at that ice! Beautiful. Ring’s got good fire and saturation. I like it.” She dropped Angie’s hand. “So, when’s the big day?”
    Angie was speechless for a moment, not expecting the gruff shoe repair woman to know the stone was a diamond, let alone its excellent qualities. “Well, I’m not sure yet,” she murmured finally. “There’s a lot of planning to do.”
    â€œYeah. I guess so. Not that I’ve ever found out.” She gave a raspy whiskey-and-smoke-laced laugh.
    â€œOh? You’re single?” Angie eyed the woman. Forty-ish, self-employed, strong, motivated. In other words, exactly the kind of woman for her neighbor, Stanfield Bonnette. He could use some discipline, motivation, and hard work in his life. At thirty-something, he kepta job with a bank only because of his father’s influence, not his dedication to the world of high finance. Helen and Stan. She liked it! Made for each other, and she could be the little Cupid who’d brought them together. Just as some good fortune had brought her Paavo. She smiled at Helen, starry-eyed. Ah, amore!
    â€œNever found a man I could abide long enough to marry,” Helen confessed. “Probably better off for it, too.”
    â€œYou never know what might turn up when you least expect it,” Angie said, her mind working. She was sure she could get Stan out to Helen’s shoe repair shop on some pretext or other.
    â€œGot to get back to work. Remember to tell Connie she’d better be here tomorrow or I’ll kick her ass.”
    â€œDon’t worry,” Angie said. “There’s no way I’d forget.”
    Â 
    â€œI’m getting too old for this stuff, Paavo,” Homicide Inspector Toshiro Yoshiwara groaned and huffed as he climbed down from the rafters in an abandoned garage.
    â€œCome on, Yosh. It wasn’t that high.” Homicide Inspector Paavo Smith offered a hand as his partner leaped off a rickety wooden ladder, bypassing the last few worn-thin steps.
    â€œI’m not complaining about the climb,” Yosh said. “It was trying to speak Japanese after all these years. You’d think the police department would have someone else on the payroll to do it.”
    â€œThey do—but not someone else who happened to be right around the corner when needed. You did a good job. The kid was scared, and now he’s back with his mother.” Paavo watched the young Japanese woman tearfully hugging her son, yet obviously tornbetween wanting to kiss him and wanting to tan his backside. Earlier, the five-year-old had gotten angry with her and run away from home. Around the corner from their apartment was a boarded up, dilapidated