The Da Vinci Cook Read Online Free PDF Page A

grin, but was losing the battle. “A black Volvo followed by a white BMW SUV followed by a silver Mercedes—and the last two driven by two women who are probably on their cell phones with each other and all over the road. Shouldn’t be too tough to spot.”
    “One is a murder suspect,” Paavo reminded him.
    “Wrong—two are murder suspects,” Yosh clarified. “If Caterina wasn’t your sister-in-law to be, she’d be our prime suspect.”
    Paavo rubbed a temple. “I think I’m getting a headache.”

Chapter 5
    “I can’t believe you carry your passport around with you.” Cat looked at Angie as if she’d sprouted two heads.
    “Doesn’t everyone? It’s in my tote with my iPaq, checkbook, extra makeup, and a few other important things. Something told me to grab the tote when I left the house. Anyway, you have yours.” Angie took off her shoes and jacket and set them on the conveyer belt along with her tote bag and purse to go through security. Cat did the same.
    “I have mine,” Cat said, “because I needed it to get tickets and visas for the cruise Charles and I want to take through the Baltic. It’s not something I carry around all the time.”
    The conversation stopped while the agent took away Cat’s manicure scissors, letter opener, metal nail file, a Swiss Army pocketknife tool set, and a screwdriver. Her explanation that she was a realtor was greeted with a bored shrug. He didn’t care why she had these things. It was his job to confiscate them, which he did.
    Tickets in hand, Cat and Angie continued down the long corridor to their gate.
    Earlier, Angie had used her iPaq to log onto the Internet, where she discovered a Lufthansa flight to Rome leaving in an hour. Since its layover in Frankfurt was only fifty minutes, she knew she’d actually arrive in Rome before Rocco did. She could wait in the restricted terminal area and watch as he came off the jetway.
    Once she spotted him, she’d follow him to wherever he was staying. Then she’d phone Paavo, he’d contact the Italian police, they’d arrest Rocco, get back the chain of St. Peter (God willing), extradite Rocco to the U.S., and she could quickly come home—after doing a bit of shopping and eating in Rome, of course. It had been a few years since she’d lived there, and she loved the city. She had no problem with visiting it again.
    If only Paavo could be with her, life would be perfect. Rome . . . Italy . . . they were made for amore . In fact, Italy might make a very nice site for a honeymoon. She could check that out as well.
    When she enthusiastically told Cat her plan, leaving out the part about finding a honeymoon locale, Cat clearly and emphatically gave her opinion of her sister’s mental condition.
    “What do you want to do?” Angie asked, warming to her plan. “Go back and try to convince the police that the home owner’s brother just happened to be at the scene of the crime and just happened to take the valuable relic you were accused of stealing that very morning? Or let me go to Rome, find Rocco, point out to the police where he is, and let him do the explaining? Without finding him and the chain that will back up your story, what proof do you have for any of this? All the police know is that you were there, and your handkerchief was found under the dead man’s body.”
    “Why did he have my handkerchief?” Cat complained. “I don’t even know who he was!”
    “I’ll handle everything for you.” Angie patted her sister sympathetically. “All you need to do is describe Rocco to me, clothes and all. I’d hate to go all the way to Italy and then follow the wrong person.”
    Cat jerked her arm away. She hated sympathy. “How could you pick one man out of a whole planeload of people? What can I tell you? Look for a guy in a sport jacket who looks Italian? I haven’t seen Rocco since I was about ten years old. I’m not sure I would recognize him myself.” Cat took a few steps, then stopped. When she