Two Cooks A-Killing by Joanne Pence Page A

doesn’t praise you? I find that hard to believe,” he said.
    â€œI can be a burden to her, I suppose. She isn’t as happy about me as she would like to be.”
    â€œI can’t imagine you being a burden to anyone, Angie. You’re a good person.”
    â€œThat’s nice of you to say.” Her gaze softened. “I was sorry to hear your mother passed away. I would have liked to have met her.”
    â€œNo.” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t have. Trust me.”
    She didn’t know what to say, so she stood. “Ithink I’d better retire. Tomorrow, I’m going to have to nail down the details and start preparing an enormous feast.”
    â€œMerry Christmas, Angie.”
    â€œGood night, Silver,” she said. A smile crept to her lips, which she tried hard to suppress.
    â€œSay it!” he ordered.
    Her eyes widened and she shook her head, trying harder than ever not to allow the laughter to break out.
    â€œListen, I’ve lived with the name all my life,” he said. “I know exactly what you’re thinking.”
    She shook her head.
    â€œHey, it’s not so bad. With a father named Sterling, a mother named Crystal, my older brother Sterling, Jr., I’m just lucky I wasn’t the third brother. He’d probably have been named Pewter.”
    She did laugh.
    â€œSay it, please.”
    She drew in her breath and said, “Hi-yo, Silver.”
    He just nodded. “Goodnight. Lock your door, Angie. Around here, that’s the only sensible thing to do.”
    Â 
    The moon was a thin crescent over the vineyards so devoid of illumination that no shadow fell as a dark figure approached the mansion. The alarm system was left off, now that the crew had arrived. If not, the people working late and arriving early would be setting it off continuously. Besides, the house was far too remote for mere thieves to approach.
    The only dangers stemmed from those whoknew its layout, its owners, the cast and crew. And knew why everything involving them should be stopped.
    All was silent in the house as the front door opened. A penlight lit the way to the living room. Audiovisual equipment filled one corner of the room. Carefully and methodically cables and wires were detached from the sockets in which they belonged and reattached to any plug, slot, or connector they could be forced onto.
    The figurine of the Little Drummer Boy stood on the mantel, its lifelike eyes watching every move.

Chapter 6
    Paavo marched into Homicide, hurled the morning’s San Francisco Chronicle on his desk, and slammed himself into his desk chair. Scowling, he took a gulp of his morning coffee.
    â€œHey, Paav,” the boisterous voice of his partner jangled his eardrums, “how you doing? Beautiful morning, isn’t it? Good to see that sun after three days of fog. Makes us all little rays of sunshine today.”
    â€œHmmph.” Paavo flapped the paper and scanned the front page.
    â€œUh oh, Angie must be giving you a hard time about something. What’s it this time? The color of your tie for her big engagement party? If the invitations should be on ivory colored paper or white with sweet smiling little cupids?” Yosh chuckled.
    â€œNot funny, Yosh,” Paavo muttered. He snapped the paper open to page two and stuck his nose closer in a not-so-subtle hint to be left alone. He was bothered by Angie’s conversation last evening. First, she’d quizzed him about her face.
    Her face? To him, it was perfect. He had no idea what was bothering her.
    No sooner had she left that topic than she told him about Brittany Keegan having died from a fall on the property. He learned more about the crew and cast than he wanted to know, not to mention Sterling and Silver Waterfield. What names! Why she hadn’t yet met “Junior” puzzled him. Something about the entire set-up was off-kilter. And it was a lot more than Christmas in April.
    He