Read To Catch a Cook: An Angie Amalfi Mystery for Free Online Page B

murder?”
    “No leads, but I found something interesting,” Paavo said. “The vic had a record. Served time for armed robbery, burglaries, was even accused of some killings, but they were never proven.”
    “Killings? Plural? You talking organized crime?”
    “Not sure. He seems like a loner—a guy who, now and then, got in over his head. We were told his name was Jacob Platt, but it’s really Platnikov. Jakob-with-a- K Platnikov. He was born in Russia, came over here in the sixties. I haven’t heard that there were Russian gangsters in this country back then.”
    Hollins quietly watched cars zip by on the freeway. “These Russian mafias are fairly recent, but there’s always been a criminal element. He could have been part of it. Hell, I’ve heard their black market worked better than the Communist party. That’s why it survived while the party went to hell.”
    “We’re trying to find out what Platnikov was involved in, if anything. Based on something his granddaughter said, he might have been making forgeries of good jewelry. Whoever killed him might have been looking for the good stuff. We found no jewelry—real or fake—in the apartment, so my guess is that they found what they were looking for.”
    Hollins took the cigar from his mouth. “Jewelry? Have you talked to Mayfield about her new case?”
    Rebecca Mayfield…the one Angie called the “little helper bee.” “Not yet. Why?”
    “She’s got a dead jeweler on her hands. A well-known and respected jeweler. The jeweler’s name was Gregor Rosinsky—another Russian.”
     
    As much as Angie welcomed living with Paavo for a few days, staying at a hotel was extravagant.
    Especially when he walked out and left her alone each morning. There was duty, and then there was suffering from being enjoyment-challenged.
    She was walking a little slowly this morning; the bumps and bruises she’d gotten rolling around in garbage had stiffened over night. She took a couple of Advil, then made an appointment for a locksmith to meet her at her apartment. New, maximum-security locks would make it safe for her and Paavo to simply stay at her place until his new bed was delivered. A couple of days under Sal Amalfi’s roof shouldn’t bother him too much.
    As she approached her apartment building, her nerves jangled, and her mind replayed Paavo’s reaction to the break-ins. He was usually pretty sanguine about things, but this robbery attempt seemed to shake him up. That troubled her.
    When she reached her block, she scrutinized the sidewalks, the doorways, the parked cars. Being this close to home, she’d expected her uneasiness to dissipate, but it didn’t. Driving slowly, she continued past her building. Around the corner, situated with a view of the main entrance to the apartments and the garage, two men sat in a dark blue Mercury. One raised a newspaper higher as she drove by.
    Was it to cover his face?
    What kind of people sat in their cars to read newspapers in a residential neighborhood? She didn’t think she wanted to know.
    As she circled the block, she called Stan on her cell phone.
    “Look out your window,” she said when heanswered. “Two men are sitting in a dark blue sedan at the corner. Do you see them? Do you know if they’ve been there long?”
    “Gee, Angie, I don’t make it a habit to sit at my window and ogle parked cars.” She heard him moving about. “I see the car. So what? Where are you?”
    “I’m a couple blocks away. I’m just being a little paranoid, okay? I want to be sure those guys aren’t waiting for me.”
    “A little paranoid? You’ve hung out with that cop too long. This is not normal behavior. I know you had a break-in, but—”
    “Humor me. I’m going to park and walk slowly toward the building. If you see those guys get out of the car, tell me, and I’ll run back to my car and get away.”
    “That’s ridiculous! Why don’t you park in the building’s garage like you always do? It’s