Red Hot Murder: An Angie Amalfi Mystery (24 page)

The next afternoon, Angie and Paavo stopped at the Stagecoach Saloon on their way out of town to say good-bye to Doc and others who had gathered there to wish them well. Since their SUV had been destroyed, Joey let them use his Lexus for the drive to the airport. He’d retrieve it sometime soon. He planned to return to Los Angeles long enough to pack up his things.

He was moving to Jackpot, to the Ghost Hollow Guest Ranch, and was going to be its new manager. He’d offered his services to Teresa, and she’d gladly accepted them. Lionel didn’t have the energy or brains to make it the kind of resort it should be—a first-class one, and a possible destination-wedding site as well.

As Joey had explained the evening before to his appalled mother, he’d always liked both the hacienda and Teresa. Liked, not loved, he emphasized. Teresa had always been kind to him—kinder than anyone else, in fact. He didn’t want to fight the will. He had no reason to. And for the first time
in his life he put his foot down and told Clarissa that if she tried to fight it, he’d do all he could to oppose her.

Sheriff Merry Belle Hermann was at the saloon as well. She leaned against a crutch, Buster beside her. She recounted time and again the “Shootout at Ghost Hollow Ridge,” as she called it—a day that would live in infamy, at least in her own mind.

Buster took Angie aside and apologized about her Emilio Pucci scarf, offering to buy her a new one. She told him to forget it, she had plenty of others. She also promised to send him a bunch of her favorite high-fashion catalogues and brochures so he could order clothes to his heart’s content—perhaps best done using a post office box in another town. He was thrilled.

Doris Flynn’s appearance saved Angie the need for a trip to the library. She handed Willem van Beerstraeden’s letters and recipe journal to the librarian. Doris clutched them to her heart, and promised to give the materials a prominent place in a glass case in her new library annex with a plaque thanking Angelina Amalfi for her generous historical gift. It might even bring a few more tourists to Jackpot.

Whether that happened or not, the whole town believed Angie deserved the plaque simply for convincing LaVerne to stop cooking her “old family recipes.”

Angie invited Teresa to come to San Francisco for a visit. Teresa agreed. She planned to spend a year or more traveling. There was much she had to sort out in her mind, and much sorrow to forget. It
was time for her to get to know who Teresa Flores Edwards was, and what she valued in her life.

To Angie’s surprise—and Teresa’s own—she added that after the year ended, she’d very likely be happy to come back to Jackpot. She’d kept her heart wrapped up in a protective shell all these years, and she couldn’t help but suspect that to work her way out of it, the best place was home.

Angie suspected she was right.

Doc and Lupe were together, arms around each other’s waists, beaming, and looking for all the world like young lovers. Angie was glad to see it.

Soon, the time came for her and Paavo to leave, to make the long drive to Palm Springs and then the plane ride back to San Francisco.

Angie felt strangely melancholy about saying good-bye to so many new friends. She had a special hug for Doc.

Doc told her that she and Paavo were good for each other, and she told him that the same went for him and Lupe.

Lupe took Paavo’s hands. “Don’t stay away so long, next time.”

“I won’t,” he promised and gave her a warm embrace.

He then turned to Doc and held him a long moment as thoughts of the friend who wasn’t there hit them hard. Both were a little misty-eyed when they parted.

Merry Belle stood near the front door, ready to rush—or hobble—outside if need be to protect Jackpot.

Paavo said good-bye to her with a handshake, but at the last moment, leaned forward and kissed
her on the cheek. Merry Belle blushed twenty shades of red, then gave him an affectionate tap on the chest that nearly sent him through the saloon window.

With smiles and grins, and more than a little sadness, Angie and Paavo left.

As they passed Merritt’s Café, both stuck an arm out the window and waved at LaVerne, who was watching, her nose pressed to the glass and a coffeepot in hand.

Just past town at one point where the creek neared the highway, Angie found herself studying the horizon.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Paavo asked.

“Yes,” she replied. The more she’d come to know the desert, the more she appreciated it. She, who was a city girl through and through, was surprised at the beauty she’d found in lonesome stretches of land broken up only by a cactus or some low-lying scrub, at the horses, the cattle, and even the hard-working people in the sleepy Western town.

“I never did get to go fishing,” Paavo said. “And I used to enjoy it as a kid. I enjoyed it a lot, in fact.”

“We’ll do it someday,” she promised.

“I wonder what’s going to happen to Ned’s business,” Paavo said quietly. “If it’ll be put up for sale?”

Her head swiveled toward him at warp speed. “For sale?” Her throat felt like it was closing.

“You don’t think you’d be happy working on boats and gutting fish for your husband?”

She was speechless.

“Don’t worry, Angie. Not now. But …” He
looked out at the empty vistas and smiled wistfully. “Maybe someday.”

She eased herself against the passenger seat. She’d hoped that from this vacation she’d learn more about Paavo, and she certainly had.

Now she just had to figure out their destination-wedding site. Wherever it might be, she knew that it’d have nothing whatsoever to do with the Old West, cowboys, horses … and especially not ostriches.

 
TORTILLA CRISP

Preheat oven to 400°F. Grease a cookie sheet with canola oil or, for more authenticity, lard. Place the tortilla on it, then cover it with cheese, pepper, garlic, and salt. Bake at 400° until the cheese is melted and slightly bubbling.

From the kitchen to the deck of a cruise ship, Joanne Pence’s mysteries are always a delight. Starring career-challenged Angie Amalfi and her handsome homicide-detective boyfriend Paavo Smith, Joanne Pence serves up a mystery feast complete with humor, a dead body or two, and delicious recipes.

Enjoy the pages that follow, which give a glimpse into Angie and Paavo’s world.

A while passed before she looked up again. When she did, she saw a dark-haired man standing in the doorway to her apartment, surveying the scene. Tall and broad shouldered, his stance was aloof and forceful as he made a cold assessment of all that he saw.

If you’re going to gawk, she thought, come in with the rest of the busybodies.

He looked directly at her, and her grip tightened on the chair. His expression was hard, his pale blue eyes icy. He was a stranger, of that she was certain. His wasn’t the type of face or demeanor she’d easily forget. And someone, it seemed, had just sent her a bomb. Who? Why? What if this stranger…