inwardly vowing to never again forget that he was a cop just doing his job. But his eyes were so beautifully blueâ¦.
Her lips tightened. This reaction to him did nothing but irritate her. She felt like a schoolgirl, a real sucker for a uniformâeven if it was a plainclothes one.
Rico had replaced Joey on the sofa in front of the T.V., so she gestured toward the large wingback chairs nestled in a corner of the room.
âNo other calls,â she replied finally, when they were seated. He quizzed her about the one sheâd receivedâthe exact words used, the voice, accent, anything special she could remember. The caller had used the term pigeon , and Paavo questioned her over and over about birds, stool pigeons, chickens, turkeys, fowls, fouls, foes, even badminton, until she was ready to scream, if not chirp or caw.
âAll right,â he said, backing off. âTell me again about any visitors youâve had.â
âI told you. Iâve stopped everyone from coming by except my sisters, my neighbor Stan, and you. Thatâs it. Others came by, but I didnât let them in.â
âWhat others?â
âDelivery men, Edith from downstairs, the paper boy, people asking for money, a contributor to my food columnââ
âYou never mentioned that before.â
âThe contributor? I told you I went to the Shopper to drop off recipes. You were too busy yelling about me going there to even ask me where I got the recipes.â
âI never yell. But anyway, youâre saying this âcontributorâ dropped off the recipes in person?â
âRight.â
âIsnât that unusual?â
âEverythingâs unusual about my food column. But since that newspaper article gave out my address, I guess anyone can find me the way he did.â
âHe?â
âA fair number of men contribute recipes.â
âOh? So, why didnât he just mail the recipes to the paper?â
âI think he wanted to explain. This man, his name is Edward Crane, said heâs friends with another contributor named Sam Martin. Sam brings me âspoofâ recipes for breakfast foods, and signs his name as âWafflesâ for use in my column. If youâd ever seen my column, youâd know what I mean. Anyway, Waffles, or Sam, has gone toCarmel to work, and now Crane will be giving me the âspoofâ recipes.â
Paavo just looked at her for a long time as if trying to sort out what she had just said. âA number of people mentioned your column and that sometimes it can be prettyâ¦funny. Tell me more about these âspoofâ recipes.â
âWell, for me, they started out as a joke, I mean, theyâre really weird recipesâthings like Chocolate Oyster Pancakes, or Peppermint Brains Soufflé. But Jon Preston, my publisher, liked them, and claimed a lot of readers wrote in and said they liked them as well. He insisted I publish the âWafflesâ recipes whenever I got them. As long as theyâre popular, weâve kept them up.â
Angie caught his head shaking. She should feel insulted, but instead she laughed, imagining this whole recipe thing must sound like science fiction for all he understood about womenâs food columns or male contributors to them. But he wrote down the names Edward Crane and Sam Martin, and said heâd have them checked out.
âAre you working on anything else?â
âI was given the go-ahead for an article on the mayor for a Los Angelesâbased magazine. I havenât been able to start it yet.â
âThe mayor?â
âHeâs a friend of the family. Iâve done several human interest stories on him already. Itâs no big deal, but I guess heâs good copy.â
Paavo leaned back in the chair, his expression thoughtful.
âThatâs not whatâs behind all this, Inspector.â
He shrugged. âIâll keep it in mind,