Death on a Silver Platter by Joanne Pence

Author:Joanne Pence [Pence, Joanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-27T16:00:00+00:00

17

Inspector Paavo Smith's home was in the Richmond district, in the northwest corner of the city facing the Pacific Ocean and bordering the lush greenery of the Presidio. He turned up the driveway of a brown-shingled cottage.

"There's a driveway, but no garage," he said. "This place is so old it was built before cars were even a twinkle in Henry Ford's eyes."

Angie looked at the trim bungalow lit by the tall street lamps and the warm, shaded lighting of other homes on the block. "This is quite a change from the hectic pace of the Mission or downtown."

He unlocked the front door, switched on the lights, and stepped aside for her to enter.

The door opened directly into a tiny living room. The sofa and chairs were mismatched, overstuffed, and inviting. Multicolored patchwork cushions were scattered over them, an autumn-toned afghan was draped over the back of a chair, and a red and blue hooked rug lay in front of the fireplace. Books and magazines sat stacked beside an easy chair and on top of the coffee table; DVDs and compact disks filled the shelves around the TV and stereo system. One wall had a fireplace with overflowing bookshelves on each side of it, while on other walls hung Impressionist and early Modern prints. It was a comfortable, practical room, Angie thought, except for the surprising touch offered by the prints.

A loud meow greeted them. An enormous yellow tabby was curled on a chair. A scar ran from the end of his nose up to his forehead, and he had the most pugnacious face Angie ever saw on a cat.

"That's Hercules." Paavo grinned at the big tom. “Terror of all dogs in the neighborhood. His morning sport is beating up the German Shepherd next door."

Hercules jumped off the chair, stretched, and rubbed his body against Paavo's leg. Paavo bent and scratched the cat behind the ears before heading toward the kitchen. Hercules ran between his feet, mewling loudly.

Angie followed them to the doorway of the kitchen. The aging appliances were all white, and the five-foot-high refrigerator had only one door. She hadn't seen a kitchen like this since her early childhood, when her father's shoe business had needed every cent of profit plowed right back into it.

Paavo opened a can of Friskies paté. "I leave him dry food all the time. I'm never sure of my hours, but when I'm home, he knows he gets a special treat. Okay, Herk, chow time."

He put the bowl of cat food on the floor and refilled his water dish with fresh water.

"Would you like something to drink?" Paavo asked Angie as he opened the refrigerator and peered inside. "I've got... beer." He held it up. "One can."

She smiled. "We'll split it. I'm not very thirsty, anyway."

He reached for two glasses from the cupboard and carried them to the living room, placing them side by side on the coffee table.

She sat on the sofa. A moment or two later, Hercules leaped onto her lap, and then flopped down.

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