A Cook in Time Read Online Free Page B

Hercules stopped eating,arched his back, and emitted a low growl before he ran across the kitchen, through his cat door, and out into the night.
    It was probably another automatic dialer or fax machine running amok—the year 2000 computer bug struck again.

3
    The next morning, Angie was no closer to an idea for an out-of-this-world dinner party than she had been the night before. She sat on the sofa in her living room, her coffee on an end table, the morning’s Chronicle on her lap. From her apartment high atop Russian Hill, she could see the northern part of the city. Rain was falling again, casting a gray gloom over the sky.
    She wished Paavo was with her. Listening to the patter of rain was always nicer with someone. Alone, the sound had a bleakness that was almost sad.
    When he’d called the night before, she had been so sleepy she could hardly speak, and what she did say must have been muddled, because she thought she’d heard a hint of a chuckle in his voice. All she could remember was that he’d said he was involved in a strange case that was going to take a while, and she shouldn’t worry.Just hearing his deep voice had set her mind at ease. He had told her he loved her, and that set her heart at ease. If he’d been beside her in bed to set her body at ease, she might have slept better than ever.
    But she couldn’t allow herself to reflect on Paavo just then. Her fantasy dinner needed a design, a structure on which to build the extraterrestrial theme Triana Crisswell had asked for.
    She toyed with the idea of an astrological design but nixed it. These people, she was sure, considered themselves scientific. It might be pseudoscience to some, but to themselves, they were serious students of technology, not dilettantes of the paranormal.
    She stood, folding her arms within the long kimono sleeves of her pink silk robe, and began to pace. She needed a theme that was both exceptional and unique. Something, perhaps, that the general public didn’t know about.
    Who did?
    A shave-and-a-haircut knock sounded on her door. She knew that knock—and knew it was not bringing the answer to her question.
    Angie opened the door to greet her neighbor, Stanfield Bonnette, a tall, blond, youthful-looking fellow. He should have been at work, not standing there casually dressed in off-white linen slacks and a forest green Joseph Abboud shirt. As much as he thought of himself as an up-and-coming bank executive, from whatAngie saw of his work ethic, down-and-going was a more apt description.
    â€œI didn’t know this was a bank holiday,” she said, stepping back so he could enter.
    â€œI had a migraine this morning.” He did his best to feign suffering. “It’s gone now. I was wondering if you wanted to go to a movie. The Castro’s showing Plan 9 from Outer Space . With all this millennium talk in the news, I thought it would be fun.”
    â€œConsidering the time of year, wouldn’t Santa Claus Conquers the Martians be more appropriate?” she asked.
    He walked into the kitchen. “If your cop friend is chasing dead bodies instead of yours—I mean, instead of taking you out—why not come with me no matter what’s playing?”
    â€œI’ve got work to do. I’m trying to start up a new business, but I don’t want to say more about it yet.” She followed him. “ Plan 9 , you said? Actually, for the business I should learn something about extraterrestrials, and maybe even UFOs.”
    â€œUFOs? What kind of business could you get involved with that has UFOs? Space cookies?” He lightly patted her coffeepot. “Ah! Your coffee is still hot.”
    â€œHave a cup. As I said, I don’t want to talk about the business, except to say I need new-millennium high tech, not old B movies using pie pans for flying saucers. I need help sorting through all the UFO and alien stuff that’s outthere—someone to guide me to