Two Cooks A-Killing Read Online Free Page B

keeping his tone placid as he pulled out a notepad and pen. “Tell me your name.”
    â€œMinnie Petite.”
    His hand froze. He’d ask what her real name was after he talked to Missing Persons. “Age?”
    â€œDo you need that?”
    â€œYes.”
    She glowered. “Fifty-nine.”
    â€œResidence?”
    She gave him the information he needed about her home in San Francisco, plus mentioned her work in movies and on television whenever they had a role for someone “extremely vertically challenged.”
    â€œNow,” Paavo said, “tell me about the missing person.”
    She folded her hands. “His name is Fred Demitasse, age sixty-four. Gray hair, brown eyes, one hundred ten pounds, and four feet three inches tall.”
    Paavo put down his pen and looked hard at his partner.
    If Yosh’s family had stayed in Japan, he might have become rich and famous as a sumo wrestler because he was tall, stocky, and muscular. Instead, he was a third-generation poor American cop. Such was life, and Paavo knew few people who enjoyed life more than Yosh.
    His partner had been openly eavesdropping ever since Minnie had first strolled between their desks. Yosh’s face was an open book. If this was a practical joke, Paavo would know it. Either Yosh wasn’t in on the joke, or the woman was legitimate.
    â€œAll right, copper.” Minnie thrust out her jaw. “I’ll explain this once, and once only. Fred is a dwarf. He has achondroplasia, a not uncommon condition that results in short arms and legs, and a slightly enlarged head. It’s not life threatening or anything else. He was, in every way except limbsize, quite normal. On the other hand, I’m all in proportion”—she sat a little straighter—“just small. People used to call those of us who are ultra petite ‘midgets.’ These days, you call me that and I’ll deck you. Got it now? Can we get on with finding Fred?”
    Paavo cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am.” Yosh buried his head in his papers.
    â€œNow, ask your questions,” Minnie demanded.
    â€œWhat is your relationship to Mr. Demitasse?” he began.
    â€œWe’re just friends, good enough to…you know. But marriage isn’t our thing. We often work together, so we share a house with two other little people, also actors. They’re both out of town with gigs. One with Ringling Brothers. The other is part of a show in Vegas.”
    â€œWhen did you last see Mr. Demitasse?”
    â€œThree days ago.”
    â€œHas he ever gone off without telling you?”
    â€œHe has, but this time I’m worried.” She opened her handbag, pulled out a lace handkerchief—he thought everyone used tissues these days—and dabbed her eyes.
    â€œWhy is that, Ms. Petite?” he asked.
    She looked heavenward. “I have a feeling about it.”
    A feeling, Paavo thought. Great. Thank you, Connie Rogers, for sending Ms. Petite this way. “When Mr. Demitasse left in the past, how long did he stay away?”
    â€œA week, sometimes a little longer. But usually the other boys would be home. He never left me alone before.”
    â€œWhen will the others be back?”
    She blew her nose with a loud honk, then daintily put her handkerchief back in her purse. “Not for a month”—she sighed despondently—“maybe longer.”
    â€œI see. Well, Ms. Petite, I’ll look into this situation and let you know as soon as I find out something.”
    â€œWhat the hell kind of brush-off is that?” she brayed, to his amazement. “You don’t believe me, either!”
    â€œI believe you, but you’re letting your imagination run amok,” he said. “There’s no reason to think anything bad has happened to Mr. Demitasse. I’m sure he’ll come home soon, and you’ll find it was a simple mistake.”
    She slid off the chair, held her purse