Cooking Spirits

Chapter 4

4

Angie and her sister, Caterina Amalfi Swenson, spent five hours going to houses throughout the northern section of San Francisco, Angie’s favorite part of the city. Cat, as she liked to call herself, had been an interior designer for many years, and had recently moved to real estate. She was the second oldest of Angie's four sisters, born after Bianca, and before Maria, Francesca, and Angelina, who was the baby of the family.

They had started on Telegraph Hill, and worked their way west through North Beach, Russian Hill, the Marina, Pacific Heights, and now they were in Presidio Heights.

The houses went from very expensive to extremely expensive. The lone moderately expensive home needed a complete remodel, a new roof, and earthquake retrofitting. A wrecking ball would have been its best solution.

Angie grew increasingly depressed. “Let me see what else is on your list,” she said, reaching for Cat’s realtor listing sheet.

Cat kept hold of the paperwork. “I think you should look for a place outside the city, Angie. How does Paavo feel about the suburbs?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m not ready to give up on the city yet.” She reached again for the sheets.

“The idea of becoming a home-owner seems to have hit you rather suddenly,” Cat said as she handed Angie the list.

Angie scanned down the few remaining houses. “Oh, my God!” she cried. “How did you miss this one? It's $600,000 for a house in the Sea Cliff, four bedrooms, two-and-a-half baths, two-car garage, laundry room, tool shed, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Why didn't we start there? You never even mentioned it. Let’s go, quick!”

“Don’t bother,” Cat said.

“What do you mean? The land alone is worth the price.”

“I’ve heard about that place. It’s been listed forever, and has gone pending any number of times, but the deal always falls through.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know. People find some excuse not to live there, I guess. My office manager told us not to get involved with it. It’s a pathway to frustration and a waste of time.”

“I want to see it.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

“It’s my time to waste.”

“Here it is,” Caterina announced as she pulled into the driveway, “51 Clover Lane.”

“I can’t believe this location.” Angie got out of the car and couldn’t stop swiveling her head as she took in the view. “It overlooks the Pacific Ocean. This is incredible.”

Clover Lane was just off Sea Cliff Avenue on the western edge of San Francisco. The lane contained only two houses—number 51, on the side of the street facing the water, and across from it, number 60, a much smaller home. A guard rail stood at the end of the street, and beyond it was an open space for dog walkers or anyone who might want to scramble down the cliff to the sandy beach below.

The two gray and white clapboard homes appeared surprisingly out-of-place among the mansions that made up the bulk of the Sea Cliff, one of the city’s priciest neighborhoods. They seemed all but forgotten on the small strip of land.

“The house looks a bit dated, don’t you think?” Cat stood with one hand on her hip, eying the property. “There's nothing else here but that little cottage. It seems lonely.”

“Lonely? It’s surrounded by open space!” Angie eyed her as if she’d taken leave of her senses. “That’s desirable in a city. With landscaping and fresh paint and it’ll look one-hundred percent better. Let’s see the inside.”

Cat’s expression was decidedly sour as she opened the lock box to remove the front door key. Normally, Angie’s suspicions would rise at too good a price for a house, and she would walk away from it. Cat’s reluctance to show it, however, had the opposite effect.

Once inside, Angie’s thoughts turned from obstinate to ecstatic. The foyer led directly to the living room with a wall of windows.

“The view is breathtaking!” The picture windows faced north to Baker’s Beach with a glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge spanning the water to Marin County. Looking west to the Pacific, the Farallon Islands for once weren't lost in fog.

Angie struggled to turn her gaze back to the house. Furniture filled the living room and dining area. “I thought you said no one lived here.”

“No one is living here,” Cat repeated. “The furniture comes with the house. If you don’t want it, the seller will move it out before you take possession.”

“Well, if I were to buy the place, this furniture would all go. It’s old and hideous.”

As Angie slid open the glass door to the back garden and stepped outside, Caterina’s phone chimed news of a text message causing her to dig into her purse to find it. At the same time, the candy dish on the coffee table rose up high in the air and then dropped with a thud onto the rug.

Angie walked to the edge of the patio. The yard had a level area and then sloped downward. A surrounding fence gave protection from the area’s namesake, the sea cliff.

“It’s a client,” Cat said as she composed a reply. “Give me a moment before we see the rest of the house, okay?” Cat hit “send” and then looked up. “Angie?” Finally, she stuck her head outside. “What are you doing? I thought I heard you come back inside. I’ve been in here talking to myself!”

“Just looking around.” Angie went indoors.

“That yard will never do once you have kids,” Cat said, pulling the sliding glass door shut. “They’d be over that fence and playing on the cliff the minute your back was turned.”

“You may be right,” Angie said. “But by the time Paavo and I have kids old enough to go outside and play, I suspect we’ll do like so many others and move out of San Francisco. While we’re newlyweds, however, I plan to enjoy city life. Let’s see the kitchen.”

They walked through the dining area with a multitude of windows facing the ocean, to the kitchen. The wall between the kitchen and dining room had been replaced with a bar and stools to give the kitchen an open and airy feel.

“This kitchen is a nightmare.” Cat ran her hand over the off-white porcelain tile countertops. The appliances were also white. “I’d need sunglasses to work in here.”

The refrigerator door suddenly swung open. Then, the oven door did the same.

“My God, these appliances really are old,” Angie said as she shut both doors. “Or someone badly mishandled them. Not that it matters. I would want new, top-of-the-line appliances and granite countertops wherever I lived. This kitchen could be made truly beautiful!”

The refrigerator door opened once more. She gave it a shove with her elbow, closing it as she moved out of the kitchen. The more she saw of the house, the less sense it made that it hadn’t sold, and that the owners weren’t asking twice as much for it.

On the opposite side of the living room, a large master bedroom and bath also faced the water. One small room, perfect for a den or a future nursery, was across the hall from it, along with a guest powder room. Upstairs were two more bedrooms and a full bathroom. The view from the upstairs bedrooms was even more breath-taking than on the main level. Angie could see making one a guest room and the letting Paavo have the other to use as an office, man-cave, or whatever he wanted.

Angie was beside herself at this find. “If Paavo and I were to buy this house,” she said, “Paavo could either sell his house or rent it out and put the rent money towards the mortgage. We could make this work, you know.” She glanced at her sister. “By the way, your perfume is awfully strong. I noticed it when I came downstairs.”

“Strong? It’s the same as always!” Cat said indignantly. “But I think you’ve gotten ahead of yourself. We can find you a better house.”

“But none with a better view or price!” Angie went to check out the laundry room, mudroom and garage. Cat stayed in the living room and made a quick phone call back to her office manager.

“I think I’m falling in love,” Angie said as she rejoined her sister.

Cat had just ended the call, dropped the phone back into her handbag and faced Angie with a big smile. “If you really want to buy this, I’m sure I can get a good deal for you. I still owe you for that little incident that sent us to Italy. I’ll even throw in my share of the commission. Call it a wedding present for you and Paavo.”

“Really? That’s awfully generous.” Angie just stared at her, wondering what was up. Familial love didn’t flow in Cat’s veins; money did.

“Nothing’s too good for my baby sister.”

Now, Angie felt certain something odd was going on, but she was too excited to care. She spotted the candy dish on the floor. “Funny, I hadn’t noticed that before,” she said as she picked it up and put it back where it belonged. “This house could be the one!”

“You’ll have to get Paavo out here right away,” Cat advised. “Why don’t you call him and see when he’s available?”

Angie grew even more suspicious of her sister’s about face. “Wait, let me think about this first,” she said. “The problem is, it’s too perfect, except for this hideous furniture. It’s been on the market a long time, so why hasn’t it sold? I’d like to know more before I get Paavo involved. Could you find out its history? You said others dropped out of the deal. I’d like to know why.”

“What does it matter what others did if you love it?” Cat asked, with an emphasis on the word ‘love.’

Cat’s words and demeanor troubled Angie. “I’m not going to think about buying a place that has some kind of bad karma or mystery attached to it.” Her tone was emphatic and determined. “Find out all you can. Also, I want Connie to see it and hear its story. Only if everything sounds good, will I bring Paavo out here.”

“Connie? You’re kidding me!” Cat shuddered.

“Connie has a clear head. She’ll be perfect.”

“Whatever,” Cat muttered as they went out the door.

As they walked out to Cat’s car, they missed what seemed to be an act of ceramic suicide as the candy dish rose off the table, flew through the air, hit the stonework around the fireplace and landed in tiny pieces on the hearth.

Evelyn Ramirez, the Medical Examiner, called Paavo to her office. It was in the basement, along with the city morgue and the autopsy room.

“I haven’t had a chance to do the autopsy yet,” she said, “but I found something that might help identify the victim, or at least give you a clue to someone who knows him.”

She picked up an evidence bag with a piece of a business card inside it. “It was covered in blood and stuck to some clothing. I suspect that’s why whoever removed everything else missed this. I used a wash to remove as much of the blood as I could. In any case, I did some investigating of my own with the help of a phone book.” The book lay open behind her desk and she pointed to an advertisement in it as she spoke. “The card looks like it’s from Zygog Software in South San Francisco. You can see that the ‘Zyg’ and the logo match Zygog’s. I’m not sure of the name on the card, but it looks like ‘Tay’ something. The rest of the card hasn’t been found yet.”

“Good job,” Paavo said. “This gives us a start. The fingerprints, such as they were, got us nowhere.”

Paavo and Yosh immediately drove to Zygog and asked to speak to the head of the personnel department. They explained the situation, leaving out most of the gorier details, and showed him a photo of the business card.

“That’s ours, all right,” Larry Peters said. “Tay … hmm. We have a Taylor Bedford who’s our top salesmen. Let’s hope it’s not him. But your victim could easily be one of his clients. Let’s see if Taylor’s available to speak with you.” Peters picked up the office phone and punched in a number.

He looked pale as he hung up and faced the detectives. “The staff secretary said he hasn’t arrived yet. He is expected; but he should have been here by now.”

Paavo glanced at Yosh, then said, “May we see his boss?”

“Certainly.” Peters led them to Mark Carter’s office and quickly explained the situation.

“Let’s hope Taylor is all right,” Carter said. He was in his fifties, slim, with glasses and a receding hairline.

“Would you describe Bedford to us?” Paavo asked.

“He’s a bit over six feet, good physique—probably goes to the gym while he travels to stay fit. Brown hair; brown eyes.”

“Age?” Paavo asked.

“Forty.”

“Distinguishing marks or anything about him that might help with identification?”

“Nothing I know of,” Carter said.

The description fit that of their victim as best they and the M.E. could tell.

“Would you like me to call his home?” Carter asked. “He should have returned on Friday. Maybe he’s simply sick.”

Paavo and Yosh listened as Carter talked to Larina Bedford. She said she expected Taylor home last night, but he hadn’t made it. She had thought about calling Carter to ask him where Taylor might be, but decided to wait a little longer.

“I can’t imagine what happened to him,” Carter said to Mrs. Bedford. “But on the road things can get screwed-up. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from him.” With that he hung up and faced the detectives. “This doesn’t look good at all.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Paavo agreed. He and Yosh wrote down Taylor Bedford’s home address and phone number, plus other identifying information.

“Before we go,” Paavo said to Carter, “what’s Taylor Bedford’s position here?”

“Sales. Our company produces one-stop software that helps tool and die manufacturers and sales companies inventory and price their equipment, send bills, and so on. It also provides software assistance to mechanical engineers who work closely with the tool and die makers. Taylor’s territory is northern California. He travels two weeks a month to visit clients and find new ones.”

“How easy is it to learn to sell such software?” Yosh asked.

“Not easy at all. It’s a rarified world. That’s why Taylor has a huge territory and travels so much. He’s our most dedicated salesmen. I have to believe he’s all right.”