"It's breaking and entering!" Paavo shouted.

Soon after arriving home, Schull left again, presumably to return to work. Paavo expected Sal to follow, but he didn't. Instead, he took a large set of keys from his glove compartment and got out of the car.

"Keep your voice down!" Sal said as he walked toward Schull's apartment building. "It's not breaking and entering because I'm her landlord. I've got a key, see?" He lifted it. "I'm going to find out what was in the big box she bought. I want to know what she's hiding in there."

"You can't break into her apartment!" Paavo said firmly. "I'm sorry, but that's just going too far. I won't allow it. Tenants have rights."

"I walk into my tenants' apartments all the time." Sal waved his hand dismissively. "Before they move in, I tell them I do that to check on or repair any the equipment that comes with the apartment-the heat, gas, electricity, what have you. That's what I'm doing now. Checking to make sure the heat supply is adequate. It's been cold lately. Haven't you noticed?"

Sal took out his key and entered the building. Paavo followed him up to the apartment.

"What if she walks in while we're here?" Paavo asked.

"She's at work. Relax or leave. You're making me nervous. I didn't know cops were such nervous Nellies."

"Only the ones who are breaking and entering," Paavo said under his breath.

The first thing he noticed was that the apartment was sterile to a fault, looking as if no one lived there. The few pieces of furniture were lined up against the walls. Nothing was out of place, and tabletops and even the hardwood floors appeared so clean, waxed, and shiny they all but squeaked.

"She is a good tenant, as you can see," Sal said.

"Did she live in the apartment before she came to work for you?" Paavo asked. He quickly surveyed the room for any of the spy equipment that was available off the Internet. They looked like radios, smoke detectors, and the like, but contained hidden cameras and videotape. In his experience, paranoid and troubled people like Schull often used them.

"She did, then she was downsized from her job at a bank when there was a merger and said she'd have to move if she couldn't find work. She had shoe experience, so I offered her a job as a clerk, and that was that. She did well, and now, thanks to rent control, she gets this beautiful apartment for a song." Sal frowned. "That's the downside. But if she ever does move, I won't have to do a thing to the place other than touch up the paint on the walls."

Sal gasped, hand to his chest.

Paavo froze. "Your heart?"

"No. I forgot to lock my car! What if someone steals it?"

Not many car thieves have such a sense of humor, Paavo thought, trying to calm himself after the fright Sal gave him. He headed for the door. "You're right to worry. Let's go."

"On second thought, this is a safe neighborhood." Sal started to open drawers. "It should be fine for a little while. Let's see what we can find."

We? Paavo watched anxiously. What if she came back? How would he explain his presence, even if she believed Sal? If she went to his boss, he'd be in so much trouble, he'd be busted back to patrol. Midnight shift.

That'd make his father-in-law-to-be feel even more warm fuzzies about him. He hadn't spotted any surveillance equipment, and so he slipped the chain lock in place. At least with it, if Schull decided to come back they'd hear the chain rattle and have time to duck out the back way.

As Sal went through the living room and kitchen, Paavo methodically made sure everything was put back the way it had been so it would appear as undisturbed as possible. If they were going to do this, they should at least do it right.

As Sal went through a kitchen drawer filled with recipes and coupons, Paavo said, "You know, most people who hide things put them in their bedroom. Especially in their underwear drawer."

Sal tossed aside the papers. "Is that so? Makes sense. Let's go."

Before following, Paavo quickly put the materials back the way they'd been.

The bedroom was even starker than the living room. It had one twin-sized bed, a chair, and a narrow single dresser. The bed was covered with a white sheet, white pillowcase, and white blanket folded at the foot. Nothing more. It felt eerie.

Sal was rummaging through the underwear drawer when Paavo turned to the closet. "You seem to know a lot about this kind of thing," Sal said.

"Cops and criminals learn to think like each other."

"So, you'd make a good criminal," Sal mused.

A moment pa.s.sed before Paavo answered. "You could say that."

Very few clothes were hanging, and they were all either white or black. She had three pairs of black shoes with various-sized heels. In the back of the closet, he found the party goods box.

"She's not a good advertis.e.m.e.nt for my shoes," Sal said sadly. With Paavo's find, he left the oversized bras and enormous cotton briefs in a jumble.

"Or anything else," Paavo murmured, glancing at the drawer and not relishing the thought that he'd be the one to make it neat again.

"She always looks nice, though. And always matches," Sal added.

The box was so light that Paavo was afraid it was empty. Inside, under reams of tissue paper, he found a wedding cake topper of a man and a woman standing under a bower of flowers.

This one had obviously been customized according to Schull's directions. The man wore a tuxedo. He was thin; his hair was gray and he had a little gray mustache. The woman was a bit heavier, very busty, with blond hair pulled back into what could easily be a French twist. She wore a full-length formal gown. The strangest part, though-the part that caused a chill down Paavo's spine-was that the wedding dress was black.

Chapter 21.

Paavo was shown to Dianne Randle's desk at Social Services. She stood, frowning. "Are you really with the police this time?"

"Excuse me?" he said, stating his name as he showed his badge.

"Okay, at least you sound legit," Randle said. "Have a seat. This is about Hannah Dzanic missing, I take it."

"You know about that?"

"Some woman came here quizzing me about her. I somehow got the impression she was with the police. She was a pretty little thing, brown eyes, red highlights in her hair. Great clothes."

Paavo blanched. "Yes, well, I think you can ignore her inquiries. I'd like to ask a few questions about Sh.e.l.ly Farms. It seems he was concerned about Miss Dzanic. Did he ever talk to you about her?"

"Not specifically," Randle said. "I've worked with Sh.e.l.ly in the past-it's so sad about him-and I usually got the referrals he sent over, just like I took on Hannah. Why? Do you think she could have had something to do with his murder? Is that why she's missing?"

"Why did Farms send Hannah here to see you?" Paavo asked.

Randle shrugged. "Same old thing. She got pregnant and her boyfriend didn't want to get married. That place she worked paid her so little it's criminal. I set her up for aid. Nothing else."

"What about Marsh? Why was she afraid of him? Did she tell you or Sh.e.l.ly?"

Randle shook her head. "She never said anything specific to me. I thought she just got upset about the way he disappointed her. Maybe she said more to Sh.e.l.ly, but as I told you, I never talked to him about her."

Paavo soon left. He didn't find out much from Randle, other than that Angie was going around pretending to be someone she wasn't. He phoned to discuss this with her, but as soon as she heard his voice, she burst into tears.

"What is it?" he asked, worried. "It's not Hannah, is it?" When her sobs grew louder, he added, "Or Stan? The baby?"

She sniffled and snuffled and finally cried, "It's our party."

Relieved, though he'd never tell her that, he tried to calm her. "Don't cry, Angel. It's nothing we can't fix, I'm sure. Take a deep breath and tell me what happened."

"I was out with Connie and when I got home, I walked into my apartment and there on the coffee table were a man and a woman-"

"What?" he yelled.

"Not real! A wedding cake topper. Only...only the bride wore black! Do you know what a bad sign that is? Do you know how horrible that is? What an ugly, terrible omen? I can't stand it! Somebody hates me; hates us. I don't know what to do, Paavo!"

"I'll be right there."

"No...you're busy. I'll be all right. I feel better just hearing your voice. Besides, I've got to go see how Stan is doing. He's upset about Hannah."

"Keep the figurine. I want to see it."

"I smashed it up, then shoved it down the garbage disposal. I'm sorry; I just wasn't thinking, just upset. This was supposed to be such a happy time for me-for us-and it's all going to h.e.l.l!"

"For me, Angie, it is the happiest time of my life," he said gently. "An ugly figurine isn't enough to ruin it. I love you."

"Oh, Paavo..." Her voice caught and she excused herself a moment. He could hear her blowing her nose. "Your words make me feel foolish for crying over something so trivial-and make me want to cry more because you're so understanding. I love you, too, more than you'll ever know."

As soon as Paavo hung up he called Sal. "Where can we meet that Serefina won't see us? We've got to do something. Schull has just gone too far."

"How did she get into Angie's apartment?" Paavo demanded, still furious about how badly Schull upset the woman he planned to marry. "Does she have a key to it?"

"Of course not!" Sal looked squeamish. "Of course, I have keys to all my tenant's places, as I told you. Angie's I keep on my key chain."

"Could Schull have gotten hold of it?"

Sal shrugged. "I guess, a time or two, I may have left my keys lying about on a desk or table while at the store. In fact"-his eyes widened-"I remember one time, I couldn't find them, and she found them for me. She could have taken them, made some copies. She could have my house key as well!"

Paavo was in the library of the Amalfi home, one of the many mansions in Hillsborough. It looked like a Mediterranean villa. Serefina was out for the evening.

Paavo handed Sal the note he'd found taped to Angie's apartment door the night he went to pick her up and take her to KQED. Encased in a plastic sleeve, it was in Schull's handwriting and threatened a 'big surprise' at the engagement party.

"So now the threat's in writing." Sal rubbed his hands together. "You can arrest her."

"Not for a threat."

"I'll kill her!" Sal exploded.

"Don't even joke about it!" Paavo warned.

"Who's joking?"

Paavo drew in his breath. He talked again about the need to tell Angie and Serefina what was going on. With each step, Schull seemed to have grown bolder. If she was going inside Angie's apartment, who knew what she might try next?

"And if Serefina learns about it," Sal said warily, "who knows what might happen to Schull?"

Paavo's brows crossed. "Serefina wouldn't hurt her."

"No." Sal shut his eyes a moment as if debating just how much he should tell Paavo. Finally, he said, "She wouldn't, but she's got lots of relatives-brothers, uncles, cousins-who don't like to see her unhappy. And this would make her very unhappy."

Paavo had heard about some of Serefina's colorful relatives from Angie. They weren't exactly criminals; they simply knew how to get things done. How to get...anything done. And woe betide anyone who stood in their way, or who threatened a loved one like Serefina or Angie.

Paavo had once had some dealings with Angie's Cousin Richie, who was bad enough-and he was on Sal's side of the family.

"I see," Paavo said.

"Good."

"It's up to us, then," he added.

"That's what I been trying to tell you!"

Paavo's mouth tightened. "We've got to come up with something fast. I won't put up with her making Angie cry again."

"Well, that's a change," Sal said bitterly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Paavo asked.

"You know what I mean."

"Look," Paavo said, finally and completely exasperated, "I don't care if you don't like me, but just what is it that you object to so much?"

"Did I ever say I objected?"

"You didn't have to." Paavo grimaced. "You show it with every word you say, every gesture. You're just going to have to get used to me, Sal, because I'm not going away."

"Look at it this way," Sal said, eying him fiercely. "If you were me, would you want your daughter to marry you?"

"I'll be good to her."

"If you don't break her heart," Sal shouted. "You know about cops' marriages. Between divorce, getting killed in the line of duty, and trouble with alcohol, the future isn't pretty. My Angelina is a happy, sunny person. She's special and always has been. I don't want you to be the cause of her changing!"

Paavo's brows knitted. So that was it. "Troubled marriages are found everywhere in today's society," he said. "And I don't drink, so you don't have to worry about that. Most of those divorces are between people who married young, which I'm not, and I've learned from my job that death can strike anyone, anytime."

"But your job is more dangerous than most, for cryin' out loud! Why can't you be a shoe salesman, like me? Don't you worry about it? Not only for yourself, but what it would do to her."

"I worry about it every day," Paavo said quietly. He peered at Sal a moment, and then decided to tell a story. "I once knew a woman who was a health fanatic. She never ate fat, avoided red meat, desserts, cigarettes, and alcohol. She left the city because there was too much crime here, and went to a small, safe town. She exercised every day, and would never travel by airplane, go out late at night, or go anywhere or do anything that might put her in the slightest danger."

Sal nodded.