8 Sweet Payback (2 page)

“I finally came up with the idea
of giving all the other dogs a liver snack. The minute he smelled those he
showed up for his and we nabbed him. He had the most forlorn look on his face
when he figured it out.”

“Maybe we should get Nellie and
Ranger in for baths,” Sam suggested to Beau. The two ranch dogs mainly stayed
outdoors, and she suspected they might be allowed inside more often if they
didn’t smell quite so much like a horse corral.

He nodded agreement, but she could
tell his attention was split. Shortly after their coffee and cupcake dessert
she suggested they better make an early evening of it. Since they had come in
separate vehicles they didn’t get the chance to talk until they got home. He
headed immediately for the corral to check on the two horses, while Sam went
inside.

By the time he came in she had
settled in the living room and picked up the newspaper to read the short article
about the two prisoners.

“I only vaguely remember that
case,” he said. “I was still pretty new with the department back then, which
meant Orlando Padilla assigned me traffic duty and domestic disturbances more
than anything else. But this one, it was the abduction and murder of a young
woman and it turned into a pretty big deal. Angela Cayne was her name, age
twenty, lived with her parents as I recall.”

Sam nodded, sliding over to make
space on the couch. The names in the news article seemed vaguely familiar to
her, too, but other than the facts that Lee Rodarte and Jessie Starkey had now
left the state penitentiary, their convictions overturned, the article was
surprisingly slim on details, and Sam was too weary to turn on the late television
news to learn more.

“Padilla handled it himself, I
suppose?” The former sheriff had left the department more than a year ago in
disgrace, but before that he’d been a real glory-hog, taking the high-profile
cases if and when he might get his picture in the paper. With friends in high
political places, he’d hoped one day to run for a state senate position and
eventually governor. Despite his affair with a married woman and covering up
crucial evidence in a murder, who knew—in this state he still might make a
comeback.

“He did,” Beau said. “Now, if
there’s trouble over this, I suppose it will fall right into my lap.”

Chapter
2

Sam’s alarm clock went off at the
usual hour—four-thirty—and she suppressed a groan. This part of it never got
easier, although she had, before the Easter rush, begun sleeping in an extra
hour so she could awaken when Beau got up. However, today she had a half-dozen
Easter Basket cakes to assemble and decorate, and their Good Friday sales would
probably go through the roof.

She rubbed at her grainy eyes as
she stumbled toward the large master bath. A quick, hot shower before slipping
into her standard bakery attire of black slacks and her white baker’s jacket.
She opened the lid of her jewelry box, poking through the contents for her
favorite earrings. As she fastened the wires on the gold hoops, she caught
herself staring at the oddly carved wooden box on the vanity. They had a
history together, she and this box which had been a gift from an old woman who
many claimed was a
bruja
. The box
certainly had some kind of power, scary at times, but Sam still didn’t know if
the old woman had really been a witch.

Occasionally, the thought nagged
at her that perhaps she could locate someone who’d known old Bertha Martinez,
someone who might know more of the box’s history. But there’d been no time to
investigate that angle and there was certainly no time to do it this week. She
snapped the lid of the box closed, turned out the bathroom light and tiptoed
through the room so Beau’s extra bit of sleep wouldn’t be interrupted.

Downstairs, she paused at the
kitchen doorway. Cereal and fruit would certainly be healthier choices for
breakfast, but with the amount of work facing her she decided one or two more
days of grabbing a pastry and coffee at the shop wouldn’t mean the end of the
world. She picked up her parka and backpack from the coat rack near the front
door and walked out into the frosty morning. The calendar might say it was
spring, but that meant nothing in the mountains at 7,000 feet. Her van made a
little vapor cloud in the chilly air as she let it warm up and within minutes
she was on the nearly empty road toward Taos.

True to form, Julio was already
there when Sam arrived, and the scent of blueberry muffins filled the kitchen. His
skills in the kitchen continued to impress her. The baker worked quickly and
efficiently; without having to be assigned a task he simply knew what needed to
be done. While Sam had been away on her honeymoon she’d entrusted him with a
key to the shop, knowing he would get there early and have most of the
breakfast pastries ready by opening time. Since she’d been home again—other
than the holiday seasons when the workload seemed to quadruple—she’d left that
arrangement in place.
 
She greeted him
with a thanks for being so vital to the business, then she picked up the first
of her order forms.

An hour later the worktable was
filled with shapely wicker-look frosted cakes and Sam had pulled out the
chocolates and petit fours to fill them in assembly-line fashion. Jen appeared
at the curtain which divided the sales area from the kitchen, exclaiming over
the basket cakes.

“Will there be room on the back
counter for these when I get them done?” Sam asked. “I’m running out of space
here.”

“I’ll make it happen,” Jen assured
her. “Do I have time to start the coffee first?”

Sam smiled up at her assistant.
“Sure. In fact, when it’s ready I would love it if my mug were to show up,
filled.”

“You got it.” Jen disappeared and
Sam could hear her humming as she readied the sales room for the first
customers of the day.

Cakes came and went, her coffee turned
cold. At one point Sam stepped out front to check how things were going and saw
that all the bistro tables were occupied and customers stood two-deep at the
counter. She watched Jen for a moment but the young woman seemed to have
everything under control; not a hair of her dark chignon strayed out of place.

Sam looked over the beverage
bar—all the coffees and teas were there in adequate supply, so she refilled her
mug and disappeared back into the kitchen. The next thing she knew someone said
it was five p.m. and she had to stretch her aching shoulders to believe the day
had ticked away so quickly. She walked out into a glowing afternoon that really
did feel like spring. Tossing her coat onto the passenger seat of her delivery
van, she started toward home.

When she pulled into the long
driveway she saw that Beau was out at the corral fence, holding buckets of oats
for the two horses. The dogs raced toward Sam and she ruffled Nellie’s fur and
rubbed at Ranger’s ears for a moment before walking over to join her husband.

“You got home early,” she said.

“Poor darlin’, you didn’t.” He set
the buckets down and pulled her close. When he held her at arm’s length a
minute later, she caught him studying her face. “You’ve got a little—” he said,
rubbing his thumb along her jawline.

She laughed. The day she came home
without
a smear of sugar or chocolate
or some brightly colored frosting, now
that
would surprise her.

“One more day of this craziness .
. . then we’re closed on Sunday . . . and
then
I’m taking a couple days to catch up on things here at home.” She hoisted the
backpack she always carried as a purse up to her shoulder. “Although I’ll feel
guilty that the rest of the crew isn’t getting extra time off.”

“Give ’em a bonus and that’ll help
make up for it.” He glanced toward the barn. “I took some chicken out of the
freezer. Let me finish up out here and I’ll help you with dinner.”

Sam walked to the house, dumped
her coat and pack, and headed upstairs to change out of her sugary clothes. In
the kitchen she found two chicken breasts on the counter, put them into a
teriyaki marinade, then pulled ingredients for a salad from the fridge. When
she went to the dining table to lay out the place settings she saw a thick
brown file, the kind the sheriff’s department used for each case. On the cover
was a white label with the name Angela Cayne typed in capital letters.

Beau walked in just as she’d peered
inside, unable to resist snooping.

“That story from yesterday’s
newspaper,” he said. “This is the murder file. There’s more on it in today’s
paper—I brought home a copy but haven’t read it yet.”

“I thought the case was solved.”
She set out the knives and forks, dodging Nellie who had followed Beau in.

“Two men went to prison and now
they’re out. We got a call from the Corrections Department to be alert for
trouble in Sembramos. It’s where the crime happened. Thought I’d review the
case and see if I can brush up on the circumstances.”

Sam recognized the name of the
little town in the northern part of the county, but she’d never actually gone
up there. It was a community of farmers, as she recalled, many known for the
quality of their organic produce although a lot of them grew more utilitarian
crops, such as alfalfa and Timothy hay. She asked Beau to light the grill on
the back deck while she went back to put the finishing touches on the salad.

“So, why would the release of
these two men from prison cause trouble?” she asked when they sat down to their
meal. “They did their time, right?”

“
Part
of their original sentences, and now that’s been overturned.” He
speared a chunk of lettuce and it hung at the tip of his fork while he spoke. “It’s
a small town, everybody knows everybody. Victim’s friends, suspects’ friends .
. . According to Withers, my only deputy who was there at the time, tempers ran
pretty high during the trial.”

Sam could certainly see how that
could happen. “So, half the people were happy with the guilty verdict, half
weren’t. And now that the men are out, those roles are reversed. Won’t people
have to accept that? Move on?”

“In a perfect world, darlin’,
everyone would take responsibility for their actions and everyone else would be
logical about it. But this is far from a perfect world.”

She had to agree with that.

“Anyway, I’m not saying there
will
be trouble. If I’m extremely lucky,
both Jessie Starkey and Lee Rodarte will move far, far away from here and their
freedom will cause nothing more than a blip on the radar screen of my week.”

They finished the grilled chicken
by turning the topic to what might be for dessert, and Sam surprised Beau with
his favorite. Despite the fact that he seemed willing to eat anything she
brought home from the shop, there were times when she knew he really wanted
nothing more than plain old vanilla ice cream. She dished it up and they
carried their bowls to the sofa. Sam spotted the new paper Beau had brought home;
she picked it up and read it aloud.

Today’s reporter provided more
background. The article about Starkey’s and Rodarte’s release from the state
penitentiary in Santa Fe gave a quick recap of the circumstances of Angela
Cayne’s death and the subsequent confession that had put the men away. Angela’s
photo stared from the page, a beautiful strawberry blonde of nineteen with
large, liquid eyes and a dimpled smile that would have charmed everyone she
met. On the night of her death she’d been home while her parents went to a
church function. She was missing when they came home and signs of a struggle
inside the house led to the conclusion that she’d not left willingly. Two days
later her body was found at the outskirts of Sembramos, beaten and strangled.
Jessie Starkey had been picked up and, after a long interrogation by the Taos
County Sheriff’s Department, confessed and implicated his friend Lee Rodarte.
The two men were put on trial together, and although Rodarte denied any
involvement, Starkey’s confession was enough to earn life sentences for both of
them. A series of legal appeals overturned the shaky confession and brought in
enough new facts that the verdict was overturned. Starkey and Rodarte walked
out of the pen this week, free men.

Beau processed the information
without comment then switched on the television to a program on how diesel
engines were made, but Sam found her attention wandering to the death of Angela
Cayne. How traumatic it must have been for her parents, coming home to find signs
of a struggle and their daughter gone. How would she have handled it if
something like that happened to Kelly? She couldn’t imagine. No wonder emotions
had run high during the subsequent events.

Sam reread the article, but it seemed
like old history and she couldn’t seem to concentrate. When she yawned for the
third time Beau gave her hand a squeeze.

“It’s been a long week, darlin’.
Why don’t you just go to bed? I’ll be along as soon as this is over.”

He was right. Waking six days a
week before dawn didn’t leave a lot of energy by evening. She seldom made it
through an entire episode of even her favorite shows. She waited for the next
commercial and then kissed him.

“See you upstairs,” she murmured.

But she didn’t. Despite the image
of Angela Cayne’s sweet face, and the reminder that Saturday at the bakery
would be crazy, her body was just plain tired and she fell into an uneasy sleep
before he ever came into the room.

When her alarm went off in the
darkness of the early morning, Sam slapped it and dragged herself out of bed,
thankful that this was her final workday of the week. She emerged from the
shower to find Beau standing at the mirror, looking nearly as bleary as she
felt.

“Why are you up?” she asked as she
toweled off and reached for the fresh clothes she’d left on the vanity. “You
could have slept another hour, at least.”

“Phone rang. I put Rico on patrol
last night and he spotted Jessie Starkey heading for Sembramos.”

“Trouble?”

“Not yet.”

“And Rico couldn’t have waited
until eight o’clock to tell you this?”

Beau shrugged and squirted
toothpaste onto his brush. “I better drive up that direction and keep an eye on
things. Warn Starkey not to start anything.”

Wrapped in her towel, she combed
out her short, graying hair. He caught her eyeing him as he dropped his robe to
step into the shower.

“You can join me if you’d like,”
he said with a teasing gleam in his eye.

“Tempting. But we’re both running
late already.” Disappointment showed on her face. “Tomorrow’s a day off for
both of us. Let’s make it a romantic Sunday.”

He gave her a kiss that almost
changed her mind. Then he stepped into the steamy shower.

She ran through a list of things
she could do to make the weekend more fun. Morning sex followed by eggs Benedict
or strawberry waffles . . . maybe a walk in the woods or a picnic in a secluded
spot . . . She would have to give it some thought. Right now, all she could
concentrate on was the waiting stack of order sheets, the dozen or more
pastries that would be picked up today. Where would she find the energy for all
of it?

Her glance fell to the wooden
jewelry box on the vanity. She reached out, tempted. No. She couldn’t rely on
its strange powers at every whim. She pulled her hand back and took a deep
breath, turning her back on the odd artifact and walking into the bedroom to
dress.

Determined to tackle the long day
ahead, she picked up her baker’s jacket from the bedroom chair and slipped it
on. Grabbing her pack and keys, she went out into the chilly morning and drove
toward Sweet’s Sweets.

Long rays of golden sunlight were
hitting the sidewalk in front of her shop by the time Sam stepped out of the
kitchen to place four finished Easter Basket cakes on the back counter, the
order forms attached to the boxes for easy identification. Eight o’clock and
she’d accomplished a lot, even without supernatural help. A picture of the box
flashed through her head. Julio was alert and sharp and he knew how long
certain tasks took. She’d been able to bluff her way through several times when
she’d used the wooden box’s power to achieve Herculean amounts of work, but one
day he would stop her and ask questions. Questions she wasn’t ready to answer.