Sweets Forgotten (Samantha Sweet Mysteries Book 10) (11 page)

“There’s a birthday cake to be
delivered this afternoon,” Becky said. “I can take it on my way home.”

Jane was intently focused on a
pastry bag with a miniature decorating tip, piping tiny green eyes onto one of
the molded kitty shapes. “I can stay if you need me,” she said.

“No, that’s okay. We have five
days next week to get the chocolates done. I’m really impressed with all you
accomplished today.”

Surprisingly, Becky offered to
give Jane a ride to her motel since it was on the way to the birthday cake
delivery address. Well, well, Sam thought. Maybe those two have worked out
their differences after all. One by one, the employees left and Sam stood back
from her creation to see how it was coming along. Times alone like this
reminded her of the old days when she baked and decorated at home, solitude
feeding her creativity. Sometimes she forgot that the trade-off for having help
in the business was that the added energy in the room often zapped her own
reserves.

She added a few unusual touches,
little flourishes here and there, leaves to complement the spectacular flowers,
and decided to call it good. Carefully removing the top two tiers at the spacer
platforms she stashed them in the fridge, then moved the large tier in on a wheeled
cart. With everything safely stowed and her tools put away, she hung up her
jacket and locked the back door behind her.

Kelly’s day at Puppy Chic had
ended a couple of hours ago and Sam decided to give her a call.

“Hey, how’s it going? Another big
date tonight?”

“Not tonight. I am taking a
purely personal evening to do my own mani-pedi, soak in the tub and read a good
book.”

Mr. Mysterious not available on a Saturday night?

Sam brought herself back to the
reason she had called. “I have a huge cake delivery tomorrow and could use some
help. I’d ask Beau, and I’m sure he would do it, but with his job he could get
a call at any moment and I’d be stuck.”

“Sure, Mom. Anytime.”

“I can stop by and pick you up
around ten. It really shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes, but allow an
hour. I mean, in case you have other plans.”

“Nothing on my schedule but, um,
let me just meet you at your shop. I can get groceries and run a few errands
while I’m out.”

Kelly still sounded very
mysterious but at least they had a plan.

Chapter
12

Kelly didn’t seem to have a care
in the world when she greeted her mother the next morning, and Sam chided
herself for becoming such a busybody. It wasn’t as if she had no other concerns
to fill her days. Together, they wheeled the heavy cake out to Sam’s van and
placed the tiers carefully in the spotlessly clean cargo area, securing
everything with blocks of Styrofoam.

“I swear, these big cakes get
heavier all the time,” Sam said, puffing a little as she closed the door.

Kelly wasn’t even breathing hard.
“Well, Mom,” she teased. “Maybe it’s time to admit you’re getting a little
older.”

“That, I will never concede.”
Not as long as I have Beau keeping me young
.
She flushed a little at the memory of their early morning lovemaking.
Can’t very well quiz Kelly about her love
life, can I?

Little conversation took place
during the short trip to the wedding venue, the ballroom of the town’s
classiest hotel, which was probably the only indoor spot in Taos large enough
to handle the crowd that would devour this cake. The kitchen delivery entrance
was around back, not nearly far enough from a fenced enclosure full of garbage
dumpsters. Sam commandeered a rolling cart and they loaded the two sections of
cake as quickly as possible.

Fortunately, by the time they
reached the ballroom they were surrounded by flowers and candles, and her prize
confection was safe. The cake table stood ready for its centerpiece attraction,
for which Sam felt thankful. It always unnerved her a little to deliver a cake
and rely on hotel personnel to set it in place. Way too many things could go
wrong.

Within twenty minutes, she and
Kelly had assembled the tiers, put spare flowers in place to hide the seam
where the tiers met, and arranged the other table decorations to highlight
their masterpiece. Ready for “here comes the bride.”

Back in the van, Sam noticed
Kelly’s nails. “I like your manicure. All spiffed up for another big date?”

“Thanks, but, Mom, I’m not
telling you anything about my new guy. Not yet. I have no idea whether this
will last and, well, he’s kind of shy.”

A picture of the very-quiet Julio
came to mind. Could effervescent Kelly be interested in a man who was always on
the gruff side? Sam could see long-term compatibility issues.

“Is it someone I know already?
Someone who’s worried I might not approve?”

“Not telling.”

“Someone who is a lot older or a
lot younger?”

“Not telling.”

“Somebody famous? Everyone in the
country would know if they saw you out together?”

“Not telling.”

“Kel, is he married?”

“Mom, no! I’ve got better sense
than that!”

They were back at Kelly’s car,
and she turned with a smile toward her mother. “If things are still going well
in a couple weeks, I’ll have everyone over for dinner or something.”

She gave Sam’s hand a quick
squeeze and got out of the van, giving a tiny wave before getting into her
little red convertible.

It has to be Julio, Sam thought
as she drove back out to the ranch. He, too, had been a little secretive around
Sam. He was someone she knew, although not exactly what most mothers would
imagine for a long-term relationship with an only daughter. He was a nice
enough man, although the tattooed, biker packaging left room for the need to
adjust one’s attitude. Sam supposed she could do that. For now, she had an
overnight guest to cook for.

She stopped at her favorite
market at the north end of town and selected three nice filets, three potatoes
and some salad greens. Nothing pleased men like a meat and potatoes meal, and
this one should do it.

She spent the rest of the
afternoon tidying the guest room and bath for Kent Taylor’s arrival, dusting
the furniture and vacuuming. Not that a police detective was likely to judge
her on those things, but it was a pretty sure bet an observant one would
notice. Besides, when else would she find the time to do any cleaning? The
reward at the end of her little frenzy was a long soak in a hot bath.

A little after four o’clock Sam
heard the dogs woofing softly from the front porch. A glance outside showed
Beau’s cruiser coming up the driveway, followed by a plain white sedan that had
to be Taylor’s city-issued vehicle. The detective wore an open-necked polo
shirt and the same rundown sports jacket as the first time she’d met him. The
lines around his eyes seemed a little less tired this time and he gave her a
smile and a bottle of wine when she stepped out on the porch to greet him.

Beau ushered their visitor to the
guest room where he hung his garment bag in the closet and dropped a small
ditty bag on the bed.

“Dinner can be ready any time
from thirty minutes onward,” Sam told the men.

“We can wait a while. I’ll bet
Kent could go for a little something to wet the whistle first,” Beau suggested.

It didn’t take more than a couple
minutes to get the guys settled on the back deck with glasses of Scotch. Sam
opened the wine Taylor had brought, poured herself a glass and joined them,
coming in partway through a conversation about the Robinet case.

“I’ll email them to you,” Kent
was saying. He touched some buttons on his phone.

“Kent says they finally
identified the DNA of a prostitute from the hotel room where Zack Robinet
died.”

“She has to be the one who was
with him. We got prints from the bathroom faucets and some used glassware in
the room. Name’s Krystal Cordova. Age twenty-six. She grew up in Taos but moved
to Albuquerque three years ago. Still gets back here quite a bit to visit
family and old friends. Apparently got her start as an exotic dancer at some
little dive here, then moved on. She’s got that combination of good looks and
flirtatious innocence that pulls guys in. According to APD’s records, she’s
never worked on the streets there. Connected with an experienced girl who helps
her get the high-dollar jobs in the city.”

“Yeah, I doubt Taos has room for
a whole lot of high-dollar girls,” Beau said.

Sam remembered that it had
surprised her that Taos had prostitutes at all. You think your own small town
is a haven of innocence.

Taylor passed his phone over to
Beau, who took a look at the photo.

“I’ve seen her,” he said. He held
up the picture to Sam. “Just the other night.”

“Yeah, at The Scoreboard. The
night we went to try the burgers.”

“Yep, that group in the corner.”
He looked at Taylor. “There were three girls, a group of businessmen. Krystal
was one of them. Big, fluffy hair and loads of makeup. Do you think she’s still
here in town?”

“The drive is only around two and
a half hours so she probably runs back and forth from Albuquerque fairly often.
So far in this investigation my men haven’t managed to find her at home or any
of her usual city hangouts.”

“If she’s here in town I’ll find
her and bring her in for questioning tomorrow, either before or after the
funeral.”

“About that—do you think Robinet
will draw a crowd?”

“No idea. As far as I know, he’s
not exactly a celebrity but his partner just got back from a trade show where
they introduced a new version of the game that made them a fortune. For all I
know, there could be millions of nerdy groupies out there who worship the man.”

“Maybe it would be smart to have
extra men milling among the crowd,” Kent suggested. “I’m still a big fan of the
idea that a killer often shows up to witness his handiwork. We might learn
something useful. I have to say, I’m hoping for a break real soon. Too many
days have gone by already.”

Beau sighed and Sam knew he was
trying to figure out where these extra men would come from, since half his
force was still calling in sick.

Against her better judgment she
spoke up. “I could go. What time will it be?”

Beau leaped at the suggestion,
while Taylor seemed a little skeptical.

“Sam’s been my right hand on more
than one case,” he told the detective. “She’s got uncanny senses about people.”

Yeah, uncanny whenever she’d
handled the wooden box. There actually had been a couple of instances where
she’d seen auras around people who had turned out to be valid suspects. She
shook off the thought of using it this time, though. She had vowed to leave it
tucked away in the safe, plus, when would there be an opportunity to get it out
and handle it with the cop staying right here in their house? She discarded the
idea.

“So, how about we cook those
steaks now, and then maybe the three of us go out and hit a couple of bars to
see if we can run across our little Krystal?” Beau said, getting up to light
the grill.

“In that case,” Taylor said,
downing the last of his Scotch, “I’d better switch to a soft drink with
dinner.”

Sam microwaved the potatoes and
put the finishing touches on the salad while Beau monitored the steaks. Ready
for a glass of wine and quiet evening at home, she found herself hoping the men
would change their minds about going out.

However, no such luck. Two hours
later they had put together their meager notes. Sam begged off, making the case
(with a wink) that if Beau hoped to have a conversation with a hooker his
wife’s presence would only put a damper on it.

*
* *

Beau directed Taylor to The
Scoreboard, finding the parking lot even more packed than it had been on his
previous visit. Once again, the muscular Ray Belatoni was behind the bar,
keeping close tabs on his crew—another bartender and four of those waitresses
in short shorts and tight tops. The same three young women hovered at the back
booth, although he was fairly sure the men were different ones. Under
questioning, he would have to admit that he’d noticed a lot more about the
girls than the men.

Taylor surveyed the room with a
practiced eye. A few conversations waned but as soon as the civilian-dressed
lawmen headed for the back corner most of them picked up again. As before, the
television screens blared with football commentary.

“Krystal Cordova?” Beau looked
her in the eye and there was no denying who she was. He and Taylor showed their
badges. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

At the mention of her name,
Krystal squirmed in her seat. If not for the fact that she was wedged between
two of the men on the curved banquette seat, she might have bolted.

 
“There’s nothing going on,” one of the other
women said.

“I didn’t say there was.” He took
his time scanning the rest of the table, memorizing faces, although all four of
the men suddenly needed to check things in their pockets. “Just a few questions
at this point. Krystal, you might want to come outside where we can speak in
lower voices.”

Her eyes darted back and forth but
no escape route presented itself. She gave a ragged sigh, as though she were
being inconvenienced, and scooted across the lap of a man who suddenly didn’t
seem to know her anymore. Beau would bet money that the rest of the table’s
occupants would be gone if he were to walk back inside five minutes from now.

Krystal tottered on her six-inch
platforms and tugged at the skirt that barely covered her butt, working hard to
appear unconcerned as she preceded the two lawmen toward the front door. Behind
the bar, Ray Belatoni gave her a hard stare, a warning of some sort. He was
probably taking a cut of everything the girls made and didn’t like the
disruption in business.

Taylor put a hand on Krystal’s
elbow, guiding her toward his car, but she shook it off. “We can talk right
here, Mr. Cop. I don’t get in cars with strange men.”

Taylor laughed. “Because going to
their hotel rooms is safer? Come on, Krystal. We know your record and we have
your prints in a room at the Kingston Arms Hotel where a man ended up dead. I
hate to be brutal about it, but usually that’s what happens to the prostitute
who goes along with strange men.”

Krystal quieted down, her eyes
showing a little less flash now.

Beau took over. “Look, Krystal,
could we just get to the bottom line here? There’s all kinds of proof you were
there. We’d just like to know what happened.”

She glanced nervously toward the
door where a male voice came through loudly as two guys laughed their way to a
small pickup truck.

“Someone watching you?” Taylor
asked. “Someone you’re afraid of? Cause we can go downtown and ask our
questions in private.”

She fidgeted another full minute.
“Yeah, that might be better.”

Okay, that’s a new one, Beau
thought as he opened the back door to Taylor’s car and climbed in after her.
Taylor put the car in gear.

Krystal started talking the
moment they were out of sight of The Scoreboard. “I swear to you, Sheriff, that
guy was dead when I came back to the room. I had nothing to do with it.”

“Back to the room? You left and
came back?”

Kent pulled into a space in the
Sunday-night emptiness of the department parking lot. “Let’s get inside and
start from the beginning.”

Their suspect went along
willingly enough and Beau made sure the cameras and recording equipment were
functional before they spoke to her again.

“Okay,” said Taylor, “so you went
to the Kingston Arms with Zack Robinet on the night of September fifteenth. You
transacted a little business.”

She took a deep breath and began
as if she were talking to a child. “I don’t remember the date but it wasn’t the
fifteenth. I was back in Taos by then ’cause that’s my mom’s birthday. It was a
couple days before.”

That meshed with the story as
they knew it. Robinet had been dead in the room for at least a day before an
insistent maid got the manager’s permission to enter the room where a privacy
request had been phoned to the desk. It was part of what made it so difficult
to establish an exact time of death.