Sweets Forgotten (Samantha Sweet Mysteries Book 10) (20 page)

Less than a minute later, Jo came
running out the front door, breathing hard. “Sam! I think we better call Beau.
Someone’s broken into the house.”

Now I’m awake, thought Sam. She
dialed Beau and handed the phone to Jo.

“Is the intruder still inside?”
he asked.

“No. Well, I don’t think so. I’m
sure I made a lot of noise, and I walked through several rooms before it hit me
that little things are messed up.”

“Stay right where you are. I’ll
be there as soon as I can.”

Jo bounced on the balls of her
feet, looking toward the house and back at Sam as rhythmically as if she were
at a tennis match. All the while, she chewed at a cuticle. It would be a wonder
if she didn’t manage to scratch off half her lip, Sam thought.

“Do you want to just go on
inside?” Jo finally asked after about ten minutes, still nibbling that cuticle.

“Beau said to wait out here.” Sam
thought of the near-arguments between herself and Beau this week, balanced by
the complete and beautiful reconciliation last night. The sound of a siren down
the road spared her from having to make a bad choice. His cruiser roared into
the driveway thirty seconds later. She got out of the van and stood beside it
with Jo.

“I’m surprised,” he said as he
got out of his vehicle. “I honestly thought you would have gone back in there,
no matter what I said.” He was facing Sam as he said it.

She merely smiled and gave him an
innocent gaze.

“I’m fairly certain there’s no
one inside,” Jo said.

“Still, I want you both to wait
here while I check it out.” He placed one hand on the grip of his pistol and
approached the front door.

Sam found herself almost holding
her breath. Watching Beau walk into a potentially dangerous place was far more
scary than doing it herself. Five whole minutes ticked by at the speed of a
garden slug. Finally, Beau came out and motioned to the women.

“Jo, I need you to tell me what’s
out of place.”

The three of them went inside.
The house had obviously not been ransacked, Sam could tell at a glance, but Jo
pointed out little things.

“This should be out in the
garage,” she said, pointing to a red metal toolbox on the floor by the kitchen
door.

“Zack might have left it here
days ago,” Beau suggested.

“Nope. It wasn’t there
yesterday.” She looked around. “This pile of mail on the counter … I looked
through it and stacked it neatly yesterday. Someone has looked through it.”

She led them into the master
bedroom where a large painting hung crookedly on the wall. Behind it was a wall
safe, door closed.

“They didn’t get into this,” Jo
said, “but someone knew the location.”

“Or prowled around until they
found it.” Beau touched only the corner of the painting. “We’ll dust for
prints. With luck, something will match one of our suspects.”

“You think this is related to
Zack’s death?”

“Someone came after you at your
hotel last night. Maybe they came here first, couldn’t get into the safe and
decided to get you to come along and let them in.”

“My god.” Jo’s face was the color
of chalk.

“What’s kept in the safe?”

“Everything of value. My jewelry,
some cash, important papers and financial information.”

Sam’s mind raced. A thief after
jewelry and cash would never have known where to find Jo at the hotel. But who
would want their papers? No, it had to be something else, some other item Jo
wasn’t remembering.

Beau’s thinking ran along the
same lines. “The two incidents probably aren’t related at all. Most likely,
someone noticed the house has been empty for a few days and decided to see what
might be easy to steal.”

He retraced his steps through the
other rooms and found a broken guestroom window. A single dark print, probably
from a boot, showed clearly on the white carpet. Beau touched the print and
sniffed the smudge on his finger. “He smashed his way in here, worked the latch
and slid the window open. Wasn’t your alarm set?”

“I—um—I thought it was. Oh, I
don’t know. Yesterday, I wasn’t thinking very clearly.” Jo trailed her finger
through a layer of dust on the dresser.

“Careful not to touch anything.
Maybe we’ll get lucky and find identifying shoe prints outside,” Beau
cautioned. He handed her two pages from his notebook. “I need you to go room to
room and make me a list of everything you see out of place or missing. Don’t
touch things, just make notes.”

He pulled out his phone and got
his forensics tech on the line.

“Lisa will be here in awhile to
dust for fingerprints, photograph this footprint, and try to get molds of any
others outside. Once she’s dusted the surface of the safe, you should open it
and make absolutely sure the intruder didn’t get in. We can’t assume anything,
just because it’s locked now.”

Jo nodded and headed toward the
kitchen.

“One of us should stay with her,”
Beau told Sam, “at least until Lisa gets here.”

Sam saw her day slipping away. “I
can stay a little while. Once Jo’s made her list I can take her to her friend’s
house. That seems like a good plan now, don’t you think?”

“As good as any, I suppose. Help
me check the other windows and doors. An intruder will often come in through a
window but find it a lot easier to exit through a door.”

Sure enough, a slider leading to
the back deck was unlocked. Within a few minutes Lisa’s vehicle joined the
others in the driveway. Beau took her to the areas he wanted dusted first: the
mail and kitchen counter, the picture frame and front of safe, and everything
surrounding the guestroom window.

“That boot print smells like
grease,” he said, pointing it out. “I want that tested.”

Sam caught his sleeve when he
walked out of the room. “Grease? Like automotive?”

He nodded. “Donny Vargas, the
mechanic from the dealership, was one who threatened Zack.”

“My thought exactly. But what
would he come here for, especially now, days after Zack died?”

“If Ray Belatoni took the wrecked
Lexus to that garage for repairs, maybe Vargas wanted to be sure no receipt or
other paperwork could tie him to it. The intruder went through the mail.”

Sam thought about his idea. She
couldn’t see how it would matter if the man repaired the car. On the other
hand, some of the evidence certainly made Donny look like the one. The toolbox
sitting in the kitchen puzzled her. Perhaps he’d taken it from the garage but
forgot it as he was leaving the house. Or, more scary, maybe Jo’s arrival
awhile ago had interrupted him in the midst of his search. She voiced this
thought to Beau.

“I’m going by the dealership
right now. If he’s not at work or looks flustered by my showing up … we may
have our man.”

At least for the break-in. Sam
still didn’t quite see how he could be tied to Zack Robinet’s murder.

Beau was on the road when a
sporty red convertible pulled into the driveway and Chandler Lane got out. He
was dressed much more casually than Sam had seen before, this time in jeans, a
sweatshirt and brown brogans, as if he’d just come from a long hike in the
forest.

“What’s going on?” he asked,
eyeing the retreating law enforcement vehicle.

Jo’s appearance at the front door
caught his attention and he walked over and took her hand.

“I wanted to get by and express
my condolences,” he said. “Things got so crazy at the funeral and then when you
didn’t come by the office later … Well, I understand. Don’t get me wrong. I
just … well, I should have come by to see you a lot sooner than this.”

“Thanks, Chan. I appreciate it.
How are things going at the office?”

He waggled his hand in a
noncommittal gesture. “A little rough. The gang doesn’t quite know what to do.
I mean, it’s going okay. Just different, you know, without Zack.”

“I know. Same for me.”

He took her hand in both of his
and pressed it. “I’m just so, so sorry. We were such a good team, all of us.”

“The business will be fine,” Jo
said. “We have great products and the new game will take off like gangbusters.
Really, Chan, don’t worry.”

Chandler gave Jo a quick peck on
the cheek and released her hand. “Let me know if you need anything. Anything at
all.”

He slid back into the sports car
and it roared to life. Sam wished Jo would finish doing whatever she needed to
so they could get on with the day. The morning was vanishing quickly and she’d
not even begun their anniversary cake or made reservations for dinner.

Chapter
21

“It’s definitely motor oil,” Lisa
told Beau when she returned from gathering evidence at the Robinet house.
“Unfortunately, I can’t tell you where it came from. It seems to be a mix of
several brands, which would indicate a garage where many cars are worked on.
Maybe one of those oil change places.”

“Thanks.” Beau was pleased to see
that his initial idea that the boot was worn by Donnie Vargas could be correct.
It still didn’t explain what he wanted inside the Robinet house or how this
could possibly tie him to the murder.

“I’ll see if I can come up with
fingerprint matches from our databases. Maybe we’ll get lucky on that,” she
said, leaving a copy of her handwritten preliminary report.

She was hardly out of his office
before his phone rang. Kent Taylor, finally returning the call Beau had placed
to him early this morning.

“I talked to the friends young
Bentlee Robinet named as his latest alibi. Two prep school types who showed up
with parents and lawyers in tow. Without admitting to any use of drugs
whatsoever, both claimed to have spent the afternoon and evening of the murder
with Bentlee. They were supposedly at a popular no-booze teen club here in town
and I verified that with a waitress and the manager of the place. So, the son
is out as a suspect.”

“Okay, good. I didn’t really
think it would be him, but you know the drill. At least I can check him off my
list.”

“What about the guy from the
country club?”

“The golfing buddy, Will Valmora?
Still waiting on verification, but I’m just not feeling the right emotion from
him, you know? He doesn’t seem to be holding any anger toward our victim.
However, on the chance that he’s an Oscar-caliber actor, I’ll let you know what
I find out.”

“Thanks. Gotta go.” Taylor was
obviously distracted by the other phones Beau could hear in the background.

“Hey, you,” Sam said from the
doorway. “This is a very quick stop to let you know I got Jo and her stuff
delivered to her friend’s house. She’s arranging a rental car and will be
helping me at the bakery this afternoon.”

She didn’t mention having stopped
by their house where she succumbed to temptation and handled the wooden box.
Given the fact that the night had consisted of almost no sleep and the day was
already hours behind schedule, she would not let herself feel guilty about
resorting to the extra boost.

“And … I wanted to wish you happy
anniversary.” She stepped into the office and closed the door. Leaning over his
chair she took his face in her hands and gave a long and lingering kiss.

“Do we have any big plans for the
occasion?” he asked, a little breathlessly.

“Hoping to. But so far I haven’t
made much progress putting it all together.”

“You know what, darlin’? I don’t
mind. We could go home and fall right in bed, as far as I’m concerned.”

She had the feeling he needed the
extra sleep as much as she did. Then he wiggled his eyebrows. Okay, it wasn’t
entirely
about sleep.

She noticed the report Lisa had
just delivered.

“I tell you, I’m way more than
puzzled about this case,” he said. “Just talked to Kent Taylor and it doesn’t
sound like he’s any closer to figuring it out than I am.”

“What have you got? I might as
well take a little more time away from the shop.”

“The people who have motive to be
rid of Zack seem to be clear of actually administering the fatal drug. From the
surveillance video at the Kingston Arms, we can rule out Jo and their son. His
alibi checks out, by the way, so he’s completely off the list. Of the males
caught on camera, it could be Will Valmora, but I sure as hell can’t figure out
his motive. Ray Belatoni could fit the size and description but Jo says he was
in Taos and ran her off the road.”

“Does the timeframe fit for that,
though? Her accident happened in the early morning on Thursday. Zack probably
died Wednesday night.”

“According to Krystal, that would
be true.”

“She’s another on your list,
right?”

“She’s the only one we can
definitely place in the hotel room. She admits she was there and we’ve got her
on camera.”

“So she’s the one.”

“But what’s her motive? She and
Ray were trying to blackmail Jo. With Zack dead, they’d never get any money.”

“Plus, if Krystal actually
plunged the needle, the real killer is probably Jo. At least Krystal’s lawyer
will take that angle, a murder for hire by—” The intercom buzzed on his desk.

“Sheriff, there’s a man named
Chandler Lane here to see you.”

“Bring him on back,” Beau said.

“He stopped by Jo’s house, just
after you left this morning, offering condolences. He seems concerned about
her.”

Chandler had changed clothes in
the past hour. Sam noticed he now wore khaki slacks and a polo shirt, his
normal office attire.

 
“Sheriff, thanks for seeing me. I don’t want
to take up your valuable time. Just thought I would check in to see how the
investigation is going. Are you close to finding out who killed Zack yet? Jo
seems at a loss for how to carry on with her life and I’m very concerned for
her. While that killer is out there, I’m worried for her safety too.”

“We’re doing everything we can,
Mr. Lane. Our department is working closely with APD and we’re narrowing it
down.”

“Well, I’d say that’s good news.
Really glad to hear it.” His eyes cut to the folder on Beau’s desk but the
cover was now closed.

“Okay, then. I’ll let you get to
it. Be sure to let me know if there’s any way we can help.” He shook both their
hands and left.

Beau waited until Chandler had
been escorted to the front of the building. “Jo, at a loss for how to get on
with her life? I was under the impression she was enormously relieved to be out
from under the thumb of her abuser.”

“That’s how she tells it.”

“Does that mean Chandler Lane
knows our recent widow a lot better than either of them are admitting?”

Sam walked across the room and
closed his door.

“Beau, I just got a weird feeling
from him, when he shook my hand.”

“Weird, how?”

“Okay, you know it’s been months
since I’ve handled the wooden box but I got it out of the safe yesterday.”

“Uh-huh.” He leaned back in his
chair, waiting for the story.

“I handled it awhile ago. After I
left Jo at her friend’s condo, I stopped by home.”

His eyes didn’t waver.

“And, well, you know the effects
it has on me sometimes.” The time she saw fingerprints no one else could see,
the time she spotted a murderer in a crowd because of the color of an aura
around him, the unbounded energy she sometimes used to accomplish a lot of extra
work. She’d never quite admitted that last part to him.

“And?”

“Chandler Lane was hiding
something just now.”

“I got the feeling he’s already
showing an interest in his partner’s widow. She’s a wealthy woman as soon as
Zack’s portion of the business passes to her. Lane marries Jo and suddenly as a
couple they own the whole thing.”

“Are you saying she might have
planned it that way? Because I haven’t caught any sign of interest on her
part.”

“Maybe it’s one-sided. Maybe it’s
an idea that only occurred to him in recent days.”

“Just keep an eye on her, Sam.
She’s coming back to work at the bakery, right? Pay attention. See if she gets
unusual phone calls or if he—or any other man, for that matter—stops by to see
her.”

He was probably right. The scent
of money could be a powerful aphrodisiac.

*
* *

Sam went back to Sweet’s Sweets,
dismayed that so much of the day had slipped away. At least Jo would be there
finishing the order of chocolates for Mr. Bookman, with a whole day to spare
before their deadline. That little dream burst like a fragile soap bubble the
moment Sam walked in the back door.

Her carefully selected decorative
box sat in the midst of the worktable, small lumps of indefinable brown shapes
sticking up in the bottom of it, gooey drips of chocolate oozing down the
sides. Sam’s eyes went wide. Jo and Becky stared up at her, looking like
schoolgirls caught smoking in the bathroom.

“What—?” Sam couldn’t take it in.

Becky backed away and Jo’s lower
lip began to tremble. Julio had apparently left for the day, while Jen stood
aside, staring in horror.

“Don’t even—” Sam said, advancing
on the mess, trying to fathom what could have happened. “No tears!”

“It’s my fault.” Becky and Jo
both said it at once.

“Mine,” said Becky. “I had a big
cake to set up so I picked up the box and moved it. I wasn’t even thinking. It
was on top of the oven.”

Sabotage? Becky had not wanted Jo
here from the beginning. Sam’s vision blurred and cleared. She’d taken the
man’s money. Not only would she have to refund it all, she would disappoint him
and possibly tarnish the name of her business forever.

“This is an important customer,”
she said, working to hold her emotions in check. “How do you propose we fix
this?”

“I’m supposed to pick up my boys
from soccer but I’ll call my husband to get them. I’ll work all night.” Becky’s
remorse was genuine, but a whole night of her time wouldn’t bring the knowledge
or talent needed to re-do the order.

“I can stay too,” Jo said. She
shook her head. “But I don’t think the two of us can finish it in one day.”

They couldn’t. No way. It had
already taken a week to get this far. Sam’s head began to pound. She turned her
back on the chocolate mess, went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on
her face. There was only one solution.

Back in the kitchen, she picked
up the ruined box and dumped it in the trash.

“Becky, get your kids and go on
home. We’ll talk about this tomorrow. For now, I have to concentrate on
solutions. Jo, inventory our supplies and start tempering a fresh batch of
chocolate. Call me on my cell and let me know what ingredients I can pick up at
the supermarket. I’m heading to Millie’s Attic, hoping the lady has another box
like this one.”

Becky moved in a daze. Sam patted
her shoulder to offer a scrap of reassurance. She got in her van and covered
the four blocks to the antique shop in a blur. The woman was locking the door
when Sam double parked and ran up to her. Ten minutes later, she had another
cat-patterned container under her arm. The fact that it was slightly smaller
than the first actually came as a welcome relief.

One more thing to do. She forced
herself to slow down and watch the afternoon traffic as she headed home. The
carved box was going to provide her escape from the disarray her life had
suddenly become.

On the coffee table sat the two
dozen yellow roses Beau had brought home yesterday. Their anniversary. There
was no choice now. The dinner plan would have to be scrapped. She called his
cell as she climbed the stairs and made her way to the master bath. Bless him,
he didn’t question the decision, just wished her luck.

The lumpy wooden box waited,
quiet and dark, in its place. She picked it up and sent up a little prayer that
it not fail her now. By the time she locked the front door and got back into
her van, the odd little artifact had already begun to glow and to warm her
hands.

Back in the alley behind Sweet’s
Sweets, Sam puzzled over the appearance of a car she didn’t recognize. Of
course. Jo was driving a rental now. Next problem, how to convince Jo to leave?
Although the help would be nice, there was no way an outsider could witness the
power of the box.

She killed the van’s engine, put
the magic box into her backpack and sat there a minute, deciding what to do.

Jo looked up when she walked in.
“Were you able to get the box?” she asked.

It took Sam a second to realize
she meant the cardboard box for the chocolates. She held it up.

“Excellent! I’ve already ground
the beans and set out all the ingredients. I’m ready to start cooking.”

Sam eyed the array of items on
the worktable—cream, butter, flavoring. Aside from the secret powders and her
own touch, everything was ready.

“Hold off for a minute, Jo. We
need to talk.”

Jo’s smile faded. “Oh, Sam, I’m
so sorry for what happened. I should have been watching more carefully. I could
have saved the pieces we had already made.”

Sam waved off the apology. “It’s
fine. It’s not that. Accidents happen.”

She took another deep breath,
debating as she had all the way here about what she would say.

“Jo, I’m going to do the
chocolates myself.”

“I understand your disappointment
in me, really I do, Sam. But two of us can work twice as fast. And I really
don’t mind staying. There’s nothing for me at home—”

“I don’t mean to be insensitive,
but I have to ask you to leave. I cannot explain how, but I will get the order
done by myself. Please don’t question me. And please don’t say anything to
anyone else about this because I promise I will deny whatever you tell them.”

Jo studied her face for a long
moment. “Okay then. I’m on my way.”

Sam waited for the sound of the
little sedan to fade away and checked the locks on the doors before pulling out
the magic box. When its energy had thoroughly coursed through her body she set
to work. It was something she had wondered in the past: when she worked under
the influence of whatever powers this box transmitted to her, did she actually
move about the room at the speed of light, or did it just feel that way?