She turned to the last page of the will, wondering if it included a listing of those snubbed relatives when she heard a sound. Beau had probably come back. She stepped into the living room doorway. A woman stood just inside the apartment, looking around, getting her bearings.
Tall, blonde hair to her shoulders, flawless complexion with shapely pink lips, form-fitting designer jeans and a red, short sleeved cashmere sweater. She carried a large brown envelope and had a tiny purse dangling from her shoulder. The expensive hair and manicure—Sam realized it was Kaycee Archer.
Little things began to fall into place: the visits where Kaycee was looking for Carinda, the argument Kelly had overheard at the hotel, the police arresting Kaycee for trying to break into this apartment.
Kaycee started visibly when she saw Sam, her pale face going a little whiter.
“What are you doing in my sister’s apartment?” she demanded.
“I’m here on Sheriff’s Department business, investigating a murder. So I’ll ask you the same question—what are you doing here?”
“I saw the sheriff drive away. And you’re no official person, not in that baker’s uniform.”
“Fine. I’ll be happy to call the sheriff and get him right back here. I think he’s going to believe my story more than yours. You still didn’t answer my question. Carinda’s sister? Really?”
Kaycee’s eyes went to the sheaf of papers in Sam’s hand.
“We have a complicated family but, yes, we’re as close as sisters. I need those documents,” she announced, taking a step toward Sam.
“Unh-uh. The sheriff is going to turn them over to the court and the legal system can figure it all out.”
The shapely pink mouth went into a straight line and the deep brown eyes turned glittering black. “No way. They’ve dicked around with this long enough.”
“Are you acting on your own or are all the half-siblings and cousins twice-removed in on this too?” Sam asked, playing for time while her mind scrambled madly to figure out what to do. Kaycee was a good four inches taller, although Sam could certainly take her in the bulk-and-muscle department. Her phone was lying beside the pile of news clippings on the bed—a lot of good that would do her—if she couldn’t persuade the woman to leave, there wasn’t a single weapon in reach.
“Give me the documents,” Kaycee repeated. She took a step forward.
“Let me get this straight—Julia’s will states that Carinda receives the entire estate, but if Carinda died before receiving the inheritance it gets split a lot of ways.” It dawned on Sam that it was definitely in Kaycee’s best interest to kill her half-sister.
Kaycee’s face hardened another degree. She was becoming less attractive by the moment.
“Did you—?” She couldn’t bring herself to level a direct accusation. “Why on earth would you hang around town? I mean, wouldn’t you want to put a lot of distance between you and Taos, and get somebody to swear you’d never set foot here.”
“It wasn’t like that. I had to talk to her.”
“Ah, yes, a talk that turned into an argument. It was overheard by quite a few people.” Surely a lie doesn’t count when it’s a murderer you’re lying to. “And the argument somehow got taken outside and . . . when did the knife come into it? You pick it up on your way through the ballroom and just brazenly carry it out to the garden?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about and I certainly never held a knife on anyone.”
Sam was working to figure out what parts of that statement might be true when the front door suddenly opened.
“Kaycee, what’s taking so—?” Harvey Byron jolted to a halt in the doorway, his stare taking in the whole scene.
Sam’s mind whirled. Two against one in the garden . . . But Harvey? Mr. Nice Guy couldn’t possibly figure into this.
Harvey gave Sam a long look then took a step back. “I don’t know anything about this, Sam.” He tried for a sincere expression as he spoke.
“Harvey! Help me out here. She’s got the real will.” Kaycee’s eyes went a little wild now that she wasn’t so sure of her backup. Her teeth clenched as she spoke again. “Harvey, the money. This is for us, for your dream.”
Sam had a flash vision of running into the bedroom and snatching up her phone while their attention was on each other. Beau was too far away to get to her but maybe the police . . . She edged one step away. Harvey saw her.
“C’mon, Samantha,” he said, opting for persuasion—for now. He gave that shy smile and nodded toward the pages in her hand. “Let’s just have a look.”
And once this will is out of my hands—what then? Surely the envelope Kaycee had brought contained some other document, something that would name her the sole beneficiary, and no doubt she had messed with the dates, signatures or something else so that her version might actually supersede the other one. Harvey took two steps slowly toward Sam, raw greed now showing behind his normally quiet façade.
“See, Sam, we have plans for this money,” Kaycee pleaded. “We’ll get married and run Harvey’s ice cream shop empire tog—”
“Kaycee, dear,” he interrupted without taking his eyes off Sam. “Please stop talking. Please wait outside.”
He turned to look at his lover and in that fraction of a second Sam spun around and made a dash for the bedroom. She slammed the door behind her, struggling to twist the flimsy doorknob lock.
With a roar, Kaycee charged and the insubstantial hollow-core door shuddered inward dangerously. Another body slam. Surely the pounding now included both of them. Sam flew to the bed and grabbed up her phone, needing three tries with shaking hands to get through to 911.
“Hurry! There are two of them, right outside the bedroom door!”
“Stay on the line, ma’am,” said the automaton voice that was supposed to be calm and reassuring but only had the effect of making her want to scream. “I’m dispatching officers to your location now.”
The door shook again, the wooden doorjamb giving a loud crack!
“Please tell them to hurry!” Sam said. “They’ve already killed one woman.”
Talking to the dispatcher wasn’t accomplishing anything, she realized. She set the phone on the dresser and scrambled to gather the papers she had left strewn on the bed. Legal documents, news clippings, envelopes—she whisked them into a messy pile and picked them up. What to do? Get them out of sight—at least make Harvey’s job that much harder. She hugged the papers to her chest and scurried back to the dresser. Sliding open the third drawer she dumped it all inside and pushed it closed just as the door frame splintered, the door banging open against the wall, Harvey falling into the bedroom.
Sam snatched up her phone, caught the dispatcher’s voice asking if she was still on the line.
“Yes, I’m here! He’s broken into the room—I’m cornered!”
Harvey jumped to his feet and came toward her. Behind him, Kaycee stood with her brown envelope hugged to her chest, making little mewling sounds and seeming a little shocked by his violent approach. He took another ominous step.
“Where’s the damn will?” he demanded.
Sam forced her eyes away from the dresser, flicking a quick look at the open suitcase. He took the bait, picking up the bag and shaking it in hopes something would drop out.
At the moment he figured out the case was empty, Sam heard the reassuring sound of sirens in the parking lot beyond the bedroom window. She stiffened. This was the make-or-break moment.
Fortunately, Kaycee broke first and Harvey turned to look at her for the first time.
“We have to get out!” she screamed with a wild look in her eye.
Harvey gave it thoughtful consideration for about two seconds. He shot Sam a malevolent look and then rushed out after Kaycee.
Sam’s breath went out in a whoosh.
At the apartment’s front door she heard voices.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said a male. “Nobody’s going anywhere.”
She slipped out of the bedroom
and saw that two Taos Police officers were blocking the open doorway. Kaycee’s shoulders were shaking as Ray Hernandez lifted the brown envelope out of her hands.
“Ms. Kaycee Archer. Twice in twenty-four hours . . . you must really like our facilities. Well, you know the drill.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her around.
The other officer stepped forward and snapped handcuffs on her.
All the bluster seemed to have gone out of Harvey Byron, as well. He made a half-hearted attempt to back away from the police but there was really nowhere in the small apartment to hide and no back escape route. He submitted to being cuffed and by the time they’d led him out to the narrow walkway in front of the apartments, he was already turning on the charm, trying to make it sound as if he’d come along to break up an argument between the two women.
“Sam, you okay?” Officer Hernandez asked.
She nodded although her heart hadn’t actually slowed down much yet.
“Look, I don’t know if it’s anything or not, but I heard some stuff on the scanner about Beau. You can come with me and we’ll radio.”
Beau? An icicle formed in her gut.
Chapter 19
“Sam, I’m sure he’s fine. Take a deep breath, get your things, and I’ll give you a ride,” Hernandez said.
She stumbled back to the bedroom, a fog of unreality around her head. Phone. Her backpack. The evidence. Beau would want the evidence.
She opened the dresser drawer and stuffed the various papers and clippings into the largest of the envelopes, then jammed the whole mess into her pack.
Out in the parking lot the first car was rolling with Kaycee and Harvey in the back seat behind the metal screen that separated them from the officer. Ray Hernandez was in the driver’s seat of the other, the passenger door standing open for her. Sam slid in gratefully.
“I need to—” she began, but Ray had already picked up his mike, speaking in low tones. “Here you go, Sam. Sheriff Cardwell’s on this frequency.”
“Beau?” she felt her voice crack a little.
“Sam, I’m fine. We’re on a public frequency so I have to keep this short.” Meaning, watch what you say. She could hear helicopters in the background. “The fire has spread. I have to tell you that we’re evacuating homes to the south and west of the Mulvane property. That includes us, so you can’t come home. I’m here now, and I can grab valuables, whatever I can fit into my cruiser.”
The news barely skimmed the edge of her consciousness. Evacuate. That meant the house could very well burn to the ground. Valuables—how did one decide?
She looked down at her left hand; her wedding band and his mother’s garnet ring were safe.
“I’ve taken the horses to another ranch, out of the danger zone,” he was saying, “and the dogs are already in the cruiser.”
Her thoughts went to the carved wooden box, the one irreplaceable artifact she’d ever owned in her life. She didn’t want to mention it over the radio.
“My jewelry box— Is your safe fireproof?” she asked. She couldn’t honestly remember whether she’d put the box back in there or left it in its usual spot on the bathroom vanity, but she hoped he would pick up the clue.
“It is,” he said, “but I’ll retrieve your things. All the photos are on the computer, right? I’ve got that already. Wait for me at your shop or at Kelly’s or at my office.”
Thank you. Thank you for being the guy I can rely on to think of everything.
“Beau? Stay safe. There’s nothing in that house worth losing you.”
He broke radio protocol by saying that he loved her, then she heard him cough and realized the smoke must be terrible. She handed the mike back to Hernandez and blinked to conceal the tears that pooled now in her eyes.
As much as Sam wanted to listen in on the questioning of Kaycee Archer and Harvey Byron, she knew she couldn’t focus enough to make sense of it. Beau would have his turn at them later anyway. She said as much to Ray Hernandez as he followed the other cruiser toward the police station.
“If you can drop me off at my bakery, I’ll get my own vehicle,” she said.
It seemed a lifetime ago since Beau had come by to get her and they had picked up tacos for lunch. In reality, when she walked into the Sweet’s Sweets kitchen, it wasn’t even quitting time yet.
“Sam, are you okay?” Becky said, dropping her pastry bag on the worktable. “You look like you were mugged by a ghost or something.”
Julio stared at her, nodding. “Pretty white in the face.”
She stepped into their small restroom and looked in the mirror. Her hair stuck out at odd angles—probably because she’d repeatedly run her fingers through it during the radio conversation with Beau—and she had to admit that every scrap of blusher and lipstick she’d applied that morning was gone.
Becky peered around the edge of the open door. “We heard about the fire. You can smell the smoke all over town.”
Sam nodded. The haze and odor of woodsmoke had lingered so many days now that she’d become used to it.
“It’s out there near your place, isn’t it?”
Her head bobbed but she refused to think about what might be going on at the moment.
“The radio says they have tanker planes and helicopters on it. I’m sure the houses will be safe.” Becky squeezed Sam’s hand as she said it.
Sam nodded again, squared her shoulders and walked back into the kitchen, staring at her desk as if she didn’t quite know what to do next. No matter how much she coached herself, she could not get rid of an image of their beautiful log home in flames.
“Sam? Earth to Sam . . .” Becky had apparently tried to get her attention more than once. “Look, you’re exhausted and this whole fire situation isn’t helping.”
And she didn’t even know about the confrontation only a little while ago over the vast Joffrey fortune.
“Why don’t I call Kelly next door and she can take you to her place. Get some sleep. You’ll hear from Beau soon, I know you will.”
“I can go over there by myself,” Sam insisted. “I’ll pop in and tell her what I’m doing but there’s no point in interrupting her work day.”
She put on as bright a smile as she could manage.
Out in the alley, she paused near her van. She could go to Kelly’s—to the home she’d lived in nearly thirty years before meeting Beau—but she knew she would never sleep. There was no point in pacing through the rooms or, worse yet, raiding the fridge of all the snack foods she knew Kelly kept on hand. She stared at the hazy sky for several minutes before getting into the vehicle.
It seemed to steer itself through the streets, covering the few blocks to Beau’s office. The one place where she would receive up-to-date news about the fire situation and the most likely place Beau would come first when his duties were done. She found a street-side parking spot and fed the meter all the change she could dig up.
The deputies in the squad room greeted her in much the same way her own crew had—with the kind of sympathy that only served to make her worry. At least, they informed her, no homes had yet succumbed to the fire.
“I’d like to hang out in Beau’s office if that’s okay,” she said to Rico. “To wait until he comes in.”
The deputy nodded and stepped aside for her. “I’ll tap on the door if there’s any news. If you feel like you want to stretch out awhile, the cell is empty right now.”
She smiled at his kindness but was too tired to be cheerful.
Behind Beau’s solid door she set her pack on his desk and started pulling things out. The legal documents and news clippings she’d brought from Carinda’s apartment had become wrinkled and she occupied her mind by smoothing and putting them into some sort of order that Beau could comprehend when he got back to working the case.
She pulled out her phone, surprised it hadn’t been ringing constantly as friends began hearing the news of the fire. Anyone who knew the area would easily figure out that the blaze was very near their home, and
it would only be standard country courtesy for people to offer to help with evacuation or to give them a place to sleep. When she pressed the power button she discovered why—her battery power was in the red zone. She rummaged a little further and came up with the charger cord and plugged it in.
Within minutes it rang and she discovered there were fifteen voicemail messages.
“Mom! Where have you been?” Kelly’s voice held a frantic edge.
You wouldn’t believe. “My battery went dead and I didn’t realize it.”
“I was so worried—they’re saying the fire is close to some ranch houses.”
“Beau’s handling it. I don’t know any more than that.”
“But you’re safe?”
“We are. Look, I’ve had messages from nearly everyone. I guess I better start calling them back.”
The situation lost impact with each retelling and by the time Sam had recounted her afternoon to Rupert, Zoë, Jen and Becky she felt less traumatized; now she was just plain tired. She leaned forward in Beau’s chair and put her head on his desk for a minute. Somehow the minute must have turned into a couple of hours; a sound grabbed her attention and she raised her head.
Beau moved with the slowness of exhaustion, but something in the set of his face told her that everything was probably all right. The smell of smoke wafted off his clothing and when he removed his Stetson, it was easy to see the grime on his face. She smiled at the sight of him.
“Hey, baby,” she said, rising to stroke the side of his face.
He pulled her close but a couple of deep breaths later she coughed and had to retreat to arm’s length.
“How is it?”
“Fire’s well under control. Didn’t get any structures on our place, but I was worried for the barn. For awhile there, the wind was carrying the leading edge of the flames straight toward it. Close to sundown it shifted and the tanker was able to drop enough slurry to douse it. Our new corn is gone and I doubt the west alfalfa field will come back. We’ll see.”
Sweet Somethings (Samantha Sweet Mysteries) Page 17
