8 Sweet Payback

by Connie Shelton

  She certainly hoped that no one with an interest in the wooden box would ever make it that far.

  Chapter 22

  It felt good, getting back into her bakery routine the next morning. Sam wanted to be in on the interview with Althea Brooks but there wasn’t much point in sitting around Beau’s office all morning, waiting for the woman to arrive from Farmington. He would call when it was time.

  Meanwhile, she tinted a batch of white sugar-paste with enough coloring to turn it delicate pink and began to form the center cones for roses. The cake was to be a bridal shower creation, triple layer, with a smooth white fondant coating and a domed cap of roses and daisies. Small white fondant hearts and piped dots would add a whimsical border.

  In the low humidity, the pink cones dried sufficiently for the next step nearly as quickly as Sam could turn them out. She cut petals for the first layering and applied them, set each one to dry, and began to cut the daisy petals and curl them with a bone tool. The work went smoothly, each layer of petals adding majesty to the full-blown roses. Sugar flowers were more labor intensive than piped ones, but they were so beautiful that a lot of brides didn’t mind the extra cost.

  “Sam?” Jen startled her, so deeply had she become engrossed in forming the flowers. “Um, it’s springtime, right? Not even close to Halloween?”

  Sam felt her brows pull together. What was she talking about?

  “Cause I think there’s a witch out front. She’s staring at the cakes in the window and I think she’s about to—”

  Sure enough, the bells on the door tinkled.

  “See if you can handle whatever she wants,” Sam said with a nod toward the mass of flower petals on the worktable.

  Jen walked to the front but returned within a minute. “It’s definitely you she wants to see.”

  Sam had a feeling about this. She washed her hands and went to the sales room, her mind whirling, wondering what to say.

  “Ms. Sweet? Hi, I’m Zenda.” The apparition wore black, head to toe, starting with a lacy shawl that she pushed back off her black hair, letting it rest on the shoulders of her black dress. The garment’s soft fabric hung in a ragged cut nearly to the ankles, which were clad in black stockings. Naturally, black shoes finished the look. Sam guessed the young woman to be in her twenties but the heaviness of her costume added at least ten years to that. In dress and demeanor this Zenda was a complete opposite to Mary—the other witch Sam had met.

  “I came to take a look at that, um, item we discussed,” Zenda began, all smiles and over-familiarity.

  “I never said—”

  “Well, I just happened to be in the neighborhood.” Zenda had a bright, expectant look on her face.

  “It’s not here.” Sam took a breath. “In fact, I don’t even own it anymore. I got rid of it.”

  The bright expression turned downward. “You sold it?”

  “I, uh . . . Look, I’m not going to pass along the name of the new owner. You’ll just have to accept that it’s gone.”

  Was it disappointment or anger that crossed Zenda’s face. She raised a hand, three fingers pointing toward Sam. “That is not the answer I wanted.” Then she turned and swished out of the shop, the many skirt layers floating behind her.

  “Oy!” Jen’s eyes were wide. “What the heck was that?”

  Sam tore her gaze from the spot where Zenda had rounded the corner at the end of the block and disappeared. “I actually have no idea.”

  But she did have an idea, and seeing Zenda’s persistence and fervor over the box made Sam glad she had hidden it away. She walked back to the kitchen, stewing over the bizarre visit. Botching the next of her sugar roses, she set the petals down.

  “I’ll be right back,” she told Julio as she walked out the back door.

  Checking the alley from end to end, she walked over to the back entrance of Puppy Chic, where she was pretty sure Kelly was working a half day.

  “Don’t let that woman try to befriend you and certainly don’t let her into the house,” Sam said after describing Zenda. She’d fudged a little about exactly what the witchy girl wanted. “She’s very pushy and tries hard to be friendly.”

  Kelly pulled a little white terrier from one of the wire crates and carried him to the deep sink for his bath.

  “Okay, Mom. Whatever.”

  “Kel, I’m serious. This lady believes she’s a witch and she might really know some kind of spell or—” She realized how completely ridiculous this sounded. She rolled her eyes. “I just don’t know what to think of her.”

  “So, did she hex you or something?” Kelly aimed the spray nozzle at the hapless dog.

  Sam thought of the creepy little finger motion Zenda had done. Yes. No. “I don’t know. She’s just weird. If you see her around, go the other direction. And if you don’t want to be pestered to death, don’t admit to her that you know me.”

  Kelly gave Sam one of her charmer smiles, the kind Sam recognized from her daughter’s teen years whenever she was being humored. She walked back to the bakery, shaking her arms to work out the tension.

  The rose petals began to come out perfectly again and Sam had almost put the Zenda incident behind her when Beau called. Althea Brooks had arrived and, since it was lunch time, he suggested they meet and chat with Althea in a less formal setting than his office.

  The restaurant he proposed was one of their favorites in the summer months for its outdoor tables under big shade trees, and only a block from his office. However, with the April chill still in the air, they opted this time to take seats indoors. Beau rose when Sam walked in, introducing Althea who looked vaguely familiar. She was near Sam’s age, slim, with chestnut hair in a brush-and-go style and smooth skin that didn’t require much makeup. She wore jeans and a fitted T-shirt, with a denim jacket. Nothing resembling any teacher from Sam’s schooldays but then again, times had radically changed. Maybe fifty really was the new thirty.

  “I’m not sure what I can tell you,” Althea said, once they’d placed their orders. “As I mentioned on the phone, I haven’t heard from my sister in years.”

  “How long has she been gone?” Beau asked.

  “It will be twelve years next month.” The speed with which she answered said that she wasn’t as unaffected by her sister’s leaving as she first portrayed.

  “And you tried to track her down?”

  “Of course I did. Molly called me to say that her mother had left. The poor kid was pretty upset. I talked with Linden and he did nothing but badmouth his wife for running off with another man. When I didn’t hear anything from my sister after a few weeks I called the police but they said she wasn’t technically a missing person if she’d gone away on her own volition. I hired a private investigator to look into it, just to let me know where Heather had gone. He came up with nothing and assumed Heather and this man had moved away together, that she’d probably even changed her name. Then ten years ago, when Molly died in the accident, I gave it one more try. I didn’t know if Heather had secretly stayed in touch with Molly—it wouldn’t have surprised me—but we couldn’t find any evidence of it. I thought she should know, in time to come for the funeral. But I had no luck finding an address for her.”

  “So, as far as you know, Molly was buried without her mother ever knowing?” Sam felt a stab of pain. What if something had happened to Kelly when she lived in California and Sam had never been notified?

  Althea shook her head. “It just never made sense. But then Heather and I had grown apart over the years.”

  She accepted the iced tea the server brought and they waited a moment until the young man left.

  “Heather and I are close in age. I’m two years older, and we shared a bedroom when we were kids, walked to school together every day. In childhood, we had a lot of the same friends but as we got into school each of us bonded with kids our own age. So I guess it was natural that we would drift off in different directions. She met Linden shortly after she graduated—I don’t know if he’s still around or no
t. He’d done his military time and was making a name for himself in real estate when they married. Success always attracted Heather.” Althea sipped at her tea. “I never seemed to meet the right guy to commit a lifetime to. I found my teaching position in Farmington. Heather settled into being a wife and mother.”

  “How was Heather’s marriage? There were rumors.”

  Althea sighed. “I honestly don’t know. He seemed to treat her well, bought her anything she wanted. He started building that huge house and Heather seemed very excited about having something that large and fancy. I know he doted on Molly.”

  Her eyes focused somewhere in the distance. Beau glanced toward Sam. About the time Sam started to ask a question, Althea spoke again.

  “He doted on Molly so much that, at one point Heather told me Linden had threatened that he would never allow her—Heather—to take his daughter away.”

  The statement hung in the air while the server approached again, delivering plates of sandwiches and salads.

  “So, maybe Heather had planned to leave him?”

  “It’s possible. She never told me what prompted his comment, only that she knew she could never take Molly away from him. She seemed . . . I guess resigned is the best word.”

  “And she never told you her plans? Ever mention another man, that maybe she would leave with someone?”

  Althea picked at the crust of her bread. “We really didn’t confide much. You would think, as sisters, we would have remained close, but we just didn’t. Our lifestyles were so different and even though we only lived a half-day’s drive apart, neither of us made the trip very often at all.”

  “When Molly called you to say that Heather had left—tell me about that,” Beau said

  “Well, she was crying. I do believe she and Heather were close, although Molly was close to Linden as well. Her dad had informed her that Heather ran off with one of the construction workers. I guess he painted a pretty slutty picture of his wife. Molly was just into puberty right then. I’m sure she didn’t even understand all of what he was saying. It was inappropriate for him to talk that way, but by the time I got the news the damage had been done.”

  “And later? How did Molly handle it after some time went by.”

  “I tried to stay in touch with her, assure her that I would be there for her until her mom came back. I had no doubt, at least at first, that Heather would get over this little fling of hers and come back to her daughter. Whatever the situation was between husband and wife, I knew Heather loved that girl.

  “So, one time I drove over on a Friday evening. I’d managed to get out of school a little earlier than usual, and it was going to be a Monday holiday so I thought I’d just come and do things with Molly, give her a little girl time. I’d called Linden and arranged all this. But when I got to Sembramos, he informed me that Molly was staying the weekend with her friend Angela. I was a little peeved but I drove over to the Cayne’s house and offered to take both girls to the movies. They had other plans.

  “Both girls were—can I say this?—tarted up with way too much makeup and skirts so short they were embarrassing. They were going to a party with friends. Angela’s parents weren’t home at the time but I spoke to the girls about being careful and being smart about their behavior. I doubt they caught a word of it. They’d just turned fifteen and gotten their driver’s licenses and the world was theirs to do any old thing they pleased.

  “I tried not to be judgmental—kids always test the limits. It’s how they establish their independence, eventually. I talked some more, realized I might as well have been talking to the walls, decided to get a hotel room in Taos and then I went home the next day.”

  “Disappointing,” Sam said, memories of her own rebellious youth edging at her conscience.

  “Well, especially sad because the following summer, a bit over a year later, was when Molly and Angie were in that accident. You can tell them, over and over, but kids don’t always get it.”

  “And you never did hear from Heather again?” Beau asked.

  “Not a word. Both the police and the private investigator decided she’d probably done just as Linden said, hooked up with another man and moved away. Maybe she fell so madly in love with him that she’s living happily somewhere else; maybe she wasn’t happy with him but has been too humiliated to come back. Small towns and the gossip that runs through them can be pretty cruel. Once Molly was gone, Heather really would have no reason to come back here at all.”

  “Did the two of you have words? Do you think that’s why she never contacted you?”

  Althea pushed her half-finished sandwich aside. “There was a blow-up between us, after the time she told me about Linden not letting her take Molly away. I told her she should just stand up to him. I’m afraid I said that he was a jerk—maybe words worse than that—and she got pretty defensive. Things were always tense after that and we lost touch, even before she ran off. Contact had dwindled down to birthday and Christmas cards, which is really sad. I hate to think it, but the fact that our last conversation didn’t go well, it could be the reason she still won’t speak to me. Heather’s hard-headed that way.”

  Beau asked a couple more questions about what happened around the time Angela Cayne was murdered, but Althea couldn’t give any information. By that time she’d written off Sembramos and knew nothing about the Cayne murder other than what she’d read in the papers.

  They pushed their plates back and Beau walked to the register to pay the check. Sam and Althea stood on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.

  “I brought a little overnight bag and decided to get a room in Taos for the night, visit the galleries, do a little shopping. On my way back, I’d like to stop in Sembramos. Helen Starkey and I were fairly close in our elementary school days. I should pop in and see her,” Althea said. She turned to Beau when he joined them. “I doubt I can tell you anything more but if you have any questions, here’s my cell number.”

  She walked to a small red car and got in.

  “Very forthcoming,” Beau said, as they walked toward Camino de la Placita, where they would each turn toward their respective jobs. “I don’t know that we learned anything much about Angela Cayne, other than she went through a wild spell, more so than most anyone else has said.”

  “Heather Gisner might know, more than anyone else, about what the girls were up to but we sure didn’t get any firm leads on finding her.”

  “Yeah.” Beau stared up the street, jingling the change in his pocket. “I was hoping we’d get something useful on that.”

  “At least you have feelers out. If Althea thinks of anything or can lead us to someone else, I’d bet that she will.”

  Beau agreed. “Meantime, I think I’ll drop in on the deputy who assisted Orlando Padilla on Angela’s case, Roy Watson. He retired a few years ago but he may remember something. And I’m trying to get an appointment with one of the defense attorneys. See if they had evidence that wasn’t allowed in court or anything like that. I’m sick of feeling like I’m on a dead-end street, everywhere I turn.”

  Chapter 23

  Beau walked into his office to find a message slip. William Gravitz. He didn’t recognize the man’s name but he knew the firm. Tanner, Gravitz and Ortiz had been the court-appointed firm for Starkey and Rodarte. He carried the message to his office, closed the door and dialed.

  “I pulled the case records when you called earlier,” Gravitz said. “Our senior partner, Charles Tanner, felt very good about the recent reversal of the verdict. Even with a pro-bono case, you want to do your best for the clients.”

  Beau had to wonder if he still felt good about it, considering both defendants were now dead.

  “I came into this case after the fact,” he told the lawyer. “And now that the court has overturned the ruling, it’s up to my department to reopen the case and find Angela Cayne’s real killer, in addition to finding out who killed Starkey and Rodarte. I thought I’d see if your office had information that I never got. I’d rather
not go through getting subpoenas and warrants, if you know what I mean.”

  “Being that our clients were cleared of the charges and couldn’t be retried, even if they were still alive, I don’t see why that would be a problem. I’m sure the families want answers. I’ll have to clear it with the partners, of course.”

  Beau expected that he would need to check back in a few days, but Gravitz simply put him on hold. He came back within five minutes, saying that Beau could stop by their offices. Obviously, the lawyers had already discussed this before Gravitz’s call this afternoon. Beau said if it was all right he would run by and get the files now.

  “I didn’t include the trial transcripts,” the young-looking Bill Gravitz said, as he had Beau sign for the four boxes of papers. “That would have been another eight boxes. What we have here is the evidence we obtained in discovery and the confidential interviews with our clients. As I mentioned earlier, you’re only getting those because both men are now deceased.

  “We took statements from a lot of other witnesses. I also included our private lab report, which showed the murder weapon was not the same piece of rope originally connected with Jessie Starkey. If only that had come in before the conclusion of the trial. It took us six years of persistence to get it admitted and get those men free. Sometimes the politics of the justice system make me want to scream.” He rubbed at his close-cut hair, then sighed. “Anyway, it’s all here.”

  Beau picked up the first of the heavy boxes. Thank goodness for small firms who understood that subjecting everyone to months of formal requests for records wouldn’t serve anyone at this point. They all knew that Jessie and Lee had protested their innocence all along, and that Jessie’s so-called confession had been obtained under duress. The zealous prosecutor in the case had been an unfortunate match for Beau’s over-eager boss.