She look up at Sam. “It’s humiliating to admit this but I felt like a whore, trading sex for all those expensive trinkets. Sometime after I first had that thought I began to consider hiring a stand-in. I mean, if Zack had someone else to take to bed and to buy things for, maybe he would leave me alone.” Her voice cracked. “That’s the only reason I did it—found Krystal and paid her. I actually hoped he would spend even more time with her.”
“You only wanted her to sleep with him? You must have imagined how nice it would be if he died. He would never hit you or force himself on you again.” Sam knew Beau and Kent were behind the mirror, catching every word of this.
“It’s one thing to imagine it, Sam, but that’s not something I would ever have actually done.”
“So the idea of Zack dying never came up in conversation with Krystal?” Sam wasn’t sure what prompted her to ask. It was as if Beau were feeding her the questions telepathically.
Jo went completely still, her eyelids lightly closed.
“It did? You talked to her again, didn’t you? Once the ‘job’ had become an affair?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Jo said. Her voice was now barely a whisper.
Sam could practically feel the men in the next room holding their breaths in order to hear all this. She wished it were Beau asking the questions. He would know which way to go next. But she knew if that door opened the mood would be broken and Jo might very well end the interview by calling for a lawyer.
She continued, hoping for the best. “Okay, Jo. If not in that way, in what way did you and Krystal talk about Zack dying?”
“Krystal introduced me to a friend of hers, a man who owns a bar here in town.”
“Ray Belatoni?”
“Oh, god, you already know about him?”
Sam nodded. “Tell me what he has to do with this.”
“Up to that point Krystal had seemed fairly innocent. In a way she was just this sweet girl who looked great all dressed up and who enjoyed pleasing men. Just Zack’s type.” Jo took a deep breath and let it out. “Once Ray came into the picture our business deal became tough-business. He demanded that Krystal get more money for her services.”
“He was her pimp?”
“I don’t think so. I got the impression he was more like a boyfriend who didn’t mind sharing her around, as long as she brought in lots of money. I’m pretty sure he dealt drugs out of that bar of his. He might have gotten Krystal hooked so he had a strong hold over her.”
“Did you give them more money?”
“Yes, at first. Then the tone of the conversations turned bad. They threatened to tell Zack exactly what was up—and they claimed they had proof—that I had paid them to kill him. I didn’t! I swear it. But it would certainly look that way and he would be furious. If he didn’t beat me to death himself, he would have told the police and done it in such a way that I would go to prison and never see my son again.”
“Blackmail.”
“Exactly. They weren’t above making up any kind of story—I could see that. I was afraid of them but I was more afraid of what Zack would do.”
“What did you do?”
“I decided to get out. Bentlee started school last month so I knew he was safely out of the house. Zack was hard on Bentlee but he never treated our son the way he treated other people. With Bentlee he was more intent on showing him the good life and spoiling him rotten.”
“So you planned to move out? Go somewhere else?”
She nodded and wiped her face again. “I have relatives on the east coast. It’s where I grew up and even though my parents are both gone now, an uncle still owns the chocolate shop my father started when I was a kid. I grew up making cream centers and nut centers, tempering chocolate by the gallons. I figured I could go there, where Zack or Krystal and Ray would never find me.”
“When was this?”
“Last week. Zack would be in Vegas over the weekend so he wouldn’t know for several days I’d left home. I packed a couple of bags and went to gas up my car. That’s when Ray caught me. It was very early in the morning—the sun wasn’t even up yet—and wouldn’t you know it but he was the only other person at that gas station. He pulled right up beside my car and I could see him looking at the suitcases in the back. He put it together right away. When I left, he followed me. My heart was pounding and I was so scared.
“I started for home but there are some stretches of road out there without much traffic and I decided that wasn’t smart, so I looped around back to the center of town. He just stayed behind me. I couldn’t make a turn without him being right there. About two streets over from your bakery he rammed my car—hard—with his big pickup truck. I whacked my head on the steering wheel and blacked out. It was the last thing I knew.”
“Until now,” Sam prompted. “You’re remembering it now.”
“Trying to get my memory back is all I’ve thought of during those nights in that motel. By the way, thank you for that, Sam. I didn’t know it but you probably saved my life by putting me somewhere that neither Krystal or Ray would ever think to look.” She gave a tentative smile. “I began to remember little things, mostly about Zack and me and the good times. When Zack didn’t come back, I just … I didn’t know how to handle that. His parents have never exactly been nice to me. If I contacted my son there would be a record and someone would know. If I traveled I would need to use my credit cards. When someone is following you, it feels like they could be anywhere, everywhere. I couldn’t stay at home. Making chocolates in your shop was the only thing that felt safe to me.”
By this time, Jo’s eyes were streaming again and Sam felt herself welling up a little at the idea that she had unknowingly provided a safe haven for this poor woman. She sensed movement behind her and realized Beau had softly opened the door.
“I didn’t kill my husband, Sheriff,” Jo said between sobs. “Please help me prove that.”
“Do you think Krystal and Ray did it?” Beau asked.
“I have no idea.”
He told Jo she was free to go as long as she stayed in town.
“What about Ray Belatoni?” she asked, pulling tissues from the box two at a time and swabbing her face with them. “He was ready to kill me in my car that morning.”
“More likely he just wanted to scare you out of leaving town. He wanted your money, not your life,” Sam suggested.
Beau spoke up. “Now that you can use your credit cards again, I’d suggest you check into a different hotel, someplace with security. Keep your eyes open. We’ll be questioning Belatoni again.”
Sam walked with Jo to the ladies room where she washed her face and got her emotions under control. “I can give you a ride, if you like. Just give me a minute to tell Beau.”
When she walked back into the interrogation room, Beau and Kent Taylor were deep in conversation, trying to find the holes in Jo’s story.
“I’m wondering what happened to Jo’s car that was run off the road?” Beau said. “Our department has no record of it. That was one thing we checked when looking for Mrs. Robinet in the first place, to notify her of Zack’s death—vehicle information, credit cards, the whole thing.”
“Supposedly run off the road,” Taylor added. “I’m taking nothing at face value here.”
“I believe her,” Sam said. “I’ve worked with her nearly a week. I think she’s being genuine about this.”
She realized from Taylor’s skeptical look exactly how weak that sounded. Yes, she’d worked with Jo a week, and she hadn’t even figured out that Jane Doe had recovered part of her memories. She decided not to tell the men she planned to take Jo to get resettled.
Chapter 15
“Life would be simpler if I had some money and identification,” Jo said as they climbed into Sam’s bakery van outside the sheriff’s office. “Can we go by my house before the bakery?”
“Are you sure you want to work today? It’s been a very rough morning. Maybe you should just settle in at home, relax and h
ave a few days to yourself.”
In the passenger seat, Jo shuddered. “I don’t want to stay there. I was ready to walk away. I can still do that. But I need to see Bentlee and talk things out. I can’t let his memories of today end with me being taken away by the sheriff. Would you mind sticking around while I shower and put on something that didn’t come from the Goodwill?”
She gave a half-chuckle. “God, my life has been such a disaster recently.”
“I’ll help you get organized. Beau’s suggestion of staying at a hotel with security is a good one. I think we’ll all feel better once you are settled somewhere safe.”
Sam followed Jo’s directions and pulled up to an impressive house on Goldenrod Lane. A three-car garage faced the road and the ranch-style adobe house spread across most of the acre on which it sat.
“You don’t have keys, do you?” she asked when her van came to a stop.
“There’s a hidden key. I hope I remember the alarm code accurately.”
Jo led the way around the side of the garage and approached a cottonwood tree with a small birdhouse nailed to the trunk. She moved a panel in its side and pulled out a ring with several keys. Taking a deep breath, she walked toward the front door, impressively carved with a deep-relief Zia symbol.
“You do it, Sam. I don’t know why I’m nervous about this. No one is here.”
Sam took the key, which slid easily into the well-oiled lock and she opened the door. A small panel to her right began beeping, its red light flashing.
“Better enter the code quickly,” she told Jo, who stepped in and pressed numbers. The red light turned to green.
The foyer contained a padded bench upholstered in Indian-blanket fabric, a table with a bowl for keys and mail, and a couple of potted plants that seemed distinctly in need of water. A wide arch opened into a greatroom where a big screen TV was the focal point and Sam could see a state-of-the-art kitchen. Jo stood in the doorway a couple of long beats, her face unreadable.
“I fully intended to never enter this house again,” she said quietly. “My bags held my most practical clothing and I’d drawn out a bunch of cash—enough to get me through until I could have an attorney inform Zack I was leaving him. It’s all gone now. I can’t believe I never even made it out of town.”
She wandered into the big room, her hand trailing across the back of a cushy leather sofa. Something on the granite counter top caught her eye.
“What’s this doing here?” she said, striding to pick up something. “My old cell phone. I didn’t leave this here. It’s been put away in a drawer for months.”
“Maybe Zack got it out?”
“Trying to track me down,” she said, a bitter edge to her voice. “Just like him. He would have immediately noticed my things missing and read something illicit into it. Probably thought I would have another man’s number programmed into this.”
She set the phone down, then picked it up again. “I might as well get it activated again, since I have no idea where my purse and my new phone are.”
“You said something about getting money and ID?”
“Oh. Yes.” She led the way through another arched doorway to a master suite. Behind a painting that Sam would swear was an original RC Gorman, Jo twirled the dial of a wall safe. She pulled out a large brown envelope and a stack of cash bound with a paper bank wrapper.
“That will keep me going awhile,” she said about the cash. She dumped the contents of the envelope and separated a passport and MasterCard from the rest of the items. An oversized parchment-colored page looked identical to Sam’s own marriage license from the county. Jo stuck hers back inside the envelope without a second glance.
Sam held her hand out. “Beau will want to hang onto the passport until he’s sure he has caught Zack’s killer. Sorry.”
Jo paused before handing it over with a sigh. “I suppose you’re right.”
“I’m really sorry, Jo, but you do understand don’t you?”
Jo didn’t respond.
“If what you told him checks out, I’m sure you’ll get it back soon.” She didn’t mention that when the real killer was caught Jo would probably be required to testify about everything she’d told them today. It was unlikely Beau would want her leaving the country for a long time.
“Mind if I look around while you’re packing?” Sam asked. “Maybe Zack left something behind that would be an important clue for Beau.”
“Knock yourself out.”
Sam walked through the foyer to the greatroom and kitchen. Both rooms were spotlessly organized. Either the Robinets were a very neat couple or a maid had come earlier in the week. Down a hall, she found a boy’s bedroom and guest room done in Southwestern diagonal prints. A door from the kitchen led to a pantry and another to a garage. She reached for the wall light switch. Two of the three bays held cars—a shiny new black Corvette and a white Lexus crossover. She pulled the door shut.
Wait a minute. If Zack drove a car to Albuquerque and the Corvette belonged to Bentlee, as Beau had mentioned, the Lexus had to be Jo’s.
But she’d claimed that it was wrecked.
Sam’s heart thudded. She turned and listened for a moment, hearing faint sounds of Jo moving about in the master bedroom. She ducked out to the garage, closing the door softly behind her. Circling the Lexus, she saw no evidence that it had been involved in an accident. The light wasn’t great in here, but still, even a scrape down the side would have showed. She walked around the vehicle twice before it occurred to her to look inside.
She prayed it wasn’t equipped with some kind of alarm that would go off when she touched the handle. Decided to take the chance. The car wasn’t locked and the door opened with that solid, heavy feel of quality. There in the back were two suitcases. Nice designer luggage, Sam noted.
What was going on here?
A scream ripped through the cavernous space.
Sam bumped her head on the door frame, half expecting to face a drawn weapon. She backed away from the car, staring at Jo who stood transfixed in the kitchen doorway.
“My car! What’s it—?”
“Doing here? I’d say that’s a great question, one that the sheriff will want to know the answer to.”
“Sam, I swear the last time I saw this car was when I ran away from it. The back was bashed from Ray’s pickup truck and the front had hit a concrete fence post. It was not drivable.”
Sam left the door standing open, wondering what to believe. Jo’s story had been so convincing. She pulled out her phone and told Beau about the discovery.
By the time she hung up Jo was crying again.
“How did this get here?” she asked between sobs. “It was wrecked, really wrecked.”
Sam didn’t know whether to comfort her or slap her into silence.
“It’s like someone’s trying to drive me insane,” Jo blubbered. “It’s the kind of thing Zack would have done in his cruel moments but how could that be? He was in Albuquerque.”
She sat on the step with the kitchen door open behind her, holding her head in her hands.
“Beau is sending his forensic people to dust the car for prints and check it over. I’m sure they’ll find out who drove it here.” Including you, if you are lying about this whole thing. “Meanwhile, he suggested we stick with the original plan and get you into a hotel. I’ll take you.”
“I don’t know,” Jo said. Her voice had a ragged quality to it. “I can’t think. Maybe I am going insane. I feel like everything is spinning out of control.”
Sam walked over and sat down beside her. “For now, don’t try to figure it out. Let’s just get you to a safe place for a few days and let you rest and absorb it all. It’s been a horrible week for you.”
Jo leaned into Sam’s shoulder. “It has,” she agreed with a resigned sigh.
“Come on. Let’s go.” Sam led her into the house, locking the kitchen door behind them, pocketing Jo’s set of house keys.
In the foyer sat a small wheeled suitcase and a purse
.
“Did you come up with everything you need for a few days?”
Jo nodded, looking a little numb at this point.
“I was thinking I’d take you to El Monte. It’s quiet and private and visitors have to enter through a lobby. Is that okay?”
Jo allowed Sam to take the handle of the small bag and lock the front door, following along like a puppy that had recently been whipped.
Thirty minutes later, Sam was wheeling the suitcase into a third story room where she checked the windows and informed the desk not to let any calls through without first checking with Ms. Robinet.
“I still want to come to work tomorrow,” Jo said, coming out of the bathroom with a clean face and freshly brushed hair.
“Call me in the morning. I can pick you up but I want to be sure you’re ready for this. You might change your mind and decide to simply hang out in this luxurious room and rest up for a few days.” Sam fully expected Jo would soon want to return home. She faced many adjustments right now.
The sheriff’s office was on her way to Sweet’s Sweets so Sam stopped in to drop off Jo Robinet’s keys.
“The car was parked inside her own garage all this time?” Beau asked.
“I only know it’s there now. Jo swears the last time she saw it was after Ray Belatoni ran her off the road. She ran away without even taking her purse, apparently, because that’s how she ended up walking into my bakery last Thursday morning.” Sam recalled Jo’s torn blouse and the scrapes on her face.
“But you said there’s no damage to the car, no sign it was in an accident.”
“I sure couldn’t see anything.”
He tapped his pencil against the desktop. “I guess I better bring her in for more questions.”
“Beau, I think she’s telling the truth. You should have seen how upset she was when she saw the car there. It was genuinely a shock to her.”
“Or maybe she freaked out because you found the car. It’s the key that makes her whole story fall apart.”
Sweets Forgotten (Samantha Sweet Mysteries Book 10) Page 13
