Sam found herself smiling with similar pleasant memories.
“Now that you’re remembering a lot more, I’d love to hear about your past. Where did you learn your chocolate-making techniques?”
“Ah, now that goes back to my grandfather,” Jo said, tying an apron over her spotless baker’s jacket.
Sam’s phone rang, interrupting the story. She signaled for Jo to hold that thought. The call was from Beau.
“Good mornin’ darlin’,” he said.
She could tell the extra sleep had really helped.
“I have some news for your new employee,” he said. “We can release her car today. Would she like me to bring it by? Save her having to take the bus or depend on you.”
Sam posed the question to Jo whose face registered mild panic.
“I don’t know, Sam. What if Ray Belatoni is still after me? He knows the Lexus.”
“Beau, she needs to think about it awhile. Do you need to deliver the car right now?”
“Soon,” he said. “I’ll come by when I can break away, let’s say midday. We can talk about it then.”
Sam passed along the information as soon as she hung up.
“I do want to get to my in-laws’ place and talk to my son. I tried calling last night, but they told me he was asleep already. Hard to believe, since this is the boy who never wanted to go to bed before midnight. If I’m going to talk to him I think it needs to be in person.”
“So, take your car back. No one can stop you driving around town in it.”
Jo had poured the milk chocolate mixture onto the table for tempering. Automatically working it with a flat spatula she chewed at her lower lip.
“Or, what about driving your son’s car instead? Would Ray Belatoni know about that one?”
“The Corvette is pretty flashy. Not exactly a car for getting around unnoticed.”
Sam almost opened her mouth to offer the use of her pickup truck, which sat unused in the driveway a lot of the time since she’d not taken a caretaking job in awhile. She stopped, reminding herself that she barely knew Jo.
“Well, you think about it.” Sam turned to her stack of orders for the day.
With Jo handling the chocolates, she and Becky could start their cakes and pastries. Sam had a birthday cake depicting an artist’s easel halfway done when the back door opened. Beau stepped in and greeted everyone.
“Jo, I’ve brought your car with your suitcases in the back,” he said, walking over to the worktable where she was piping dark chocolate whiskers on a white chocolate kitten. “We don’t have the space to keep it at the department yard, so I either need to hand it over to you here or take it back to your house.”
Jo stared at the candies for a half minute before she set down her pastry bag and turned to him.
“I’ll take it,” she said. She looked across the table at Sam. “I need to get to the DMV for a duplicate of my license and maybe I should make the drive over to George and Nancy’s place now, before I lose my courage. If that’s okay with you? The chocolate needs to set up anyway.”
“Sure. No problem,” Sam told her.
Jo made a quick call and told her mother-in-law she was coming over. She placed the tray of new chocolates on a cooling rack and removed her apron, taking a deep breath as Beau handed her the key. As soon as she was out the door, Beau turned to Sam.
“Now I need a ride back to the impound lot where I left my cruiser. Can you break away?”
Since he could have easily called one of his deputies, Sam assumed he wanted to talk to her alone. She was somewhat at a loss for what to paint on the artist’s easel anyway, so the break came at a welcome moment.
“Don’t get too attached to her, Sam,” he said as soon as she started her van and pulled to the end of the alley. “We’ve almost ruled her out as the person who administered the fatal dose to Zack but she could still be in this up to her neck. Murder for hire is every bit as serious. She’s admitted she hired Krystal. Things may have gotten out of her control, as she said, or she could have masterminded it all.”
“But—really? You saw her in the interrogation room, Beau. That woman’s been abused.”
“I’m not saying she wasn’t. I’m saying she might have acted on her desperation, to a lot bigger degree than she’s letting on.”
“Beau, I really don’t think—”
He turned in his seat, facing her with a stern look. “The only reason I didn’t forbid her working in your shop is because she’s right where you can keep an eye on her. If I had the evidence against her I’d be holding her.”
“Forbid? You just gave her car back!”
“With a tracking device attached. I’m not that stupid, Sam.” His tone was sharper than he’d ever used with her before.
Sam bit back a retort. Nothing would be gained by letting this escalate.
Chapter 18
Beau kissed Sam’s cheek before getting out of her van, already regretting that they’d had words. Especially over a case. He’d vowed never to allow his job to come between them, and now he had let it happen. He’d better pick up some flowers before he went home tonight.
However, that was hours away. Seated in his cruiser, he turned on the computer and watched the blinking dot that represented Jo Robinet’s Lexus. She’d spent a record short time at the DMV and now it appeared she really was on her way to Zack’s parents’ place. In case she tried to get tricky about this, he’d planted another such device on the other car in the garage, the son’s Corvette. Jo had access to it, plus Bentlee Robinet wasn’t completely in the clear either. According to Beau’s last conversation with Kent Taylor, the kid’s alibi was shaky.
Meanwhile, he would touch base with each of the people he’d talked to yesterday at ChanZack and see if he could verify alibis for each of the employees who had locked horns with Zack in recent weeks. The sooner he could assure Kent Taylor that no one from the Taos circle of acquaintances would have driven all the way to Albuquerque to kill Zack Robinet, the better. He got the feeling the detective wasn’t looking too hard for suspects on his own turf.
Chandler Lane was standing at the reception desk, ostensibly going over something with Amber on a sheet of paper, conveniently positioned so he could see straight down the front of her blouse. He looked up and took a step back when Beau entered.
“Sheriff. Two visits in as many days. Are you making progress toward finding Zack’s killer, I hope?”
“Are Ed and Jamie here?” Beau asked, choosing not to explain.
“Amber?” Chandler said in his best let’s-be-cooperative voice.
She checked something on her computer screen, as if the office had so many employees that a person wouldn’t know who was in or out at any given moment.
“They both are. Back in their office.” She sent a smile toward Beau. He decided it must just be her way. Surely she didn’t intend to flirt blatantly with every male.
“I’d like to chat with each of them, separately. And your programmers, in a minute. Can you call Ed to come out here first?”
“I’ll get him,” Chandler said, turning toward the keypad which led to the inner sanctum.
“I’d prefer that he be paged. Don’t tell him why, just ask him to come up front,” Beau said to Amber.
Both Chandler and his receptionist seemed a little surprised by the request but neither said anything. Amber picked up the desk phone and pressed a two-digit intercom number. Ed Archuleta definitely seemed startled when he walked through the double doors and realized the sheriff was waiting.
“Let’s take a little walk outside,” Beau suggested. “We’ll just be a few minutes.” This last bit directed to the boss.
They strolled the hallway to the elevator, Beau reaching for his little notebook.
“I just need to get a few more details. This is routine stuff, information the police in Albuquerque needed. Can you tell me where you were last Wednesday?”
“That’s the night Zack died, right?” Ed started to reach for the elevator
button but hesitated. “Sure. I was here. I was in the office every single day and half of each night for the month leading up to the Vegas show.”
“Was everyone working that many hours?”
“Most of us. Well, Jamie and me, both the programmers. Zack left a day early, which wasn’t completely unusual. I suspected he had a little something going on the side. Female something, I mean. I don’t know—I shouldn’t really say that, him being my boss and all.”
“No, it’s fine. I need to know the truth.” Beau left the notebook in his pocket and leaned casually against the wall. “Did Zack say something to give you that impression?”
“Nah, not really. It was more of a look. You know, a guy comes to work in a T-shirt every day of the week and then suddenly a trip comes up and he’s wearing cologne.”
Beau nodded, hoping Ed would go on. He didn’t.
“Anyone else in the office acting a little out of character?”
“Well, Chandler is panting around all over Amber. He’s either getting some already or he’s hoping to, real soon.”
Beau chuckled. “Yeah, I got that impression too. I’m sure those of you in sales become pretty good at reading people, don’t you?”
“That’s what selling is all about. Figure out what motivates that customer and how to tell ’em they can have it. But no. Jamie and I been busting butt for weeks. Aside from the bosses coming and going from our office, I couldn’t tell you who else was around.”
“Okay, thanks.” He walked back with Ed, keeping him in conversation in the lobby until Jamie showed up. No way he wanted these two comparing notes before he’d talked to each of them separately.
He posed nearly the same questions to Jamie and got essentially the same answers, except that her observations about Chandler and Amber were a little more graphic and came from Amber’s point of view. The receptionist had apparently confessed over the coffee maker one morning that the previous night had been “woo!” Other than wondering what day of the week the conversation took place, Beau had no interest in the office sexcapades. He jotted down Jamie’s responses, walked her back inside and called for one of the programmers. Michael Anderson was the one who showed up.
He swore—on a make-believe stack of bibles, while crossing his heart—that the programmers had been even more harried than the sales staff.
“You would not believe it, man. We were here, like, twenty-seven hours a day. No shit. And it still wasn’t good enough. Every time we tested the program it ran fine. Zack or Chandler would come in and try it and bam! there’s a glitch. We’re starting at square one, like, every other day.”
“Bet you were happy to see the prototype go out the door for Vegas.”
“Uh, yeah, it’s called a beta version. But yeah. Office goes from madhouse crazy to so quiet you could hear yourself breathe. Which was kind of nice.”
“That was Wednesday night?”
“I guess it would have been … No, that had to be Thursday. Zack had taken off Tuesday or Wednesday, something about going on ahead to Vegas. Chandler said he couldn’t get the same flight so he was leaving Thursday, I think. I don’t know, man. I can’t keep up with those guys. All I know’s that we had to have the beta up and running without a single flaw by Thursday morning, so we pulled several all-nighters. You didn’t notice we had sleeping bags on the floor in our office?”
“Let me go through it again,” Beau said. “Zack was gone Wednesday. Chandler left Thursday, as did Jamie and Ed?”
Michael nodded.
“The bookkeeper never left town?”
“Helen, nah. She’s just this quiet older lady who pays bills and prints out reports, I guess. I only ever see her in the breakroom getting herself some tea.”
“What about Amber? Was she going to the show in Vegas?”
“No. There was some flack about that between her and Chandler. I remember commenting to J.B. about us having her to ourselves in the office for an extra couple days. But then he didn’t leave early. I was thinking of suggesting we three go out for happy hour one night. I’d have made sure I sat next to her.”
“I thought you computer guys were so wrapped up in codes and programs that you never noticed that kind of thing.”
“Yeah, well, that’d be J.B. Him and me, we work together real well but I tell you, he’s completely not interested in having a social life. He’s intense, man—goes home, works on computers there. Or plays games, or whatever he does in that man cave in his parents’ spare room.” Michael edged a glance down the hall toward the ChanZack offices. “I like the guy. Don’t get me wrong. Really.”
“Oh, no. I see what you’re saying.” Beau stood straight up again, giving the idea the interview was about over. “So you were at the office all day and most of the night Wednesday … and everyone else was, as well?”
Michael stared toward the ceiling for a moment. “Okay. Amber and Helen both left at their regular times, around five. They never really have to work late. Jamie and Ed were scrambling around and I heard some kind of panicky thing about someone had forgotten to get the brochures from the printer, or something like that. Me and J.B. … No, wait a second—J.B. did leave early that afternoon. Once we’d tested the game for the final time, he said he had something important. I guessed it was a run to that mega comic-book store in Santa Fe because he said he might be late the next morning.”
“So, J.B. really didn’t have an alibi for Wednesday night?”
“Oh, hey, I’m sure he does. Just ask him. He’ll get it straightened out.” Michael suddenly seemed eager to go.
While Beau waited for J.B. to answer the page to the front, he flipped back to his notes from the first office visit, the one with Kent Taylor. All the junior programmer had said was that Zack had a temper and had clashed with nearly everyone in the company. Could J.B. be hiding his own guilt? Sometimes it was the quiet ones who fooled you.
* * *
Sam’s challenge now was to find suitable packaging for the impressive collection of chocolates for Stan Bookman’s order. She’d been through her stash of gift boxes and canisters, most of which were far too winter-holiday themed to work for this one. She stared at her computer screen, scanning the offerings from her normal suppliers, not finding anything quite grand enough. One box she loved was out of stock and wouldn’t be available for months.
“What about something that isn’t a candy box?” Jen said, looking over Sam’s shoulder on her way from the fridge with a customer’s bridal shower cake.
Sam looked away from the frustrating array in front of her.
“Millie’s Attic has lots of cute things,” Jen said. “Boxes covered in fancy paper, vintage tins, that sort of thing.”
“Great idea. I’ll find the time to get over there sometime today.” Sam switched to her email, which she hadn’t checked for anything other than bakery orders in days.
From the sales room she heard a riffle of voices. A moment later Jen stepped through the curtain into the kitchen, her arm around Jo’s shoulders. Sam looked up to see Jo sobbing noisily. Jen steered her toward Sam.
“I’ve got a customer out front,” she said in a low tone.
Sam stood up and took over. “Jo, Jo … come in and take my chair. What’s the matter?”
Becky stepped forward with a box of tissues and even Julio paused while removing a layer cake from its pan. Jo sat, yanking a fistful of Kleenex from the box. A good three minutes went by before she could speak. Sam motioned the others back to their work and went to the front to make a cup of tea.
“Is it something you want to talk about?” she asked, putting the tea mug in Jo’s hands.
“My son—” Jo’s lower lip quivered and tears threatened to spill again.
“Is he all right?”
Jo’s head bobbed somewhere between an affirmative nod and a negative shake. “They’ve poisoned him against me. All the Robinets. Starting with his s.o.b. father. Bentlee just spent the last hour unleashing this stream of … of … hatred at me.”
“What!”
“He said it. He hates me for what I did to his dad. I asked him to tell me what that was—all he could do was to spout back Zack’s nasty words, the same things he’s said for years to tear down my self esteem.”
Sam tried to think of a response but realized Jo only needed to talk it out.
“Apparently Zack went by Bentlee’s school when he arrived in Albuquerque last week, on the pretense of taking his son out to lunch. Then he proceeded to unload a bunch of lies. He told our son that I had repeatedly cheated on him! When was that supposed to happen? He watched me like a hawk and questioned my every move. He said I’d never loved my own son, that the business was more important to me than my kid. The business belongs to Zack and Chandler. Aside from occasionally going over the ad campaigns with the sales team or the financials with Helen, I had nothing to do with it.”
“Bentlee’s grandparents were there, right? Surely they could provide a voice of reason about all this.”
“Oh, no.” Jo’s eyes flashed. “They’ve bought the whole story too. I mean, George and Nancy were never huge fans of mine. We’ve all kept a polite wariness around each other. There’s no reason—other than Zack’s word—for them to believe any of it. But they stood there, right behind Bentlee, going along with everything he said. It was like being ganged up on from three sides. I couldn’t believe it.”
Wow. Sam felt sorry for Jo and, not for the first time, was thankful Kelly’s father had not been in their lives.
“When you think about it, the whole thing should be laughable. Here was Zack, talking to his son about me being such a horrible wife when he was on his way to spend the afternoon and night with another woman.”
Uh, yeah. A hooker you paid to be there. Sam was beginning to tire of the dramatics in the Robinet family. Maybe they all deserved each other.
“Maybe you should go home and try to put all this behind you, Jo. I’m sure Bentlee will come around once he cools down. He’ll remember the good times you had together and he’ll see the truth.”
Sweets Forgotten (Samantha Sweet Mysteries Book 10) Page 16
