“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 pr
eliminary 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 thinki
ng. 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.
Sweets Forgotten (Samantha Sweet Mysteries Book 10) Page 19
