Sweets Forgotten (Samantha Sweet Mysteries Book 10)

by Connie Shelton

“Donny? What the hell does he have to do with anything? The guy’s a douche.”

  “That’s the best description you can think of? He’s involved, Krystal. And I seriously doubt he’s going to act so dumb about the details as you are. When we talk to him, I’ll bet he’s going to tell us every single thing you and Ray did, from the moment Jo Robinet hired you to the time of the murder, and probably including what all you’ve done to cover up your involvement. In court, it’s going to sound like the stupid move of the century, you all trying to blackmail a woman but going ahead and killing the husband before you ever got any money from her.”

  Her eyes grew wide at the laundry list of problems Vargas could create for her.

  “Look, Sheriff, I really don’t know about any of this. I have no idea if Donny broke into that lady’s house. I have no idea if he ever went to Albuquerque, much less to the hotel.” Her voice cracked slightly.

  He gave her a minute of silence, to let the implications fully soak in. “Krystal, I don’t mean to be hard on you here. At this point I need to know who actually killed Zack Robinet. Who pushed that needle full of smack into his arm?”

  He leaned in closer across the table. “Cause, quite frankly, Krystal, you are the only person positively identified as going in and out of that hotel room. The video cameras don’t lie. We have the desk clerk and a maid who also remember you. They don’t remember Ray. They don’t remember Donny. But they remember you.”

  “Are you arresting me?” Her hands shook and she clasped them together to hide the fact.

  “I’m building a case. Right now, according to the evidence, you’re the one going down for this. If others were involved, I need to know it. If you can tell me how Ray or Donny got into the room and gave the shot, I’m listening. If you can give me something that shows it was their idea and they forced you to do it, I think a prosecutor and jury would be a lot kinder to you.”

  He shrugged as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “That’s all I’m saying.”

  A tear tracked its way slowly down her cheek.

  “I swear, Sheriff, all I knew was the part about trying to get more money from the lady. Okay, that wasn’t a nice thing to do. But life isn’t nice, is it? She has a bunch of it, and I have hardly anything. I didn’t see as how it hurt her to pay a little more. She got what she wanted out of the deal, right? She’s rid of the man she claims treated her like dirt. I don’t know nothing about the rest of it.”

  “Go through that whole day with me again,” Beau said.

  He brought out a yellow pad and pen, taking down her words which were basically a rehash of what she’d told them the first time. She was hired by Jo. She’d been seeing Zack Robinet for awhile. He promised to take her to Vegas for the weekend and maybe somewhere more exotic later on. They had sex in the hotel room in Albuquerque. She went out for pizza. He was dead when she came back. She got scared, gathered her things and ran away.

  While it would have been helpful to have her add something to tie Belatoni or Vargas to the events of that day, Beau wasn’t ready to give up on the men quite yet. A little time in the holding cell might improve Krystal’s memory, although it bothered him a little that her version of the details had, so far, never varied. If only they could connect her to a known supplier for the heroin—who he believed to be Ray Belatoni—he could have her sent to Albuquerque and let Kent Taylor do the rest.

  Having Albuquerque take over this mess would be fine with Beau. He sighed and stood up, telling Krystal he’d be right back. The clock on the wall caught his attention. Already approaching dinner time and he wasn’t even close to being done. Last night, it had been Sam’s work interfering with their anniversary celebration. Tonight it was his. He stepped into his office, dialed her cell and left a message apologizing all over himself for ruining whatever plan she’d made. He would make it up to her tomorrow night. Promise.

  He rounded up two deputies who were lounging in the squad room, clearly uneager for work since both were only now recovering from that flu bug.

  “Each of you take one of them. Handcuffs all the way. I want them to see each other but no chance for a clash or bodily harm, okay?”

  Ramirez went to the holding cell and handcuffed Donny Vargas, who turned dutifully and put his wrists together. Waters followed Beau to the interrogation room where Beau explained to Krystal that she would be spending the evening here instead of at her usual haunts. She sobbed quietly as her wrists were cuffed.

  The little entourage walked through the station until Beau opened the door leading to the separate holding cell area. Waters pulled Krystal aside as Ramirez led Donny Vargas out. Her eyes widened when she saw that Beau was not bluffing; Donny was indeed on his way to be interrogated. Vargas spotted Krystal and stared daggers at her. The warning was clear. As soon as the mechanic was safely out of the area, Beau instructed Waters to lock Krystal in the cell. His voice came out a little more gruff than normal. When he walked away he could hear her weeping quietly.

  He let both suspects stew while he ate a sandwich at his desk, not exactly the nice dinner Sam had envisioned for them. When he entered the interrogation room twenty minutes later, Donny Vargas sat sprawled in a chair, tapping his fingers impatiently on the table.

  “About time,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” Beau said, “I wasn’t aware you were the one setting the schedule here.” He took an extra couple of minutes to offer water, lay out his notepad and pen and pull out his chair. “Now, let’s see. First off, there’s the little matter of a break-in at the Robinet home yesterday morning.”

  “Don’t know nothin’ about that.”

  “Your footprint, with grease on it from the garage, was left on their white carpet.”

  “Not mine.” Vargas had not flinched or straightened his posture. Cool as ice.

  “We’ll get back to that. You’re friends with Ray Belatoni at The Scoreboard.”

  A tiny shrug. What of it?

  “And Krystal Cordova.”

  Barely raised eyebrows.

  “What’s their relationship with the Robinets?”

  “Relationship? You mean was Krystal screwing the guy’s brains out?”

  Beau tapped his pen against the notepad.

  “Yeah, I suppose. I wasn’t there at the time.”

  “Why do you suppose it’s true?”

  “The girl can’t keep her mouth shut. She was all over the bar, bragging about how she was being paid by some lady to lure the husband. Krys has it all figured out that she can make the guy fall in love with her and the two of them will go away together. Says it’s what the wife really wants, for him to leave town. Why not with her on some island or something?”

  “That’s a pretty unbelievable request from a wife.”

  Donny shrugged again. “Weird, yeah, but who can figure out people. They’re all weird, especially the ones with money. The more they got, the weirder they are.”

  Beau couldn’t necessarily disagree with that.

  “You got into a big fight with Zack Robinet over something at the dealership where you work. Did the fight continue later, in some other place maybe?”

  “No. I’m not that stupid. Geez, you think I’d kill a guy because he yelled at me at work? Half the customers in that place are unhappy about their bill. Friststone jacks up the prices of everything. That ain’t my fault.”

  “Where were you last Wednesday?”

  “Work. Went home after.”

  “No stop for a drink on the way?”

  “Not that night. Just wasn’t in the mood.”

  “Can someone verify that’s where you were?”

  “Check around. I live alone but my neighbors might have seen my car outside my apartment.”

  “I hear Ray Belatoni deals a little out at the bar. Ever see evidence that heroin passes through there?”

  “Man, I know nothin’ about any drug deals. My job requires tests and we aren’t told when they’ll happen.” It was the first time Beau sensed dishonesty in the man�
�s statement. He probably had a way of finding out when his test would come around and he’d either lay off his recreational substances for awhile or he would manage to fake the results.

  Nothing else about the man’s posture or attitude showed signs of deceit. Beau made notes on the pad, thinking furiously, looking for a reason to hold Vargas longer, but he couldn’t come up with anything solid.

  * * *

  Sam woke up wondering why she’d stayed all night on the sofa. Inertia, she supposed. She had listened to Beau’s message on her phone, saying he was tied up questioning suspects and wouldn’t get away in time for dinner, and after that she’d simply rolled over and fallen right back into a deep sleep.

  Now, she saw that he’d been home. A handwritten note was propped against her phone on the table and she caught the scent of brewed coffee. She picked up the slip of paper.

  I tried to be quiet—you needed your sleep. Call me when you wake up. xx Beau

  She could tell he was distracted during the call, and a glance at the clock told her she had probably interrupted his morning briefing with the deputies. He promised to be available for dinner tonight and said he would call her a little later in the day.

  Sweet’s Sweets was already humming when Sam arrived. Three customers at the counter had Jen’s attention, while two others sat at the bistro tables with their newspapers and coffee. Sam said hello to each as she surveyed the situation and saw all was running smoothly.

  In the kitchen, Becky was going through a stack of order forms, prioritizing as Sam always did. Julio stepped from the walk-in fridge and told her he had put the layers for her anniversary cake in there. Jo stood at the stove, watching a copper pan full of bubbling chocolate. Sam stepped over to take a look.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Jo said. “We didn’t really talk about exactly what you wanted done with this. I molded a pound or so of fairly plain shapes yesterday. Would you like creams, nuts or caramels today?”

  “Sure. An assortment sounds good.” She studied Jo’s face. “Thanks for handling this while I rested. I hope you got some sleep last night, too.”

  “I did. It’s still really weird, being at Brenda’s. I should probably move back home. I managed to spend a little time last night going through those papers from the safe—Zack’s will, the original partnership agreement between him and Chandler, the banking and investment accounts.”

  Something told Sam there was more. “Looks like the chocolate is ready for cooling. Want to chat a minute while it does?”

  Jo turned off the flame and set the pan aside to cool, tilting her head toward the back door. Outside, she turned to Sam and the worry showed clearly on her face.

  “Remember, I told you I had no money worries now? Well, something from the safe has me really concerned.”

  “Is it something I can help with?” Sam asked.

  “No, not in the way you’re thinking. I’m only bringing it up because there might be some connection with what happened to Zack.”

  Sam waited while Jo put her thoughts together.

  “There’s a significant amount of money missing. One of the investment accounts had over three million dollars in it. It’s nearly empty now.”

  “A joint account?”

  “No, business. We opened the account because there was no point in leaving large amounts of cash in the company checking account. It earns nothing there, so I suggested to Zack and Chandler that we put the money into some investments that would earn a better return.”

  “Maybe the investments themselves dropped in value?”

  “No. These were cash withdrawals. Two fairly small ones, ten thousand apiece, over the last couple of months. I might not have noticed them, thinking one of the partners or Helen needed the money for operating expenses. But last month the balance of the account was virtually cleaned out. With everything going on this past week, I hadn’t been online to look at it and the printed statements hadn’t arrived yet. Of course, once the statements arrived I would have caught it immediately.”

  “Who was authorized to move money from that account?”

  “Just the partners and myself. Helen had access but only through one of us. If she needed money for expenses she told us—usually either me or Zack—and we transferred the funds back to the checking account she uses for bills.”

  “You think Zack withdrew the money without telling you?”

  “It looks that way.”

  “My first thought is that Krystal and Ray tried unsuccessfully to blackmail you. Maybe they tried the same with Zack and he gave it to them.”

  “They only asked me for fifty thousand. It’s pretty bold to up the ante by that much, don’t you think?”

  Sam wondered. Something must have changed. The blackmailers became bolder, they found out there was more money available and they might as well ask for it … It was only a guess at this point.

  “Beau is questioning Krystal now. I think he needs this information.”

  “You’re right. Call him. I can get the account number and pertinent data. The brokerage firm should have information about the circumstances of the withdrawal, who authorized it and such. Being that I only found this last night, I haven’t taken the time yet to call them.”

  “Beau can tell you what he needs. Let’s turn it over to him for now.” Sam pulled out her phone and dialed his number, then handed the phone to Jo.

  He took the relevant information, although Jo didn’t have it all.

  “I left all the paperwork at Brenda’s. I guess I wasn’t thinking too clearly this morning.”

  “That’s okay,” he said. “There are a few things I can check first. If you get the chance during the day, get the specifics. If we end up needing copies for evidence you’ll have to contact the brokerage firm directly and authorize my access to the account.”

  She agreed to do it and they ended the call.

  Back inside, Jo went back to her batch of chocolate, while Sam concentrated on the anniversary cake—at last. When Beau called back, close to noon, his news wasn’t helpful at all.

  “Krystal claims to know nothing about the money. I obtained warrants for Krystal’s and Ray Belatoni’s financial information. Neither of their accounts shows any large influx of cash, ever. In fact, The Scoreboard is basically hanging by a thread to stay in business. His drug deals must be very small-time. If Belatoni got hold of a lot of cash, surely it would have gone toward that.”

  Unless the pair planned to skip the country, in which case they could have opened an entirely new account, or they could literally be hiding a pile of cash.

  Chapter 24

  With Beau’s news that Ray and Krystal did not appear to have the missing money, Jo left the bakery to gather the information he needed. Sam placed the final flounces on her anniversary cake. She would deliver it to the restaurant then go home and dress for the special occasion. She only hoped Beau wouldn’t be running late.

  She phoned Zoë and thanked her for yesterday’s TLC.

  “It was nothing any best friend wouldn’t have done,” Zoë said with a little laugh. “Come by later and I’ll give you more of that tea. As relentlessly as you work, I have a feeling you could use a cup of it every evening.”

  Sam didn’t care much about getting the tea but she really should take Zoë a little thank-you gift for taking the time to come and sit with her. She found a small foil-covered box and filled it with chocolates Jo had just finished.

  She pictured Jo, stirring the new batch this morning and their conversation about the missing money. She’d mentioned each of the partners having access to the account. That would leave Zack and Chandler as the only suspects. If paying blackmail to Krystal and Ray wasn’t the motive, why would either of them take it? Their games were so successful that each man’s half-interest in the company had made him a multi-millionaire. Surely, either partner could request a draw of more money if he had a large purchase coming up. Helping himself to more didn’t make sense. She would ask Jo about it later; maybe some prov
ision in the partnership agreement would shed some light.

  She closed the lid on the little box of candy. A bow and a card, and it was all set. If she left a little early, Sam could easily drop it off on her way home. She stowed the anniversary cake safely in the back of her van and placed Zoë’s gift on the passenger seat. A quick stop at the restaurant where she was forced to park in a sunny spot. She set Zoë’s gift on the floor where it was shady and a glimmer caught her eye.

  The carved box. She picked it up. She’d taken it to work with her last night, knowing she would need every bit of extra energy she could get from it. Exhausted afterward, she’d obviously forgotten to take it in the house and put it back in a safe place. Once again, Isobel St. Clair’s warnings came back.

  There was nothing to do now but conceal the artifact until she got home. She pushed it completely out of sight under the car seat and double checked to be sure it wasn’t visible. Already, her right hand felt a little warm and tingly from touching it. She hoped the box’s glow would quickly fade and no one would notice it from outside the van.

  Retrieving her cake from the back, she assured it was placed in a safe spot in the restaurant kitchen, her name and reservation time on it. Heaven forbid it accidentally got served to someone else. On to Zoë’s house, a few blocks away.

  The big territorial style adobe looked especially beautiful in the autumn with its glowing yellow cottonwood trees contrasting with the massive blue spruce on the east side. Out front, she spotted Zoë working in the garden, chopping spent hollyhock stalks and setting out colorful chrysanthemums in gold and purple. Zoë’s green thumb was what kept the bed and breakfast one of the most picturesque and most desired in town.

  Sam parked in the guest parking area, empty now, and picked up the gift.

  “Hey there,” greeted Zoë. “If I’d known you were coming this soon I would have quit this yard work and made us some tea already.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I can only stay a minute.” Sam showed the gift box. “A little thanks for yesterday. I can put it in the kitchen if you—”