“Take my keys,” Darryl said. “If you have the chance to approach, at least you can get in.”
Beau weighed the circumstances. In a big city, factoring in the hyper-dramatics presented in movies and relentless coverage by media, any number of things could happen: the entire building rigged with explosives, the perpetrator cunning enough to have some sort of infrared way of seeing everything and desperate enough to shoot every human who crossed his path.
But Beau had to assess this realistically. This was Taos and he was dealing with a businessman who had somehow gotten into a bad situation. Granted, a very bad situation, but still. Chandler Lane, from all they knew of him, was not a criminal mastermind. He had entangled himself in some type of financial fiasco. Perhaps Zack had caught him embezzling funds from the investment accounts. Things had spiraled downward and Zack was dead. How low had Chandler Lane sunk? Beau had to be careful that Sam and Zoë didn’t meet the same fate as Zack before Beau and his team could capture the killer.
Chapter 27
Sam pulled Zoë’s bloody, ripped sleeve over the wound, which her own touch had nearly healed. It was vital that Chandler continue to believe Zoë was helpless.
“We need some light in here,” she told their captor. “From the street it’s going to look suspicious that there are cars out front and no lights inside. This place is always lit up.” Plus, I need to be able to watch your hand on that gun.
He had been pacing the room for the past ten minutes, making Sam believe more than ever that he’d taken another snort of whatever he was high on when he went to the kitchen for the glass of water. The pistol worried her. In his agitated state, he could easily pull the trigger when he didn’t intend to. She wanted to watch his face, to hope that she could read his expressions well enough to have a bit of warning before he aimed at her.
He peered around the edge of the lace curtain, toward the street . Apparently it was quiet enough for his liking.
“One lamp,” he said.
Sam reached for the floor lamp beside the sofa before he could make the choice. She twisted the little plastic switch several clicks, causing the light to go on and off twice.
“Sorry. I thought maybe it was a three-way bulb.” Or that I could get a signal out to someone.
His eyes became hard.
“Sorry.” Sam kept the gun in sight. He’d stopped holding it up, aimed at the women all the time, but it had never once left his hand.
She spread a knitted afghan over Zoë, who by now had toned down the moans and was watching everything through half-closed eyes. Sam sat in one of the chairs near Zoë’s feet. She tried to give the impression of being calm and non-threatening, but her mind was racing. Beau would have been home by now, getting ready for their dinner out. She prayed with everything she had that he’d received her message and made sense of it. Meanwhile, she had to go on the assumption that she and Zoë were on their own here. They needed to overpower Chandler or distract him long enough so they could get away. Unfortunately, she didn’t see any way for that to happen.
He paced the length of the room twice more and finally went back to the armchair at the doorway. Again, the jittery leg. What was his goal in holding them? How long before he became bored and shot them both?
* * *
Beau directed Deputy Waters to park next to Darryl Chartrain’s pickup truck. The back of Waters’ cruiser was full of weapons and teargas canisters. Overkill, most likely, but he wanted to be sure they could take Mr. Lane with a minimum of resistance. Leaving two officers in charge of traffic and onlooker-control, the rest suited up with Kevlar vests and high-power rifles. Beau led the way. In under ten minutes they had disabled both the red convertible and Sam’s van as getaway vehicles and established a perimeter around the nearly dark bed and breakfast.
Beau moved stealthily to the back door, gently twisted the knob and found it locked. He pulled Darryl’s key from his pocket and prayed the construction man kept the lock and door hardware well oiled and noise free. It worked. He and Rico slipped in and moved, weapons drawn, toward the light that showed faintly into the kitchen from the hall.
Voices. He made out Sam’s. She sounded tired. A male voice responded to something she said.
“… not that hard to override an electronic hotel key,” the man said.
“Were you just trying to scare Jo? Why?”
A chair scraped. Beau wished he could see into that room. He stood with his back to the wall, weapon aimed upward, and signaled to Rico to be ready. On his signal—one finger, two, three—they filled the doorway. Chandler Lane spun around, shock registering on his face.
“Drop the gun!” Beau ordered. “Facedown on the floor!”
Lane looked for a fraction of a second as if he might defy them. Then he dropped to his knees.
“Down!”
Lane went face down and released the pistol. Beau kicked it toward Rico and held his rifle over their suspect while Rico secured his weapon and cuffed their man.
“Sam, you ladies all right?” He took his eyes off Chandler long enough to see Sam standing at the end of a sofa, Zoë sitting up with a cover over her lap, blood on her blouse.
Beau called down the men on the perimeter and told them to come inside to take their suspect into custody. With Chandler Lane on his way to jail, Beau turned to the women. Sam gave a quick recap of what had happened. Zoë’s wound looked superficial. Beau allowed Darryl into the house and recommended he take his wife for medical care, even though Zoë protested that a little herbal cream would heal it just fine.
Outside, Rico awaited instructions. Beau told him to lock Chandler in their detention cell and call Kent Taylor in Albuquerque. As for himself, he planned to take his wife out for their anniversary.
Chapter 28
Sam protested, saying Beau had far more important things to do at the moment, but once he’d pointed out that it would take Kent Taylor nearly three hours to drive up from Albuquerque and that their own plans had been on hold far too long already, she acquiesced.
“We aren’t exactly dressed for fancy,” she said, looking down at her disheveled clothing as they walked to their vehicles.
He reattached her distributor cap and looked at his watch. “We have thirty minutes before they’ll give away our reservation. Do what you can with it.”
It’s amazing what a four-minute shower and change of shirt will do, she discovered. They walked into the restaurant at one minute after seven and were given the choicest table in the house. Beau chose a good wine and by the time they’d decided to order the chateaubriand for two Sam finally began to relax.
“At the risk of making this sound like the work day never ends,” he said, “I have to say I’m still having a hard time putting today’s events together.”
She smiled. “We can talk about it. I don’t mind.”
“What did he admit to you, while he had you and Zoë trapped there?”
Where to begin? “Chandler’s got some heavy-duty drug problems, Beau. Being around him, especially when he’s stressed out, I really saw it for the first time. I think that’s at the bottom of all this. Plus, he rambled a lot while we were in there—things about his Manhattan apartment that cost ten million, how he’s bought a castle in Europe, and how he was buying a private jet. That takes a crazy amount of money to support those things. I think he started looking for ways to take Zack’s share of the business. He broke into the Robinet home to steal papers from their safe. At first I thought he was after the financial records, in order to cover up the fact he’d cleaned out a rather large investment account, the one Jo just now discovered.”
Beau nodded as he dipped a hunk of bread into the olive oil and garlic mixture their waiter had brought.
“But he said something at one point this afternoon that made me realize what he was really after was Zack’s copy of their original partnership agreement. Chandler was very hyper, talked a lot, muttered on about how ‘it wasn’t like that.’ I asked him what he was talking about. Their agree
ment, he said—if one partner died, the other was to take over ownership of the whole business.”
“Giving Chandler access to all the millions in company assets.”
“Yes. But then he said it wasn’t like that, and I wondered what that was. It turns out each partner’s share becomes part of his estate, so upon Zack’s death Jo inherits his half. Chandler didn’t gain a thing by killing Zack. Now he had to get Jo as well.”
“So he tried to get into her room at the El Monte Hotel because no one knew she was there and no one would come checking on her.”
“He came right out and told me how easy it was to create a little device that circumvented the key card. But I think it started even earlier. I’ll bet if you investigate very carefully, you’ll find that it was Chandler who ran Jo off the road last Thursday morning. Maybe she spotted Ray Belatoni at the gas station, but I don’t think he’s the one who chased her down. She doesn’t remember the actual crash. My guess is another vehicle came along and Chandler had to drive away before he could be sure she was dead.”
“His car wasn’t damaged,” he said.
She gave him a knowing stare. “The rich have their resources. If Jo’s car miraculously got repaired in just a day or two, doesn’t it make sense his could have, as well? Or, maybe he has more than one vehicle. Have you ever met a rich, single guy who didn’t?”
The waiter brought their dinner and went through the ritual of carving and serving. Sam could tell Beau’s wheels were turning until the server left.
“So he went to the Kingston Arms in Albuquerque and killed Zack. Once Krystal left the room, it wouldn’t be difficult to get Zack to open the door to his own business partner. Quickly, he shot the heroin into a vein, left the room, drove back to Taos. I want to review the video tapes from the hotel. Two or three businessmen were seen walking along that hall. I suspect Chandler was one of them, being careful not to let his face be seen on camera.”
Again, Sam saw his mind working, making a mental note to get back to that aspect of the investigation, as she took her first few bites of the incredibly tender beef.
Beau continued, thinking aloud. “Then Chandler came back here and tried to get rid of Jo. Killing her wouldn’t have solved his problem, though, because half the company—in Zack’s estate—would have simply passed to their son, Bentlee.”
“I imagine when he realized it, that was when he decided he needed to get his hands on the partnership agreement. He could destroy the old copies and replace them with a new version. As long as Jo had amnesia he had no worries that she could mess things up. Even later, he could always point out her knock to the head as a reason she wouldn’t remember the document accurately. Except once her memory came back, she was very clear on everything. The chance of the whole problem being forgotten was now gone.”
Beau smiled at her. “You know, for a lady who just went through a traumatic ordeal you have a remarkably analytical take on all this.”
Perhaps she did. Sam felt herself blushing a little at the compliment. Or maybe it was just the wine. She gazed out the window and a moment later, movement caught her attention. A familiar tangle of brown curls, the slender figure in a perky floral dress. Her daughter.
At first Sam didn’t see the man but then he walked into view and Kelly reached for his hand, laughing at something he’d said. He wore dark slacks and a tweed sport coat.
A rush of emotion flooded through Sam. She caught it, thought about the reaction.
“Sam?” Beau’s eyes followed hers.
“It isn’t Julio,” she said. “I’m ashamed to say it, I’m relieved that Kelly’s new guy is someone else.”
“Julio? Your baker? Why would that bother you?”
Why indeed? Despite the fact she’d had this argument with herself over the past two weeks, despite the fact that she knew and liked Julio and really respected him, something told her he wasn’t the right one for her daughter.
“I wish Julio all the best in finding the perfect woman in his life. I just—I don’t know how to say it. A guy with a record and a bike and all those tattoos … I’m not sure I could have welcomed him into the family.”
“Darlin’, I really don’t believe that. I’ve never seen a scrap of prejudice in you and I think if you saw Kelly happy with someone you knew to be a decent and hard worker, you’d accept him.”
Sam realized he was right. Whatever was best for Kelly would make her happy.
By this time Kelly and the man had entered the restaurant and were speaking to the maître d’. When Kelly glanced toward their table, Sam gave a little wave. She couldn’t tell whether the reaction was exactly joyful, but at least Kelly put on a smile and did the right thing. She linked her arm through her date’s and brought him to their table. Beau stood and shook hands with the man who, Sam guessed, was about forty. He had longish, wavy brown hair, wire-rimmed glasses and a tentative smile. This was probably not exactly how he’d envisioned meeting the parents, walking in with no preparation whatsoever.
“Mom, Beau, this is Scott Porter.”
Scott’s expression relaxed when Sam and Beau both greeted him warmly.
“Scott is a history professor at the UNM campus here.”
How on earth had Kelly met a professor? Sam could foresee a girl’s lunch out where she would ferret out all the answers.
“Join us,” Beau offered. “I’m sure we can arrange a couple more chairs and place settings.”
“Oh, no, we don’t want to interrupt,” Scott said. “You’re partway through your meal. Plus, I understand it’s your anniversary. Congratulations.”
“We’ll catch up later, Mom.”
The maître d’ was standing discreetly to one side, menus in hand. He led them to the only empty table in the place, on the other side of the room.
“Well, imagine my surprise,” Sam said.
“Yes. I am.” Beau gave a smile and a wink.
Sam’s mind whirled as she finished her meal—too many new revelations in a very short time. When their cake came to the table, everyone in the place applauded.
“There’s plenty of cake here,” Sam told the server after he’d cut and served slices to them. “Offer it to everyone, and be sure that young couple over there gets some.”
By the time they arrived home Sam wasn’t sure she would ever fall asleep. Wired with the stress of the day and the excitement of the evening she declined coffee, opting for a small raspberry liqueur when Beau offered. Bundled against the chilly September air, they sipped their drinks outside on the back deck. Ranger and Nellie settled nearby, happy to have the pack together again.
Beau had called the station on the way home, hoping he wouldn’t be needed for another late-night interrogation session. Kent Taylor was there, assuring Beau things were moving as well as could be expected. They would hold Chandler Lane in a cell until morning. He’d called upon his high-power attorney and would not say another word. Transport to Albuquerque and arraignment would take place tomorrow.
“Something just hit me,” Sam said, turning to Beau, watching his face in the moonlight. “Kent Taylor awhile ago mentioned a slip of paper in your case file, one with numbers on it. It was the note Jo found in her pocket the day after she wandered into my shop. She was onto the embezzlement even before her accident.”
Beau’s forehead wrinkled.
“Think about it. The numerals 3679854. We thought it was a phone number at first. But instead of a dash, insert commas. The figure represents over three-point-six million, the amount taken from the investment account. Even though she told me she assumed Zack had moved the money, Chandler must have known she was looking into it and thought she knew what he was doing. It explains why he came after her.”
Beau smiled at her. “You are one smart cookie, you know.”
She sighed, happy that the last piece of the puzzle now finally fit. The moon cast a silver streak across their pasture land and a chill autumn breeze riffled her hair. Beau noticed her shiver and suggested they go inside.
> Despite her earlier alertness, Sam felt her eyes drooping. She trailed behind Beau up the stairs and fell asleep within minutes, her last sensation the feel of Beau’s kiss on her forehead as he tucked the covers around her shoulders.
She woke to daylight and discovered he’d left early, with a note explaining it would be a busy day for him. When Sam arrived at her shop, Jo showed up at her van door before she had set a foot on the ground. Judging by her lack of makeup and flustered appearance, she’d heard the news.
“Sam, I don’t know what to say. I’m completely shocked about Chandler. I never saw that coming.”
“No one did, Jo. It certainly wasn’t your fault.”
“I talked to Bentlee last night,” Jo said. “I felt that I should break it to him personally. He’s very relieved. We talked a long time and I think things will be good between us.”
“I’m happy for you, Jo. Really glad.”
“I also called my uncle back east. I won’t say he was happy to learn of Zack’s death, but the two of them clashed right from the start. Zack was a big part of my estrangement from my own family. Anyway, Uncle Peter offered me a job in the family candy company. I’m going to take it. There are great schools there, and it will do Bentlee a lot of good to get away from everything he’s been facing here in New Mexico.”
“What about ChanZack Innovations? It’s all yours now.”
“I’ll do some deep thinking about that. I could make a huge amount of money with it, but it’s not where my heart is. I’ll probably look for a buyer. Luckily, it’s the kind of business that can operate from anywhere—I mean, who would guess a venture of that type originated in this little town? With the recent introduction of the new game, the timing seems right to look at some offers.”
“Well, I wish you luck in everything. Who would have guessed that the scared woman who walked in here with no memory would turn out to have such a fascinating life?” Sam hugged her and they headed inside.
Sweets Forgotten (Samantha Sweet Mysteries Book 10) Page 23
