Sweets Galore: The Sixth Samantha Sweet Mystery (The Samantha Sweet Mysteries)

by Shelton, Connie

  At the bakery, the crew were already well into the normal Saturday bustle. Sam pulled her cake from the fridge and gave it a close inspection. As upset as she’d been yesterday while placing the fondant ribbons, only the one teardrop had actually hit the cake. She pulled a tiger lily from the rack of sugar flowers they’d made and covered the spot. A quick image of Jake flashed through her mind. What had happened to him yesterday?

  No. I am not going there. Today is for me and Beau. Whatever was going on in Jake’s life, it was certainly not part of hers.

  She finished placing the sugar flowers, a sumptuous bouquet of lilies, mums and daisies on top of the cake and clusters of smaller mums and daisies at each tier. With the yellow fondant and russet and burnt orange accents, it fit the autumn wedding theme perfectly.

  “It’s fabulous, Sam,” Becky said with a smile.

  “I love it. I’m glad it turned out so well. Now, did Jen put the notice on the door about closing early? You guys plan on being out of here by one o’clock. The ceremony is at two. And you know where Zoë’s B&B is, right?”

  Nods from both Becky and Julio.

  “Do you need help with anything, Sam?” Jen had stepped into the kitchen.

  “Kelly is bringing makeup and hair stuff. I have no idea what she plans to do to me, but I told her she better keep it tasteful. Wearing makeup is not my usual thing.”

  “Yeah, but you’ll be happier with your pictures if you’ve added at least a little color,” Jen said. “Just saying. Lipstick can be a girl’s best friend at times.”

  Sam picked up her cake. “Okay then, I’m out of here. You guys have it for the next two weeks. Don’t let the place burn down.” She stopped short. “Not to put a hex on it or anything.”

  Becky laughed. “We’ll be fine. Let me get the door for you.”

  With the cake safely stowed in the back of her van and the oversized tote bag containing her jewelry box and other items on the passenger seat, she took a deep breath and headed for the B&B. When she pulled down the long drive to the back the sight took her breath away.

  Beautiful at all times, the acre surrounding the large adobe bed and breakfast had been groomed to perfection for the wedding. Darryl had raked leaves from the spacious lawn where rows of chairs now waited the arrival of the guests. The log pergola was decorated with strands of silk flowers woven among the natural foliage. Sam saw Zoë’s hand in the large pots of purple, orange and yellow chrysanthemums on the flagstone patio. Long tables with crisp white cloths stood ready for the buffet food and round dining tables were set up for the meal.

  “Hey there, bride and cake lady,” Zoë greeted as she stepped out the back door. “What do you think?”

  “You guys . . . I don’t know what to say. It’s fabulous.”

  “Your mother approved it too,” Zoë said.

  “Is she—?”

  “You just missed her. She said something about making sure Rayleen’s boys brought suitable clothes.”

  “Knowing my sister, they did. Where shall we put the cake?”

  Zoë opened the door and showed Sam an open spot on the kitchen counter, out of the way of the other food preparation.

  “And here is a place you can call your own, for getting dressed, hair and makeup and all that,” she said, showing Sam to an empty guest room.

  “I thought you were full up right now.”

  “Some folks from Kansas were here for two nights but left early this morning. I had the room cleaned right away.”

  From down the hall came the sound of a football game on TV. Her father had apparently avoided having to go out with the ladies by retreating into a favorite pastime. She peeked into the den and said hello.

  “Do you have time for a cup of tea?” Zoë said as they walked back to the kitchen. “The kettle is already hot.”

  Sam checked the time. “A quick one. I told Kelly I would meet her here at noon. For some reason she wants a couple hours to make me presentable. I still have to run by the house and get my dress and see if I’ve left anything else behind.”

  Sam tamped down the zillion questions that had been racing through her head: had they ordered enough food from the caterer; would Kelly remember her checklist; would her mother try to change the floral order; would the dress fit as well today as yesterday? She closed her eyes and let the tea soothe her.

  “Well, I better get moving,” Sam said when her cup was empty.

  Out in the van she dialed Beau’s cell but didn’t get an answer. His list of errands was nearly as long as hers and he may have left the phone lying around somewhere. At her old house she let herself in and tossed her pack on the kitchen table.

  I have to know, she thought. She went to the bedroom and slipped her clothes off quickly then stepped into the gown. As it had yesterday, the zipper moved effortlessly closed. Her eyes rolled heavenward. Thank you.

  The front doorbell rang, startling her. No one ever came to the front door. She hiked up the wide skirt and tiptoed through the house. I’m not speaking to anyone who’s selling anything.

  A police car sat out front. Town of Taos, not one from Beau’s department.

  She opened the door a few inches.

  “Samantha Sweet?” Two men stood on her porch, one in uniform, the other in a suit. The suited one had asked the question.

  “Yes?” She looked at their faces. Both were vaguely familiar as occasional customers in her shop.

  Suit Guy held up a badge wallet. Detective Raul Ordonez.

  “We’re looking into the death of Jake Calendar,” Ordonez said. “May we ask you a few questions?”

  He stepped forward, assuming Sam would let them in. She backed into the living room.

  “You don’t seem surprised to learn that Mr. Calendar is dead,” he stated, eyes scanning the layout of the house.

  The uniformed officer glanced into the kitchen and the short hallway leading to the two bedrooms and bath. Sam watched the officer closely, not really wanting to give him access to the house.

  “I heard. Last night. Sheriff Cardwell is my fiancé.”

  “Not for much longer,” Ordonez said, tilting his chin toward her gown.

  “The wedding is in two hours, actually, and I’m supposed to be on my way. So, what can I do for you?”

  “We have a number of questions.”

  “For example?”

  “Where were you yesterday afternoon between two and five o’clock?”

  “I was right here.”

  “Anyone with you? Someone who can verify that?”

  “No—I stopped by to try on my gown. A friend came by to help me with the dress.”

  “For three hours?”

  “After he left, I got sleepy and laid down for a nap.”

  “He?” His insinuation was clear.

  “It’s not like that—he’s not interested in women.” Sam explained who Rupert was and the man seemed momentarily satisfied with her answer. It wouldn’t matter. She knew, as she was talking, that Rupert could only swear to being with her for a few minutes of the whole afternoon.

  “And no one else came by or called you during that time?” Ordonez was writing notes in a small spiral notebook; the other officer had moved back to the front door.

  “Where are you going with this? I don’t see how it relates to your case.”

  “You had an argument with Mr. Calendar yesterday morning. There were witnesses.”

  Sam’s gut clenched. Could someone have construed their discussion as a threat? It was ridiculous and she told him so. She rubbed her bare arms against the chill in the shaded house.

  “Would you be more comfortable in your regular clothes?” Ordonez asked with a sympathetic expression. “We can wait a minute while you change.”

  She did feel a little ridiculous being questioned in her wedding gown. “Yes, thank you.”

  In the bedroom she quickly put the dress on its hanger and got back into her jeans and the striped cotton shirt she’d put on this morning. She glanced over at the telep
hone on the nightstand. She should call Beau and tell him about this. Rapidly punching in his cell number, her heart beating faster, she waited. It went to voice mail again and she left a quick message.

  A tap at the door. “Ms. Sweet? Please come out.”

  She set the receiver down and opened the bedroom door. The uniform guy stood there and she held her ground until he retreated again into the living room.

  “After your argument with Mr. Calendar yesterday, what happened?” Ordonez smiled, keeping his tone friendly, although Sam knew the questions were deadly serious.

  “It wasn’t really an argument. He wanted to borrow money, I said no. After he left I finished some work at my shop and went to lunch with relatives who are in town for the wedding. After that I came here and tried on the dress and fell asleep.”

  “And that’s all?”

  “When I woke up I realized I was running late for the wedding rehearsal so I dashed over to that. From that point on I was with a lot of people throughout the evening.”

  His pencil scratched away at the notepad.

  “All of them, including Sheriff Cardwell, can verify that,” she insisted.

  “I’m sure they can. It’s just that . . . that one stretch of time that you can’t account for.”

  “I did account for it. I was right here.”

  “It gets a little more complicated than that, Samantha. May I call you Samantha?”

  She gave an impatient nod.

  “We should really discuss this at the station. We’d like for you to come with us.”

  “I’m getting married in an hour and forty-five minutes! Can’t this wait until another day?”

  “Not really.” He held out a hand, ushering her toward the door.

  “Wait a second. I’ll need my bag and keys,” she said, ducking around him and heading to the kitchen for her pack.

  She locked the front door behind them, eager to figure out what they really wanted so she could get back to her plans.

  She rode in the back seat of the cruiser, feeling a little unsavory. How could she keep the day on track with this nonsense going on? She pulled her phone from her backpack and called Kelly, telling her to go by the house, get the dress and take it to Zoë’s. When she said she’d been delayed, Kelly jumped to the conclusion that she’d gotten tied up at the bakery and Sam let it go. There was no way she wanted to get into explanations. Surely this couldn’t take more than a few minutes.

  The cruiser drove past the plaza and turned on Civic Plaza Drive. Sam’s face burned with the knowledge that someone she knew might see her in the police car. Her hands weren’t cuffed but as they walked her through the back entrance of the police station, Sam couldn’t have felt more like a perp. Her blood pressure kicked up as the place closed in on her.

  “Your pack, ma’am,” said an officer just inside the door. “Scanner. It’s procedure.”

  She set her pack on the conveyor where it didn’t set off any alarms, but when Ordonez unzipped the top and spotted her passport he paused.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “Yes, on my honeymoon! It’s an old tradition, right after a couple are married . . .”

  He gave her a look that told her she better shut up. The envelope from Clinton Hardgate came out next and he held it up, his eyebrows arched.

  “Beau and I are going to Ireland. Tomorrow.”

  Ordonez handed her pack to her but held on to the passport and tickets. “We’ll see.”

  Sam felt like screaming. Surely he couldn’t do this.

  “You’ll get them back. I only have a few other questions.” He led the way to a room with a small glass window inset in the door and ushered her inside. “Have a seat.”

  She remained standing and crossed her arms. “My wedding starts in less than an hour and a half. I’ve answered your questions. I need to go.”

  Ordonez met her gaze steadily. “Not yet.”

  He pulled open a large paper bag and from it withdrew a plastic evidence bag. “Our crime scene people were at the La Fonda nearly all night, processing the scene. Do you recognize this?”

  Inside the evidence bag she glimpsed a very familiar shade of purple—a small bag from Sweet’s Sweets, with her logo on it, a little crumpled.

  She took a shaky breath. “These sacks come from my bakery. Every customer who buys a small item usually gets one.”

  “Do they usually get one with your fingerprints on it?”

  “What are you getting at? Where did you get this?”

  “From Jake Calendar’s hotel room.”

  “So? He did come into my shop. He bought a few things.” Although, as she recalled, Jake usually wolfed down his pastries before he got out of the shop.

  The detective set the bag down. “This particular item seemed to be made especially for the victim. Once we have autopsy results we can verify our suspicions.”

  “What suspicions?”

  “The indications are that Mr. Calendar was poisoned. By a cupcake from your shop.”

  Sam felt her mouth fall open.

  “You also seem to have left out one significant detail when you failed to mention that Mr. Calendar was the father of your daughter.”

  She closed her mouth and sat down.

  Chapter 10

  Sam caught a glimpse of Chief Sanchez through the small window in the door leading to the corridor. The chiseled planes of his face seemed set in smug satisfaction. A frisson of fear went down her spine.

  “I want to make a phone call,” Sam said.

  “You’re not under arrest. Relax. We’re just talking.”

  “My wedding . . . The guests will be there by now.” Beau would be in his tux, Zoë setting up the cake, everyone waiting on her. She could imagine the look on her mother’s face. Kelly trying to reassure her grandmother while wondering what on earth had happened.

  “I can send a squad car over to let them know about the delay,” Ordonez offered, for all the world sounding like he wanted to be helpful.

  “No! Do not upset my parents with this. Let’s just get the questions over with.” She worked to keep the panic out of her voice, picturing Pete Sanchez behind the two-way mirror, gloating over messing up Beau’s wedding day.

  “Here’s what it looks like to us,” Ordonez said, fixing her with a hard stare. “You and Jake Calendar had an intimate relationship. He came to town. You say it was to ask for money, but maybe there was a hint that he would expose that relationship to your fiancé or your family.”

  Heaven forbid that her mother learn about Jake Calendar through the police. Sam realized she should have gotten all of it out in the open years ago.

  He read her expression too well. “That concerned you. You wanted him out of the way, figured a little something added to a pastry . . . He would believe the pastry was a kind of peace offering or something so he wouldn’t hesitate to eat it . . .”

  Sam knew she should call a lawyer. But whom? The only attorney she’d spoken to in years was Clinton Hardgate in New York. And he only dealt in wills and trusts. Locally, she’d revised her own will a few years back. That firm would be of no help either. She had no clue who to call on a criminal matter.

  Her phone rang down inside her backpack. She reached for it before Ordonez could stop her.

  “It’s my daughter. I’m sure everyone is frantic. Let me just tell her I’m delayed.”

  “Only that.”

  “Kelly, the police have a lot of questions about Jake’s death,” said Sam in a rush. “Tell everyone we have to postpone the ceremony until four o’clock.”

  She barely got that out before Ordonez grabbed her phone away. He shut it off and laid it on his side of the table.

  “What? I didn’t say anything I shouldn’t have.”

  A tap came at the door and Ordonez nodded to someone through the window. Again, Sam spotted Chief Pete Sanchez. Ordonez picked up all the items on the table, including her cell phone, and left the room. She eyed the mirror on the opposite wall, certain that she was being
observed. After all, she had stood behind the two-way mirror in Beau’s department a time or two when he had interrogated someone. She did her best to appear calm. It was probably a losing effort. Minutes ticked by.

  When Ordonez returned he went right back to his notes.

  “Now, you say you went directly from lunch at The Willows to your house to try on your dress. How, then, is it that your vehicle showed up on a traffic camera on the north end of town?”

  “There are traffic cams in Taos now?”

  He gave her a hard stare. “Temporary ones. Ms. Sweet, is that really all you took from that statement?”

  She pressed her knuckles to her temples, thinking. The past few days had been so busy— “I went to Beau’s—to the home I now share with my fiancé, who would be my husband by now if you hadn’t come along—to get something. Then I came back and tried on the dress.”

  “We’ve been unable to reach Rupert Penrick to verify that.”

  “Because he’s at my wedding. Waiting for me!”

  “I can send someone over there to speak with him, if you’ll tell me where it is,” he said in a perfectly reasonable sounding voice.

  No! The word resounded through her head. This whole thing was going in circles.

  “What else?” she asked.

  “Can you explain how the bag from your shop—with your fingerprints on it—got to Jake Calendar’s hotel room, with a poisoned cupcake inside it?”

  “Any paper bag from my shop could have my prints on it. I often unpack shipments of new ones and resupply the stack under the sales counter. At this point it seems you are jumping way ahead. You won’t even know for sure how he died until you get the autopsy results.”

  A flash of irritation crossed his face. The detective clearly didn’t like her questioning his assumptions. He stood again and left the room.

  Another detective came in, a woman who identified herself as Mira Schwartz. If Ordonez was the good cop, Schwartz was playing bad cop. She ran through the same set of questions, then threw in a new accusation.