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

by Shelton, Connie

  “Absolutely.” Sam leaned against the headboard and stretched out her legs, realizing that the morning’s energy boost had completely worn off and she was on the verge of sleep.

  “He may seem like a mild mannered kind of dweeb, but Mr. Valentino still has a lot of anger toward Jake Calendar for the way he publicly humiliated him.”

  Sam’s interest perked up. “Really.”

  “Oh yeah. He went through the whole experience for me, maybe thinking that he could file some kind of charges against Jake.”

  “For smashing a cake, or for rejecting a really awful song?”

  Beau shrugged. “The main thing is, he wanted to press charges against Jake. He didn’t realize Jake was dead.”

  Oh. Sam let the information sink in, realizing she hadn’t exactly told Vic the full story.

  Beau continued. “It doesn’t mean that he didn’t deliver a doctored cupcake as a gift. He might have simply thought he would teach Jake a lesson by making him sick.”

  “Did you ask him that?”

  “Didn’t get the chance. I got a radio call right then and had to dash off. I left Mr. Valentino with the impression that I’d be back to take his formal statement. When he sees me he’ll think he’s getting back at Jake and I’ll spring the news on him that he may just be a murder suspect.”

  Chapter 19

  Sam woke the next morning to the barking of a dog and the realization that Beau was not in bed with her. Outside the window she heard his voice and Nellie became quiet. She peered through the curtains to see that the sun was up, revealing high clouds that had gathered overnight.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” he said when she walked out to the back deck in her robe, carrying two coffee mugs. “I think your folks are still asleep, unless Nellie woke the whole household.”

  Sam patted the border collie, who wagged amiably at the sound of her voice. “Maybe she just wanted some attention.”

  They sat in the deck chairs but Sam felt anxious. It was now the fourth day since their wedding would have happened. Four days in which she’d been a suspect. She didn’t like the feeling.

  “I suppose we could steer the police in the directions of all the other suspects we’ve found,” she said. “They might drop the charges against me.”

  “It probably wouldn’t do much good, sweetheart. They think they’ve got you and, knowing Pete Sanchez, that means they don’t really want to muddy the water with a lot of other names.”

  “But it’s not right!” She leaned forward in her chair. “It makes me want to scream.”

  He reached for her hand. “Me too. But I think we’re better off gathering our evidence and putting together enough of it that they are forced to go after the real killer.”

  She nodded, wishing it could be otherwise.

  “At the very least we’re going to have lots of bits and pieces—maybe not enough to arrest someone else, but plenty that your attorney can present so much reasonable doubt that no jury would convict you.”

  “Beau, listen to yourself. It makes me sick to think that the words ‘jury’ and ‘convict’ can even be associated with me.”

  He set his mug down and stood up. “I’m sorry, darlin’. Come here.”

  She faced him and he wrapped his arms around her in the comforting, all inclusive hug she loved so well. Her breath was warm on his chest; his fingers ran through her hair as he nestled her close to him.

  “It’s all going to be fine,” he murmured. “Just fine. Don’t you worry.”

  She felt hot tears sting at her eyelids and she squeezed them shut.

  “Your mother’s up. I can see her going into the kitchen,” he said. “Just FYI.”

  She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “Thank you for being so good to me. I can’t tell you how much it means that you’re supporting me through all this.”

  “You’re about to become my wife,” he said with a smile. “I can’t imagine not sticking by you. Even if your parents end up moving in.”

  She kicked at his boot with her slipper. “Not funny. That is so not happening.”

  Beau reached for their coffee mugs. “Here she comes.”

  The French door opened and Nina Rae stepped out. “Uh-huh,” she was saying into the phone at her ear. “Well, don’t you worry about it, honey. I’ll put you on with your mama.”

  She handed the phone to Sam. “It’s Kelly.”

  Sam stared at the phone and realized it was her own. You answered my cell phone?

  “Kel? Everything okay?” Sam asked, turning away.

  “Sure.” Her voice sounded perky and entirely normal. “I was just telling Gramma that I might not see them today. That’s what I was calling about, Mom. Do you think you could stop by the police station and get the copy of our report on the burglary? I have to work all day and the insurance company wants it faxed to them before five o’clock, if possible.”

  “No problem. I’ll be out and about all day, I think.”

  She hung up and stuffed the phone into the pocket of her robe, realizing that she hadn’t yet dreamed up the day’s entertainment for her parents. She felt the beginning of a headache.

  Beau was in the kitchen, breaking eggs into a bowl when she went inside, and her mother had gone back into the guest room. When she emerged a few minutes later it was with a grim look.

  “Your daddy is coming down with a cold,” she announced. “I knew it. Yesterday he ate lunch without using my little bottle of hand sanitizer. I told him this would happen.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the orange juice.

  In Sam’s experience, when her mother told you something would happen you’d best go along with it. She went to the guest room where she found her father in bed, propped up with three pillows behind his back.

  “Daddy? Mother says you’re getting a cold. You feel like staying in bed this morning?”

  “Not really,” he grumbled, “but I will.”

  He breathed deeply and Sam thought he sounded clear enough.

  “Here’s your o.j. Howard. Now drink up,” Nina Rae said, bustling into the room and turning the thermostat up another two notches.

  He took the glass from her and gave Sam a subtle wink as he raised it to his mouth.

  “Beau’s making scrambled eggs and toast, if you feel like having some,” she said.

  “I’d better take his temperature first,” Nina Rae said.

  Sam went back to the kitchen. Nina Rae insisted on taking a tray to Howard, “so he won’t be spreading his germs around” but considering that they’d been in contact with him already it seemed a little pointless. When Sam peeked in to tell him she needed to go into town to do some things he practically begged her to take her mother along.

  Nina Rae dithered over the decision, torn between staying to wait on her husband hand and foot or go to the pharmacy and load up on remedies. When Howard insisted that he ought to start taking more vitamins, Sam found her mother waiting by the front door, ready to ride along.

  “Now don’t you pay attention to me,” Nina Rae said as they passed the small artisan stands on the north edge of town. “I won’t need but a minute at the pharmacy and I’ll just ride along while you do your errands.”

  Sam smiled weakly across the console at her. How to describe all the things she’d been hoping to accomplish today?

  “The best pharmacy in town is near the supermarket, Mother. I’m sure you can find whatever you want. But I’m going to stop off and get that police report for Kelly first.”

  She’d purposely been a little sketchy with the details about the break-in at Kelly’s place, making it sound more like someone had picked up a few items from the front porch than the real chaos they’d found inside. Nothing could get her mother going on her you’d-better-move-back-to-Texas soapbox faster than believing that something dangerous had happened here in Taos. Sam parked in a shady spot and said she would be back in a couple of minutes.

  It took her that long just to find out who to ask about the report and while the clerk wen
t to pull the record and make the copy, a female voice rose from a nearby corridor. An officer came out, escorting Doralee Calendar.

  “I can’t believe you gave his things to someone else. I’m his wife,” Doralee was saying, apparently not for the first time, judging by the expression on the officer’s face. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Ma’am, I already explained that. The emergency contact number in Mr. Calendar’s wallet listed his brother. It’s procedure. The items have been claimed and there’s nothing more I do for you.”

  Doralee looked ready to burst a vessel when she spotted Sam. It took about two seconds for her to switch directions and ask the favor.

  “Sam,” she said, “can you do anything about this?”

  “Sorry, no.” Kindnesses at the police department were hardly coming Sam’s way this week.

  Meanwhile the officer had escaped and Doralee had latched onto Sam.

  “There’s just so much official business to take care of when someone dies. I never realized . . . insurance, bank accounts, bills and things . . .” She waved a sheaf of papers toward Sam, as if that might make the bills go away.

  “I’m sure it’s tough.”

  “It doesn’t help that he’d moved out. I don’t even have a key to that apartment where he went.”

  What part of “I’m divorcing you” didn’t this woman get?

  “Doralee, you probably just need to go home and let this new situation settle in. You’ll get used to it in time and you’ll build a new life for yourself.”

  Doralee gave Sam an impatient glare—she’d probably gotten the same advice from everyone she knew, including Jake. She stomped out.

  The clerk returned with Sam’s burglary report and handed it over.

  Sam was all the way down the block when she remembered her phone call the previous evening to find out more about the altercation Jake had gotten into at Murphy’s Pub. She could have picked up the report on that incident at the same time.

  Her mother interrupted her train of thought. “Oh, Samantha! There’s a drug store, right there.”

  Pointing out that the other store probably had a better selection would do no good. Sam made a quick right-hand turn and parked in front of the place her mother had spotted. While Nina Rae went inside, Sam dialed Beau’s cell.

  “I just missed a chance to get the police report on Jake’s fight with that guy . . . what was his name?”

  “Hulk Moscowitz. Don’t worry about it. I can have it faxed to my office. Maybe we can meet up for lunch later and compare notes.”

  “I’m hoping to take Mother back out to the house so she can drive Daddy nuts instead of me. I’ll give you a call.” She looked up to see Nina Rae approaching the truck.

  “Well, that little place didn’t have hardly anything. Out of vitamin C and they didn’t even carry the best brand of decongestant.”

  “We’ll try another place,” Sam said, her mind on getting the police report to Kelly.

  She used Martyrs Lane as a shortcut to Camino de la Placita and headed toward Sweet’s Sweets. Nina Rae said she would say hello to the girls at the bakery while Sam walked over to Puppy Chic. Kelly was up to her elbows with a sudsy little brown dog whose long hair lay in wet ropes down the sides of its face when Sam walked into the back room. The owner, Erica Davis-Jones, had a cocker spaniel on the clipping table and the dog was patiently allowing the shaver to take tufts of hair off its paws. About an acre of clipped blond hair already lay on the floor around the groomer’s feet.

  “How are you, Sam?” Riki asked, briefly taking her eyes off the dog.

  “I have to say I’d be a lot better if Saturday had gone as planned, but overall I’m coping.” She held up the police report. “This is your report, Kelly. I’ll just set the page somewhere safe.”

  She found a spot on a high shelf well away from the hair and water.

  “Did you and Jen sleep okay last night?” Sam asked Kelly.

  “Having her over brought back memories of a lot of slumber parties. And without Mom at home.”

  She wiggled her eyebrows and the dog in the deep sink tried to make a break for it while her attention was elsewhere. “Bidgit! Stop that!” She got a better grip on the slippery critter. “But yeah, we slept. Didn’t have the kind of up-all-night stamina we did when we were twelve.”

  Sam smiled at that memory.

  “Yoo-hoo! Where is everyone?” Nina Rae’s voice carried with megaphone clarity.

  “One moment,” Riki called out automatically.

  “I better go,” Sam said quickly. She walked toward the reception area but found her mother already on her way to the back room.

  “Well, I better give my granddaughter a hug before I go,” she said, pushing past Sam. “Kelly, hon, thank you so much for taking us on that beautiful drive yesterday. Your Grampa got a cold, but we had the best time. Woo—that little guy’s all wet!”

  Kelly reached for a towel to get the spray the dog had shaken across the room. Sam waited while her mother dabbed droplets from her silk blouse and then ushered her back out to the truck.

  “Let’s get to the pharmacy,” she suggested, “and then I can drop you back at the house.”

  “Beau said something about getting together for lunch.”

  “Oh, did he?” Sam saw their chance to discuss the case flying out the window, unless she wanted the details to be headline news at the Cottonville Ladies Bridge Club next week. She put on her smile and drove south on Paseo.

  “Now I don’t want to mess up y’all’s plans. I know you’re real busy with all that police stuff. I can go back to the house right after lunch. Your daddy will be needing me for something by then anyway.”

  Sam pulled into the parking lot at the pharmacy where she’d originally intended to go. “Take your time, Mother. If you don’t find what you need, the supermarket across the street has a lot of stuff too.”

  She speed-dialed Beau’s number as Nina Rae walked toward the store.

  “Just a heads-up. Mother thinks she’s invited to lunch, so we’ll have to be careful what we say about the case in front of her.”

  “Gotcha. Well, I’ve hit one roadblock already this morning. Went back to ask Vic Valentino what he knew about the cupcake. The guy’s not as clueless as he appears. He found out that Jake’s dead, that you were arrested for it, and that I’m looking out for you. He wouldn’t tell me anything except to go talk to his lawyer.”

  Rats. The bad news was that they wouldn’t get any voluntary info out of Vic; the good news was that his being so defensive definitely kept him on their suspect list. Plus, he knew the bakery and what they had to offer; it would have been a simple matter for him to get the cupcake. He seemed the kind of guy who would be more likely to sneak poison to an enemy than to confront him outright, especially a man of Jake’s size and build. And the fact remained that he had motive; Jake had publicly humiliated him in his hometown where Vic’s friends could easily have seen or heard of the incident.

  The thoughts tumbled through Sam’s brain until she spotted her mother coming toward the truck, a tiny paper sack in hand.

  “Well, wouldn’t you know it. They had the decongestant but not the cough syrup or the vitamins. I guess we’ll have to go on to that other place you were talking about.” Nina Rae fastened her seat belt. “It’s just so frustrating shopping in a strange town. Back home I’d have called up Jim Ed at the Rexall and he’d have all this stuff gathered up for me before I got there.”

  You could go home any time and get right back into your routine. Sam bit at her lower lip as she backed out of the parking spot. A glimpse of Nina Rae clutching the little bag with her thin fingers brought her up short. Somewhere along the line, her mother had aged and it suddenly hit Sam that all the attempts to control the outcome of things . . . maybe that was only a frantic attempt to stop the clock and go back to the days when Mother was truly in charge of the family. Her push for the wedding might simply be every mother’s desire to see things work out perfectly for her
daughter. Didn’t Sam want the same for Kelly? Weren’t their wishes very much the same?

  She swallowed hard as she pulled into the supermarket parking lot. They walked inside together and Sam steered her mother toward the vitamin aisle, picking up a bottle of Vitamin C for their own use before heading toward the produce section. While she was staring at the apples her phone rang.

  “Darlin’ I’m sorry I have to skip lunch with you ladies,” Beau said. “A call came in, traffic accident north of Questa. I have to head up there.”

  “Okay. Call me when you get any news.” She tried to put some cheer in her voice but inside felt frustration rise. Could they meet any more roadblocks in getting on with the investigation? Or was Sam, in her push to straighten out this situation, doing all the very things she didn’t like about her mother?

  Put it aside, she lectured herself. Enjoy the day rather than chafing at the way things are going.

  They finalized their purchases and Sam chose a nice spot for lunch, a place with tables along the sidewalk. They ordered and Nina Rae commented on the variety of little galleries and shops in the area. Sam closed her eyes for a moment, wanting to follow her own advice and relax, but the fact was that she couldn’t forget that she was still, in the eyes of the police, a murder suspect. She had to stay diligent.

  Their lunches arrived and Nina Rae exclaimed over them. Sam chewed at the plain salad she’d ordered but her mind wandered, going over the list of suspects she and Beau were considering. Aside from the group from California, Vic Valentino was starting to look viable, the loan shark had uttered a threat, and they still didn’t know how serious the altercation in the pub had gotten. Maybe Jake left that Hulk guy mad enough to come after him. Doralee might be a suspect too, except that she’d seemed more intent on keeping Jake married to her than getting rid of him. If anything, she would have probably wanted to harm Evie.

  Which brought up another possibility. They could be going about this all wrong if Evie had been the real intended victim . . .