“The customer will be thrilled,” Sam told her. “If you’ve got it under control here, I’d better get back. My young chocolatier will be leaving for the day and I don’t want Bobul disappearing before I get the chance to talk to him.”
Chapter 42
Beau took the curves in Cimarron Canyon as fast as he dared. Traffic was light but, still, he didn’t want to risk hitting a deer or going off the edge of the roadway. Phil Carlisle’s call this morning might just provide the break in the armored car robbery—a break they desperately needed.
“We’re terminating employment for Rudy Vasquez,” the manager at A-1 had said, “but I have a feeling you may want to talk to him before we officially let him go.”
Curiosity piqued, Beau had asked a few more questions.
“Drugs. We do random inspections of employee lockers and, unfortunately, are being forced to involve the law and let Rudy go based on what we found.”
“This would be under Tim Beason’s jurisdiction,” Beau had told him. “Unless it’s directly tied to the robbery?”
Carlisle obviously didn’t want to tell the whole story over the phone. Beau had immediately phoned the Colfax County sheriff and agreed with Beason the two of them would meet at A-1’s facility.
He arrived to find the others gathered in Phil Carlisle’s private office. On the desk was a little stack of drug paraphernalia: razor blades, a tiny spoon and a tightly rolled dollar bill. No one item damning by itself, although Beau’s experience told him there would likely be traces of cocaine when the items were tested. Carlisle told them the two guards were on duty right now, doing a money transfer from one of the local banks.
“The reason we decided to call you in on this,” Tim said, “is because among Rudy’s possessions was a Taos phone number that we believe is the dealer he’s been buying from.”
The other lawman wasn’t telling it all. A phone call could have given Beau the number of this dealer and he’d be far more effective tracking down the guy if he’d stayed home. Drug busts were tricky. If you didn’t get all the players at once, word got out and they scattered like roaches when the lights went on.
“In this case, we don’t want the Taos guy getting away with our half-million dollars in his hands.”
“So you believe the drug dealer is—or is tied to—one of the robbers?”
“All along, we’ve wondered if it could be an inside job.” Carlisle looked very uncomfortable saying the words. “If Rudy managed to pass information about the timing and the route that morning …”
Beau remembered what the other guard, Pedro Hernandez, had told them. The robber who shot Tansy seemed jittery, agitated. Pedro might have even hinted that the guy could have been on drugs. Maybe Pedro and Rudy compared notes after their interviews and it spooked Rudy. Still—wouldn’t he have been even more cautious about what items he left in his locker at work? Beau floated the possibility that the drug items were left by someone else, to frame Rudy.
“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Tim said, with an eye toward Phil Carlisle. “I’d like to take the evidence with me, take Mr. Vasquez into custody and approach this from a law-enforcement standpoint. If we can tie him definitively to the drugs, then you inform him he no longer has a job.”
Carlisle sputtered a little. “Mere possession of these items is cause for dismissal. A-1 has a very strict policy on it. Every employee is subject to random drug tests.”
“Has either Rudy or Pedro done theirs recently?”
Carlisle turned to a file cabinet and flipped through folders. “Looks like it’s been more than six months for both of them.”
“I’d like to question both guards again. How soon will they be back here?” Beau asked.
Carlisle looked at his watch. “Thirty, forty-five minutes.”
“Can we put this evidence away for the moment? Talk to both of them about the robbery?” He looked at Beason. “They’re going to spook if they come driving up and see both our cars and then we jump on Rudy about the drugs. If Pedro’s involved, he’ll be out the door, making phone calls as fast as he can. If we start with conversation about the robbery, it makes more sense.”
Beason nodded. Carlisle seemed a little put out.
“Let me see that phone number,” Beau said, holding out his hand.
It wasn’t one of the regular land-line exchanges for Taos, but he recognized the first three digits as common to locally assigned cell numbers. It could mean anything. If the number belonged to a drug dealer, Rudy was a dimwit for not taking the time to memorize it. In Beau’s mind, it seemed like one more reason to think Rudy was being framed.
“Let me get someone to check who this number belongs to.” He pulled out his cell and reached Rico, explained what he needed and asked for a callback the moment he knew something.
Meanwhile, Beason asked Phil Carlisle to write a statement describing how and where the drug items had been found. He brought evidence bags from his car and tagged everything before carrying the bags to the trunk of his squad car. Beau met his colleague outside the front door.
“We need to conduct these interviews away from the men’s workplace,” he suggested. “I’m getting hinky vibes from the boss.”
“You think he might be involved?”
Beau shrugged. “I won’t go that far. But he’s doing all he can to throw Rudy Vasquez right in our laps. I’d like to see where it goes when he’s not around.”
Tim nodded. “Agreed. Why don’t we offer to escort the men down to the clinic for their drug tests and then maybe we’ll just continue the conversation at my office.”
“Good plan.”
They waited until the big armored vehicle came lumbering up the street. Both lawmen walked along behind as it pulled through the chain-link gate and stopped in the maintenance yard. Pedro Hernandez was at the wheel. Phil Carlisle lost no time in rushing out the office’s back door and meeting them.
“We have a few more questions about the day of the robbery,” Beau said, taking the lead as soon as Rudy Vasquez stepped out the back door of the vehicle. “And in the meantime, we were chatting with your boss and he says it’s come time for both of your annual drug tests.”
Everyone but Tim Beason seemed surprised.
“Mr. Carlisle, if you don’t mind, Sheriff Beason and I thought we could accompany the men for their tests and then have our little visit at the sheriff’s office.”
Carlisle couldn’t very well object, although it looked as if he was searching for a reason to.
“Don’t worry about your vehicles or personal stuff,” Beason told the guards. “We’ll drive you back. Shouldn't take long.”
The drive to the clinic took all of fifteen minutes and the two men were handed official forms and plastic jars. It had to be intimidating, trying to pee while an officer watched, Beau thought. But no worse than with a nurse standing there. He and all his employees were subject to the random urine tests too. You just gritted your teeth and got it done. Ten minutes later, they were pulling into the parking lot at the sheriff’s department, a close copy, he discovered, to his own.
Beason’s carpet was newer, Beau noted. His own desk was better. He chuckled at himself for comparing what the two counties provided.
Beason parked each of the guards in an interrogation room (the setup almost identical to that in Taos County), semi-apologizing for the formality and stressing that neither was under arrest. They switched teams—Beason would talk with Pedro this time.
Beau walked into the mirrored room where Rudy Vasquez waited. The guard watched from the corners of his eyes as he laid out a pad of yellow paper and a pen. Beau pulled out his own small notebook and paged backward until he came to the original interview notes when he’d spoken to Pedro.
“As Sheriff Beason said, we’re just trying to clarify some things about the robbery, trying to tie up some loose ends.”
Rudy fidgeted in the chair and wouldn’t quite meet Beau’s eye.
“I’ve got notes about the man wh
o came to the back door of your truck that day, the one who disarmed you and demanded the money. Can you describe that for me?”
“Like you said.”
“Meaning what?”
“I barely started to open the door and he yanked it all the way open. Whacked my hand and my gun fell.”
“Did the man seem especially hyped up—like he might have been on drugs?” Beau watched carefully for any reaction.
“Drugs? I don’t know. Hadn’t thought about that.” Again, his gaze wandered the room.
Like hell. Beau made a note.
“I suppose he could have been. I mean, how do you tell? I wouldn’t know.”
Too much explanation.
“You know many people in Taos?” Beau asked. “Have friends over there you call now and then?”
“Not many. I mostly hang out with guys here. Sometimes down in Vegas.”
Probably true. But it only took one or two out-of-town contacts to buy what you wanted, especially if you needed to do it without hitting the radar in your hometown.
Beau’s phone rang and he glanced at the screen. Rico.
“Rudy, I’d like to have you write down what happened that day of the robbery. Everything you remember. Here’s paper and pen and I’ll be back in a minute.”
He stepped out of the room and took Rico’s call.
“Hey, boss. Just wanted to let you know. Inconclusive on the mobile number you gave me. It was a pay-as-you-go phone purchased at Walmart two weeks ago. The customer bought the phone and a card for twenty dollars worth of time. Paid cash.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Tim Beason and a deputy came out of the other interrogation room.
“I’ve got Pedro writing his testimony,” Beason said. “How’s yours going?”
Beau told him of Rudy’s evasiveness. “He’s hiding something but I don’t know what at this point. He reacted pretty coolly when I mentioned drugs.”
He told Beason what he’d just learned about the phone number Phil Carlisle had claimed to find in Rudy’s locker.
“Try dropping the evidence right in front of him,” Beason suggested. “See what reaction you get. I’ll watch from the observation room.
He handed Beau the evidence-bagged spoon, blades and the powdery dollar bill.
“You got another yellow pad? Something with writing on it—I don’t care what.”
“Sure. Let me look around.” Beason came back less than a minute later and handed Beau what he wanted. “It’s notes from some history book, an assignment my son had for school. I made him work on it one afternoon he was stuck here with me.”
Beau reentered the interrogation room, dropped the bag of drug evidence on the table and held the tablet of history notes up as if he were studying them. Mainly, he was watching Rudy’s reactions. The man had paled about four shades.
“Um, sure looks like Pedro had some interesting things to say,” he muttered.
“Look, man,” Rudy said. “Don’t listen to him. Read what I put down.” His eyes never left the bag.
“Yeah, I’ll get to that in a minute. Hm. You know this phone number?” Beau recited the one he’d just had Rico check.
“I—no, man.” Rudy fidgeted in his seat. “Well, it might be my cousin Hector’s number. I don’t remember.”
“Really? Because this statement says …” Beau looked toward the mirrored wall where he knew Tim Beason watched.
On cue, his cell phone rang. This time he answered it in front of the suspect.
“Oh, yeah? Quick results for a drug test. I’m impressed with you guys.” He listened to Beason tell him all the reasons he felt Rudy knew more than he was saying. “Which specific substances?”
He glanced at the evidence bag as he said it and watched Rudy Vasquez crumble.
Chapter 43
Benjie was practically beside himself when Sam walked into the kitchen at Sweet’s Handmade Chocolates.
“Look at these!” he exclaimed, almost dragging her to the boxing room where today’s newest chocolates waited. She hadn’t even put away her keys yet.
He reminded her of a kid wanting Mom to see his newest art project. She smiled—indulgence turning to awe as she saw lustrous autumn leaves, delicate cherries imprinted on top of cherry-almond creams, and dark chocolate triangles decorated with detailed fern patterns.
“Bobul is awesome,” Benjie said. “I mean, I can’t imagine a better teacher for me to learn from.”
Sam glanced to the kitchen doorway, saw Bobul checking the candy thermometer in the large pan. She nodded to Benjie.
“He is pretty amazing, isn’t he?”
“I’m going to learn so much here. I really appreciate the opportunity, Sam.” Benjie looked toward the back door and she could tell his energy was flagging.
“Just because Bobul tends to stay and work odd hours doesn’t mean you have to. Go ahead. It’s been a full day.”
As Benjie drove away, Sam took a peek at Bobul’s latest creation, which smelled like curry and appeared to contain coconut. He poured the mix into dome-shaped molds and walked back to a bowl of tempered chocolate which was cool enough to handle.
“Are you living near Taos again, Bobul?” she asked as she unbuttoned her coat and set her pack on the counter near the sink.
He gave his version of a smile, one corner of his mouth slightly lifted. “Bobul always find place to stay.”
“I suppose what I’m getting at is whether you’ll be here awhile and if I might persuade you to work for me. At least a few months?”
“Christmas good time in candy business.” His fingers worked tiny bits of chocolate into the shape of a pinecone, which he placed atop one of the solid ovals he’d molded earlier.
“It is a good time, and we’ll be busier than ever this year. We’ll need chocolates for the shop and for this new client. He pays very well. I can afford to do better than last time—pretty much whatever salary you would want.”
He formed another pinecone while she let him digest her offer. He set the chocolate piece down and stared at her backpack on the counter.
“Box not friendly to this house,” he said.
“What?”
“Witch’s box, you still have. It act strange here?”
Sam felt the hairs on her neck rise. “Bobul … how do you know that?”
He shrugged, as if he’d said nothing more odd than ‘weather’s changing.’
She remembered how he’d shown fear of the box when he learned she had it, how he’d been the first to warn her of its strange powers and his belief that it had originally come from an old witch in Romania. Of course, Sam had never verified such a thing and the only powers the box exhibited around her seemed to be beneficial ones.
On the other hand, Isobel St. Clair from the Vongraf Foundation had also warned Sam. St. Clair’s research had shown of the other, similar boxes in existence, at least one might not be so benign. Perhaps she really should be keeping the box locked away in the safe at home, not bringing it around this old house whose history was still largely unknown to her.
Bobul finished a third pinecone and set it aside, his dark eyes meeting hers. “Box protecting you.”
“Protecting me? How? What do you mean?”
“Bad people nearby. Box keep them out.” She remembered the sensation of being watched, before she installed the curtains.
But how could he know? Sam shook her head, trying to get rid of the otherworldly feeling. She felt tired all at once.
“Doors lock. Keep people out.”
She ran hot water in the sink and put a few utensils to soak, looking for something ordinary to do to take her mind off this weird conversation.
“Is that batch nearly done?” she asked him after a few minutes of silence. “I really do need to get home in time to make dinner for my husband tonight. I’ve put in too many late nights recently.”
Bobul smiled again. “Miss Sam tired. I finished.” He picked up his tray of chocolates and carried it to the boxing room.
“Ja, Bobul come.”
His voluminous coat hung near the back door and he reached for it.
“Think about my offer for work through the Christmas season. It would be a big help. The money would be good.”
“Bobul think.”
Sam gave the kitchen one final glance, put on her coat and picked up her pack, wondering again how the peculiar Romanian had discerned that the box was inside and how on earth he knew the box had reacted so strongly to this house. She switched out the lights and locked the door behind her.
Outside, there was no sign of Bobul although he’d walked out no more than a minute ahead of her. She’d often told herself not to wonder about him, where he lived, how he managed to come and go almost invisibly. No matter what she told herself, however, the whole situation left her perplexed. How did the man exist?
The last of the daylight was fading. She climbed in her van and looked around as she drove away. No sign of Bobul along the road or in the open fields around the place. She chuckled nervously. What if he lived in that house up the road? He might have been on hand to watch her renovations and the move.
Nah, she told herself remembering the ramshackle cabin he’d occupied the winter he first showed up. How it appeared almost cozy the one time she’d seen him there. Then it was clearly long-time abandoned when she went back a few days later. The man was truly a puzzle, and trying to solve it only made her head hurt.
She resolved to quit thinking about him and drove straight home.
Chapter 44
Beau allowed himself a semi-congratulation as he drove west on Highway 64. Tim Beason seemed on the right track with Rudy Vasquez being tied to drug use and to someone in Taos who was most likely supplying him. He’d be just the sort of employee who might turn and provide help with a robbery like this. When Rudy broke down awhile ago, they’d gotten a name and Beau planned to check it out. However, he still felt a tinge of doubt. You couldn’t take a guy who occasionally snorted a little and make a definitive case that he’d got tied up in grand theft and attempted murder. Not to say it couldn’t have happened that way, but Beau felt there were a few too many inconsistencies in Vasquez’s statement. Beason might be a little overeager to wrap up everything in one neat package. For his own peace of mind, Beau wanted more concrete evidence.
Spooky Sweet Page 19
