“Matt thought if he had enough money to buy them a new house and get them out of the dingy apartment they live in, it would fix their situation and improve his mother’s health.”
“What about the younger sister—Sara, wasn’t it?” Sam asked as she put the milk away in the fridge.
“There’s an aunt, her mother’s sister, who hadn’t realized how bad their situation was. She’s coming from California to stay with them through the mom’s chemo treatments. It sounds like Sara will be able to go back to Los Angeles with the aunt if need be. No one knows how long the mother might live, how long Matt will be away, so it’s kind of up in the air.”
Sam almost offered to give young Sara a job at the chocolate factory. She could use an additional packager, but decided it might be best for the family to get settled with their new changes before suggesting yet another.
“There’s a reward,” Beau said. “The armored car company’s insurance posted it back when only part of the money had been recovered. Bubba Boudreaux at the café will have a fit, but I’m going to make sure Sara Cook gets it. It’s plenty to take care of her college education.”
“Oh, Beau, that’s fantastic. Such great news.”
“She deserves it. Leaving that bag of cash at the café was what let us know the perps were probably local. And her coming to me with their names, well, it’s what broke the whole case wide open.”
Sam had hugged him for his thoughtfulness and they parted on the front porch—he going back to finalize the paperwork for the reward, she going to her new production facility.
Now, she looked around the chocolate factory with satisfaction. Benjie was a quick learner and was turning out pieces nearly as nice as Bobul’s, with instruction from the master chocolatier, of course. Lisa’s job at the seed company was coming to its seasonal end so the girl would go full-time just before Thanksgiving.
A delivery truck had just offloaded a bunch of supplies and Sam was out in the carriage house going through them, separating what needed to go to the bakery from the items that would remain here. When the stacks were organized, she went inside and called out.
“Bobul, I need your help with something, please?”
He dusted cocoa powder from his hands and started toward the back door.
“Bring your coat. You can help me unload this at the other end,” she said, opening the doors of her van.
In truth, she could have easily loaded, delivered and reorganized the supplies at the bakery but she needed a conversation with him. Several hints about his staying through the holidays had not given her a definitive answer. She waited until they were on the road before bringing it up. Okay, not fair making him a captive audience, but really. She needed to know whether she could count on him.
“Bobul like new factory,” he said.
She may have imagined he squirmed in his seat. “You’ll stay, then?”
“Bobul have no other plans for holiday season.”
“You’ll stay, right?”
He gave a barely-committal nod of his head, and then they arrived at Sweet’s Sweets.
Becky and Jen were chatting at the worktable, Jen showing the decorator the details on a new order. Julio was pouring cake batter from the big mixer into pans. He had his back to the door and worked with his usual quiet efficiency.
Sam and Bobul each carried a large carton. They had boxes and bags for their bakery products, and Sam had already ordered a few special items for Christmas. She showed him where to set the big box. When Bobul turned around, Sam heard a gasp from Julio.
“Oh, sorry, I guess I’ve never introduced everyone.” Her first Christmas in business she’d had no other kitchen help. It had been only Bobul and herself to accomplish the work.
Jen remembered him and said hello before hurrying to the front when the doorbells chimed. Becky stared at the large man but gave him a friendly smile. Julio’s reaction was tough to read. He turned directly back to his work, making himself too busy to greet the other man. She got the feeling he didn’t want to be seen. Why?
The silence grew awkwardly long.
“Well, we have more things to bring in,” Sam said.
They finished carrying and stowing the items and she told the crew she needed to get Bobul back to the chocolate factory.
During the ride, the Romanian was quieter than usual—hard to imagine, yes, since non-communication was his normal mode anyway. What secret signal had passed between him and Julio?
Finally, as they made the last turn toward the Victorian, she came right out and asked. “Do you and Julio know each other?”
His eyes were entirely innocent. “I never see this man before.”
“Okay. Maybe it was him—he thought you resembled someone he knew, that sort of thing.”
No comment. Bobul hopped out of the van the moment it came to a stop, went inside and by the time Sam walked in he’d removed his coat and was already resuming his work. She’d thought she would pitch in and work the chocolate alongside the men but found herself preoccupied. She went upstairs and sat at her desk.
Neither Bobul nor Julio was exactly outgoing. Both preferred to work alone, neither was expressive. But whatever passed between them back at the bakery was more than mere shyness. If she had to name it, she thought it was almost animosity. And yet, neither man had ever shown such an attitude before. What the hell was going on?
Chapter 59
She thought of Bobul’s words about the wooden box, his knowledge of it before he’d ever seen it. The box. The Box. She remembered Julio having a reaction to the book when Ivan had sold it to her. She’d wondered about it but had never asked him. Could it be Julio also knew something about the wooden box?
Her heart raced slightly at the thought. He’d never seen it in her possession—of that she felt certain. But such knowledge could explain why he always seemed—what? Watchful?
She looked at the floor beside her desk where she’d dropped her backpack when she came up. Should she be more cautious?
Isobel St. Clair’s words came back to her, the warning that there were people in the world who would do anything to get their hands on the artifact.
She picked up her phone and found the phone number for the Vongraf. Soon, Isobel was on the line and Sam found it difficult to phrase the questions. What would she say—Do you know of a man called Julio? What about Bobul? Should I be worried about them—either individually or together? What about a woman named Eliza Nalespar who wrote a popular book about a magical wooden box?
It all sounded completely ridiculous when she began trying to decide what to ask. In the end she talked about the weather and asked whether Isobel might be coming out west again and if so to be sure and visit Taos.
“Sam, are you certain everything is all right?” Isobel asked after Sam had fumbled her way through the inane conversation.
“I think so. There’s nothing—” Funny noises in the basement and a house that can lock its own doors. “—nothing that makes any sense, anyway.”
“Sometimes these paranormal objects really don’t make sense, Sam. Stay alert, but don’t let yourself obsess over it. And call me anytime you’d like.”
With little more to say, they ended the call. Sam felt marginally better. Surely, Isobel would have picked up on any real, actual threat to Sam.
I’m just tired. Since before Halloween the weeks have been unreal with the amount of work and the oddball occurrences.
She stood up and shook the tension from her arms and legs. Did a little dance in place, which caused the floorboards to creak, and that made her laugh. She would heed Isobel’s words to be cautious. No more bringing the box to work, and although she’d helped heal Tansy Montoya—she was convinced her actions truly had made a difference—she didn’t need the box with her at all times. She would get it out of the safe only when needed.
She picked up her pack, deciding to lock it in her van until she could take it home later in the day.
Down in the kitchen, Benjie had four finished t
rays of molded chocolates, cooling on a rack. He was standing over the stove stirring a batch that smelled to Sam like rich, eighty-five percent cacao.
“Where’s Bobul?” she asked, heading toward the back door.
“I dunno. He went in the storeroom awhile ago.”
Sam put her pack under her driver’s seat and locked the van. Bobul still wasn’t in the kitchen when she went inside. The storeroom was empty but the door to the basement stood slightly ajar. She looked down the dark stairs, flipped the light switch and called out his name.
No response, but she spotted something curious. The old sofa which had been left behind no longer had its layer of dust. Neatly folded at one end were two quilts and a pillow, ancient-looking things. A small wastebasket she’d never noticed before contained wrappers from two empty packets of instant noodles. On the dresser stood a freshly burned candle.
Had Bobul been living here in the basement?
It could certainly explain the times she’d heard noises. A better explanation than believing the house haunted by Halloween phantoms or the ghosts of the Nalespar family.
But why hadn’t he said anything? He could have asked for a place to stay and she’d have gladly made the accommodations more comfortable.
She walked through the rest of the house, calling his name softly, circling back to the kitchen. Neither Lisa nor Benjie had seen any sign of the man in the past half-hour. When she came to the storeroom again, she spotted three small, fat cloth pouches—a red one, a green and a blue. The special powders Bobul had instructed her to use in her candy. The reason her chocolates were irresistible to her customers. She picked them up and clutched the pouches to her chest. He’d gone—again.
Sam remembered the previous time Bobul had appeared out of nowhere, worked several weeks for her, and vanished without a trace. He’d lived in a cabin in the woods—she had driven him there herself once—but when she went back it had clearly been abandoned for a long time. She climbed the stairs now, heading back to her office for a few minutes to think.
Her view out the turret window reminded her again of the writer who had lived here and most likely sat near this window, gazing at this view, as she crafted her stories. The mountains in the distance, the winter grasses waving golden in the breeze. Sam might never know the truth about her mystical chocolatier but decided she wanted to learn more about the woman and the old house. Scott Porter, history professor and ghost enthusiast—she’d love to visit with him on the subject. She picked up her phone and called Kelly.
“How about you and Scott having dinner with us tomorrow night?”
Thank you for taking the time to read Spooky Sweet. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend and much appreciated.
Thank you,
Connie Shelton
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As always, my undying gratitude goes to those who have helped make my books and both of my series a reality: Dan Shelton, my partner in all adventures who is always there for me, working to keep the place running efficiently while I am locked away at my keyboard. My fantastic editor, Susan Slater, once again came through in a pinch with a tight time deadline. Debbie Wilson acted on a moment’s notice to proofread when my regular copy editor, Shirley Shaw, was sidelined by injury. All of you help make this process go so smoothly.
Special thanks goes out to the many fans who entered a contest to have their names used as characters in this story. To the real-life Sandy Bartles, Victoria Benson and Beth Baughn, thanks so much. And to all my readers—I cherish our connection through these stories.
Thank you, everyone!
Books by Connie Shelton
The Charlie Parker Series
Deadly Gamble
Vacations Can Be Murder
Partnerships Can Be Murder
Small Towns Can Be Murder
Memories Can Be Murder
Honeymoons Can Be Murder
Reunions Can Be Murder
Competition Can Be Murder
Balloons Can Be Murder
Obsessions Can Be Murder
Gossip Can Be Murder
Stardom Can Be Murder
Phantoms Can Be Murder
Buried Secrets Can Be Murder
Legends Can Be Murder
Weddings Can Be Murder
Holidays Can Be Murder - a Christmas novella
The Samantha Sweet Series
Sweet Masterpiece
Sweet’s Sweets
Sweet Holidays
Sweet Hearts
Bitter Sweet
Sweets Galore
Sweets Begorra
Sweet Payback
Sweet Somethings
Sweets Forgotten
Spooky Sweet
The Woodcarver’s Secret
Children’s Books
Daisy and Maisy and the Great Lizard Hunt
Daisy and Maisy and the Lost Kitten
For the latest news on Connie’s books, announcements of new releases, and a chance to win great prizes, subscribe to her monthly email newsletter. All this and more at
connieshelton.com
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