He faxed the statement to the three major Albuquerque television stations, along with Lukinger’s license photo. Apparently, it was a slow news day. All three news directors called within minutes to ask clarifying questions, and when he switched on the squad room set, Channel 4 already had its picture-perfect news duo talking about it.
“What’s this?” Rico asked, sauntering in with coffee in hand.
“Hoping I’m on the right track with this. We’re pitifully short on clues here.”
“They didn’t say anything about our victim being murdered,” Rico said when the segment ended.
“I figured that could scare off a lot of our information pool. Decided we’d go with the ‘seeking information about this man’ tactic.” Beau pointed to the stack of videotapes he’d placed beside the TV. “Feel like watching a different kind of programming for a while?”
Rico stifled a groan.
“Here’s a list,” Beau said, handing him the casino security man’s list of dates and times Percy’s card was used. “Hey, at least you can fast-forward through a lot of it.”
“It beats watching it all in real time, I suppose.”
“I like your bright-side-of-things attitude.” Beau gave him a pat on the shoulder and headed back to his own office, where the phone was ringing.
“Lines one, two, and three are calls pertaining to something they saw on TV,” Dixie said when he picked up.
“That guy they showed on the news? I know I’ve seen him somewhere, just can’t remember where,” said an elderly male voice.
“Would you mind holding for a moment?” Beau asked. “Rico! Pause the video and help me take some of these calls. Get line two. They’re all calling about the news story, so just see what info they have. Be sure to get contact information from everyone we talk to.”
He pressed the button for line three. “Sheriff? I know that guy from the news. He’s the leader of this UFO group in Roswell. Every one of them claims they’ve been abducted by aliens.”
Beau took a phone number and promised to get back to the caller. Switching back to the elderly man on line one he said, “Sir, thanks for holding. Did you happen to remember how it is you know Percy Lukinger, the man they showed on TV?”
“Well, I can’t say as I exactly know him, but I do know his name isn’t Lukinger. He’s Percival Johns. I remember that clear as day because it sounded so English. He has an English accent and he convinced me to give him money because he could invest it for me at an excellent rate of return.”
It was one of Lukinger’s aliases, and the fact it involved a con made a lot of sense. Beau’s attention perked up, even though he noticed two more lights had begun to blink on his phone. He asked for his caller’s name, address, and phone number, then suggested he start from the beginning to describe his connection to this Percival character.
At the periphery of his attention, he noticed Rico writing notes, hanging up the phone, picking it up again to take another call. When Travis walked in, Rico said something to him and the second deputy immediately picked up his desk phone as well. The calls came in steadily for a half hour then began to taper off. Beau stood up to stretch and walked into the squad room. Three more deputies had reported for duty in the meantime.
“Rico, what’ve you got?” Beau asked, gathering everyone around to compare notes.
Rico shuffled pages, having kept a separate sheet for each call. “Two obvious nuts. One says his brother is in Bernalillo County jail and says Percy was in the same cell yesterday. One claimed Percy was part of some UFO group.”
Travis laughed. “Yeah, I got that one too.”
“Gotta give him credit for persistence—he called three times,” Beau added.
Rico continued. “Otherwise, I have two who might be legit or they could be grudge cases. Both are local. Both claim to know the man and said he was dealing drugs to a relative. One sounded like a man desperate to stop some slimeball from selling coke to his son.”
“Okay. We’ll need to interview them. Travis? What’s on your list?”
The other deputy described similar results—a few callers obviously were either delusional or were seeking the limelight by having information on a news story. “The one that could be for real was an elderly woman who said the man came to her home and offered to repair a fence that had fallen down. Said he needed six hundred dollars to buy the materials and would be back the next day to start the work. She couldn’t understand why he never came back.”
“Because he’d been killed in the accident?”
“No, this was three months ago.”
“Sounds like a classic home-repair scam. Older people are frequently targets of such things.” It was a con that never seemed to run dry, Beau thought, remembering his parents talking about how his grandparents had been taken in by nearly the same line.
He and the deputies sorted their notes into classifications: the impossible, the grudges, and the scams.
Chapter 22
Travel The World was the name Stan Bookman had given his new program, and the way he’d explained it to Sam was that he envisioned a deluxe tour package based on chocolate, history, and art. Sweet’s Chocolates had provided such a wonderful amenity to his regular charter flights, he now wanted her to come up with an international palette to represent it.
He’d been vague on specifics but she could tell he had something definite in mind. The clues pointed to her needing to learn a variety of specialties from the countries he meant to include in the itinerary. She could foresee a daunting amount of work to accomplish it, but at the same time it was exciting to add a new dimension to her business. As she drove toward the bakery, she needed her creative side to rev up—she was feeling low on ideas at the moment.
Kelly’s little red car sat outside the rear entrance to Puppy Chic, and Sam spotted her daughter emerging. She was trying to pull her puffy coat more tightly around her while balancing a coffee cup and oversized handbag, and she was having a little difficulty pressing the button on her key fob lock while wearing bulky mittens.
“Looks like you need a hand,” Sam said as she stepped out of her truck. She stepped over and took the coffee cup.
“Thanks. I should have just come over to your place—your coffee’s better, but I was at the bank and they had a pot going.”
“Come over when you get a break and we can talk about ideas for your cake.”
“Don’t stress, Mom. The wedding won’t be until sometime this summer. We have to wait for the end of the semester for Scott to have a break, anyway.”
“I know. Just please don’t be one of those girls who shows up two weeks before the wedding wanting something really elaborate.”
“I’ve heard the tales, Mom. I know how they stress you out.”
“Just sayin’.” Sam lifted the strap of her pack to her shoulder. “Did I tell you about the call I got from Mr. Bookman, about the huge international chocolate campaign he wants me to put together?”
Kelly’s smile brightened. “And he wants all this right about the time the wedding season is in full swing …”
“Pretty much. Well, I’m not sure. He just said it would be this summer.”
Kelly reached over for a one-armed hug. “The campaign will be amazing, and everything else will work out. Don’t worry.”
Sam handed her coffee cup back and watched as Kelly turned toward the grooming salon, then Sam headed into Sweet’s Sweets, where the familiar scents of cinnamon, chocolate, and sugar greeted her. Julio was pulling a huge sheet of cinnamon rolls from the oven. He’d come up with a recipe that literally melted in the mouth and surpassed everything the popular chain restaurants had ever devised. Even though she spent every day surrounded by these delicacies, Sam couldn’t resist plucking one of the warm rolls from the tray and carrying it to her desk.
“Didn’t grab any breakfast at home,” she said, a little sheepishly, to Becky.
“You warned me, it’s one of the dangers of the
business,” Becky said with a grin. She turned back to the elephant she was creating from modeling chocolate for a kid’s zoo-themed birthday cake.
Sam checked messages and saw Stan Bookman had called this morning already. He wondered if she’d given any thought to the new designs. She felt a moment’s panic. Surely he didn’t think she would have a campaign ready to present yet. She dialed his number and felt lucky when the voicemail message came on.
“I’m working on design ideas right now,” she said to the machine. “Hoping to have something to show you within a day or two. Let me know whether I should email them or if you’ll be in town.”
“Design ideas in a day or two?” Becky said.
“I know, I know. I was never the kid in school who waited until the last minute for anything, and I’ve done my best in business not to over-promise, but my idea machine isn’t focusing very well right now.”
“Want to brainstorm? I think I can pipe bright stripes and talk at the same time.”
“Sure. The theme is ‘travel the world’ but he hasn’t told me specifically what countries will be on the itinerary. I think I need to plan on several European capitals and maybe a biggie like Cairo or Istanbul, but he might also be planning on a Far East element. What if I have to come up with something for China or Japan or Thailand? I have to admit I’m getting a little panicky.”
“So, we start with the obvious ones,” Becky suggested. “Paris—gotta have the Eiffel Tower, right? London—Big Ben.”
Sam jotted notes but worried that the obvious ideas would be too cliché for Bookman’s taste. Still, any place would at least be a start. She added a Great Pyramid for Egypt and a minaret for Turkey. Choosing the flavors would be a bit more tricky, as she wanted something unusual for each location but also wanted the chocolate flavors to represent something about the place. She turned on her computer in hopes she could pick up clues from the internet.
A message from Book It Travel waited in her inbox: Sam, thought it would help if you had a list of our destinations.
Peru, Machu Picchu
Chile, Easter Island
Australia, Great Barrier Reef
Cambodia, Angkor Wat
India, Taj Mahal
Tanzania, Serengeti
Jordan, Lost City of Petra
Morocco, Marrakech
Holy cow! How will I figure out chocolates to fit these places? She read the names twice. This would take some thought. No Eiffel Tower or Big Ben for this crowd.
Jen bustled in as Sam was printing the list. “Another wedding cake for you ladies,” she said, handing the order form to Sam.
Sam set aside the mind-boggling list Bookman had sent and looked at Jen’s sketch for the wedding cake. She flashed the sketch in front of Becky. “A Valentine theme. Are we getting this close already?”
“Afraid so,” Becky said with a nod. “It’s going to be a busy year for weddings, since Valentine’s Day falls on a Saturday.”
Sam had noticed several such orders but had put them to the back of her mind since the holiday seemed so far away. When it came to wedding cakes, having a month’s lead time wasn’t too far out. She headed for the shelves to check supplies. It was important to be sure they didn’t run low on flour, sugar, or red food coloring right now.
When she sat down at her computer to place her supply order, a new email from Bookman awaited.
Meant to say, those are our global destinations. Later in the year we’ll add a European itinerary:
Transylvania, Croatia, Slovenia, Montenegro, Siberia
We are still fleshing out the exact locations to be visited. Thx—Stan
So much for London and Paris. These were obviously folks who would be going for somewhat more exotic locations. She clicked over to a website that described one company’s similar vacation trip, and she nearly choked. Fourteen days cost more than she’d paid for her first house! There must be a lot of super-rich people out there.
Well, the super-rich would get what they paid for, she decided. Her line of chocolates for Book It Travel had to surpass anything she’d ever done. She browsed further and came up with a few images that might translate well to chocolate.
Now she needed inspiration for recipes and techniques. It would help to be at the chocolate factory where she and Benjie could brainstorm ideas and she could browse her ingredients for inspiration. She checked Becky’s orders to be sure she wasn’t leaving her decorator with anything she couldn’t handle. All seemed well.
Leaving the world of wedding cakes and dessert pastries, Sam drove toward the Victorian. She admired the blue-gray siding and black shutters as she turned into the driveway. With the recent coating of snow still on the ground, the place would fit into any tiny New England village of a century ago. Now, if she could only get the business to run on automatic so she had a bit of free time now and then.
Chapter 23
“We didn’t find any of the usual signs of drug activity at Lukinger’s house,” Rico said, setting aside the notes from the few tips they’d received on that subject. “No product, no cash, no burner cell phones.”
“Yeah, and if you’ll notice, most of those calls sound like the type where a distraught relative is hoping the cause of their family problems is now off the street. If parents really believed Percy was dealing drugs to their kid, they certainly wouldn’t kill him and then call us to provide information.”
Travis held up the pile of scam reports. “To me, this is what feels like our guy—a con artist. Think about it—no job, no history in town, no paperwork trail beyond one receipt for gas at the Allsups.”
Beau nodded. “And, the easy-money type who might spend time in the casino. Rico, sorry to say this, but I need you to get back to those tapes. When you spot Lukinger, watch for him interacting with other people. See if he chats them up or if anyone hands over money to him. The casino might be where he hung out to target his next victims.”
It seemed a far-fetched idea. Most casino patrons were simply there with a hope of winning at the machines. But con men looked for easy marks, and a casino could be a hangout for all types. Maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched, after all.
“Travis, run a background check on Ramona Lukinger and see what we can learn about her. The fact she showed up twice to claim Percy’s remains makes it seem she cared for him, even though she didn’t live with him.”
Travis nodded. “Now that we have the idea he might be a scam artist, his not having a whole lot of possessions makes more sense. But I’m also thinking maybe the wife has most of his stuff at her place. I’ll get right on it.”
Beau picked up the reports from callers whose knowledge of Percy seemed related to being conned by the man. At his desk, he picked up the phone and began dialing. First call went to the lady who’d said the man took money for a fence repair. He realized all six calls on his list could lead to Percy Lukinger, or they could open up six new cases if it turned out the perp wasn’t Percy.
“Mrs. Baca? This is Sheriff Cardwell, following up on a call you made to our department this morning.”
“Sheriff, thank you for calling back.” The frail voice of an elderly Hispanic woman brought home to him how real the victims of these types of crimes were.
“My deputy took notes, but I’d like to verify a few things and then one of my deputies will come by your house and have you sign the report.”
“Oh, thank you! That money was half of my social security for the month. I’m eighty-five years old and barely paying my heating bill as it is.”
He made a note to contact the gas company and see if there was something in their budget to help. He knew they had a program for elderly people, to keep them from freezing in their own homes.
“Tell me how the man approached you,” Beau said.
“Well, I was watching The Price is Right on TV and the doorbell rang. My little dog went crazy—she always does.”
Obviously, this lady had no problem remembering details.
“He asked for money before doing the job?”
“Well, yes, he said it was customary to pay half up front—to cover the materials. He showed me how most of the boards were rotted.”
“What kind of vehicle did he drive? Did you notice a sign on it? Tools, or anything like that?”
“Well, that’s kind of a strange thing. I didn’t see a vehicle. I think he said he’d parked up the block where he was doing another job. He’d noticed my fence when he drove by.”
“And you’re sure it’s the same man whose picture you saw on the news this morning?”
“Pretty sure. I mean, that was just a snapshot and not a great one, but he had the same receding hairline and a sharp nose. He was tall.”
Lukinger was five-nine, not exactly towering.
Mrs. Baca giggled. “Everyone seems tall to me. I was five-one in my teens but I think I’ve shrunk a bit.”
Beau assured her they would show her another picture of the man they were looking for when the deputy came by to get the report signed.
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