Sticky Sweet

by Connie Shelton

  Completely outnumbered, Dolores walked down the steps at Beau’s command, her hands spread open at her sides. Beau kept her covered while Rico snapped cuffs on her wrists. Sam walked out to join them, noticing that the aura around Dolores had faded to a docile gray.

  “Search her before you put her in the cruiser,” Beau said to Rico. When Sam pointed out the blue minivan next door as the suspect’s vehicle, he ordered Walters to search it as well.

  When the deputy patted Dolores’s coat pockets, he came out with a large, capped syringe of clear liquid.

  “Well, well. What’s this?” Beau mused.

  Dolores sputtered something about her work.

  “She told me she’s an accountant in Santa Fe,” Sam said. “What does an accountant do with some kind of drug?”

  “Unless she has a bad habit,” Rico said.

  “We’ll have it tested.”

  Walters walked over with a glass vial of liquid and handed it to the sheriff.

  “Benzodiazepine,” he read from the label. “Well, that’s interesting.” Beau looked at Dolores. “Looks like you’ve got way more there than it would take to relax you. We’d better talk about this at the station.”

  He gave a nod to Rico, who escorted Dolores to his cruiser and situated her in the back seat.

  Movement to the south caught Sam’s attention. Arnold Zuckerman, wearing a heavy sheepskin coat over his clothes, with bedroom slippers over his bare feet, came striding toward the gathering at the neighboring house.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded. “Where are you taking my daughter?”

  Beau kept his tone respectful. “We’ve got some questions to ask her, sir.”

  Sam joined them. “Hello, Mr. Zuckerman. Dolores told me she was waiting for Missy to come home.” She gave Beau a glance. “Has she come back, by any chance?”

  “Not yet,” Zuckerman said. “She had book club this afternoon and then I think she was going to get her hair done.”

  This wasn’t the time to let him know who sweet little Missy really was, and that she’d been arrested today and had escaped.

  “We’ve got some questions for her, too,” Beau said. “Mind if one of my deputies waits here with you?”

  Zuckerman shrugged, and Beau took Sam aside.

  “You know as much as any of us about the con the Lukingers were probably running here. See if Mr. Zuckerman will admit whether money is missing from any of his accounts. I suspect Dolores was onto the con way earlier.”

  “I know they argued about his having control over his finances. Maybe she saw right through the Lukingers.”

  “See what you can learn. He won’t want to believe his ‘Missy’ would harm him, so don’t even try to convince him. Right now, we just need facts if we ever hope to press charges against her.”

  Sam watched Rico’s cruiser drive away with Dolores in the back seat. A murder and a whole bunch of con games—the simple traffic accident had turned into a real quagmire. She made soothing sounds to Arnold and walked with him into his house, knowing she was in for a long afternoon.

  Chapter 50

  Darkness came early in January, and Sam finally left the Zuckerman house. Her afternoon with Arnold Zuckerman didn’t net much information, and there had been no sign of his young wife. He’d produced a lovely wedding photograph of the two of them standing on the courthouse steps, but he seemed short on details about the marriage certificate or the judge’s name.

  As for his financial information, Zuckerman fidgeted a little but remained adamant that he alone controlled his money. He’d given Missy some nice gifts, he said, but he never had given his wife, his daughter, or anyone else control of his bank and investment accounts. Sam passed all this along to Beau when she stopped by the station and suggested they take a dinner break.

  “Do you believe him?” Beau asked, as they shared a pizza at his desk.

  “I think so. But he was uncomfortable talking about it. I have a feeling he was getting pressured from both sides—the wife who wanted to steal and the daughter who probably did have his best interests in mind. He may have been close to giving in. How about Dolores—is she talking much?”

  “I confronted her about the drug in the syringe, trying to get a rise and see if she was planning to get Ramona alone somewhere and do the same thing to her as to Percy. She seemed shocked to learn that we had figured out the drug was the real cause of his death. She’d been convinced the traffic accident would be accepted at face value. Dolores, it seems, was suspicious of little Missy from the day her father met the younger woman. She’d begun driving up to Taos and following Missy around. Missy’s prolonged absences from the Zuckerman home and the number of times she witnessed meetings with Percy, made her think Missy was cheating on Arnold. It only took one mention about having Missy take over some of the household banking duties and Dolores truly began to panic. She knew there was a scam going on.”

  “Murder seems like a pretty drastic solution,” Sam said.

  “Dolores had apparently contacted the police in Santa Fe and was told that until money had actually been stolen, there was nothing the law could do. So, that’s when she started to pursue another angle. She was working to get her father declared incompetent, based on his falling for the illegal marriage and giving such lavish gifts to his bride.”

  “But the drug—was she lying about being an accountant?” Sam asked.

  He pulled a string of melted cheese from the edge of his pizza slice before he answered. “Oh, she’s an accountant all right—we verified it. She works at a medical clinic where they perform day surgeries. They use Valium to calm patients before their procedures, so they keep a lot of it on hand. Supposedly, they have absolutely strict protocols in place for the handling and dispensing of it. Still, we know somehow Dolores got around that. She got enough to kill Percy, and what we found in her pocket was plenty to do away with Ramona.”

  Sam pushed her paper plate away. “Wow. Well, I understand her anger, but how did Dolores get close enough to Percy to inject him? And then how did he get so far south of town, driving in such a drugged state?”

  “We have Rico and our lab tech to thank for putting a lot of it together,” Beau said. “Rico went back to our original witness, Brian Reese, who saw the accident happen. Brian remembered seeing two vehicles pull onto the highway ahead of him that afternoon, coming from the overlook at the top of the hill. The first was a blue minivan, he remembered. The other was, of course, Percy Lukinger in the white Mitsubishi. Remember, Brian had told us he watched the Mitsubishi weave wildly and go off the road.”

  “Blue minivan—Dolores!” Sam said.

  “We’re fairly certain of it. The brilliant forensics work comes from Lisa and Rico. She gathered mud samples from the tire tread on Percy’s car—an exact match for the dirt at the overlook—and she found a small bloodstain on the lid of the trunk. In the trunk was a flat tire, and the spare was on the right rear wheel. As near as we can figure it, Percy had a flat on the way to a meeting with Dolores. His head injury came while he was changing the tire. Once he reached the overlook, Dolores must have got into his car with him and injected the drug at some point when he turned his back on her.”

  “Does Dolores admit anything about this meeting?”

  “Not yet. We still have to piece together how she managed to contact Percy and how she convinced him to meet her. But I’m confident we can find enough evidence to wrap it all up.”

  “So you’ve solved your murder case.” Sam squeezed his hand. “That’s great.”

  “I’d feel better about it if we’d kept Ramona Lukinger in custody. I won’t rest easy until we know she’s caught and returned to California. I don’t have much hope Mr. Zuckerman will press any charges against her here in New Mexico.”

  Sam shook her head slowly. “I didn’t get the feeling he would. He’s going to be stunned to learn that his daughter is going away for murder. Unless he comes to believe that Ramona, um,
Missy is the reason behind it, I doubt he’ll fully acknowledge how badly the Lukingers messed up his family.” She balled up her greasy paper napkin and tossed it into the empty pizza box. “Maybe the other victim, Hiram Efram, would be willing to talk to him, compare notes, get him to realize how tricky that pair was.”

  “Maybe.” Beau sighed. “It’s been a long day. I’m going to get Dolores settled for the night in the holding cell. Lots of paperwork.”

  Sam knew he was still thinking about the ongoing hunt for Ramona Lukinger, how easily she had gotten away, and the complete lack of clues to her whereabouts.

  Chapter 51

  Two days later, a phone call from Detective Jorge Rodriguez delivered interesting news—Ramona Lukinger had been picked up when she stepped off a Greyhound bus in Lubbock, Texas, and was now in custody in California. Beau put his phone on speaker so Sam could listen in.

  “Okay, I have to ask,” Beau said to Rodriguez, “how did Ramona get a ticket for the bus? She ran out of here with only the clothes on her back.”

  “She had a nice fur coat,” Sam reminded.

  “It was a nice coat,” Beau said.

  Rodriguez had the answer. “Apparently, from a group of ladies in some book club she belonged to. They said she popped in with a story of how her purse had been stolen and could anyone lend her some cash to pay the lock guy to let her into her car.”

  Beau and Sam exchanged a look—there really was a book club.

  “The group took up a collection, and with the cash Ramona flagged down the eastbound bus.”

  “Well, I have to give her points for resourcefulness,” Beau said, looking amazed.

  “Yeah, me too. It’s too bad she doesn’t put the smarts to work for something good. She’s no dummy,” Rodriguez told them.

  “I just can’t figure out why she had to come here to Taos and run one more scam on Arnold Zuckerman. Hadn’t she just ripped off millions from your Mr. Efram?”

  “That’s the part that’s got her blazing mad. She followed Percy to New Mexico, furious with him for taking off with the Efram money, which she feels she legitimately earned. Once they were back together, though, I guess he managed to cool her down and they stayed with the Zuckerman con to add to the money pile. Arnold Zuckerman, having been in the jewelry business, was good for some fairly pricey gifts, too.”

  “I saw some of those,” Sam said. “She definitely wore expensive jewelry. I don’t know why I never clicked to the possibility that she was Mr. Zuckerman’s young wife.”

  “No real reason to, unless you had seen them together.”

  “She seemed careful about that.” Sam remembered the times when she was next door to their home and would spot movement of a curtain, quick closure of a door.

  Beau spoke up. “Going on from here … Even though it amounts to a lot of money, Arnold Zuckerman admits that everything she took from him were given as gifts—the car, clothes, furs, jewelry. The only thing I can really issue a warrant for in New Mexico would be bigamy. She did legally marry Arnold Zuckerman while married to Percy Lukinger. However, there’s not likely to be much penalty for it since the second marriage was such a short one and she didn’t actually get away with any money other than what he willingly gave her.”

  “Better news here,” Rodriguez said. “We’ve got grand larceny for the money she took from Efram. No question about that. We’ve been able to put FBI forensic accountants on the case, and they’ve tracked movement of it. Originally, the Lukingers transferred money bank-to-bank, then they began drawing out large amounts of cash. There have to be safe deposit boxes or a trusted safe-house or something like that where it’s stashed. I got a call late last night, and the special agent in charge is telling me they’d already located some of the cash.”

  “Good news for the victim,” Beau said, “but recovery of the money might make the case sort of squirrely. A jury could look at the outcome and decide the rich guy wasn’t really out anything, while the poor woman on the witness stand gets a bunch of sympathy, especially when she breaks down and cries.”

  “He’s right,” Sam said. “Don’t put anything past Ramona when it comes to theatrics.”

  “No kidding. She’s already tried flirting with our officers, from the moment she got off the plane yesterday. She’s a pro when it comes to working the crowd. Our focus will be on building a case to demonstrate her history of con games, making the point to the jury that if she gets away she’ll be doing the same thing again, and this time it might be their father or brother she swindles.”

  Sam felt better when the call ended, but didn’t let herself fully believe Ramona would bear the full punishment for her crimes. She remembered how charming the con woman was, with men and women alike.

  “So,” said Beau. “I’ve got to attend Dolores Zuckerman’s arraignment this morning. That story’s turning into a real tragedy. She had first planned to kill Missy, but rage overtook her and she decided to go for them both. Killing a man, planning to kill again, all to save her father from a bad judgment call.”

  “I saw Arnold Zuckerman when I went by to finish up at the caretaking property. He’s pretty broken up. He can’t believe his daughter would do such a thing—that’s mainly what has him upset—but he’s also mortified that dear little ‘Missy’ pulled one over on him. He’s got a point. He was a successful businessman for many years, very sharp, on top of things. It’s been a hard pill to swallow, for him to admit he’s not making the best decisions any more.”

  Beau was quiet, remembering how he’d taken his mother into his own home as she got older. Iris had been sweet and willing to let her son care for her. Too bad it hadn’t worked out a bit easier between Dolores and her father.

  “It’s sad,” Sam told him. “Just as Arnold is about ready to lean on his daughter for help, she’ll be in prison.”

  Chapter 52

  Sam drove to the chocolate factory, the conversation with Detective Rodriguez fresh in her mind. The whole situation was sad, but her part was done and she had other priorities this morning. Stan Bookman was due in town to review, taste, and approve the gift packages for his Travel the World travel package.

  Already, Sam had seen the ad campaign on his website and it looked like an amazing adventure. The inaugural trip was sold out (mainly to celebrities and tycoons, Stan had confided to her); second and third itineraries were scheduled and filling fast. It meant a lot of business for her. And, along with Kelly’s wedding to Scott, she faced an extremely busy summer. The whereabouts of the carved box, which had helped her through so many seasons when the work became chaotic, still worried her. She’d not had time for a complete rip-apart search of her various premises—a dozen other things had taken priority the past two days.

  She pulled onto Tyler Road and drove toward her factory, where a rental car sat in front of the Victorian. One thing at a time, Sam. Meet with Bookman now, get frantic over the box later.

  Stan Bookman got out of the car when he saw Sam’s truck pull into the driveway. He circled and opened the passenger door; he’d told Sam he would bring his wife this time.

  Where Stan was a man of enthusiasm and plans, Margie seemed quiet and thoughtful. She shook hands with Sam and said she felt honored to visit the chocolatier who had created the luscious treats for their flights. She patted her stomach when she admitted she’d eaten her fair share of them, many times. Sam liked her at once.

  Inside, Benjie and the other chocolatiers had donned clean white chef jackets; the packers and shippers, prompted by Ronnie, had worn white shirts, purple scarves, and black slacks. They stood in the front hall of the old house-turned-business, lined up formally, as one would imagine the staff in a nineteenth-century mansion when the master returned home.

  Packing boxes had been moved out of sight and a round table, with a white cloth draped to the floor, occupied center stage under the hall’s crystal chandelier. A purple cloth was draped over the irregular shapes of the surprise beneath.

&nbs
p; Sam introduced the Bookmans to the employees, giving due credit to all for their hard work on both current and past projects for the travel company.

  “Benjie, Lisa? Will you do the honors of the unveiling?” Sam asked.

  Dottie had pulled out her camera phone and Sam smiled. Thank goodness someone had thought to capture the moment before the chocolates were history. Dottie snapped a dozen or more pictures as the purple cloth came away and the gift boxes were revealed. Margie Bookman actually gasped.

  “Oh, Sam, these are exquisite,” Stan said, his voice hushed.

  One by one, Sam approached each piece and raised the lid on the container to reveal the works of art inside.

  “Every bit of the contents is edible,” she told them. “Please—sample.”

  For a full minute, no one moved. Sam finally reached into the Taj Mahal and pulled out two pieces of chocolate flavored with saffron and turmeric. She handed one to each of the guests. Stan popped his into his mouth and bit down, moaning in pleasure at the blend of flavors. His wife took a bite from one corner, closed her eyes, and let the chocolate melt on her tongue. When she opened her eyes again, there were tears.

  “It’s … it’s … indescribable. So amazingly delicate, yet … I can’t think what to say.” She turned to her husband. “I don’t think I can write an ad that will let our passengers know what to expect. We’ll simply have to tell them to expect heaven. Pure heaven.”

  Her expression conveyed her sincerity. She was genuinely in love with the chocolate. Sam felt her own emotions rise as she watched her clients enjoy another piece, this time a tiny Incan statue from the Machu Picchu box.

  “I don’t know how you do it, Sam.” Bookman turned to the rest of the crew. “All of you—really, kudos to everyone.”

  Smiles all around, although the employees would keep their high-fives for later.

  “Here—everyone should have some,” Bookman offered.