Deadly Sweet Dreams

by Connie Shelton

  “Mom … what are we getting into?”

  “I’m going with the answer that Faustina placed a bakery order and called to ask me to deliver it.”

  “Okay … Right.” But Kelly was all in, and on her way to the door.

  They took Sam’s car and pulled up in front of the Lopez house just a few minutes later. The small frame house had a small garden in front, and although mostly winter-brown now, Sam remembered Faustina as being quite a gardener. The yard in summer would be filled with tall hollyhocks and beds of roses, dahlias, marigolds, and delphinium. These were people with almost nothing, who made the most of what they did have.

  She and Kelly walked up the cracked concrete sidewalk and knocked at the door. It opened almost immediately.

  “Samantha! Come in,” said Faustina. The older woman was a bit more stooped than Sam remembered, and her eyes were red and full of pain.

  Pauline stepped forward from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Sam had less-clear memories of Faustina’s daughter, and neither of them had met Kelly in her adult years, so there was a flurry of introductions. Sam held out the small box of cookies she’d brought for the ladies.

  Faustina drew herself up straight and reverted to her inborn social self. “Come in, come in. Pauline can make coffee to go with the cookies.”

  “Don’t go to the trouble,” Sam said as they took seats in the very ’80s living room, which was stifling hot. “And the cookies are yours for later. You sounded upset on the phone. Tell me what’s happened.”

  Faustina’s social veneer dropped away and her mouth quivered. “It’s my Danny. He’s been arrested! That doesn’t happen in our family. Ever.”

  Well, Evan certainly hadn’t wasted any time gathering more evidence, had he?

  Pauline sat at the edge of her chair, wringing her hands. “Danielito didn’t tell Mama what it was about, only that he needs a lawyer.”

  “I think I know what it’s about,” Sam said. “Let’s deal with the important thing first. Yes, he should have a lawyer—did you call someone?”

  “No,” Faustina said, nearly wailing the word. “Our family doesn’t have anyone like that to call.”

  True, Sam thought. Most law-abiding, ordinary folks didn’t just keep an attorney on retainer, and she would guess Faustina had never consulted one in her life.

  “Let me make a call or two,” Sam suggested. “Maybe I can get a recommendation.”

  Kelly tried to distract the women with chit-chat but they both stared after Sam anxiously. She pulled out her phone and stepped into the kitchen to keep her questions from upsetting the women. Her first call went to Beau.

  “What happened with Danny?” she asked without preamble.

  “He’s been charged with Lila’s death. Evan came out this morning.”

  While Sam was happily decorating a wedding cake. “Is there anything you can do? We know he’s innocent.”

  “Sam, I have no pull anymore. We just have to let due process take its course.”

  “But—”

  “Let’s see what happens before we try to jump in.” His voice was calm, although she picked up an underlying irritation.

  She grudgingly told him what he wanted to hear, ended the call, and immediately dialed the attorney who had handled her will a few years ago. At least maybe she could get a recommendation for a criminal defense lawyer.

  She came back with a name, Delia Sanchez, and a phone number.

  “It’s best if you make the call yourself. Explain what’s happened and be sure to tell Ms. Sanchez that cost is a factor. My attorney said she’ll put in a recommendation for you, and she says Delia is very nice.” She handed over the slip of paper.

  Sam hoped the attorney would take the case on a pro bono basis, but there was no way she could get Faustina’s hopes up at this point.

  “Did Danny say anything else when he called?” Sam pictured him arriving at the sheriff’s office in handcuffs, being questioned for several hours, finally being allowed one phone call. He could have called his parents in Texas, but maybe they seemed too far away and he was hoping his grandmother had local connections.

  Which she did—Sam.

  Pauline seemed more flustered than her elderly mother. She kept repeating that it was going to be hard to break the news to Hector and Sally. Faustina got up and went to a hutch in the L-shaped dining area. From a drawer she pulled out a small address book and a steno pad. She sat down and began copying information.

  “I would like for you to talk to Sally, Danny’s mother. And his father, Hector. And his sister, Patsy. Please find out what you can about this girl who came here.”

  “Lila.”

  “Yes. She came here to the house, trying to find my grandson. I did not like the looks of that girl. She had a false smile. You know what I mean?”

  “Buttering you up so you would share information about Danny?”

  “Yes. I am sad to say, though I think she fooled Patsy.” She handed Sam the sheet she ripped from the steno pad. On it in small, neat script she had written names, phone numbers, and addresses. “Can you go there? Talk to them?”

  Go there?

  “Let me see what I can learn on the phone first. Maybe we can get something that would be helpful to his case.”

  Pauline wrung her hands; Faustina shook her head sadly. “It will be best if you can go.”

  Sam folded the page with the names and carefully avoided promising anything. “Talk with the lawyer first, then you’ll need to inform Danny’s parents about what’s happened. I will also call them and ask a few questions. After that, we’ll see where it leads.”

  She and Kelly escaped the overly warm house a few minutes later.

  “Wow, Mom, you sure know how to get dragged into the midst,” Kelly said before they’d reached the SUV. “What are you going to do now?”

  “Just what I promised. Hopefully, the attorney will take the reins and reassure everyone and find a miracle and get the case thrown out before it even starts. Otherwise, I’m open to suggestions. Got any magic fixes for something like this?”

  Chapter 22

  Sam spotted Kelly at the living room window when she pulled up to the Victorian the following morning. By the time she parked under the portico and walked into the kitchen, her daughter was there, staring at a pile of bowls and utensils on the kitchen island.

  “I was hoping you’d drop by. I can’t find the recipe for ganache icing and I’m betting you know it by heart.”

  Sam laughed as she shed her coat. “I do.” She surveyed the countertop. “First off, is your cake completely cooled? If not, the ganache will soak right in.”

  “Got it.” Kelly pointed to a single layer cake sitting near the sink.

  “Do you have heavy cream and some bittersweet chocolate?”

  “Got ’em. What else?”

  “That’s it. It’s also probably why I never wrote down the recipe for you. Use equal amounts of each.”

  Kelly was still looking a little helpless, so Sam found a saucepan and poured the cream into it, directing Kelly to chop up the chocolate and put it in a bowl. When the cream had barely reached a simmer, she poured the hot cream over the chocolate.

  “Okay, we let it sit a minute or so until the chocolate softens up, then give it a stir. And you’re—” Her phone startled her. “—you’re done.”

  She reached for the phone in her pocket.

  “Samantha Sweet? This is Delia Sanchez.”

  Since yesterday afternoon Sam had wondered if she would hear from the attorney.

  “I spoke with Danny Flores briefly and he asked me to contact you.”

  “Yes—and it’s Sam. Please. Is he all right? Have you been able to help him?”

  “He’s been taken to the county detention center and is facing arraignment later today.”

  “So, he wasn’t able to convince Sheriff Richards they have the wrong person?”

  “I’ve advised my client not to talk. Until I have a chance to review everything, I
don’t want him saying anything that will hurt more than help his case. That goes for his friends, too, Ms. Sweet. I’m not implying anything, but it would be best if you don’t volunteer information to the sheriff either. Of course, you would have to answer any direct questions, and answer them truthfully, but …”

  “I understand. But I feel certain Danny is innocent, and I’m worried that the sheriff won’t go looking any further for the real killer now that he’s got Danny in custody.”

  Delia Sanchez’s voice softened. “I agree with all of that. It’s part of the reason I’ve called you. Aside from Danny’s trust and friendship with you, I’ve heard that you have a reputation for helping in these types of situations. Our firm is small and we don’t have a private investigator as part of our staff. So … I’d like to ask your assistance.”

  “Whatever I can do.” Sam noticed the bowl of chocolate Kelly was stirring, and gave the nod that it was ready to pour over the cake.

  “Could we start with a search of his living quarters? I understand he lives on your property. As his landlord you would have the right to inspect his rooms without our having to get a warrant. I’m afraid I don’t have any specific thing to tell you to look for, but you’ve done this before. Anything that might relate to the case, connections between my client and the victim. Keep in mind, you cannot hide evidence from the law enforcement officers. But if I were to learn of it first … get copies of any written evidence …”

  “Absolutely.”

  Delia sighed. “I suspect Sheriff Richards has already obtained a warrant and may be along to search the premises right away. Don’t get in his way. We can’t have obstruction of justice charges clouding the works. But let me know if you find anything else.”

  “I will. What about questioning friends of Danny’s who also knew Lila? He gave me names of some mutual friends back in Texas.”

  “That was going to be my next question for you. Sam, can you go to San Antonio and search them out? Soon?”

  “Give me a day or two to make plans?”

  “Of course. Keep me posted, and naturally I’ll—” she halted. “Can I put you on hold a moment? This may be relevant.”

  Sam turned to Kelly. “Did you get the gist?”

  “Bits and pieces.”

  Sam started to mention the trip but Delia was on the line again right away.

  “That was the medical investigator in Albuquerque. They’ve released the body to Sheriff Richards, and it seems Lila Contreras’s parents will be coming to Taos. I don’t know …”

  “You wonder if I might talk with them, since they aren’t very likely to be friendly toward Danny’s defense attorney.”

  “That thought crossed my mind.”

  “They may not be exactly cordial toward his employer either, but I’ll see what I can do,” Sam promised as they ended the call.

  Kelly had finished pouring the ganache over her cake and was stacking the saucepan and bowl in the sink.

  “So … sounds like you’ve got a few jobs all of a sudden,” she said, turning toward Sam.

  “Sounds like.”

  “Are you sure you want to become this involved, Mom? Talking to the parents doesn’t sound like much fun.”

  “Danny’s family are old friends, Kel. I can’t ignore how upset Faustina and Pauline were yesterday. I feel like I have to do this.” She stared at her phone screen for a minute, then looked back up at Kelly. “Plus, it looks like there’s a trip to San Antonio in the deal. Want to come along?”

  “Seriously? It’s been four years since I went anywhere without a husband and/or baby tagging along. I would love to go!”

  Chapter 23

  Sam thought about the lawyer’s phone call all the way home. Kelly was right—talking to the dead girl’s parents wouldn’t be easy, especially since Sam had heard only Danny’s side of it and was inclined to think Lila had been a nutcase. But maybe that was precisely why she should see them. They no doubt had a whole different perspective on the relationship.

  And then there was the task of searching through the casita to see if she could find evidence that would help exonerate their ranch hand. How would she even know what that might be?

  Finally, the prospect of traveling to an unfamiliar city to track down a bunch of kids thirty years her junior and quiz them about their friends … she was beginning to feel queasy.

  Well, I guess the thing is to tackle it the same way a person eats an elephant—one bite at a time.

  The sight of Danny’s truck parked beside the casita startled her momentarily. Of course—he would have been driven to his booking, courtesy of a department cruiser. The vehicle had a sticker pasted to the driver’s side window, notification that it had been searched by law enforcement. The front door of the casita boasted a similar one—it was not a crime scene and this was not exactly a Do Not Enter notice, but Sam got the message. The law had gotten here before her.

  She tried the doorknob and it opened.

  Inside, the whole room had been tossed. Bedding lay on the floor, the mattress had been upended and dropped crookedly in place, all the cabinet doors in the tiny kitchenette stood open, and the small closet niche held a tumble of clothing and boots. Sam fumed—these were the local guys, the men who had worked for Beau for years. Okay, she understood their need to find and gather evidence, and housekeeping most definitely was not their strong suit, but why not show respect for the property.

  She hung her jacket on the back of a chair and set to work, with little idea of what she was looking for.

  Clues about Danny and Lila’s relationship—from what bits she already knew, those were likely the text messages on his phone. If Lila had left anything in writing, Evan’s men had probably found it. And from what Kelly had told her about the psychology of gaslighting, the tormentor’s techniques were most often verbal. Tone of voice and body language were used to intimidate, giving the victim little or nothing in the way of actual evidence. Being able to laugh off their victim’s allegations was what gave the abuser such power. Still—there had to be something, and Sam was determined to find it.

  She started with the kitchen area. The small fridge held a Styrofoam container with leftover restaurant enchiladas, a near-empty carton of milk, a full ketchup bottle, a packet of sliced ham lunchmeat, and a tiny jar of mayo. The freezer section had a small ice cube tray and a frozen Hungry Man dinner. No foil-wrapped packages (although the deputies would have surely taken those if there had been). The freezer could stand to be defrosted, she noted, but she would do that later.

  The cupboards had been disturbed, and she began restacking mugs and straightening the foodstuffs—a box of cereal (Frosted Flakes), a jar of instant coffee, a box of white sugar, the kind with the little metal pour spout, a package of energy bars, and one of Chips Ahoy cookies with two left. Either Danny was due for a grocery trip or he was a man of very simple tastes. No wonder he stayed so slim.

  As she set aside the stack of four dinner plates, she felt something odd. Between the one on the bottom and the next, was a small envelope. She pulled it out. A letter from his mother. Hmm. Very possibly of no interest to the deputies, but this was still an odd place to stash it. Sam got the feeling she may have found something they’d missed.

  The single sheet was covered in neat script written in blue ink on feminine stationery with a rose printed in the upper left corner. She could imagine Sally Flores owning a whole tablet of these, probably since 1970. Sam read through a standard greeting and a lot of ‘hope you’re doing well and enjoy working for Mr. Cardwell’ type of stuff. The one reference to Danny’s new relationship came near the end:

  Lila has been coming around, asking about you all the time. She misses you, son. Won’t you give her a call? Patsy sends her love, as do your dad and I. Take care of yourself.

  The message could be read several ways. From his mother’s point of view, Lila’s coming around could be seen as loving and thoughtful; as Danny saw it, the girlfriend was hunting him down. Was this a clue? Who knew
? Sam refolded the letter and stuck it into her pocket to hand over to the lawyer.

  The door opened behind her and she jumped.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Beau said.

  She spread her arms toward the center of the room. “Do they always make this much of a mess when they search a place?”

  He gave a wry grin. “Sometimes worse than others.”

  “Maybe you can give me a hand with the mattress and we can straighten up a little bit.”

  While they tugged the bed back into place Sam told him about the call from the lawyer enlisting her help.

  “You want to do that?” he asked.

  “Well, yeah, to help the Flores family. Absolutely. I was hoping to find an address book or something that would put me in contact with his group of friends. But I guess that makes me hopelessly old-school, doesn’t it? Everyone keeps their contacts on their phones.”

  He gently chucked her chin. “Yeah they do. And you’re not hopeless, just traditional.”

  Oh, god, when did I lose my savvy? Traditional?

  He gave her a wink and flashed his wonderful smile. “I still love that about you.”

  She returned the smile. “I’m going to stay out here and get this place in order.”

  “When do you leave for San Antonio?”

  See? He already knew I would go, even before I’ve made up my mind or checked into flights.

  “Not sure. But you’ll be the first to know, you mind reader.”

  He shook his head. “Uh-uh, not me. I’m going back to my horses and leaving all this detecting to you.”

  What a switch, Sam thought as he closed the door behind him. She put aside the comparison—Beau, then and now—and went back to rummaging through the casita’s contents. But it seemed anything that might have been of value had already been found and taken during the official search.

  Chapter 24

  Faustina Flores called Sam just as she was locking the casita’s front door.

  “You will never guess who called me this morning,” the older woman began.