Heading back toward the center of town, she came within a block of Sweet’s Sweets before she reconsidered. What she really wanted to talk to Sam about should be kept private. Meanwhile, she might learn more from another source.
Chapter 31
Beau was in the squad room, hovering over Rico’s shoulder as the deputy searched for known offenders with the word ‘sniper’ anywhere in their profiles. He knew he was hovering—Rico had given off impatient vibes for the past half hour. He also knew the odds of their happening to stumble across the right one were minuscule. But the case was so damn exasperating.
The better chance for a break might come from the FBI where the main forensics lab in Quantico was running the bullet through their databases. If the lands and grooves on this particular hunk of lead matched a known weapon or even if it matched another bullet from another case, it could provide new directions for their questions. Rick Gonzales hadn’t given much hope for a quick answer—it could take days, maybe weeks, for the computers to scan all the possibilities. But it was a thread of hope.
He became aware of movement in the hall that led to the front offices, and he looked up to see a fresh face.
“Kelly—hey. What brings you here?” He walked over and she offered a hug.
“Can we talk a minute?”
“Sure. My office? Or would you rather grab lunch? I was going to call Sam.”
“Um, here is fine.” She headed toward the door she knew to be his.
He’d no sooner closed the door than she hit him with the question. “Mom told me you were working a murder case, Beau. Why didn’t she let me know it happened at your house?”
“Ah.” He expelled a long breath. “My guess is that she didn’t want to worry you. I take it she’s not the one who told you about this?”
Kelly rolled her eyes and plopped into the guest chair in front of his desk. He crossed behind and took his own seat.
“Obviously, Mom wouldn’t want to scare me and certainly wouldn’t want me rushing back from my honeymoon trip, but geez, Beau. Didn’t I have the right to know?”
“Hon, of course you do.” He leaned forward. “What can I tell you?”
“I don’t know anything—the basic who, what, when would be nice.”
“Two people came out to the house to see Sam. She says they study old artifacts, at some lab in Virginia, and they had questions about that old wood box she keeps her jewelry in.”
Kelly’s expression shifted subtly, but he wasn’t sure why. She stared, waiting for more.
“The man and woman were leaving, and someone took a shot from a great distance, killing the man. His name was Tony Robards.”
“And?”
“We’re investigating the fact that it was a sniper-like shooting. The victim had no personal ties to New Mexico, so we think it’s someone who tracked him here, possibly from Virginia or the DC area.” He spread his hands on the desk, metaphorically showing his cards. “The killing may have had to do with the young man’s job. There’s one connection, a man who actually had threatened the life of the woman, Isobel St. Clair. This man is our primary suspect but we’ve run into so many stumbling blocks and the fact that all three came from clear across the country … well, we’ve called on the FBI for help. Frankly, it’s not at all the type of case that usually would fall to a county sheriff’s department.”
“Was Mom in danger from this killer? I suppose I should ask, is she still in danger?”
Wow. Right to the point. “We don’t know, Kelly. We don’t have reason to believe so. As far as we know, the killer left the area and hasn’t been back.”
She didn’t look as if she believed him, but at least she didn’t become argumentative. She sat there quietly, staring at a spot in the middle of his desk, for a full minute.
“Would you tell me, Beau, if you get any information that any of our family is in danger? Mom, you, any of us?”
He nodded. “I will certainly warn you and your mom if anything indicates the suspect has come back.”
She gave him another hug and when she pulled away her eyes were moist. He walked her to the door and saw her out to her car. She hadn’t believed a word of it.
And worse, he didn’t blame her.
Chapter 32
Kelly’s hands shook on the steering wheel when she left the Sheriff’s Department parking lot. Asking Beau about the shooting might have been a mistake. For all his assurances that the killer would not come back, Kelly didn’t believe it. And she couldn’t put her finger on the reason why.
She didn’t believe Beau had deceived her—there was no feeling about that. He’d honestly opened up, although there was more to the story. He had been married to her mother long enough, and Sam had been deputized for some of his cases. Kelly knew lawmen always held back a few facts of any case. There were good reasons to keep clues hidden from the media, and she supposed even family members needed to be unaware of certain things.
But this was more.
She couldn’t define it, but somehow she knew, with a deep gut feeling, knew that Tony Robards was not the real target and the killer would be back. Traffic on Paseo del Pueblo Sur was bumper-to-bumper with summer tourists, and she nearly rear-ended a minivan.
“Gotta get home,” she said out loud.
She seriously thought of turning off and going to the bakery, but talked herself out of it. Being around other people would be a mistake. She needed to pace the floor, or gnaw her nails or put her fist through a wall—she felt that edgy.
She did a few deep breaths and concentrated on the crawl of the traffic until she could make the left turn on Kit Carson Road and then the couple of short blocks to her house. It was a relief Scott’s car wasn’t home. She felt guilty at the sentiment, but knew she couldn’t explain. It was simply a feeling. She had a ton of excess energy she needed to dissipate.
In the cool, dim kitchen only one word came to her. Mom.
She picked up her phone. “Is this normal?” she blurted out the moment Sam picked up. “My insides are churning and my head feels like it’s buzzing with a thousand bees inside.”
Her mother was quiet for a moment and said she was stepping out of the noisy kitchen.
“I’m thinking, trying to remember how it was for me at first,” she said. “Yes, I think you’re feeling the effects of handling the box. Did you get out and do something active? That seems to help.”
“Riki already has help at the grooming shop, but I went for quick visits to take gifts to Zoë and to Rupert.” She held back mentioning her talk with Beau. Sam was busy with the bakery and this was a subject that would take some time.
“It’s a bit hot outside to go running,” Sam said, “but if you can think of something like that, something to burn off the excess energy. It might help.”
Kelly had paced through every room in the house during the time it took Sam to give the advice. Back in the kitchen she looked into the messy cupboards. Well, there was no time like the present.
Chapter 33
Sam finished the third tier of the wedding cake she’d been working on when Kelly called. Setting the topper in place, she stepped back to be certain it was perfect, then carried the cake to the walk-in fridge. Becky had gotten past her frazzled state from earlier in the day—she was contentedly piping big pink roses on a birthday cake for an eighty-year-old customer who had been coming to Sweet’s Sweets since the first day Sam opened the shop.
“Mrs. Maldonado will love it,” Sam said, receiving a smile in return.
She picked up the stack of order forms to see what was coming up next. Six wedding cakes for the weekend. She gave Julio a list of the sizes and flavors, and he immediately began pulling pans from the shelves to get started. No wonder Becky had felt overwhelmed. Sam made a note to call another decorator she’d used a few times. By Thursday they would need all the help they could get. Three more birthday cakes needed to be done by this afternoon, but only one of them was a bit complicated. She would start that one herself.
/> Becky carried the finished pink and white confection to the fridge and picked up the other two order forms. “Sam—thanks. Your being here saved my sanity.”
Sam gave her a warm smile, while feeling a stab of guilt that she hadn’t been more on top of the situation. She stepped into the walk-in to pick up the baked layers for the two-tier birthday cake, her mind fidgeting. Besides Becky’s crisis, there had been the cruise line contract and meetings, the changes that would be needed at the chocolate factory, and now this new development with Kelly and the boxes. There didn’t seem to be enough pieces of herself to give to everyone.
She remembered Amanda from the flight to New York and one of the things the wise woman had said: “It’s essential to give to others. It’s what makes us complete. But when you give from your own reserves, rather than your excess, you’ll burn out.” The only problem was, how to tell the difference?
She pushed the thoughts aside while she studied the sketch on the order form and began gathering the decorating tips and color pastes she would need to create a fairy castle from cake, icing, and sugar.
By six p.m. all the day’s orders had been completed and delivered, and they’d done many of the basic steps to start on the weekend’s wedding cakes. Becky gave Sam a hug and promised to come in early again the next morning. Sam walked through the shop, happy to see that Jen had kept the front room tidy and everything was set for the next day’s early rush. She turned on the nighttime lights in the window display, and dialed Kelly’s number as she was picking up her bag to go. Scott answered.
“She’s conked out on the couch,” he said. “I brought home a pizza and she’d barely eaten half a slice before she got really sleepy. Guess she had a busy day.”
“I can imagine. Just tell her I called to check in. I’ll see her tomorrow.”
* * *
Sam woke at five in the morning. The niggling discontent from yesterday at the bakery was completely gone. She stretched and rolled over to see that Beau’s side of the bed was already empty. His uniform hung over the back of a chair, so he must be outside tending to the early morning ranch chores. She tended to forget how much he did in addition to his more than full-time job as sheriff. Horses, barn, and alfalfa crops all required his attention too, even with the help of his part-time ranch hand.
She showered and dressed in her bakery clothes, remembering her promise to be there at least part of the day to work on the wedding cakes. She thought of the box locked away in the downstairs safe. Might be a good idea to gather some extra energy before she left the house.
Beau walked into the kitchen as the coffee finished dripping into the carafe. He smelled of hay and oats and fresh air. “Yes, I would,” he said, holding out a mug before Sam had even asked the question.
“I don’t suppose I should ask whether there’s been any big break in the shooting case?” Sam asked as she served him a cinnamon roll from the box she’d brought home.
He shook his head. “Working lots of angles. The FBI is comparing ballistics on the bullet. We have surveillance on Marcus Fitch. It’s just not much of a case without more physical evidence.”
She patted his shoulder on her way back to the fridge for the cream.
“Kelly stopped to see me yesterday.”
Sam stopped in her tracks.
“She seemed a little miffed that no one had told her the shooting happened here at our place.”
Sam sighed. “I should have. I just didn’t want to worry her while she was traveling, so I guess I kind of glossed over the facts. Did you tell her all about it?”
“The basics. I didn’t want to worry her either. Plus, I really don’t have many answers—for anyone.” He stood up, bestowed a kiss on her forehead, and headed toward the stairs. “Gotta get ready for the office.”
Sam sent Kelly a short text asking if she’d be up for a drop-in guest now or after bakery hours. The response came immediately back. Now—yes!
She arrived just as Scott was leaving. “I’m already back at the university, getting my material planned and my office organized. I’m teaching two courses this coming semester,” he said through the open window of his Subaru.
Kelly waved from the back door, and Sam noticed the newlyweds gave each other a dreamy smile as he drove away. Young love—so cute.
The back porch had been freshly swept, the mudroom organized with storage bins for gloves and scarves, and the floor shone as it never had before.
“Looks like you did get busy after I talked to you,” Sam commented.
“You wouldn’t believe,” Kelly said with an enigmatic smile.
Inside, the kitchen counters gleamed and the usual clutter of small appliances and kitchen tools were out of sight. Kelly opened one cupboard door to reveal neatly stacked canned goods and perfectly aligned cereal boxes on fresh shelf-liner paper.
“I did them all, and came up with two boxes of things to give to charity,” Kelly said. “And …” She led the way to the living room, where the previously boxed books were now neatly placed on shelves. “Alphabetical by author name.” And the furniture and floors were immaculate.
In the bedrooms the closets had become an organizer’s dream. “Someone could do a magazine spread on how great this place looks,” Sam told her.
“You know, I had seriously thought about having a weekly cleaning service after we got back from our honeymoon. With both of us working, things were getting a little beyond me, but now I think I can handle it. I’m loving this.”
Sam wanted to add a caution about overdoing the use of magical power, but she caught herself. Why rain on Kelly’s happiness? She would soon learn the extent of the box’s power as well as her own limits in using it.
“Coffee’s made—you want some, Mom?”
They walked back to the kitchen where Kelly poured. It was the signature blend from Sweet’s Sweets. As she handed one of the mugs to Sam her expression became serious.
“I stopped by and talked to Beau yesterday.”
“He told me. I … I’m sorry I didn’t say more about the shooting earlier. I didn’t want to worry you.”
“He said the people who were there at the house came from some organization in Virginia? That they came to see the box?”
Sam nodded. “It’s called The Vongraf Foundation. In Alexandria they study various unexplained phenomena, according to what Isobel St. Clair, the director, tells me. She came here once before and showed me some documentation about the box I got from Bertha Martinez. The same box had been sent to Vongraf in the 1920s for verification.”
Kelly’s brow furrowed.
“There’s more. Isobel believes there were a total of three boxes made by the same woodcarver. I told her about seeing another one at my uncle’s home in Ireland. It was just like mine but without the colored stones. I’m pretty sure it’s the one you have now.”
“And it also apparently has similar powers.”
“Yes.” By now, Sam was pacing back and forth. “There’s something else. Another group calling itself OSM—believed to stand for some Latin name that’s roughly Office for the Study of Magical … something. I’m not sure. Isobel believes this group may have the third box.”
She came to a stop and held Kelly’s gaze. “OSM desperately wants the other two boxes. They’ve tried twice now to get mine. If they ever learn about yours … Kel, you could be in danger.”
“Wow. So that’s why you told me to keep it hidden and not tell anyone about it.”
“Yes. I’m very serious about that.”
Kelly’s eyes went liquid. “Mom—you had all this going on in your life and you never said anything? How did you handle it?”
Sam gave a tight smile. “Some times better than at other times.”
Kelly hugged her, but after a moment Sam stepped back. She had more to say.
“Isobel and The Vongraf Foundation have very limited information. Their role is to study these types of artifacts, but they don’t collect or keep them. So their knowledge is only theoretical and m
ostly anecdotal. We—you and I—as far as we know, are the only ones to ever possess two of the boxes in the same place at the same time. Until we learn more about the power of the boxes, especially if two or all three happen to come together, we cannot be too careful.”
Kelly had become jittery, shifting from one foot to the other. “There’s more, Mom. I mean, I have more information.”
“What kind—?”
“From Bobul.” She took a deep breath. “Remember, I said he had told me things. And I mentioned a book.”
She dashed from the kitchen and Sam watched her rummaging in the living room, pulling books from the shelves until she came up with one hidden toward the back, which looked different from the others.
“Have you ever seen this before?” she asked, handing the book to Sam.
The cover was leather unlike any Sam had ever seen on a modern-day book. Almost velvety to the touch, worn at the edges but still very much intact. The deckle-edged pages were of thick paper, most likely handmade. She started to open it, but Kelly’s words stopped her.
“Bobul told me it belonged to a very old Romanian woman, and something about her being burned. I think it was for being a witch.”
Chapter 34
Beau dispatched two deputies to a traffic accident scene, hoping it would turn out to be nothing major. When he turned toward Rico, he saw search statistics scrolling across the deputy’s computer screen. He asked how it was going.
“There are several entities using the initials OSM somewhere in their titles, but none with a DC address, and none whose stated purpose seems anything like what you’re looking for, boss.”
“It was worth a shot,” Beau said, “but if the FBI can’t give us anything definitive, odds are we’ll never find them either.”
Sweet Magic Page 14