“Sam, what about the coat?” Beau asked. “How did it get out to Cheryl Adams’s house?”
“I saw him, Beau. Remember the vision I had that day? I told you I’d seen a man in dark clothing putting something into the closet? Check the dates. I’ll bet the sheriff was supposed to deliver the eviction notice to Cheryl Adams, and it probably happened within a day or so after Fenton’s death. Cheryl’s house was left unlocked—I found it that way myself. I’m betting that when Sheriff Padilla got there Cheryl had already moved out, but the house was unlocked. He saw the perfect chance to get rid of the coat in all that clutter. Just hang it in a closet and someone would eventually come along to clean out the place and the coat could never be tied to him.”
She turned to the sheriff. “You would have been better off to burn it.”
Padilla looked chagrined.
Beau piped up. “You would have been better off to turn it in. If you’d reported the death as an accident, you wouldn’t be facing charges of tampering with evidence, concealing a murder, aiding and abetting . . . we can probably think of a few more.”
Padilla’s eyes were searching the room, looking for a way out of his troubles. His gaze landed on the pistol which Beau had taken from him minutes earlier.
“Don’t even think about it,” Beau warned.
Padilla spun and dashed for the back door, flinging papers off of desks and tipping chairs over as he ran. But Beau was quicker. With one leap he tackled the sheriff and brought him to the floor. From the dispatch area a secretary and another deputy came running.
By the time they reached the tangle of arms and legs, Beau had latched his cuffs onto Padilla’s wrists.
Chapter 27
Chocolate buttercream frosting plopped onto the top of the quarter-sheet that Sam had promised for the chocoholics book group this afternoon. She smoothed it with a spatula, creating a flat backdrop for the molded chocolate decorations she and Becky had created yesterday. They’d made a miniature vignette of the bookshop itself, with rows of books—all done in dark, milk and white chocolate—the sales counter with a small chocolate Ivan at the desk, the deep chairs where customers curled up to read sample chapters—Sam’s raspberry chocolate almost looked like the plush burgundy upholstery on the real ones.
It had been two weeks since the election, a very interesting two weeks. Details of the bizarre story continued to come out, as national media descended upon their small town to poke and prod and ask questions. Beau withheld a lot of the particulars that would have to come out later, in court but Sam, privy to the dead private investigator’s notes, had accumulated more proof against both the new governor and the sheriff. Although Padilla had won re-election to his office, for the moment he was on suspension and being investigated by the internal affairs division of the department.
Sandy Greene, the reporter who’d been first to break the story at the state level, was immediately fired from her job. A fine thanks, Sam thought, but no doubt sparked by the fact that the newspaper’s owner was a close friend and large contributor to Carlos Tafoya. He gained nothing by trying to quash the spunky young reporter. The firing made the news headlines even larger, and Sandy was quickly snapped up by a television network affiliate in Denver. She’d called Sam to tell her about the advancement in her career and the increase in pay. Some things do end up being all right.
Meanwhile, as Sam set tiny chocolate figurines of Ivan’s bookstore customers—including herself and Riki and Zoë—in place, she reflected on the way in which Carlos Tafoya was coming out of the whole thing amazingly unscathed. But then, wasn’t that the way with politicians?
She heard voices out in the sales area and looked up from her work to see Victor Tafoya pushing his way through to the kitchen. Her wizened, old landlord had already expressed his displeasure over her role in disgracing his son, as if Sam had actually committed some crime, herself. He shuffled over to her work table, not bothering to remove the battered straw hat that glistened with melting snowflakes.
“Here,” he grumbled, shoving a folded sheet of paper at her.
“What’s this, Victor?” She set down her pastry bag and wiped her hands on a damp towel before reaching out to take the page.
“You’re evicted.”
“What!” Her heart crashed. “You can’t do that! I have a lease.”
“Not anymore.” He jammed his hands against his skinny hips. “I don’t need troublemakers like you around.”
“Mr. Taf—”
“Be out by Friday!”
Sam stood frozen to the spot as he stomped out.
“Whoa.” Becky looked just as immovable as Sam.
Sam shook herself and dashed after him. “Wait, you’ve got no real cause to throw me out.”
“So, sue me!” He yanked the front door open, sending the bells into a clamor.
Jen stood behind the counter, wide-eyed. “Can he do that?”
Sam’s veins felt like ice. She’d worked so hard to get the shop open and build her clientele. She could find another location but she loved being here, next to the bookstore and so close to the plaza. Tears threatened to spill.
Outside, fine sleet pelted the elder Tafoya as he jerked open the door to his ratty old pickup truck. Why the father of the new governor didn’t at least drive a decent vehicle was always the subject of speculation, but at this point Sam couldn’t even give it a thought. The engine cranked and cranked in the blustery November day, but it wouldn’t start. She could see him cursing it. He pounded a fist against the steering wheel. Then his face went very pale and he clutched at his chest.
“Uh-oh.” Sam watched as he slumped over the wheel, setting off the horn. “Call an ambulance.”
She dashed out the door, hit by a blast of cold air, but she didn’t pause. She reached the door of the truck about the same time as three other people who’d heard the blast of the old horn.
“Sam, what’s up?” Riki asked, wiping her hands on a towel. She still had shampoo suds on her plastic apron.
“He must be having a heart attack. Jen’s calling for help.”
“I also have dialed the 911,” said Ivan Petrenko, emerging from the bookstore.
Sirens sounded nearby, coming from the fire station that was only two blocks away. Within a minute, paramedics were at work on Victor Tafoya and the neighbors huddled under the purple awning at Sweet’s Sweets. The awning that would have to be fitted to a new window. Sam felt her eyes begin to prickle again.
“Miss Samantha, is all right. See? Is breathing with the mask thing.”
“Oh, Ivan, I know. It’s not that.”
Riki, too, hovered near Sam and with her friends nearby, the emotion let go. She waved them inside her shop where Jen was already pouring lattes all around.
“Mr. Tafoya just gave us an eviction notice,” Jen told Riki and Ivan, as they all took seats at one of the tables.
“Eviction! Well, that is just not going to happen,” Riki said, the Americanism sounding cute with her accent. “Is it, now, Ivan?”
“Certainement pas. Fight this we shall do!”
“How?” Sam moaned. “I can’t afford to take him to court and drag this out. Plus, now that his son will be in the governor’s office, there’s no way I’d win.”
“Let me work on it,” Riki said. “The old man is a branch of the same tree as his son. He’s been hitting on me ever since I moved into this building. Well, as they say, two can play at that game.”
Sam laughed at the image of petite, twenty-something Riki flirting with the seventy-five year old Tafoya and the tension was broken.
“I’ve got to finish Ivan’s cake,” she said, picking up her mug. “You stay and finish your coffee.”
Riki stood, as well. “I shall be visiting our landlord in hospital, right after I finish bathing Toodles—oh no, I left Rasper under the dryer!” She abandoned her latte and dashed out.
By four o’clock Sam had put Tafoya’s threat into perspective. Between momentary bouts of tears, she decided that
if she were forced to move she could do it.
Meanwhile, she’d been too busy to dwell on it. Most of the ambulance watchers had migrated into the shop for pastries and coffee, so the morning had passed quickly. Working on auto-pilot, Sam finished three more custom orders and mixed up dough for afternoon cookies which always came out of the oven as the school kids began walking by on their way home. The chocoholics cake had turned out beautifully and she carried it to the front when Ivan walked into her shop.
Riki came in just as Ivan had finished giving lengthy praise of the way Sam and Becky had duplicated the layout of his store in chocolate. “Is too beautiful to eat,” he kept saying.
“I must say, I think he’s right,” Riki said.
“Well, you decide what you want to do. It won’t keep forever,” Sam told them.
“Oh, Sam, by the way, I think I have news that will make you happy.”
“You talked to Mr. Tafoya?” Sam held her breath.
“In a way.”
“Ohmygod, you didn’t . . .”
Riki’s face screwed up in a grimace. “Get physical? As you Yanks would say, yuk!! I can’t imagine it.”
Sam chuckled out loud.
“No. Basically, I threatened him. Sort of told him that if he evicts you, he might as well put up three ‘To Let’ signs because Ivan and I would move out as well.”
Ivan looked a bit panicky at that news.
“And he caved?” Sam asked.
“Indeed. In this economy he can’t exactly afford to lose three tenants in one day. And it’s not like he would put any of us out of business—there are plenty of empty retail spaces in this town at the moment.” She gave a smug smile. “I might have also mentioned that we have a connection or two in the media these days.”
“So I’m staying?” Sam still couldn’t quite believe it.
“We’re all staying.” Riki gave her a long hug and Ivan murmured something in Russian that involved making the sign of the cross. He took his cake and scooted out the door.
Sam hugged Riki again as the younger woman headed back to her dogs. She held the door for a customer who had her arms full with a boxed sheet cake.
“Have a magical day!” Jen called out to the woman.
Sam raised an eyebrow as the door closed. “Magical?”
“Absolutely. People always mention the special feeling they get in here, the ‘magic.’ I just pass it along.”
Jen polished the rounded glass on the antique display case. “Think about it, Sam. Magic is everywhere. I feel so lucky to stand here and watch the sun rise over the mountain every morning. There’s magic in those big fat snowflakes out there or in golden leaves against a brilliant blue sky.”
“And in that freshest of greens when the trees leaf out in spring?”
“You got it. People just have to look for the magic—I’m only reminding them.”
Sam looked around her shop, taking in the display cases, the smell of fresh rich coffee and spicy chai, the café tables and chairs where customers often lingered with their morning papers and indulged in a second pastry. The windows showcased her latest creations and the beveled glass door and purple awning in front gave the shop the ambiance she’d envisioned for years before it actually opened. Her vision had manifested itself with every bit of the special feeling for which she’d hoped.
Beau walked in, to find her dabbing at her eyes. “What’s this?”
After Sam gave the condensed version of the day’s drama, he smiled. “Well, I have a little good news, myself.” He straightened and pointed at the badge on his chest.
“Sheriff?” Sam said. “They’ve made you sheriff?”
“Acting, temporary sheriff. Somebody has to run things until Padilla’s done facing the music.”
“So, can I hug the sheriff?” She put her arms around his neck before he answered.
Outside, the snowflakes had grown fatter, falling like downy feathers, giving the shrubs a powdered sugar feel. Jen was right. Magic.
More stories with Samantha and Friends!
Samantha Sweet breaks into houses for a living.
But she’s really a baker with a magical touch, who invites you to her delightful pastry shop—Sweet’s Sweets.
Don’t miss the next book in this series!
Holiday Sweets
It’s the Christmas season and a chocolatier shows up at Sam’s shop, offering to create a special line of hand-dipped chocolates for her customers. He is willing to work for no pay, just to prove himself.
But when she learns that he has connections to the wooden box that seems to give Sam her mystical powers, she learns that dark forces may do just about anything to take it away from her.
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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
Holidays Can Be Murder - a Christmas novella
The Samantha Sweet Series
Sweet Masterpiece
Sweet’s Sweets
Sweet’s Sweets
Published by Secret Staircase Books, an imprint of
Columbine Publishing Group
PO Box 416, Angel Fire, NM 87710
Copyright © 2011 Connie Shelton
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher.
Printed and bound in the United States of America
ISBN 1456533509
ISBN-13 978-1456533502
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Although the author and publisher have made every effort to ensure the accuracy and completeness of information contained in this book we assume no responsibility for errors, inaccuracies, omissions, or any inconsistency herein. Any slights of people, places or organizations are unintentional.
Book layout and design by Secret Staircase Books
Cover illustration © Geraktv
First trade paperback edition: January, 2011
First e-book edition: January, 2011
Sweet's Sweets: The Second Samantha Sweet Mystery (The Samantha Sweet Mysteries) Page 21