Sweets Galore: The Sixth Samantha Sweet Mystery (The Samantha Sweet Mysteries)

by Shelton, Connie

  Stop it, Sam. Don’t read too much into it.

  Beau ushered them up the steps and opened the front door. Sam left the kitchen and met them in the living room.

  “Mother, I—”

  Nina Rae came forward and took Sam by the shoulders, giving her daughter the same perusal she’d done outdoors, trying to see if anything looked different. Howard stepped over and put his arms around both of them. The strange group hug broke off, leaving Chub and Bessie no alternative but to offer perfunctory hugs of heir own. Sam had to wonder how much they knew about her situation. Finally, Lily. This embrace felt genuine, as her favorite aunt held her and whispered in her ear, “This too shall pass, honey.”

  Sam closed her eyes for a moment, working at composure.

  Not to be outdone, Nina Rae moved in for a second awkward hug. It was a warmer welcome than Sam had expected, but then she remembered Beau hadn’t exactly told them she’d spent the night in jail. Maybe they could continue to gloss over that little fact.

  “I need to tell you some things,” Sam said when they’d backed off a little. “Let’s go sit down.”

  They complied—Sam imagined a little stiffly—taking seats on the sofa while Sam and Beau flanked them in the armchairs beside the fireplace.

  “I don’t know how much you’ve heard so I’ll just start at the beginning. When I left Texas and went to Alaska that summer after graduation, I met this guy named Jake Calendar . . .” The rest of it came out easily enough, up to and including how he’d come to Taos recently and met his daughter for the first time. How some of his behavior disappointed Kelly and as far as Sam knew he’d planned to leave town and not pursue a relationship.

  “Whatever might have been, it won’t happen now. Jake died on Friday, I’m afraid under suspicious circumstances.”

  She glanced toward Beau and he gave her an encouraging smile.

  “Then we come to this past Saturday,” she said, taking a breath. “The police do have some evidence against me, but it’s pretty circumstantial and my attorney believes they will end up dropping all the charges. Until they do, though, Beau and I feel that we should wait to get married.” Because what if they actually do manage to send me to prison? She didn’t say it.

  “Charges? My lord . . .” Her mother’s face had gone pale. “Samantha Jane, no one in our family has ever been arrested before. Well, there was that one time with Joe Bob in high school and them kids who got to drinking and carousing, but that was before he married into— See, what I mean to say is—”

  Howard spoke up: “Let’s just be supportive, Mama. Sammy needs us to love her and not judge.”

  Sheesh—had they been judging?

  Chub looked to his brother. When he spoke it was to echo Howard’s words. Bessie nodded too. Lily, who had been standing behind the sofa, slipped over to Sam’s side and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  “Oh, Samantha, your daddy is right. I’m sorry,” said Nina Rae. “We’re behind you no matter what, honey. Daddy and I will stay right here in town as long as you need us.”

  Lily knelt beside Sam. “I’ll send Buster on home. I can stay too.”

  “There’s no need,” Sam said, touched by the gesture. “There’s really nothing anyone can do, except for Beau. He’s got feelers out in law enforcement circles and we’ll get the answers.”

  Lily held Sam’s hand tightly. “Are you certain? Please, call us if there’s anything . . .”

  Bessie echoed the offer, then the three of them said their goodbyes. Sam watched, a lump in her throat, as the car pulled down the long drive.

  “I meant what I said, no matter what anyone else does,” said Nina Rae. “Your daddy and I are staying to get you through this.”

  To see that I really do get married.

  “That’s your call, Nina Rae,” Beau said. “Sam and I will be pretty busy, though. It’s obvious that the police aren’t looking seriously at any other suspects, so it’s going to be up to us to find out who really did this. I know your daughter.” He sent a smile Sam’s direction. “She’s not going to give up and she’s not going to sit by and hope for the best. She’ll be working on this thing right alongside me.”

  No one brought up the fact that Chief Pete Sanchez could make that problematic for both of them.

  Chapter 12

  Sam didn’t sit still while Beau drove her parents back to the bed and breakfast. She phoned Mark Nelson and requested a meeting, called the bakery to be sure things were running well and to reassure the employees that she was fine.

  “Do not discuss Jake Calendar with anyone who comes in,” she told Jen. “If the police ask questions, you’ll have to answer. But do it privately and tell no one else. The business can’t afford to get caught up in some kind of vicious gossip mill.”

  “Absolutely, Sam,” Jen assured her. “I’ll pass that along to the others.”

  Sam felt a little of her tension ease away.

  “We can see the lawyer at three,” she told Beau when he came back. “What can we do in the meantime?”

  They sat down with notepads and began to make a plan.

  “First, who else in town knew Jake Calendar?” Beau asked.

  Their list wasn’t particularly reassuring: Sam, Kelly, and the girlfriend Evie.

  “I’ll track her down. Was she local or did she arrive with him from California?”

  “California, I think.”

  “With any luck, maybe she has stayed in town. If the police didn’t ask her to hang around, I will. I can make her believe I have the authority to do that.” He stared at his page. “We still don’t have much of a list.”

  “Wait, there’s also that guy who tried to audition for him,” Sam said. “Kelly said Jake publicly embarrassed him. That could be a motive. I can find him. He left a phone number when he ordered the cake.”

  “I wonder who’s claiming the body,” Beau mused. “Do you remember if he had family? Otherwise, it might be up to Kelly.”

  A responsibility her daughter didn’t want or need. She tapped her pen against the yellow notepad.

  “Way back, years ago, Jake talked about his parents some. But I got the impression they’ve been gone for awhile. I honestly don’t remember anything about siblings. Jake mentioned being married more than once. I suppose we could try to find out who the ex-wives are.” Would an ex really want this task?

  Beau jotted a note on his list. “I can make an inquiry. My contact in the PD will surely let me know that much. Hopefully, the victim’s wallet or cell phone provided a contact.”

  “I wish I’d gotten specific information about this Tustin Deor he was working with. If that story was even true. Jake was always such a schemer. He might have been bullshitting that whole line.”

  They each had a page of notes and a couple of assignments. “We better get busy,” Beau said. “Especially if I hope to get to Evie Madsen before she leaves town.”

  “I’ll be at Mark Nelson’s office at three o’clock. Join us if you can. I’m sure you can think of questions I should ask him.”

  “Mainly, what we want from him is to know what evidence the police have against you. If he hasn’t started gathering it yet, be sure he shares whatever he gets, as he gets it.”

  She gave him a little salute and picked up her pack. The early afternoon traffic was light and she made it to the center of town within fifteen minutes. Parking her pickup truck behind Sweet’s Sweets she spotted Kelly carrying a trash bag from Puppy Chic out to the dumpster. Kelly dropped the bag and ran over to hug Sam.

  “Oh god, Mom, how awful for you last night.”

  “I’m okay. We’re working on finding out what really happened. Meanwhile, we’re not talking about this to anyone outside the family. Okay?”

  “Absolutely. If you need any help. Anything at all . . .”

  “I will let you know. Beau and I are hoping to find some answers today. Grandma and Grandpa are staying town until there’s a wedding, and that can’t happen too soon for me either.”

&
nbsp; Kelly nodded knowingly. “Just say the word.”

  Sam walked into her shop, happy to see that Becky and Julio were busy with their normal duties. Becky gave her a sympathetic smile.

  “Zoë’s husband brought your cake back. It’s in the fridge.”

  “I’m sorry you guys wasted your Saturday afternoon,” Sam said.

  They gave the same reassurances she’d been hearing all day. Jen heard Sam’s voice from the sales room and peeked through the curtain, adding her own good wishes.

  “I need the order page for that cake we did last week, the audition piece,” Sam said.

  She went to her desk and rummaged through the folder of finished orders. Valentino’s order was near the top and she jotted down the phone number he’d given. While she was trying to decide what approach to take when she talked to him, her phone rang.

  “Sam? I’m so sorry to bother you with this now,” Zoë said. “I just looked at my bookings. I’m full up all week, starting tonight, people who booked months ago.”

  “Explain it to my mother. She’ll understand.”

  “Shall I send them to a hotel?”

  Oh boy. After what she’d put them through already . . . Sam couldn’t add insult to injury. “I’ll have to clear space in Iris’s old room, but that’s doable. Have them pack up their stuff and I’ll figure out something by this afternoon.”

  When, exactly, that would happen Sam had no idea. It was already after two and she had the meeting with Mark Nelson at three. And she needed to squeeze in a quick visit to Vic Valentino if she could find him. She dialed his number.

  “Victor Garcia’s residence,” a young-sounding female voice said.

  “I’m trying to reach Vic Valentino. Do I have the right number?”

  “Oh my god, yes! You must be from You’re The Star. He really needs this call. He was so upset the other night. He thought your judge rejected him, but now if you’re calling back . . .”

  This was one of those instances where giving the truthful response wasn’t going to get her what she needed.

  “I’d like to meet very quickly,” she said. “Could I come by the house? I just need directions.”

  And just that fast, she had a way to find Valentino. She pulled up in front of the apartment the girl had described, a two-story tan stucco building full of sliding doors and narrow iron-railed balconies painted turquoise. The Del Ray Apartments might have once been a cheap motel, for all the building’s charm. Unit 1-J was on the ground floor at the west end. A skinny sidewalk led to a courtyard of sorts, one that might have once been landscaped but now consisted of gravel and a few spiky agave plants that could gore you to death if you came home drunk one night. Sam tapped at the door.

  Vic Valentino opened it and his smile drooped. “You’re the bakery lady. Maria said you were from the show.”

  “Well, I didn’t quite say that,” Sam said. How much should she tell him? “I said I needed to talk to you about the show.”

  “Oh my god, I’m getting a second chance!”

  Vic backed into the apartment and Sam followed, closing the door behind her. He paced the floor of the miniscule living room, taking three lengths of it in under a minute, mumbling something about what he would wear.

  “Will this audition be for a different judge?” he asked, coming to halt in front of her. “One of those pretty girls I saw? I think I’d have better luck with female judges. Maybe one of them would see my performance now.”

  He must be talking about Evie and Kelly, who were both standing on the sidewalk with Jake when Vic received the grand rejection. Of course, he didn’t know that Sam knew about that.

  She shook her head. “Vic, I don’t really have any inside information about the show itself. I was just wondering whether you ever got the chance to sing for Mr. Calendar.”

  “I tried to.” He told her that he’d met up with Jake outside the hotel, glossing over the details that Kelly had told her, not mentioning the cake at all. “He was kind of busy at the time.”

  “Did you make another appointment to see him again after that?”

  “I tried. I hung around the lobby of the La Fonda the next day. I thought about trying to take him another bakery present.”

  Her interest perked up. “Did you? Take him something?”

  “Nah, I chickened out. He didn’t exactly appreciate the cake like I thought he would. The guy turned out to be a total asshole.”

  Clearly he didn’t like the way Jake had treated him—who wouldn’t be resentful of that?— but Sam didn’t detect the kind of anger that would drive Vic Valentino, or Garcia or whatever his name really was, to kill. This guy still had grand hopes for getting on the talent show. She would see if anything turned up on Beau’s background check before completely writing him off. She talked her way out of Valentino’s needy clutches and drove away from the Del Ray Apartments, deciding to cut through on Bent Street to reach Mark Nelson’s law office without having to drive through Plaza traffic.

  Shoppers filled the sidewalks along the narrow street and Sam slowed, knowing that in tourist mode it wasn’t uncommon for some little old man to step out into traffic to get a picture of a crumbling adobe wall. A bright pink sweater caught her attention and she realized that the young woman filling it was none other than Evie Madsen.

  Evie, it seemed, wasn’t wasting a lot of time grieving for Jake. She was laughing at something a man next to her must have said. A horn tooted behind Sam’s truck and she picked up her pace a little. So Evie was still in town.

  Sam turned right at the next intersection, drove a block, and found the law office. Sitting in the parking lot she quickly dialed Beau’s cell.

  “I spotted Evie,” she said, telling him where the girl had been walking.

  “Good. When I called the hotel they couldn’t tell me if she was still staying there. I’ll cruise around and see if I can pick her up and have a little chat.”

  Sam described Evie and her clothing, then gave him a heads-up on her parents’ impending stay. “I better get to that meeting with Nelson now, but I’ll go home after that and make the room ready for them,” she told him.

  From the street the offices of Nelson and Gravitz looked like any of a hundred other traditional adobe buildings in Taos. Mud brown walls, wood framed windows painted blue, wrought iron lettering spelling out the name of the firm. Inside, Sam discovered, the attorneys had given themselves the creature comforts that come with success. Deep leather sofas and chairs in the waiting room, heavy Mexican desks, custom crafted end tables, pricey art by Gorman and Peña. It was a man’s world, one meant to let the client know why he was the loser and his attorney was the winner in life’s lottery. Through their brilliance, this successful team would save you from prison and line their own pockets handily.

  She hoped her own case would be resolved for less than the cost of a Gorman painting, realizing with a jolt that if the prosecutor really pressed it, she might have to sell her house to save her life.

  She managed a wan smile at the sleek receptionist who greeted her. When the girl left to announce her, Sam blinked hard and gave herself a little pep talk. Financial ruin wasn’t in her future. She and Beau would find out the truth.

  She hoped.

  “Samantha, good to see you again, under better circumstances this time. Did Chloe offer you some tea?”

  “Thank you, no,” Sam said. No way I’m spending time on chit-chat with someone who costs nearly ten bucks a minute.

  She followed Mark Nelson through a series of hallways which revealed a number of small offices and a lot more employees than she would have imagined. By the time they reached his private office and she’d taken a seat, she’d probably spent fifty dollars.

  On the drive over, she’d thought of telling him exactly what she and Beau planned to do but decided against it. One, he might try to talk her out of doing anything and, two, she didn’t want to pay to hear herself talk. She was here to get her hands on whatever information the Taos Police might have against her
.

  Nelson hesitated when she asked to see the file but he finally pulled it out. “If you were ever close to the victim, Sam, you won’t want to see the photos. Death by poisoning isn’t pretty.”

  “Beau will want copies,” she said. “I’ll settle for letting him look them over. Mainly, I’d like to know exactly what the police have that they feel warranted charging me with this crime.”

  “It’s largely circumstantial,” Nelson said as he flipped through some pages. “Cupcake from your shop, your prints on the bag, poison that you had readily at your disposal, and the big fight you had with the victim.”

  She didn’t spend time refuting or explaining. That could happen if they ever had to prepare for a trial. Right now, she and Beau needed leads—any leads.

  “The firm has a private investigator who handles the sort of thing you want to do,” he explained. “He’s a professional.”

  The tone said ‘leave it alone’ but she wasn’t listening. Beau was better at investigating than ninety percent of the local PIs, and he had a vested interest in getting this solved quickly.

  “Just the copies, please. That’s all I need for now. We can plan strategy later, once we know everything we’re dealing with.” She offered up a wide smile with the request.

  He stalled with more friendly-sounding advice, but she held her ground until he called an assistant in to begin copying the contents of the folder.

  Chapter 13

  “Darlin’ I’m proud of you,” Beau said with a grin when she handed over the attorney’s folder. “I half expected him to pat you on the head and tell you to get your beauty sleep and just leave the heavy lifting to him.”

  “He did. But I karate-chopped his hand and then sat on him.”

  He laughed out loud; it was the first time in two days she’d heard that cherished sound. The two of them were in his mother’s former bedroom, stowing boxes of her things that they hadn’t sorted since she passed away in January, making closet space, dusting furniture. Sam had stripped the bed linens and found fresh ones in the closet. A candle and some flowers, and the room would be as nice for her parents’ visit as any hotel. She couldn’t match Zoë’s fabulous breakfasts but she had a sneaking feeling her mother was about to commandeer her kitchen anyway. Biscuits and gravy for breakfast were her specialty; Sam thought of her waistline again and vowed to avoid them.