Spooky Sweet

by Connie Shelton

  An iron fist grabbed her arm and a hand covered her mouth.

  “What the hell are you doing here!” It was Matt.

  Oh, god. He must have spotted her bright hair in the moonlight. She wiggled in his grasp.

  “Don’t make any noise. If Kurt hears you …” His whisper rasped in her ear.

  He gradually removed the hand from her mouth.

  “Matt, what—?”

  “Shh! Kurt will kill us if he sees you out here.” He barely breathed the words.

  “Seriously?”

  “Now. Leave. Go back to the car and hide. I’ll talk to you on the way home.”

  He gave her a little shove in the direction of Wolfe’s uncle’s house, then turned and rushed to join the other men. She dithered for nearly a full minute. If this Kurt really was so dangerous, she should be with her brother, somehow protect him.

  Protect him? What, really, could she do?

  She glanced up at the scary Victorian house. A tiny light gleamed from the basement window—she swore it did—but it died out so quickly she began to wonder if she’d seen it at all. Crossing that big field scared her, but staying around and facing Kurt scared her worse. She pulled up her black hoodie to cover her blond hair and started walking.

  Time crept so slowly as she waited at the car. She’d tried hiding behind the back seat but not being able to see anything drove her nuts. Finally she stood beside the Explorer until she saw the bobbing flashlight beam. With Wolfe’s old Dodge Charger and a strange black pickup parked beside her mom’s vehicle, Sara knew all the men would be milling around. She quickly tucked herself back into her hiding spot in the cargo area.

  Kurt’s was the only voice she heard. She couldn’t make out the words, only the fact they were angry. The pickup started and roared away. Murmurs she could only pick out as Matt’s and Wolfe’s voices, then finally Wolfe’s car started and Matt got into the driver’s seat of the Ford.

  “You back there, Sara?” He said softly.

  “Yeah.”

  “Wait til Wolfe drives away, then you can come up front.”

  He seemed shaken when she got there. “So? What’s in that old place? Is it where you guys hid the money?”

  He nodded with a sigh as he backed out of the driveway.

  “First, we found a spot here, at Wolfe’s uncle’s place. Kurt says we can’t spend the money right away ’cause that’s how they catch guys—trace the money when you try to spend it. Wish he’d told us that before Wolfe and I each snuck out a twenty. Anyway, then Kurt gets all nervous that the uncle or aunt would find it if they come up from Albuquerque for a weekend. So, the old house next door looked good. No one’s touched the place in years so we find a spot in the separate garage behind some old trunks.”

  She chewed at a straggly cuticle and waited to see where he was going with this.

  “Then, like the very next day, this old lady with a van starts showing up. She must have bought the house, or rented it, or I don’t know … Anyhow, she’s there like all the time now. And then the weird shit starts. We try to sneak in at night and the place makes these weird noises. It never did that before. So then she’s switching on lights all over the place and we’re just holding our breath, then the frigging door’s stuck!” He slammed the steering wheel with his palm. “Stuck! A door we had open like just a couple days earlier and then it won’t open for shit. And it’s like this happens every single time that damn bakery van is there.

  “And last night Kurt’s all, ‘Let’s just whack the old biddy and get our money.’ And Wolfe’s all like, ‘You shittin me, man? You seen that sheriff’s car, didn’t you? He’ll come back.’ And I’m thinking maybe the sheriff already knows about the money or else why’s he hanging out there so much.”

  Sara felt her gut clench. Matt was the one with the answers, her big brother. He wasn’t supposed to be scared like this.

  He turned onto their street. “Look, I’m trying to get the money out of there. I want to turn it in, but…”

  That had to be a lie. He was so scared of Kurt he’d never go against him now.

  “It’s just— That place is weird. It’s like the house is blocking us from getting in. The noises, the stuck doors. And now, it’s that lady. She’s put better locks on the doors and I think she’s watching us. We’ll never get our hands on the money.”

  He parked in front of their apartment.

  “So, let’s call in an anonymous tip and tell the sheriff where the money is,” she said.

  They got out of the car and he stared at her across the hood. By the look in his eye, she knew he’d never agree.

  Chapter 40

  Although he hadn’t promised, Bobul showed up the next morning, appearing beside Sam’s van when she got out. She swore he hadn’t been there when she pulled into the driveway. Certain things about this man were just plain scary.

  By the time Benjie arrived, Bobul had shed his big coat and was well into cooking a new batch of special Tanzanian cacao Sam had purchased at an exorbitant price just for Mr. Bookman’s orders.

  She realized with a start they would have to start production for her own shop’s holiday sales within a few weeks, in addition to the travel agency’s contract. Boxed chocolates at Christmas had proven to be one of Sweet’s Sweets best sellers. She made a mental note to order special new containers for the purpose. Now, if only she could convince the master chocolatier to stay around through the holidays.

  She carried the finished candies they’d made yesterday afternoon into the boxing room, thinking about how she might coordinate all this during the next two months, when she saw Lisa pull up next to the house on her bike. The young woman, too, got a startled expression when she walked in and saw Bobul working beside Benjie in the kitchen.

  Sam made quick introductions, to which Lisa smiled nervously and Bobul actually gave a slight bow and said hello. Hmm … more than the usual gruff nod?

  “Wow, these are beautiful,” Lisa said when she saw the new chocolates in the boxing room. “Did he—?” She tilted her head toward the kitchen.

  “Yes. I’m hoping he’ll stay awhile and teach Benjie and me some of these techniques.”

  Sam’s cell phone rang and she stepped out to the foyer so Lisa could concentrate on her work.

  “Hey, Jen, what’s up?”

  “Things are hopping.”

  Sam could hear laughter and voices and pictured the bistro tables at Sweet’s Sweets full of people enjoying their morning coffee and a pastry.

  “Becky asked me to remind you there are some deliveries today. She’s rushing around back there in the kitchen. I think she said two wedding cakes plus a big sheet for … well, I can’t remember the occasion. It’s a little crazy at the moment.”

  “Do I need to do them before noon?”

  “Shall I ask—? Just a sec.” In the background, Jen counted out change and thanked a customer. A shift in the noise level, a murmured conversation with Becky. “She says the sheet cake is due by two o’clock. The others are ready but not expected until early evening.”

  “Tell her I’ll break away around noon, by one o’clock at the latest. Promise.”

  Sam shifted mental gears, trying to sort out how the day would go. Two chocolatiers, one of whom she’d hoped to study from. Two new employees who’d never been left alone before. It would work out somehow. She stashed the phone in her pocket and went back to check on Lisa’s progress. Made a couple of small corrections to the assortments based on the new designs Bobul had introduced.

  In the kitchen, Benjie was intently watching Bobul’s moves with a sculpting tool on a molded pinecone-shaped piece.

  “Miss Sam—is running low, the mint flavor.” Bobul didn’t look up from his work.

  Sam tried to remember the last time she’d taken inventory of her extracts and spices. Some of the items were imported and took longer to ship than others. She assured him she would take care of it and hustled from the room.

  So much for watching and studying the master,
she thought as she surveyed the shelves in the pantry and made a list. Upstairs, she turned on her computer—another task she’d skipped for a whole day—and discovered several bakery orders had arrived by email. This was not good, her missing such crucial details. What if one of them had a deadline and they missed it? Life was supposed to become simpler with separate locations and extra help.

  She leaned back in her chair and forced herself to focus. Her pack lay on the floor beside the desk—would she need to call upon the box again?

  No. I just need to get more organized.

  She printed the new orders. Two were for standard bakery items that were most likely on the shelf at Sweet’s Sweets. Three others called for special-occasion cakes but weren’t due for a few days. She would take the forms with her when she left at noon. Her computer’s clock showed it was already after eleven-thirty.

  She went to two suppliers’ websites and placed orders for the pantry items Bobul needed. A quick check on Lisa’s progress—she would have nearly all the new product boxed before leaving for the day. Another visit to the kitchen where Bobul’s young protégé was making progress in his procedures, although a little clumsily.

  “I have to run to the bakery,” she told them. “Here’s my number if there’s an emergency … Otherwise, I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

  She hoped. It was only slightly nerve-wracking to leave the new crew alone here, although she had no real reason to believe they couldn’t handle the work. All the tasks were pretty straightforward, right?

  Chapter 41

  Sam’s little fantasy of spending the day making elaborate chocolates alongside Bobul disappeared when she walked in the back door at Sweet’s Sweets. She could tell by the hunch of Becky’s shoulders that the boss had better be putting in a little more time here at home base.

  She greeted her decorator with a compliment on the imaginative beach cabana cake she was working on. Fondant red-and-white canopy, vivid yellow umbrellas and children made of modeling chocolate cavorting on brown sugar sand—it all added up to someone’s dream of a break from the already-chilly autumn weather. It was also a lot of extra work for the decorator.

  “I have to admit this one’s been fun,” Becky said. “I’ve made enough autumn leaves and pumpkins this week to require a gardener to clean them up.”

  Sam hugged her shoulders. “Thanks for taking the burden here and for doing such a great job with them.”

  Even Julio brightened a bit when Sam told them she hoped to turn over most of the chocolate-making to the new crew in another week or two. Providing she could get Bobul to stay awhile.

  Out front, Jen was in the process of rearranging the display cases, moving pastries around to fill the gaps where some of her trays were half empty. Two customers occupied tables, one reading an actual, old-fashioned newspaper while the other tapped away on her iPad and chuckled at something on the screen.

  “I already had someone ask if we would be carrying the same hand-dipped chocolates as last year for the holidays,” Jen said. “I assume we will?”

  “Definitely planning on it.” Sam told her about Bobul’s reappearance. “I’m going to ask if he’ll stay, but I want him to train the new guy, Benjie, before I scare him away. He’s not much on commitment.”

  Jen laughed. “Yeah, I remember how he showed up at odd hours and mostly liked working alone.”

  Sam understood. She, too, got more work done on her own. She checked supplies at the beverage bar, noted sugar packets and a couple of teas should be reordered. Added them to her list and went back into the kitchen.

  “Okay, is there anything else I can help with before I head out to make the deliveries?” she asked.

  “What do you think about this?” Becky held out an order form. “The customer wants a Hindu theme and her favorite deity is Ganesh. He’s the ‘remover of obstacles’ but I tell you, I’m running into an obstacle here. Do you see how complicated this guy is? He sits cross-legged on a lotus flower, has four arms and the head of an elephant. Each of his hands holds some little doodad … and he wears a lot of elaborate jewelry.”

  Sam looked at the photograph the customer had supplied.

  “I’d be up for the challenge,” Becky said. “He’s kind of a modeling-chocolate dream. But the lady wants this cake day after tomorrow.”

  “Did she specify the decorative figure be edible?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, how about this?” Sam did a quick sketch, revising. “If the cake is the only edible part, you could do a lot of colorful piping to mimic the jewelry, but the figure itself might be something we purchase.”

  Becky nibbled her upper lip for a minute. “That would be so much simpler. I’ll check with Jen—she actually took the order—and if the customer is agreeable we’ll go that route. Now, where will I get a Hindu figurine on one day’s notice?”

  “This is a very multi-cultural town. I’m sure we can find something. Let me try what works for every situation: I’ll Google it.”

  Sure enough, with a couple of taps on her phone she found a shop called Asian Enlightenment. The owner’s delightful Indian accent informed her that, most assuredly, they carried Ganesh figurines, several versions.

  “I’d better stop by there and pick one,” Sam said. “I’ll do it as soon as I’ve got this sheet cake and the two wedding cakes safely in the customers’ hands.”

  Julio set the oven timer on his apple strudel and helped Sam load the cakes into her van. She looked up at the brilliant blue sky, happy that the previous day’s nasty weather had moved on through, while she planned her delivery route. A very rotund, pregnant young woman met her at the door of a home where the baby shower was taking place later.

  “Oh! Look at the booties!” she shrieked before Sam even introduced herself. “I love it I love it I love it!”

  “Where shall I set the cake?” The board with cake for fifty people was becoming heavy.

  “Oh! Yeah.” The mommy-to-be led her into a large living room decorated with more balloons and streamers than Sam had seen in ages. “Mom!” she shouted. “You have to come see the cake.”

  A women in her forties bustled out of the kitchen and shuffled a few things on the food table so the cake would fit. Sitting in place, the pink-and-blue confection completed the décor perfectly. Sam left the two ladies to admire their party dessert while she scooted on to the next delivery.

  The first wedding cake, a smallish three-tier, went to the reception hall at a church where Sam found only the custodian present. Ah yes, he told her, the Miller wedding was at six o’clock and she should just leave the cake in the church kitchen. At the moment an empty punchbowl and several stacks of white china plates were the only evidence of the upcoming party. Surely some churchy ladies would be along at some point to set things up and decorate; at least the man was willing to sign her delivery receipt.

  Becky had outdone herself on the other, an extravagant five-tier cake with separate bride and groom cakes to go alongside. The banquet hall at one of the bigger hotels was the venue, and Sam found catering staff already on site, bringing food in by the truckloads. The ballroom was lavishly decorated in shades of purple and gold. Two hotel staffers helped her load the cakes onto a wheeled cart and set them in place.

  On to Ganesh. She found the Asian shop, a tiny slot in a strip of other small businesses, its front windows draped with silk hangings. Inside, the place felt like a thousand-year-old pawn shop with glass cases full of tiny items. Shelves to the ceiling held dusty candles and bottles of things Sam had never heard of with names like Ashwaganda and Chakra Balance. There was no point in browsing—a person could spend a week in here. She walked up to the counter where a slight man in white linen greeted her.

  “I called earlier about a Ganesh figurine,” she said.

  “Ah, yes. The remover of obstacles. He is your man.” His accent made her think of a program she’d once watched on yoga, where the instructor spoke in a tone so reassuring and soothing she’d wanted
to listen to him all day. Except he soothed her so much she’d almost immediately dozed off.

  The man placed three statuettes on the counter. One was bronze colored with subtle painted highlights—the jewelry and the figure’s pants glowed in tones of rose and turquoise. Sam picked it up and discovered it truly was cast bronze, much too heavy to sit on top of a cake. Not to mention the price tag, at over fifty dollars, eliminated it from the running. The second was white and very small. She instantly decided it would appear too skimpy for their needs. And the third one was, to quote Goldilocks, just right. It included the detailing of the first, but was made from a lightweight resin or plastic—at least it was a classy plastic. And it only cost seven dollars, well within her budget for a cake topper. She declined gift wrap, paid, and thanked the man when he bowed and said “Namaste.” She had no idea what the appropriate response should have been.

  Back at the bakery, Becky had made good progress on the cake to go with the new topper. Draped in burgundy fondant, the bottom tier’s color was nearly a perfect match for the statue’s pants.

  “Thanks, Sam.” Becky’s mood had definitely elevated in the past two hours. “Hm, you smell like incense.”

  “Guess I didn’t notice it on myself but everything in that shop was heavy with it.”

  “So, this is the color I was thinking of for the second tier,” Becky said, holding up a ball of fondant in a soothing sea-blue. I found this design,” she said, showing a complex poster on her phone screen. “So I’ll try to copy the overall feel and go with touches of these colors.”