Spooky Sweet

by Connie Shelton

  The sun was low in the sky when he hit the eastern edge of Taos. Sam would probably be tied up at least another hour. He debated calling her, decided she had too many balls in the air already without trying to meet his schedule.

  He spotted Charlotte’s Place and pulled in. He’d meant to get back much sooner and talk to R.G. about the day the money showed up here. An afternoon cup of coffee would work as an excuse for the visit.

  The café was nearly empty when he walked in. R.G. and Claudine were chatting with Maria, the cook. Claudine was one of those always-busy sorts—at the moment she was wrapping cutlery in paper napkins. A customer stood near the register talking to Sandy Bartles as she rang up a purchase. The woman carried her bag of donuts out.

  “Afternoon, Sheriff,” said Sandy. “What’ll it be?”

  “Coffee would perk me up,” he said, taking a stool at the short counter.

  “If you don’t mind a little wait, I’ll brew some fresh. I think this pot’s been here since lunch.”

  He matched her grimace. “Make it an iced tea then.”

  R.G. stepped over and asked Beau if he’d caught the game over the weekend. Beau had to think a minute. The days had flown by and he couldn’t remember. He shook his head and let Roy describe the final touchdown that gave Denver the win over Dallas.

  Sandy brought his tea and provided the opening he wanted when she asked about the poor woman in the hospital.

  “She’s still about the same, I’m afraid,” Beau said. “I’ve been checking every day. I wonder whether you all have seen any more sign of that young kid in black, the one who was here right before the money was found?”

  Claudine looked up from the cutlery bin and shook her head. “I haven’t. R.G., have you seen that kid again?”

  He admitted he hadn’t.

  Sandy spoke up. “I’ve been thinking about it. I may have an idea who it was.”

  Beau was suddenly all ears.

  “There was this family who used to come in here a lot. The dad always had number twelve, the huevos rancheros, mom ate scrambled egg and toast—watching her figure, maybe, although she was already thin as a rail. Two kids, a boy and a girl. They were here, like, every Sunday morning for ages. I’d guess the kids were middle-school age. The girl had that sulky teen attitude sometimes.”

  He felt like pressing Sandy’s fast-forward button.

  “You said they used to come in? Not recently?”

  “Yeah … no. It’s been at least a couple years since I saw them all. I heard the dad was killed—a car crash down near Santa Fe, I think? I’m not sure what ever happened to the rest of the family. Maybe hit hard times, maybe had to move away.”

  “But you think this kid who was here the other day was the son?”

  “Not the son, no. I think it was the little girl. She had super-light blonde hair. The boy was dark-haired.”

  Rupert had thought the waif-like person could be female. And the light blonde hair reminded Beau of the kid he’d seen at the hospital.

  “You know her name?”

  A negative shake of the head.

  “What about the family surname?”

  Sandy stared up toward the ceiling, thinking hard. “It should be right there on the tip of my tongue. I always said hi, Mrs. … whatever … I just don’t remember it now.”

  A stir near the front door caught Beau’s attention. Great. Bubba Boudreaux was back.

  “Call me, would you?” he said, handing Sandy his card. “If you can think of that family’s name. It’s very important.” He had a feeling about it. This could be the connection they’d been looking for.

  “Hey there, Sheriff!” Bubba’s larger-than-life voice filled the place. “You got my reward money yet?”

  The man wore a smile on his chubby face but Beau knew he was perfectly serious beneath the har-har attitude.

  “Sorry, Bubba, not today.” He left cash beside his tea glass, plenty for the beverage and a generous tip.

  Bubba trailed him to the door. “Well, don’t forget where that money come from, how it was found right here in my place.”

  Beau’s jaw clenched and he forced a tight smile. “I haven’t forgotten.”

  He escaped to the cruiser. Argh! The nerve of the man.

  He started his vehicle and pulled away, hoping Sam would be home in time for dinner. Meanwhile, he could feed and water the horses and play with the dogs a bit to shed himself of the day’s tension.

  Chapter 45

  “Friggin’ old house!”

  Sara had approached the apartment in the dark, was nearly to their front door, when she heard the rant. Someone was cussing up a storm. She saw Matt standing near Mom’s Explorer, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else on earth.

  “I swear, I have tried everything and can’t get in there. The damn window glass won’t even break. And now the old lady has other people hanging around.”

  The older guy—skinny, jittery Kurt with the bad skin—who’d been at their place a few times was blocking Matt’s path to the apartment. This was the first time she’d gotten a clear view of him. His screaming face was almost purple with rage. The way his fists clenched, Sara was afraid he intended to hit her brother.

  She wanted to duck inside and lock the door but something snapped.

  “Hey!” she shouted. “You leave him alone!” She took a few brave steps toward them.

  The man spun toward the sound of her voice.

  “Who’s this?”

  Matt spoke up. “Leave her alone. Sara, go inside. This is nothing to do with you.”

  “Wait a minute … wait a minute. Your little sis?” The guy’s expression switched from angry to friendly.

  Matt stiffened and Sara stood frozen to the spot. She felt her defenses go up.

  “Little sis, you could help us out with a small problem we have,” he said, an oily smile on his face. He had rotten teeth and about a million zits. Her guts began to churn.

  “There’s an old lady who’s not letting us get something that belongs to us,” he said. His breath made her want to back away but she was stuck in place.

  He was talking about more of that money—she knew he was.

  “The lady would trust a sweet little thing like you. She’d let you inside and allow you to take back our property for us.”

  Matt stirred. “Kurt … no—”

  “Shut up!” It was creepy how quickly this guy switched the rage on and off.

  He turned back to Sara with the gross smile again. “We’d give you a ride over there.”

  Like I’d get into a car with you.

  “You’d go up to the door and ask real nice, say you used to live there and you left some things behind …”

  Oh, yeah, and she’ll just believe me and give me anything I want?

  “We get our property back, we’re done.” His eyes sparkled. “And we aren’t forced to hurt the old lady.”

  “Kurt! You can’t mean—” Matt’s fists were clenched at his sides.

  “I can mean any damn thing I please.” Kurt’s voice was barely above a whisper, scarier than when he shouted. “I’m giving this thing one more try tonight. I don’t get my money, tomorrow when that bakery lady’s there, we’re going with little Miss Plan B here.”

  Sara felt her last meal rise in her throat.

  Chapter 46

  Sam took off her work clothes, dropping them into the hamper in the master bathroom, and let the hot shower soothe her muscles and clear her mind. Too many little things niggled at her—new employees, the sudden appearance of Bobul, trying to keep her two locations operating at top efficiency. Bobul’s words about the old house and the box—his surprise announcement made it sound as if the two inanimate objects could somehow communicate. Standing here in the shower put perspective on all of it. The changes to her business would sort themselves out and begin to run smoothly. Invisible connections between a house and a box? She said the words aloud and laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

  Still laughing, she s
hut off the water. She toweled off and dressed in her oldest, softest pair of sweats and ran her fingers through her hair. She heard a sound downstairs and realized Beau had come home.

  “Hey,” he said. “Looks like you just did exactly what I want to do—a hot shower and comfy clothes.”

  “It’s all yours.” She snuggled into his hug for an extra-long moment. “If you don’t mind, I was thinking of super-simple for dinner tonight. I’ve got one of those thin crust pizzas you like in the freezer.”

  “Fine with me.”

  She kissed him. “I’ll start the oven.”

  How did I get so lucky? she asked herself for probably the four-thousandth time since she’d known him. Beau was probably the easiest-to-please husband in the world.

  By the time he came back downstairs she’d put the pizza into the oven and set the timer.

  “Ten more minutes,” she said. “Beer, soda or wine with it?”

  “I’ll just grab a beer.” He started for the fridge when his cell phone rang. “Ugh. This better not be an emergency. I am officially and completely off duty tonight.”

  He looked at the readout on his screen and apparently didn’t recognize the number. His expression changed to a smile after the caller spoke.

  “Yes, Sandy, what have you got for me?” A couple of nods and uh-huhs and he clicked off the call. He reached for the notepad Sam kept near the fridge for her shopping list and made a note on a blank page.

  “Hopefully, this will turn out to be a good lead,” he said, twisting the cap on his beer. “One of the café employees remembered the family name of the girl she thinks brought in that bag of money Rupert found.”

  Sam had nearly forgotten how the whole mystery of the armored car robbery had begun. She was about to ask if they’d had any other breaks in the case when the oven timer buzzed.

  “If this name isn’t listed in the phone book, I’ll have to use office resources to find them. Plus, it could turn out to be a complete dead end. We don’t know it’s the same girl and only an interview with her will tell me if she knows anything. It’s definitely not something I need to do tonight.” He sniffed the air as Sam took the pizza from the oven. “Tonight is time for the two of us.”

  They carried plates and glasses to the living room and settled into their favorite chairs to watch a TV series about a family in Alaska who seemed to live on caribou meat and who chopped firewood almost nonstop. For some reason—probably the fact that they didn’t have to do those things themselves—they’d become hooked on the never-ending drama of it.

  Tonight, Sam found herself unable to concentrate on television. Two slices of pizza and a glass of wine might be contributing factors, she decided as she turned her thoughts away from the upcoming holidays and how she might produce enough chocolate for the season if she was unable to convince Bobul to stay. Take on new problems as they arise, not way ahead of the game.

  Beau had gathered their plates and she realized he’d asked a question on their way to the kitchen.

  “… if you’d have the time?”

  “Sorry. I’m drifting tonight.” She put their plates in the sink.

  He went to the freezer and got out the butter pecan ice cream while he rephrased the question. “I was wondering if you might have time tomorrow to go by the hospital with me to check again on Tansy Montoya. She seemed to improve a little after the first time you went, and I thought maybe …”

  Solid, common-sense Beau would never come right out and mention the box, but she knew what he meant.

  “It’s just that her family has so little hope these days,” he said. “I see her elderly mother almost reaching the breaking point. And those little kids. The doctors are being kind but they seem to have reached the bottom of their bag of tricks. They’ve done all they can do with medical science.”

  “And you think I might just have something extra in my own bag of tricks.” She gave him a teasing smile. “Sure. I’d be happy to do anything I can.”

  Sometimes the healing touch worked, sometimes it didn’t. Sam knew this. She couldn’t fully explain it—even to herself, much less to him. She hoped Beau understood.

  By five o’clock the next morning, she’d spent a restless night with images of the box and warnings from Bobul drifting through her dreams. What if the chocolatier’s concerns about some bad person were correct? And Isobel St. Clair’s warnings about keeping the box safe from those at OSM?

  Beau was up and moving early, as well. Over a quick cup of coffee in the kitchen, they’d discussed paying a very early visit to the hospital. Sam found herself dithering as she held the box and let it warm her hands. She wanted to help Tansy but was unsure whether it was smart to carry the box with her this morning.

  She veered toward the hidden safe on her way to the front door. Lock it up? Take it along?

  Beau was waiting in his cruiser, their plan being that Sam would follow along and they would visit the hospital before either of them got wrapped up in their normal workday. She glanced toward the closet again. To get the maximum effect, she’d better take the box with her. She gave the golden wood one final stroke and zipped it securely into her backpack.

  At the hospital, Sam parked next to Beau’s cruiser. She looked at the box once again. The wood had gone dark, the stones dull and quiet. She left it inside her pack but reached to touch the lumpy wood surface. At once, the earlier glow returned.

  Here we go, she thought as she locked the van and walked alongside Beau into the hospital and up the elevator.

  Chapter 47

  It was a little after seven when Beau kissed Sam, sending her on her way after the visit with Tansy Montoya. Hoping his wife’s healing touch would work on the comatose woman was a longshot—he knew that. Tansy’s mother had been sitting at the bedside when they arrived. The poor woman looked ten years older every time he saw her, which made her about a hundred-twenty now. Her own health wasn’t good, she’d told Beau the first time they met. Last year, she’d moved in with Tansy to help with the children but mainly for the personal and financial help her daughter could offer.

  He’d guided the poor woman out of the ICU, suggesting a cup of tea and giving Sam some time alone with the patient. When they walked away, Sam was standing beside Tansy, stroking her arm gently. By the time he and Mrs. Montoya came back from the cafeteria, Sam was waiting for him near the nurse’s station. She gave a subtle headshake to let Beau know there’d been no change.

  Now, with nothing more to accomplish at the hospital, they’d left the Montoyas alone and were off to begin their respective workdays.

  “I’m holding on to hope,” Sam said as she slid into her van. “My cures don’t always happen immediately. Shall I check back with the nurse later in the day?”

  “That’s okay. They know to call me if she wakes up and can talk. I’ll let you know.” Another kiss. “Thanks, darlin’. You’re the best.”

  He watched her start the van and pull out of the parking lot. Next on his list was to try to track down the girl whose family connection Sandy supplied last night, see if he might net some usable clue about that stolen money. He phoned his deputy.

  “Hey Rico,” Beau said, starting his cruiser when the deputy answered. “I’m on my way. Wonder if you can do a little research for me? Family name is Cook. C-O-O-K. Head of household is Julia Cook. I need an address.”

  “I’ll get on it, boss.”

  “I’ll be there in ten. If you have the info sooner, call me back.”

  Beau pulled out of the hospital parking lot, ignoring radio chatter about other things his men could handle. Today, he was determined to make headway in this robbery case. He and Beason had a good start with Rudy Vasquez in Springer and the admissions the guard had made yesterday. Now, if Beau could only tie it all together with the money—how and why it had ended up in Taos and who the actual gunman was. He would love a big break but knew these things were usually a matter of piecing the case together, like a jigsaw puzzle, adding each little clue until it all made sense
.

  He drove past the plaza where traffic always backed up a bit, thinking through the scraps of information they had. Two guards whose stories were beginning to diverge, site of the robbery itself with no clues, sliced-open money bags found at the picnic area, duffle with a hundred-thou cash at the restaurant, one of the bills being spent at a convenience store, the armored car company manager who’d been helpful at first and a bit dodgy later, a possible drug connection, a missing girl who might know something. It was like having chunks of the puzzle put together but no big picture—no way to know how the little scenes interlocked.

  He parked in his assigned slot, got out of his cruiser and keyed the entry code into the pad at the back door. Rico was at his own desk, phone to his ear.

  “Glad you’re here, Sheriff. I was just about to call.” He held up a small sheet of paper. “Here’s that address you wanted. Your source was right—first name is Julia. Julia Cook. The address is on Royal Street. It’s one of those little apartment buildings with about a dozen units.”

  “Okay, good. I’ll run over there now. It’s early enough I might catch them before everyone scatters for work and school.”

  His shoulder mike squawked.

  “Yeah, Dixie. I’m in the building.”

  “Oh, good,” came the fuzzy, electronic response. “There’s someone here to see you.”

  “I was about to head out. Can anyone else—?”

  “This seems urgent, Sheriff. She’s pretty upset.”

  “I’ll come up front.” He stuffed Rico’s note with the address into his shirt pocket.

  Beau walked past his own office, down a hallway where Dixie sat at the dispatcher’s desk. She pointed toward the door that separated public rooms from the staff offices. When Beau opened it he saw a teenage girl, thin to the point of emaciation, dressed in black jeans and hoodie that hung off her small frame. Her pale blonde hair stuck out in tangles, as if she’d gotten up from a sleepless night and run her hands through her fuzzy locks. Her blue eyes were wide, rimmed in red to match the bright tip of her nose. The desk sergeant had ushered the young girl into a waiting area so she couldn’t easily make a dash for the front door, which seemed a distinct possibility right now.