Beau tilted his head toward the teen and gave Nieto a questioning glance.
“I don’t know. She won’t talk to me. Afraid I’ll call her dad, probably.”
Beau stepped in front of Daisy. “Okay, what’s your side of this?”
Another loud clatter from the back room, and a woman’s voice shouted, “Don’t you tell him anything!”
“She’s locked up,” Beau said to the teen. “It’s better if you tell me.”
Daisy shook her head and wouldn’t meet Beau’s eye.
“I’ll get you a ride to the station and we can talk about it there,” Beau said, keying his shoulder mike and requesting a deputy to come by.
He turned back to Nieto, who said, “I think it’s some version of the classic Diamond Ring con game. Two people seemingly find a valuable item at the same time and decide to either sell or pawn it and split the money. Usually, only the dupe comes into the shop while the pro waits outside.”
“Daisy? Is that about what happened?” Beau asked.
She sniffed loudly and nodded. Another loud rattle came from the back room.
“Mr. N.?” Her voice came out thin and scared.
Nieto patted her shoulder. “I’ll press charges, Sheriff, as long as Daisy doesn’t get in trouble. It’s the other woman who instigated this.”
“Look, Daisy,” Beau said. “You’re not being arrested or anything. I just need you to go to our station and help my deputy write a report about this.”
Right on cue, another department cruiser pulled up in front of the shop and Deputy Walters got out. Daisy was shaking by this time, and they got her safely stowed in the back seat.
“We’ll put the other one in my SUV,” Beau told Walters. “I might use your help to get her there. She sounds like a tiger.”
Sure enough, when they approached the heavy wire enclosure in the back of the pawn shop, they got an earful from the prisoner, a petite Anglo woman with wild blonde hair, flashing blue eyes, and the mouth of a sailor.
“What’s your name, ma’am?” Beau asked.
“Nonna Yurbidness.”
“Cute. Do you have some identification?”
She stared defiantly at him. From the doorway, Nieto spoke up. “She wasn’t carrying a purse when she came in.”
Beau pulled handcuffs from his belt and ordered the captive to turn around. “You’re under arrest for attempted robbery and damage to property.” When she didn’t move, he said, “We can easily add resisting arrest to the charges, ma’am. You don’t want to make this harder than it needs to be.”
Nieto unlocked the door to the pen, Walters stood back and covered her with his weapon, while Beau cuffed her wrists. Her hellcat manner turned sullen as they marched her out to the cruiser.
Chapter 25
Sam stared in dismay at the shelf with all her food flavorings. There was not a single thing here she hadn’t already used in the chocolates her company was providing for Book It Travel. Now Mr. Bookman wanted ‘new and unusual’ for his exclusive upscale charter trips that would take the jet set crowd around the world. She chewed on the end of her pen.
Think, Sam, think!
A flash of a vision, the quirky chocolatier from Romania who had showed up unexpectedly several times—Bobul. If only he were here right now, he would surely stare at this shelf and pluck a couple of flavors she’d never think of combining, and his concoction would be fantastic. Or he would have some new magical thing in that scruffy bag of his, some little pinch of wonderfulness that would transform ordinary chocolate into the irresistible delights her client wanted.
She snapped back to the present moment, the one where she was standing alone in the pantry at Sweets Handmade Chocolates. No Bobul. No miracle. And Stan Bookman was due at the airport in fifteen minutes.
She had nothing ready to show, and she wondered if Bookman expected a professional presentation, complete with Power Point slides, on such short notice. If he did, well, too bad. They’d worked together long enough for him to know Sam wasn’t that kind of businesswoman. But she wished she had at least come up with one or two new flavors, some real knock-your-socks-off samples to hand him when she picked him up.
She glanced at the clock again and rushed upstairs to her office where she gathered the few notes she’d made, along with some photos from the internet, and placed everything into a folder. This was a preliminary meeting. She would listen to her client’s ideas and let him set the tone. Her challenge would be to keep his visions within the realm of reality, as Bookman seemed to think Sam could concoct virtually anything he could dream up. As she put on her coat, a picture of a ten-foot Taj Mahal popped into her head. She could only pray he wouldn’t ask her to fit that into a gift box.
“I’m leaving to pick him up now,” Sam told Benjie in the kitchen. “Make sure this place is spotless and everyone is working efficiently, in case he wants to hold our meeting here.”
The travel company owner hadn’t actually stated any specific plan, only that his personal jet would be bringing him to the Taos airport and he wanted to spend some time going over the new campaign. Beyond telling her the tours would begin this summer, and the list of countries he had emailed to her only this morning, she had no clue what he had in mind. She bustled out the back door and started her van.
It had turned into one of those bright, clear New Mexico winter days with an intense blue sky lighting the remaining snow on the fields north of town. The high temperature was predicted to be around thirty, dipping into the teens again tonight, so nothing was likely to change much for a few days. She made the left turn off Highway 64 and watched as the private jet lined up with the runway. By the time she parked and walked into the small terminal, the plane had come to a stop on the tarmac and the steps were automatically descending to the ground. She took a deep breath and walked out the door toward it.
Stan Bookman spotted her as soon as he emerged. “Sam! So great to see you.” His gray hair had been freshly trimmed, and the silver wire rims on his glasses must have been chosen to match.
She smiled at his effervescent manner. Her being here wasn’t exactly a surprise, and yet he acted as if the sight of her delighted him.
“How was your flight?” she asked. As if buzzing into any airport in the world on a whim wasn’t something special.
“Clear skies, no turbulence—couldn’t ask for any better,” he said.
His flight attendant followed them into the building, wheeling Stan’s small bag until he turned and took it.
“Where to?” Sam asked. “You hadn’t said whether you want to go directly to the chocolate factory, or—how about food? Have you eaten?” Silly question, she realized. That plane was probably stocked with anything its owner could possibly desire.
“Thanks, I had a snack on the flight. Margie and I closed the house here for the winter. She wanted more time in Houston with the grandchildren. I’m booked at El Monte Sagrado for the night, and then I thought we’d spend the day tomorrow going over our campaign plans.” From a zipped pocket on his suitcase, he pulled a glossy Book It Travel folder. “Meanwhile, thought you’d enjoy looking over this.”
At a glance, Sam saw it was the brochure his customers would receive when they inquired about the global charters.
“Behind the razzmatazz stuff the clients see, there’s a couple sheets with our internal documents, menus for each leg of the trip, and all that.”
While they’d been talking, Sam noticed the crew had parked the plane on the east side of the building and apparently closed it up for the night.
“Can I drop you at your hotel?” she asked Mr. Bookman. “And what about your crew—do they need a ride somewhere?”
“We keep a company car here, and they’ve got rooms at the Holiday Inn, so they’re all set. I’d appreciate the ride, though, if it’s not out of your way. And how about dinner tonight, Sam? I’d love to treat you and your husband. I’ve had a craving for New Mexican food ever since we left for Te
xas.”
Sam ushered him toward the bakery van, thankful there had been other arrangements for the crew, since the back seats were folded away.
“I’m not sure what Beau’s schedule is right now,” she told Bookman as she stowed his bag in the back, hoping there weren’t greasy bits of buttercream icing lurking in its path. “He’s working on a big case right now, but I’ll check with him and get back to you, if that’s okay?”
“But you’ll join me for dinner? What was the place we went last time? That’s the food that’s calling out to me right now.”
Sam thought it was The Taoseño, but it might have been Orlando’s. As they drove toward his hotel, she described each of the restaurants and he confirmed the former. Wheeling under the portico at El Monte Sagrado, the poshest of Taos’s accommodations, Sam told her client she would be back to pick him up at six o’clock.
Beau or no Beau, she needed to spend time with Bookman, to get a better fix on his plans. She pulled away from the hotel and decided to drive the five minutes to the sheriff’s department rather than call. Parking on the street was always at a premium here, and the public lot was two blocks away, so Sam scanned the employee parking area where there was nearly always a spot not filled with someone’s cruiser.
Beau’s felt Stetson caught her attention as she slowed to make the turn into the lot. He stood beside his department SUV and reached a hand toward someone who was emerging from the back seat. Sam took the first empty parking slot and watched. A female suspect with curly blonde hair, wearing a lightweight jacket and jeans, with hands cuffed behind her back, stepped out. Sam froze. She knew the woman. It was Missy Malone.
Sam leaped out of her van. A deputy arrived with another suspect in his cruiser, a teenage girl who looked familiar to Sam as a bakery customer. Beau said something to Walters then tapped on the rear door that led directly to the booking area. He hadn’t spotted Sam yet, and something made her hang back, even though she was dying to know what Missy had done to bring the sheriff around.
The two men and their suspects went inside, where Sam knew they would be put into interrogation rooms or the holding cell, eventually fingerprinted and booked. She went to the other door, the one to the squad room and knocked. Rico opened it.
“Sam? What are you doing here? Beau went out on a call and isn’t back yet.”
“He is. I just saw him take a suspect inside. I need to know what she’s here for.”
“Uh, sure.” The deputy paused, trying to make the mental switch to what Sam was saying. “Well, you know where the interrogation rooms are. Go on back if you want.”
She was already on her way. Beau was coming out of one of the rooms, pulling the door closed behind him, when he saw her.
“Hey—nice surprise seeing you here,” he said, giving his winning smile.
“Hey. I … um, I stopped by to see if you were free for dinner with my client, but I saw you bringing in someone I know.”
He froze in place. “What? You know her?”
“Yeah. Well, she’s not exactly a friend. She’s been coming in the bakery the past week or two, chumming it up with Jen.”
“What’s her name?”
“Missy Malone. Well, that’s what she told us. She’s told Jen that she’s married and they own homes here and in Albuquerque. Well, you’ve met her.” She reminded him of the mix-up with money the first time Missy came in the shop, then the little gifts that began showing up. “My suspicions rose about the gifts when I was in Clarice’s shop and learned several of those items had been shoplifted. I don’t know, Beau, it could all be coincidence.”
They had walked back toward the squad room as they talked, and Beau turned now to Deputy Travis.
“New background check,” he said. “Find an address, priors, anything we can get on a Missy Malone. New Mexico driver’s license.”
Sam watched her husband in sheriff mode. She’d grown so accustomed to seeing him at home, working with the ranch animals, helping in the kitchen, she’d forgotten how authoritative and respected he was on the job.
“Rico,” Beau said, “back to the Lukinger case, see if you can get fingerprints from these brochures. If there’s anything readable here, run the prints through the databases.”
He handed Rico a Ziploc bag that appeared to contain religious tracts, then turned toward his office, his hand on Sam’s back.
“What time is the dinner with your client?” he asked.
“Six. Look, I can tell things here are pretty busy. I can meet with Mr. Bookman by myself, it’s just that he always enjoys chatting with you too.”
He glanced at his watch. “It’ll be close, but I’ll try. I’ve got two suspects to question and I never know how long it will take.”
“What’s Missy being arrested for?”
“Looks like she was trying to pull a con on a pawnshop owner, dragged a teen girl into it, tried to snatch an emerald ring from the jewelry case in the shop. At this point, we’ve got attempted robbery and property damage, at best, so she may be out before you know it. I need to talk to the teenager and get her side of it.”
Sam was torn between her curiosity about the arrest of Jen’s new friend and her need to organize her notes and dress presentably for her dinner meeting with Stan Bookman. Duty won out. She squeezed Beau’s hand as they said goodbye in the squad room. He would tell her all about Missy Malone later.
Chapter 26
Beau felt badly, telling Sam not to count on him for her client dinner tonight. The more he thought about the variety of things going on in the Lukinger case and now this pawnshop incident, the more he realized he wouldn’t be good dinner company anyway. He turned back to the interrogation room where young Daisy Ruiz had been shaking and in tears the last time he saw her.
As for Missy Malone, he doubted much of anything brought that woman to tears. She’d gone from fighting wild-woman in the pawnshop to mildly flirtatious when he got in the cruiser and she’d suggested rather than arresting her they could ‘work something out’ if he would only join her in the back seat. As if she were the only female suspect in history to suggest such a thing.
He peered through the narrow window in Room 2 before opening the door. Daisy sat at the metal table, wiping the back of one hand across her nose. Beau grabbed a box of tissues and carried them in with him. He set them on the table before he sat down.
“Okay, Daisy. Want to tell me what happened with you and your friend before I got to the pawnshop?”
The girl mopped smeared mascara from her lower lids, doing a bad job of it; the black mess made her look as if she’d come from the set of a zombie movie. She blew her nose twice and sniffed loudly.
“I don’t know that lady—she’s not my friend. I stopped by Applebee’s to use the bathroom ’cause I was walking to Walmart but I needed to go pretty bad. So, I’m washing my hands at one of the sinks and this woman comes to another sink near me. All at once she kind of breathes like”—a sharp inhale—“and she’s all like ‘Whoa, look at this ring!’ and she asks if it’s mine. Well, no, I tell her.”
“Describe the ring,” Beau said.
“A diamond, like an engagement ring.”
“Go ahead.”
“So she’s holding the ring and is really looking at it. And I tell her we should turn it in at the desk because somebody will come back looking for it. She says, ‘nobody’s been in this restroom for more than an hour. I was sitting nearby. No one’s coming back for it, and if we turn it in, the hostess will just have herself a really nice ring for free.’ And I’m thinking, well, isn’t that what you’ll have if you take it? But I didn’t say that.”
“And then?”
“Well, she starts with the idea of the pawnshop, that she knows a guy who would give us a good deal on the ring and we’d split the money. Sheriff, I know it wasn’t honest but I really, really needed some money to get a ticket for the Adele concert. All my friends are going.”
“So you went to the pawns
hop where she knew the guy?”
“Yeah, except the guy she knew wasn’t there and Mr. Nieto was real nice and wanted to wait on us. I could tell she really didn’t want to deal with him, but she handed over the ring and he started to look at it with that little eyepiece thingy. The lady got all edgy and the next thing I knew she’d reached toward this display of rings and swiped one. He was quick—he grabbed for her wrist but she threw the display box and ran for the door. He caught up with her, then he twisted her arm behind her back and marched her off to that cage in the back. I was screaming for them to stop it. I tried to get out the door … all I could think of was to run home. But he’d somehow locked the doors and I got all panicky.”
Beau was taking notes of all this.
“Once he had her locked up, he told me to sit down and be quiet and then he called 911.”
“Did he threaten you or do anything to you?”
“No. He guessed my name, though. Said he remembered that I was Carina’s friend, said she’s his niece. He said something about Christmas Eve and I remembered a bunch of Carina’s relatives being at her house after church that night. So then I wasn’t quite so scared of him.”
“What was the other lady doing all this time?”
“Mostly yelling and screaming. She told him I had stolen the ring from her, but he obviously didn’t believe it. So then she changed her story and said I’d found the ring and convinced her to come to this pawnshop because I knew him and I’d told her he would give us a good price for the ring. It made me mad ’cause she was turning everything around from what really happened.”
“It’s okay. I’ll talk to her next, and it’s good that I have your story. Are your parents at home right now?”
Sticky Sweet Page 13