Sticky Sweet

by Connie Shelton

  He stomped snow off his boots and walked toward the low wall that separated the two properties. “Not finished with this place yet?” he asked with a nod toward the house she’d just left.

  “A few more trips, I’m afraid. We’re waiting on a plumber to fix the broken pipes.”

  “Well, I’m doing fine—thanks for asking,” he groused. “Except the damn girl wants me drugged.”

  Sounded as if the argument from earlier hadn’t quite ended yet. Dolores must be pushing harder than ever to get her dad into an assisted living arrangement. Sam wanted to tell him she was sure his daughter had his best interests in mind. But who knew, really? Maybe she didn’t.

  “Yeah, and my wife has basically banned Dolores from the house. So that’s just a barrel of fun. She used to travel a lot on business, but now she informs me she won’t be doing that for a while. Can’t even watch my basketball channels now without catching hell.”

  Was he talking about the wife, or the daughter? Curiosity tugged at Sam but she had too many other things on her mind to get pulled into this. Strange dynamics existed in families, for sure.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll work out something,” she said, smiling as she opened her door. “I’ll catch you another time.”

  Whew! A glance at the dashboard clock told her she had two minutes to be on time for lunch. She longed for one of those days when she and Beau used to take long lunches together and actually make plans for the evening, but right now things were simply too crazy for both of them. Zuckerman had approached her passenger side window but she pretended not to notice until she’d begun to back out of the drive.

  I’m sorry for being rude, she thought as she backed out and waved to him. Whatever he had to say would have to wait. No doubt it was some other complaint about the house next to his and a suggestion for what she ought to do to fix it.

  The deli felt toasty compared to the chilly outdoors. Sam immediately shed her jacket as she walked toward the corner table where she had spotted Beau.

  “Hey beautiful,” he said, greeting her with a kiss. “You’ve got roses in your cheeks. Were you working outside?”

  “Not much. Just hustling a bit to break away from the neighbor so I could get here on time.” She draped her coat over the back of her chair and sat, taking a glance at the menu even though she knew she wanted the vegetable beef. “How’s your case going?”

  “I feel like I’m dealing with a herd of runaway steers. Every new string of evidence leads me off in twelve directions. I started out wanting to reconstruct the accident victim’s last few days, but couldn’t find much to go on. And you know how our efforts to locate the next of kin went. Now I’m off with all these new tangents—is the woman really Ramona Lukinger or is she Missy Malone?”

  “Jen was shocked at the way Missy wormed her way into a friendship. She immediately gathered up the little gifts Missy brought, and I took them by the gift shop where the woman had told me some items were stolen.”

  “Did the shop owner identify them?”

  “Two things—little carved fetishes of stone—came from her shop. There was a zodiac necklace, too, but that wasn’t one of her items. So, good old Missy must have had her sticky little fingers busy all over town.”

  “Would the shop owner press charges if I went by and talked to her?”

  “Probably. But how much of a sentence would Missy get for shoplifting fifty dollars’ worth of merchandise?”

  “Not enough to get her off the street for long, that’s for sure. I’ll stop by and talk with the lady though. Part of the problem with these con artists is that no single incident involves a lot of money, and too many of the victims just let it go.”

  Their soup arrived, and Sam busied herself for a minute by buttering the warm bread that came with it.

  “I spoke with a bunco detective in San Diego this morning. You wouldn’t believe the variety of con games Percy and Ramona pulled out there. And yet this cop, Jorge Rodriguez, said even when they had witnesses, he was hard-pressed to get any of them to file a formal complaint. He estimated the pair of them earned an easy two to three thousand a month, and they did it a couple hundred dollars at a time.”

  It explained why the Lukingers had no employment records and none of the usual paper trail.

  “Rodriguez had one case where the stolen amount would have put the punishment into the felony category, but the prosecutor didn’t want to bother with it. Told the cops his office was pushed to the limit with ‘important’ cases and he didn’t have the resources to follow up on this petty stuff. Rodriguez sounded ready to boil, but admitted it’s the same everywhere. Too many criminals, too few people to track them down, too few facilities to lock them up.”

  Sam looked up from her soup. She could tell the morning’s conversation had hit a hot button with Beau.

  “I’m not going to be one of those,” he said. “We found cash in Ramona’s apartment, and I’ll at least try to get it back to the victims if I can figure out who lost what.”

  “It’ll work out, sweetheart. You’re a great lawman, and you’ll get the answers. Somehow, I have the feeling you’ll be the one who finally stops the Lukingers.”

  He almost chuckled. “Well, since Percy Lukinger already got stopped, half the job’s done.”

  Sam paused. “Sorry. I guess I’d forgotten that what you’re really trying to solve is a murder case. How’s that part of it coming along?”

  “While I was talking to Rodriguez, it struck me that Ramona could be the one who killed her husband. She sure showed up quickly to claim his body and have him cremated—thinking, maybe, she could have the toxin destroyed before it was discovered.”

  “So, catching her might wrap up the whole case?”

  “Or not. Rodriguez talked about all the scams the couple pulled where they worked as a team. I have to ask myself whether Ramona was dumb enough to get rid of the partner whose help was critical in earning their living.”

  “I don’t know … you see cases all the time where good marriages go horribly wrong. People don’t always act rationally. Heat of the moment, and all that.”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  Sam thought back to her few encounters with Missy Malone—she was still having a hard time thinking of the flighty blonde as Ramona Lukinger. Sam could picture her fast talking and wide-eyed innocence as the means of getting herself out of shoplifting and petty theft, but murder? The woman must be a hell of an actor.

  They talked of other things while they finished their soup, until Sam checked the time and realized she was about to be late for Stan Bookman’s visit to the chocolate factory. She told Beau to take his time over lunch, but he set down his spoon and put money on the table.

  “I need to get back to work, too,” he said when they reached the sidewalk outside. “Sure wish you had the time these days to come back to your deputy duties. You have a good eye for discrepancies, and I think you could go through those casino videos a lot quicker than Rico is.”

  “Uh-uh, sorry. Spending days watching videotapes of people at slot machines just isn’t my idea of a good time.”

  He laughed and the sparkle came back into his eyes. Sam hoped he would solve his case soon—she had missed that sparkle.

  Chapter 31

  Sam took a deep breath and stared at the drawings she’d made for Mr. Bookman’s chocolates. The sketches covered her desktop but nothing about them satisfied her. This was a dumb idea, trying to draw concepts for chocolate candy. She needed to get into the kitchen and simply create. The chocolate would take shape and inspiration would come.

  A scene flashed through her mind—Bobul, the chocolatier who seemed to show up in her life when he was most needed, working the chocolate with his fingers, creating miraculous delicacies with ease. She sighed. If only he were here now.

  Sounds from downstairs told her Stan Bookman and his pilot had arrived. Since their last meeting, her client had flown to Houston, New York, London, and back—while
Sam had produced very little in the way of tangible results. For the first time, she felt an energy-lag regarding her business. Somehow, it wasn’t as much fun as it used to be.

  “Cut that out!” she told herself. “Put your faith in the fact that things do work out well in the long run.”

  This morning she had blended some new flavors for sampling and, although the form and design were lacking, she wanted Stan’s opinion on the tastes. She’d actually come up with a blend of exotic flavors she hoped would come close to his vision of what the Peruvian Andes tasted like. With a glance at the drawings on the desk, she selected two and left the others behind as she went downstairs to greet her most important client.

  “Sam! Good to see you again,” he said, as if it hadn’t been less than a week since he’d been here. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought Rollie along. My newest pilot, it turns out, has a great palate for chocolate.”

  Sam sent the man a smile, all the while hoping that a new opinion wouldn’t send her back to square one with the plans for the international line.

  “I’ve got some new things for you,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind tasting them in the corner up front. As you can see, my crew has the rest of the floor space pretty well occupied.”

  She hoped Bookman wouldn’t take this to mean Sweet’s Chocolates didn’t have room to handle the additional work. What’s with all the negative thinking today? She stifled all thoughts of proving inadequate to the task and concentrated on the winning aspects of her new creations.

  She showed the men to a quiet corner of the cupola area where she had set up a small table with three chairs. A carafe of warm lemon water and three cups would provide the means to cleanse their palates between tastes.

  “Make yourselves comfortable and I’ll be right back.”

  In the kitchen, a tray with nine squares of chocolate sat at the end of the long counter. Sam picked it up and dodged Benjie as he turned from the stove with a large bowl of melted chocolate that appeared ready for tempering. When she returned to the alcove, the men were admiring the view of open, snowy fields.

  “Sam, I have to say that I really love your location. It must be a joy to work from such a quiet place,” Stan Bookman said. “I’ll bet this old house has some real history.”

  “I have to admit I know very little of it, other than the last resident was an eccentric writer named Eliza Nalespar.”

  There had been hints of darker doings in times past, and for a time Sam had begun to wonder if the place was haunted. But most of the weirdness turned out to have perfectly logical, human motivated explanations. Kelly’s fiancé, Scott, had promised to look more deeply into the history of the house, but Sam had forgotten to ask during the holidays and the professor was back in his classroom now.

  She set the tray with the chocolate samples in the center of the table.

  “We’ll move from the subtler flavors to the stronger one. First, I’d like you to try this lightest colored one. The cacao percentage is higher than in milk chocolate, but it’s still a mild one. The flavor is a floral—see if you can tell me which.”

  Each of them took one of the chocolate squares and bit a corner from it. Sam let the chocolate melt on her tongue and felt the subtle infusion fill her mouth.

  “Hibiscus?” Bookman guessed.

  “No, it seems a little stronger,” said Rollie. “Jasmine.”

  Sam smiled. “A little more unusual than that. It’s passion flower. I chose it as a tropical flower that would be found on Samoa, and it will be featured in the sampler your passengers receive on that leg of their world tour.”

  Both men nodded approval and finished their samples. Sam mentally added hibiscus to her list of essences to experiment with. She already had jasmine in mind for India.

  With their second samples, both men correctly guessed that the country it fit was India. “Not curry, but something reminiscent of it,” Bookman said.

  “You’re right.” She gave an enigmatic smile, which told them she wouldn’t divulge all her secrets.

  “Sam, I love it. So, what’s this final one?”

  “Well, I aimed for what you described in Machu Picchu. It’s a deep South American cacao, but you tell me what you think the flavor combination is.”

  Bookman took a small nibble, a thoughtful look on his face. Rollie almost grimaced. Uh-oh, Sam thought.

  “It’s very unusual,” Stan said. “I’m not sure if I like it.”

  Sam resisted the urge to say anything.

  “But I can’t say that I dislike it either.”

  Rollie nodded at the boss’s assessment. “The bitter chocolate is nice. I just can’t pinpoint the other thing. It’s earthy.”

  “Stan told me when he was there he thought of moss. That’s what it is, an edible moss.”

  “Use it.” Stan rubbed his hands together. “It’s the kind of taste that grows on you, and I think it’ll be a big hit with those folks who pride themselves on having tried everything. You know, the ones who brag about eating rattlesnake and such.”

  Sam refrained from saying that rattlesnake wasn’t such an unusual dish, especially here in the Southwest. As long as Stan okayed her choices for the chocolates she could proceed.

  “These are fantastic, Sam. Don’t change a thing. Can you have sample boxes made up for the whole itinerary in another week or so?” he asked as the men stood to leave.

  None of the designs had been finalized and she still had no ideas for three of the locations, but somehow the words that popped out of her mouth were, “Sure. A week will be fine.”

  Chapter 32

  Beau looked at his watch. Nearly an hour had passed since he’d followed Grant Mangle to the parking lot near the plaza. It was worth driving by there to see if the man was still around. If not, he would surely show up at his office. Armed with the information from Rodriguez, Beau could come a lot closer to rattling the property manager with a good guess at what had happened between him and Percy Lukinger.

  He snagged his coat and walked out to his SUV. The afternoon sun was already behind the trees surrounding Civic Plaza Drive, and he could feel the temperature dropping. Another storm was due tonight.

  The parking lot was only half full and Mangle’s Cadillac sat where he’d last seen it. Beau parked his cruiser between two other vehicles, two rows away from the Caddy, and watched the three sidewalks where a person would have to come from the shops to the lot. Most folks were rushing to their cars with their heads down as the frigid wind picked up. Grant Mangle was no exception. He was aiming his key fob at his vehicle when Beau stepped into his field of view.

  “It’s okay to admit that Percy Lukinger tried to scam you,” Beau said.

  “Sheriff, I told you, I don’t know anything about this guy you’re talking about.”

  “You really want to stick with that story, even though we have the two of you together on camera? He was a crook and a con artist, and you can’t bring yourself to tell me what happened?”

  Grant shivered in his jeans and light jacket.

  “There’s a warmer place we can talk about this,” Beau said, “and I’m getting sick of the runaround. If I have to cuff you and take you in for questioning, I will.”

  “I don’t want to press charges. I got fleeced, okay? Can’t we just drop it?”

  “It’s not that simple. Let’s get inside, warm up with some coffee, and we’ll talk about it.” Beau took the man’s elbow and steered him in the direction of the cruiser.

  Inside the station, Beau led his guest to an interrogation room, hoping the official surroundings would encourage cooperation. Mangle played the cool customer while he was left alone. Beau noticed through the mirrored glass that the man sat back in his chair, legs sprawled, arms relaxed—a guy without a care in the world—although he did glance toward the mirror regularly.

  Someone had brewed fresh coffee. Beau poured two cups and carried them to the interrogation room, along with a folder he’d tuck
ed under his arm. Mangle straightened in his chair when Beau tossed his yellow pad of notes onto the table.

  “Okay, a few more questions today, Mr. Mangle. We’re just tying up some loose ends here.”

  Mangle nodded, took a sip of the coffee, made a slight face, took another sip. His eyes were on the yellow pad, but Beau always left a blank sheet on top of any he’d written on.

  Beau reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out the small envelope with the fake diamond in it. “Recognize this?”

  He didn’t need to ask. Mangle’s reaction told him a lot more than the man’s verbal denial.

  “Funny, because we’ve got you on footage from the casino, along with Percy Lukinger. John Lukinger, as you called him. This envelope seems to be in the exchange between you two.”

  Mangle’s fingers gripped the coffee cup a little tighter.

  “I’ve been on the phone with a detective in San Diego, where the Lukingers apparently worked this scam a lot. You’re not the only one who thought he’d found a treasure, only to find out it was worthless.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Grant said. By now his shoulders had slumped.

  “Then tell me how it was.”

  “My wife’s engagement ring. She loved the setting but always wanted a larger stone, and for our tenth anniversary I’d promised to get one. A jeweler could remake the prongs to hold a two-carat diamond instead of the half-carat I’d originally been able to afford when we got engaged. I’d already talked to one jeweler and planned to take the ring to have the work done.”

  Beau sat back and let the man talk.

  “So, okay, I admit I talked too much, was bragging a little to some friends at the casino one evening. My wife was wearing her old ring and she was so proud that she’d be able to get a flashier version of it soon.” He fidgeted with the rim of the Styrofoam cup a little more. “This guy, John, was at the same blackjack table and he took me aside and asked which jeweler I was going to. Told me that place was a rip-off, that his brother was in the wholesale diamond business in South Africa, and he could get me any stone I wanted. He described some knockout diamonds at fantastic prices, and, well, I could imagine the way my wife’s eyes would light up. I mean, I have my little business, but we’re not exactly high rollers. I wanted to do something really nice for her. We could get a five-carat stone for what I’d been about to spend on two carats. Which wasn’t cheap, by the way.”