Sweets Galore: The Sixth Samantha Sweet Mystery (The Samantha Sweet Mysteries) (19 page)

“I need to check my tortillas,”
Mrs. Romero said, leaving through a doorway where Sam could see a table with
three place settings.

Sam glanced anxiously at the
digital clock numerals on a DVD player beneath the television set. Rupert could
be pulling into town any minute. She gave Beau a quick call and asked if he
would be home to let them in.

Celina Romero came through the
door just then, startled to see a stranger sitting on the avocado green sofa.
Sam stood up, introduced herself and quickly posed her question.

“I remember the purple bag. There
was a note with his name on it clipped to the front.” And although she
described Evie Madsen to a T, Celina couldn’t remember if Evie brought the bag
or if she simply remembered Evie because she’d been staying with Jake.

Sam left with one important fact
stuck in her head. The police hadn’t mentioned a note.

Chapter
16

Speeding along the back roads of
town, talking on her cell phone wasn’t a great idea. Sam knew this. But the
revelation of the existence of a note with the poisoned cupcake was crucial.
The handwriting on the note could prove that Sam didn’t send it. She reached
Mark Nelson just as he was leaving his office.

“Among the evidence the police
showed to you, was there a note with Jake Calendar’s name on it? A note that
would have been attached to that bakery bag.” She quickly explained what she’d
just learned from the hotel staff.

“I didn’t see one,” he said. “It
sure doesn’t show up in the photograph of the evidence bag that contains the
purple sack. And it’s not listed as a separate item on the evidence list.”

“They can’t withhold that from us,
can they?”

“No, they have to disclose it.
I’ll get on this first thing in the morning.”

She must have let out a little
whine.

“Sam, I would do it now but I’m
already late for a Rotary meeting where I’m the keynote speaker. Another night
won’t hurt and I promise I won’t forget.”

One look at the note, one sample
of her own handwriting, and the prosecutors would have a very hard time making
their case, but she quelled her impatience. What choice did she have? She
headed toward home and when she pulled in at the big gate saw Rupert’s Land
Rover parked in her usual spot, with Beau’s Explorer nearby.

The smell of chicken and biscuits
greeted her when she walked in.
Beau, I
love you, I love you.

“Thought cooking tonight would be
a strain,” he said when she hugged him.

Her father was stretched back in
the recliner, his nightly bourbon at hand, and Rupert was sniffing around the
big deli box of fried chicken. It wasn’t terribly difficult to persuade him to
stay.

“Where have you been all day,
Samantha Jane? You missed a beautiful day in Santa Fe.” Nina Rae held up an
exquisitely woven shawl she must have purchased.

Sam gave her mother a look.
Trying to clear myself of a murder charge
seemed a little more important than shopping . . .
But she put on her smile
and announced brightly that dinner was on the table.

Rupert and Howard filled plates
with chicken, coleslaw, three-bean salad and green salad. Beau saw to it that
everyone’s drink glasses were filled, while Sam poured herself a half-glass of
wine and sat beside the fireplace for a minute to unwind. When the others had
settled around the table she joined them, picking the crispy coating off her
chicken breast and dribbling only a few drops of dressing over her little pile
of lettuce and tomato. That dress would still fit, no matter how long this
investigation went on.

The thought that it might take
weeks to clear her name left Sam feeling deflated. She looked around the
table—picturing her parents staying on forever, having to call on friends like
Rupert to run interference, she and Beau simply wanting to start married life
and get away on their trip, all while it felt like they weren’t gaining much in
the way of evidence to free her—she felt her energy drain away.

“Not hungry?” Beau whispered
beside her. “I could get you something else.”

She squeezed his hand under the
table. “No, I’ll be fine.”

The evening dragged by, with Rupert
making a quick exit when they started another domino game suggested by Nina
Rae. Finally, Sam left the elder Sweets to their late television news program
and went upstairs for a shower and her favorite snuggly nightgown. Beau was
waiting in bed when she came out of the bathroom.

“Are you sure you’re doing okay?”
he asked as she slid under the covers.

“Sorry, it’s just a mood. I’m
impatient to be done with this whole police thing that has messed up all our
plans.”

“Want to brainstorm a little?” He
put an arm around her shoulders. “Did you ever contact that Celina Romero whose
address I looked up for you?”

Her mood lightened a little. She
sat upright, facing him.

“Actually, yes. I don’t know how
this will play out but she said there was a note clipped to the bakery bag that
held the cupcake. After I spoke to Celina I talked to Mark Nelson and asked him
to review the evidence the police showed him. If that note is in there, it will
be someone else’s handwriting. That fact alone could clear me.”

“It would go a long way,” he said.

“But what if the note isn’t there?
I’m worried that it could have been lost anywhere along the way. Jake might
have tossed it in the trash.”

“Police would have taken the
contents of the room’s waste baskets.”

But there were other places, Sam
thought. The bar, the lobby, some ashtray in the hall. She pulled herself away
from that train of thought. No point envisioning how easily the note could have
vanished.

“What if the police are
withholding that evidence, not including it with the information they gave
Mark?”

“Eventually, it would have to come
out. It would take a very crooked cop with a personal vendetta to risk
tampering like that.”

She met his gaze. The chief
himself didn’t like Beau. But was that reason enough to sabotage an investigation
in order to harm Sam? Surely not.

“I’ll ask my contact over at the
PD to poke around and see what he can find. If that note was logged into
evidence you have a right to see it.”

“I’ll give a handwriting sample.
It’ll be easy to prove I didn’t write it.”

“Don’t volunteer too much too
soon. Let’s see what they have first.”

It was probably exactly what Mark
Nelson would say, too.

“What if Evie is involved in this?
According to the bartender they were together just before going up to their
room, and from the police timeline we know that he died within an hour after
that.”

“What’s her motive? To do this
over an old girlfriend he hadn’t seen in thirty years, who was about to marry
another man? Seems pretty extreme.”

“Think how young Evie is. Kids
these days take extreme measures. Look at a guy who’ll pick up a gun and take
out a bunch of strangers just because he’s had a rough time of it at school.”

“True. And it’s true that
poisoning is typically more of a woman’s method for killing. Less
confrontational.” He leaned back against the headboard. “Maybe we need to look
at women with closer connections to Jake.”

“Jake mentioned being married.
Maybe Tom Calendar can give us more information, like names. We could check out
the ex-wives.” She reached for her phone. “It’s an hour earlier in
California—let me see if I can reach him.”

Tom’s phone went to an answering
machine and Sam left both her own and Beau’s numbers.

“I don’t know . . .” she said
after setting the phone aside. “Women might be poisoners but it seems a little
farfetched that an ex-wife would go to these lengths.”

And maybe that was another reason
the police had homed in on Sam. She found her thoughts taking a circular route
as she snuggled next to Beau and he turned out the lamp. When he began trailing
little kisses along her neck and earlobe the problems sort of disappeared
quickly.

By daylight Sam was wide awake
again, myriad thoughts coming at her like arrows at a target. She eased out of
bed to let Beau sleep a little longer, showered, dressed in jeans and a
favorite shirt. On her side of the bathroom vanity the wooden box looked up at
her, perhaps a bit ignored in recent days.

“You can help me,” she said,
instantly chiding herself for talking to a hunk of wood.

She picked it up and held it
close. The familiar warm glow spread from her hands to her arms and soon
energized her whole body. She set it down and opened the lid to choose a pair
of beaded earrings.

“That thing looks different,” Beau
said in a fuzzy voice, walking in wearing pajama bottoms and a sleepy face.

Sam glanced at the box. The
quilt-patterned carving indeed retained some of the golden glow it always got
when she held it. Although Beau knew of her experiences with the box’s power,
he’d never actually witnessed it in action. She decided this wasn’t the time
for a demo.

“I dusted it yesterday,” she said.

“You look so beautiful this
morning,
darlin
’.” He wound his arms around her waist
and nuzzled her hair. “Want to come back to bed?”

Another effect of the box’s
magic—Sam’s allure seemed to increase when she’d held it. How tempting to
simply crawl back under the covers, pretend they were already on their
honeymoon, ignore both her parents and the entire overriding problem with the
police. He saw the flicker of emotions cross her face.

“I know,” he said. “More important
things to do today.”

“
Never
more important—just necessary. Like solving this whole stupid
mess so we
really
can enjoy
ourselves.”

He gave her a squeeze and turned
on the shower. She blew him a kiss and left the room before the sight of him
peeling off those pajamas could make her change her mind.

Her parents’ bedroom door was
closed, no strip of light showing at the bottom, so Sam tiptoed to the kitchen
where she started coffee. Gathering her pack and jacket she let herself out and
got into her truck. It wasn’t yet eight o’clock but she took a chance and
dialed Mark Nelson’s office. The recorded message informed her that office
hours were nine to five. Still, he might be there, working before the
receptionist came in. She decided to take the chance and drop by.

A white Cadillac Escalade was
parked at the side of the building. But the door was locked and he didn’t
respond to a knock or to a tap at one of the side windows. When she dialed his
cell phone it, too, went to voicemail. She suppressed a surge of impatience.
The man probably just needed time to work in peace. If Mark had answers he
would let her know.

She turned around and headed for
her old house, where she caught Kelly in an oversized T-shirt, pouring what was
obviously her first cup of coffee for the day.

“Hey there,” Sam said in her most
wheedling voice. “Do you suppose
Riki
would let you
take the day off? Or at least half of it?”

Kelly paused with the cup at her
lips, sending Sam a half-lidded stare.

“I need someone to be
entertainment chairperson for your grandparents today. I really have to be
here, working with Beau to find answers and clear my name, and it’s hard to
keep them from being bored.”

“Sure—I’d like to spend some more time
with them anyway. I’ll try to beg at least a partial day. How am I going to
keep them busy?”

“Well, I thought you might do the
Enchanted Circle drive. You know, Angel Fire, Eagle Nest, Red River and back.
Lots of shopping to keep your grandmother happy, lots of nice lunch places
along the way . . .” The route, which circled New Mexico’s highest mountain was
roughly a hundred miles of breathtaking scenery, punctuated by picturesque
little ski towns.

Kelly brightened further when Sam
pulled cash out of her wallet. Sam could read her thoughts—getting out sure
beat playing endless domino games at the dining table.

“Just don’t drive a million miles
an hour. We want them to spend a day having fun, not spend it throwing up on
those curving mountain roads.”

“I can handle it.” Kelly took a
long slug of her coffee and picked up the phone to talk to her boss.

“Call your grandmother in another
hour or so and tell her when you’ll pick them up.”

One down, a hundred to go on the
to-do list, Sam thought as she left.

She drove toward the plaza, Evie
Madsen’s face pestering her, as it had all night. No matter what Beau said, Sam
couldn’t help but think of the girl’s cold manner. Maybe she saw Tustin as the
bigger fish and getting rid of Jake seemed like a solution; Tustin after all
appeared to have lots of money and maybe he treated her well.

Maybe Jake had become jealous and
they’d argued. The fact that Jake had flirted with Sam when he came to town
could have made
Evie’s
twisted little mind decide
that Sam could be made to look guilty in the process. But killing? Evie dumped
men all the time. The vengeance line of thinking was very junior-high—but then
Evie didn’t seem much brighter than the average thirteen year old.

Sam drummed her nails on the
steering wheel as she sat at a red light. Confronting Evie at the hotel hadn’t
worked too well yesterday. She would have to come up with something better.
Probably not a gift from Sweet’s Sweets though. A horn tooted behind her and
she realized the light had turned green. She turned left, skirting the outer
edge of the plaza trying to decide whether to stop in at her shop or what,
exactly, her next move should be. The same beeping horn sounded behind her
again.

What was this guy’s problem? She
couldn’t exactly run down the car ahead just to please someone who was late for
work. She glanced back in her mirror. It was a red BMW and it looked like
Tustin Deor at the wheel. She drove through the narrow section of street where
two-way traffic was hemmed in by close curbs on both sides. A block later, the
road widened slightly and she edged to the right. Instead of passing, Tustin
followed.