Sweets Forgotten (Samantha Sweet Mysteries Book 10) (22 page)

“A joint account?”

“No, business. We opened the
account because there was no point in leaving large amounts of cash in the
company checking account. It earns nothing there, so I suggested to Zack and
Chandler that we put the money into some investments that would earn a better
return.”

“Maybe the investments themselves
dropped in value?”

“No. These were cash withdrawals.
Two fairly small ones, ten thousand apiece, over the last couple of months. I
might not have noticed them, thinking one of the partners or Helen needed the
money for operating expenses. But last month the balance of the account was
virtually cleaned out. With everything going on this past week, I hadn’t been
online to look at it and the printed statements hadn’t arrived yet. Of course,
once the statements arrived I would have caught it immediately.”

“Who was authorized to move money
from that account?”

“Just the partners and myself.
Helen had access but only through one of us. If she needed money for expenses
she told us—usually either me or Zack—and we transferred the funds back to the
checking account she uses for bills.”

“You think Zack withdrew the
money without telling you?”

“It looks that way.”

“My first thought is that Krystal
and Ray tried unsuccessfully to blackmail you. Maybe they tried the same with
Zack and he gave it to them.”

“They only asked me for fifty
thousand. It’s pretty bold to up the ante by that much, don’t you think?”

Sam wondered. Something must have
changed. The blackmailers became bolder, they found out there was more money
available and they might as well ask for it … It was only a guess at this
point.

“Beau is questioning Krystal now.
I think he needs this information.”

“You’re right. Call him. I can
get the account number and pertinent data. The brokerage firm should have
information about the circumstances of the withdrawal, who authorized it and
such. Being that I only found this last night, I haven’t taken the time yet to
call them.”

“Beau can tell you what he needs.
Let’s turn it over to him for now.” Sam pulled out her phone and dialed his
number, then handed the phone to Jo.

He took the relevant information,
although Jo didn’t have it all.

“I left all the paperwork at
Brenda’s. I guess I wasn’t thinking too clearly this morning.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “There
are a few things I can check first. If you get the chance during the day, get
the specifics. If we end up needing copies for evidence you’ll have to contact
the brokerage firm directly and authorize my access to the account.”

She agreed to do it and they
ended the call.

Back inside, Jo went back to her
batch of chocolate, while Sam concentrated on the anniversary cake—at last.
When Beau called back, close to noon, his news wasn’t helpful at all.

“Krystal claims to know nothing
about the money. I obtained warrants for Krystal’s and Ray Belatoni’s financial
information. Neither of their accounts shows any large influx of cash, ever. In
fact, The Scoreboard is basically hanging by a thread to stay in business. His
drug deals must be very small-time. If Belatoni got hold of a lot of cash,
surely it would have gone toward that.”

Unless the pair planned to skip
the country, in which case they could have opened an entirely new account, or
they could literally be hiding a pile of cash.

Chapter
24

With Beau’s news that Ray and
Krystal did not appear to have the missing money, Jo left the bakery to gather
the information he needed. Sam placed the final flounces on her anniversary cake.
She would deliver it to the restaurant then go home and dress for the special
occasion. She only hoped Beau wouldn’t be running late.

She phoned Zoë and thanked her
for yesterday’s TLC.

“It was nothing any best friend
wouldn’t have done,” Zoë said with a little laugh. “Come by later and I’ll give
you more of that tea. As relentlessly as you work, I have a feeling you could
use a cup of it every evening.”

Sam didn’t care much about
getting the tea but she really should take Zoë a little thank-you gift for
taking the time to come and sit with her. She found a small foil-covered box
and filled it with chocolates Jo had just finished.

She pictured Jo, stirring the new
batch this morning and their conversation about the missing money. She’d
mentioned each of the partners having access to the account. That would leave
Zack and Chandler as the only suspects. If paying blackmail to Krystal and Ray
wasn’t the motive, why would either of them take it? Their games were so
successful that each man’s half-interest in the company had made him a
multi-millionaire. Surely, either partner could request a draw of more money if
he had a large purchase coming up. Helping himself to more didn’t make sense.
She would ask Jo about it later; maybe some provision in the partnership
agreement would shed some light.

She closed the lid on the little
box of candy. A bow and a card, and it was all set. If she left a little early,
Sam could easily drop it off on her way home. She stowed the anniversary cake
safely in the back of her van and placed Zoë’s gift on the passenger seat. A
quick stop at the restaurant where she was forced to park in a sunny spot. She
set Zoë’s gift on the floor where it was shady and a glimmer caught her eye.

The carved box. She picked it up.
She’d taken it to work with her last night, knowing she would need every bit of
extra energy she could get from it. Exhausted afterward, she’d obviously
forgotten to take it in the house and put it back in a safe place. Once again,
Isobel St. Clair’s warnings came back.

There was nothing to do now but
conceal the artifact until she got home. She pushed it completely out of sight
under the car seat and double checked to be sure it wasn’t visible. Already,
her right hand felt a little warm and tingly from touching it. She hoped the
box’s glow would quickly fade and no one would notice it from outside the van.

Retrieving her cake from the
back, she assured it was placed in a safe spot in the restaurant kitchen, her
name and reservation time on it. Heaven forbid it accidentally got served to
someone else. On to Zoë’s house, a few blocks away.

The big territorial style adobe
looked especially beautiful in the autumn with its glowing yellow cottonwood
trees contrasting with the massive blue spruce on the east side. Out front, she
spotted Zoë working in the garden, chopping spent hollyhock stalks and setting
out colorful chrysanthemums in gold and purple. Zoë’s green thumb was what kept
the bed and breakfast one of the most picturesque and most desired in town.

Sam parked in the guest parking
area, empty now, and picked up the gift.

“Hey there,” greeted Zoë. “If I’d
known you were coming this soon I would have quit this yard work and made us
some tea already.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can only
stay a minute.” Sam showed the gift box. “A little thanks for yesterday. I can
put it in the kitchen if you—”

A car pulling in very close
beside her interrupted the thought as she stepped closer to her van to get out
of its way.

The red convertible seemed
familiar and she realized why when she saw Chandler Lane get out.

“I saw your van,” he said. “I was
just on my way to talk to the sheriff. I heard they arrested a couple of people
for Zack’s murder.”

It took Sam a moment to switch
gears and process what he was saying. She didn’t recall Beau saying he’d
formally charged Krystal or Ray or Donny. Only that he was questioning them
all. She stepped closer to Chandler’s car.

“I’m afraid I really don’t know
much about the progress on the case.” Her eyes dropped to the interior of his
car.

There on the light-colored floor
mat was a dark spot, a footprint that made an ugly mark on the pristine carpet.
Light carpet, dark footprint. The other one—at Jo’s house—flashed through her
mind. The print was the same, that distinctive patterned shape from a boot.
Chandler had shown up as they were leaving the Robinet house and he wore boots
then. She glanced at his feet but he now had on sneakers.

Suddenly, the break-in at Jo’s
house and the stalker at her hotel made sense. Sam swallowed hard and dared a
glance at Chandler’s face. He knew that she knew.

His right hand had remained in
the pocket of his lightweight jacket. Now a firm, cylindrical shape distorted
the fabric as he pointed the barrel of a gun at her.

“I had really hoped to get this
thing solved without you figuring it out,” he said.

Gone was the smile. The wide-eyed
inquiries about progress in the case weren’t so innocent at all. Chandler Lane
wasn’t asking out of concern for his dead friend or justice or anything like
that. He wanted to know if the lawmen were on to him. A sick feeling settled
into Sam’s gut.

She glanced at Zoë, who stared
open-mouthed without a clue about what was happening.

“Get into my car, Mrs. Cardwell.
I need those papers Jo Robinet gave you and to persuade your husband to let me
leave.”

Sam was so accustomed to her
business name that Cardwell didn’t immediately click. And papers? What papers?
He took her hesitation as a refusal.

“Okay then. I guess you aren’t so
worried about your friend.” His voice became more menacing with every word.

Sam looked frantically up and
down the short street. Not a soul in sight. The lack of traffic that appealed
so much to Zoë’s guests was not such a good thing now.

“I don’t have the papers,” she
said, stalling. “I left them at the bakery.”

“In the car then.” He meant it.

Sam knew going along with him
would be stupid. The man had killed once. Even as the thought occurred to her,
she realized it had to be true. She still wasn’t clear on the reason—maybe an
argument over the stolen money, maybe something else—but the man in front of
her was crazy and dangerous.

“Let’s get the sheriff here and
you can tell him your story,” she said, reaching for the phone in her pocket.

The moment the phone appeared, he
rushed closer and kicked it from her hand. It went flying toward the street and
landed with the sound of smashed glass. When she looked at Chandler again he
was laughing, a high maniacal sound.

“You’re crazy. I’m not telling
the sheriff my
story
. There is no
story
, as far as I’m concerned. Zack got
mixed up in drugs and overdosed. It looks like he took a bunch of money from
the company’s funds too.”

“Really?” No one knew about the
missing money until Jo discovered it last night. Another fact that would nail
Chandler’s ass, if Sam could manage to survive the next few minutes. How could
she get help or get control of the gun, she wondered. Two seconds later, she
heard the sound of a vehicle making the turn onto the narrow lane where they
stood.

Unfortunately, Chandler heard it
too. He lowered the hand with the gun. Sam calculated her odds of dashing out
and getting the driver’s attention before he could raise the gun again and
shoot her. It didn’t look good.

The car passed them, a tiny
white-haired woman at the wheel. Good thing Sam hadn’t rushed for help from
that sector. When she looked at Chandler again, he was studying her face and
the gun hand was back up.

Zoë had finally caught on and was
edging her way toward her house. With a hedge and wide porch between herself
and safety, that wasn’t a good bet either. Sam started to warn her to stay put,
but Zoë took it the wrong way and began to run.

Chandler Lane had no compunction
about using his weapon. He whipped it free of the jacket fabric, raised it with
a practiced eye and fired. The shot reverberated and echoed through the
neighborhood of closely built houses. Sam froze, horrified, as Zoë stumbled
sideways and went down.

Chapter
25

Heedless of any danger to
herself, Sam raced to Zoë’s side. Her best friend lay on the ground, writhing
in pain. Blood covered the shreds of her left sleeve.

“Oh god, Zoë, can you hear me?”

Zoë groaned, rolling to her side
and gripping the wounded arm with her other hand.

“Hold on. I’ll get help.” But
when Sam looked toward the street, Chandler Lane blocked her view.

He was standing above the two
women, holding the gun at Sam’s head.

“This isn’t one of your video
games, Chandler,” she said, fearing the waver in her voice. She had to stay
strong for Zoë now. “You don’t want to kill us. Your life would be over.”

A tiny flicker of hesitation
showed in his eyes.

Sam made a plan. “Drive away. Let
me get medical help for her.”

The flicker had not been
compassion. His expression hardened. “Get her in the house. I don’t want anyone
to see us out here.”

“That’s right. Dozens of people
heard that shot. We’re only two blocks off the plaza. I’m sure they are rushing
over here right now.”

“You’re not helping your case,
Sam.” He almost smiled as he said it. “Get her inside. Now.”

Zoë’s injury seemed confined to
her left arm. Sam put both arms around her and managed to get her to her feet,
although Zoë’s face lost all color when she stood.

“Stick with me,” Sam murmured.
“We’ll get you inside and I’ll think of something. Hopefully, he’ll let us go
in and then leave us alone.”

Obviously, Darryl wasn’t home or
he would have come running. Sam knew it was up to her to save her friend’s
life. She took most of Zoë’s weight, guiding her wobbly legs along the driveway
beside the house. By the time they reached the kitchen door, Zoë, surprisingly,
seemed to have a little more strength. Sam half expected Chandler to get them
out of sight of the road and shoot them both, but he let Sam open the door and
guide her friend into the house.

The big kitchen with its
commercial-grade appliances and Saltillo tile floors offered no comfortable
spot for an injured person. Sam kept moving, going down the hall toward the
room Zoë called the parlor, one with soft sofas and chairs where guests met in
the evenings for wine and snacks. She eased Zoë onto one of the couches.

“I’m going for some gauze and
alcohol,” she told Chandler.

“No, you’re not. Stay right
there.” To reinforce the order, he blocked the doorway and kept the pistol
trained on Sam.

“Fine. You can get away now. I’ll
stay with her and call paramedics once your car is gone.”

“And you’ll call the sheriff
who’ll have an alert out for me. I won’t get a mile away, will I?”

Well, that was sort of the plan,
Sam thought. She saw his dilemma. Leaving them here gave him no way out.
Staying with them didn’t either. Sadly, she couldn’t think of any chance this
was going to end well.

Her best bet was to keep the
status quo. If Chandler stayed here, providing he didn’t go wild and start
shooting, eventually Beau would either try to call her or go to meet her at the
restaurant for dinner. When he learned she had left Sweet’s Sweets hours
earlier, he would begin looking. If Becky told him Sam had meant to deliver a
gift to Zoë, it would send him this direction and he would see her van out
front. Unfortunately, he would assume she and Zoë were in the house, talking
endlessly until she’d forgotten the time. Unless he realized the car out front
was Chandler’s, that it didn’t belong to one of Zoë’s guests, he would walk
right into a trap, never suspecting a thing. How could she warn him?

As long as Sam was defiant,
Chandler’s mood stayed hostile. He stood in the doorway with the gun aimed
toward the sofa where Zoë lay and Sam knelt to attend to her injury. She could
tell that the bullet had not entered the arm. A long, ragged gash had ripped
the skin, but it went through muscle, not into bone or artery. The more
frequently Sam touched the injured area, the better it looked. The box’s power,
even in the brief time she’d handled it earlier, still offered potent effects.

She watched Chandler
surreptitiously while wiping Zoë’s forehead. When Sam went quiet, thinking of
what she could say to summon help—how to phrase it most effectively in the
fewest words—their captor became restless, almost bored. He paced to the window
and looked out through the lace curtain.

“Who else is likely to show up
here?” he asked. “Do you have guests tonight?”

Zoë moaned without answering.

That agitated him. He was
accustomed to control, to issuing orders. He didn’t mind unknowns, up to a
point. The nature of the gaming world had taught him that, Sam supposed. As
long as you held the weapon it didn’t matter what enemy sprang out at you. But
he was used to being the mastermind behind the games. He knew how many
potential enemies lurked, how many levels it took to reach the top. Now he
didn’t. She needed to figure out how to use that against him.

She murmured soft words to Zoë,
initially asking how she felt, telling her to stay calm. When she sensed
Chandler’s distraction she added instructions. “Don’t let on it’s getting
better.” Zoë complied by screaming with Academy Award persuasion.

“You can’t let her lie here in
pain,” Sam insisted. “At least find me something to clean the wound and some
bandages. There are six bathrooms in this house, and I’d bet there’s a first
aid kit somewhere near the kitchen. Let me go get
something
.”

He ignored the request until the
next scream.

“Where’s the closest bathroom?”
he demanded.

“Go to the hall. The first door
on the right,” Sam said.

He looked around and spotted a
telephone on one of the end tables. Sending Sam a knowing look, he walked over
to it and unplugged the cord, taking the phone with him.

Snag number one.

“Quick, Zoë, is there another
phone I can get to?” Sam whispered close to her friend’s ear.

Zoë took a ragged breath. “Darryl
had a spare cell phone for a long time. In one of the desk drawers over there,
across the room. If the battery isn’t dead—”

Chandler came back, holding out a
box of tissues. “It’s the only thing I could find.”

“This is useless,” Sam told him.
“Can’t I just go look?”

He peered at Zoë’s sleeve. “It’s
not bleeding anymore. It’ll be fine.”

He pulled an armchair to the
doorway and sat on the edge of the seat, his legs bouncing with pent-up energy.
The jumpiness finally registered. He was high on something. Any chance of
getting to the desk or somehow shoving past him and running outdoors went away.

At the window, daylight was
fading fast. It had to be only another hour or so until full darkness. She
might be able to do something then. Zoë kept going with her litany of moans.
Then she said something that chilled Sam.

“Darryl,” she whispered.

“What?” Then it hit her—with the
loss of daylight, Zoë’s husband would soon come home from whatever construction
job he was on. He would walk right in unless something alerted him not to. They
couldn’t afford to wait this out much longer.

“Beg for something,” Sam
whispered, “something in another room.”

“Aahh, the pain,” Zoë cried
loudly. “I need something for the pain.”

Sam stared accusingly at Chandler.
“Come on. Some Tylenol or something. I think she keeps in it the kitchen. Let
me get it.”

She stood up as if to walk right
past his chair.

“No way. I’ll get it. Which
cabinet?”

Darn. They couldn’t even gain
extra time by making him search.

“The one nearest the microwave,”
Zoë said, gasping the words.

The moment Chandler left the
room, Sam raced to the desk and the drawer Zoë told her to look in. The cell
phone was there. She flipped it open and pressed the power button. It lit up.
She watched it search for a signal—ten seconds, twenty, thirty. Chandler was
being none too quiet in the kitchen, thank goodness. By the time a few bars
showed a signal on the cell phone she heard him in the hall again. She dropped
the phone into her pocket.

“We have to think of something
else to send him for,” Sam whispered. “In a couple minutes. By then we should
have a better signal.”

Their captor stood in the
doorway. Sam had a moment’s awful feeling he might have overheard her last
words. But he merely tossed a pill bottle her direction. She instinctively
reached for it, grabbing it in midair.

“What about some water?” she
said. “She can’t swallow these without water.”

Chandler’s expression darkened.

Zoë cried out again, grabbing her
wounded arm and rolling into a fetal ball on the sofa.

The heel of his hand smacked the
back of the armchair he’d left in the doorway. His face contorted in anger and
Sam had a brief flash of him going completely berserk, shooting them and
trashing the house before leaving. Then, in an instant, his jerky movements
settled and he turned back toward the kitchen after sending an impatient scowl
her way. With these mood swings, he was likely to go over the edge at the very
next slight provocation. They most likely only had one chance to live through
this ordeal.

She whipped out the cell phone
and punched Beau’s number with shaking hands.

She got out only a few words
before Zoë shrieked her name. She could only hope they were the right words.