Sweets Forgotten (Samantha Sweet Mysteries Book 10) (23 page)

Chapter
26

Beau felt his cell phone vibrate
as he got ready to get into the shower. He glanced at the readout, didn’t
recognize the number. Debated whether to answer. If he lost much time he would
be late to meet Sam at the restaurant. She was probably running late, too.
There was no sign she’d been home to change clothes and shower. After the third
ring the call went to voicemail. He sighed. He would listen to the message but
whatever it was would have to wait until morning. He would
not
ruin their anniversary plans again.

He tapped the button and turned
up the speaker volume. What he heard froze him in place. “Beau, help! Zoë and I
are held hostage at the B&B. Bring reinforcements.” It was Sam’s voice.

What the hell had happened? He
straightened his clothes, his mind racing furiously. The danger had to be
real—Sam would never say something like that if it weren’t absolutely genuine.
He ran downstairs, started his cruiser. Before he reached the end of his
driveway he’d got dispatch on the radio and ordered all units to the end of
Zoë’s street.

Hostages. The worst of all
scenarios. He couldn’t let his men or vehicles be seen until they were certain
of what they were dealing with. He didn’t dare call that strange cell number
back. It could make the whole situation explode. His small department didn’t
have SWAT teams or hostage negotiators. He had to solve this himself.

He visualized the layout in his
mind. The bed and breakfast sat on a short lane. At the south end was Kit
Carson Road, one of the busiest in the central part of town. The north end
dead-ended near the park but didn’t connect with it. So, basically, one way in
and one way out. He immediately went to a secure frequency and began issuing
orders: block the lane at the intersection; let no one in or out; send an
officer in a plain car to cruise by and observe the location. He would be there
himself in ten minutes. He hit his lights and siren and roared through traffic.

Kit Carson Road was already a
mess by the time Beau arrived at the blockade. Two lanes were barely enough to
accommodate the normal traffic but throwing in police vehicles and barriers
caused every driver to slow to a crawl to see what was going on. He whipped
into the oncoming lane and angled his cruiser next to the barrier, pleased to
see how quickly his men had responded. He sent one of them to act as traffic
control and keep things moving.

“She’ll be fine,” Rico said when
he joined Beau beside the cruiser.

Somehow, the word that Sam was
involved had leaked. He didn’t recall he’d actually said her name.

“I drove a plain car to the end
of the block and back. Sam’s van is out front. There’s also a red convertible.”
He gave the plate number. “It’s registered to Chandler Lane. The building is
dark except for a light in one of the front rooms.”

“No other guest cars?”

“No, sir.”

That was one less worry.

“Do you think you were spotted?”

“No sign of anyone near the
window that’s lit. It looks like one of those lacy curtains that you can see
through. They might still be able to see the street, but once it gets dark
outside he may decide they’re too visible. He could order them to shut off the
indoor light or close some heavier drapes.”

“What about other residences on
the street? We need to decide whether it’s necessary to evacuate them.”

Rico nodded. “There are only
about a dozen. We could have Dixie use the reverse directory and phone each
house, warning them to stay indoors. People are just now getting off work, so
there might not be anyone home in some of them anyway.”

“Good thinking. Get right on
that.”

Headlights lit his cruiser as a
vehicle pulled out of traffic. Beau started to order the driver to move on,
then he recognized the white pickup with lumber rack as Darryl Chartrain’s. He
walked over to inform Zoë’s husband that he couldn’t go home. Although he
didn’t want to say why, he felt bound to let the man know the overall
situation.

“How can I help?” Darryl said.

A man of action rather than
hysterics. Beau appreciated that. Unfortunately, he couldn’t let Darryl
anywhere near the house.

“Take my keys,” Darryl said. “If
you have the chance to approach, at least you can get in.”

Beau weighed the circumstances.
In a big city, factoring in the hyper-dramatics presented in movies and
relentless coverage by media, any number of things could happen: the entire
building rigged with explosives, the perpetrator cunning enough to have some
sort of infrared way of seeing everything and desperate enough to shoot every
human who crossed his path.

But Beau had to assess this
realistically. This was Taos and he was dealing with a businessman who had
somehow gotten into a bad situation. Granted, a
very
bad situation, but still. Chandler Lane, from all they knew of
him, was not a criminal mastermind. He had entangled himself in some type of
financial fiasco. Perhaps Zack had caught him embezzling funds from the
investment accounts. Things had spiraled downward and Zack was dead. How low
had Chandler Lane sunk? Beau had to be careful that Sam and Zoë didn’t meet the
same fate as Zack before Beau and his team could capture the killer.

Chapter
27

Sam pulled Zoë’s bloody, ripped
sleeve over the wound, which her own touch had nearly healed. It was vital that
Chandler continue to believe Zoë was helpless.

“We need some light in here,” she
told their captor. “From the street it’s going to look suspicious that there
are cars out front and no lights inside. This place is always lit up.” Plus, I
need to be able to watch your hand on that gun.

He had been pacing the room for
the past ten minutes, making Sam believe more than ever that he’d taken another
snort of whatever he was high on when he went to the kitchen for the glass of
water. The pistol worried her. In his agitated state, he could easily pull the
trigger when he didn’t intend to. She wanted to watch his face, to hope that
she could read his expressions well enough to have a bit of warning before he
aimed at her.

He peered around the edge of the
lace curtain, toward the street . Apparently it was quiet enough for his
liking.

“One lamp,” he said.

Sam reached for the floor lamp
beside the sofa before he could make the choice. She twisted the little plastic
switch several clicks, causing the light to go on and off twice.

“Sorry. I thought maybe it was a
three-way bulb.”
Or that I could get a
signal out to someone.

His eyes became hard.

“Sorry.” Sam kept the gun in
sight. He’d stopped holding it up, aimed at the women all the time, but it had
never once left his hand.

She spread a knitted afghan over
Zoë, who by now had toned down the moans and was watching everything through
half-closed eyes. Sam sat in one of the chairs near Zoë’s feet. She tried to
give the impression of being calm and non-threatening, but her mind was racing.
Beau would have been home by now, getting ready for their dinner out. She
prayed with everything she had that he’d received her message and made sense of
it. Meanwhile, she had to go on the assumption that she and Zoë were on their
own here. They needed to overpower Chandler or distract him long enough so they
could get away. Unfortunately, she didn’t see any way for that to happen.

He paced the length of the room
twice more and finally went back to the armchair at the doorway. Again, the
jittery leg. What was his goal in holding them? How long before he became bored
and shot them both?

*
* *

Beau directed Deputy Waters to
park next to Darryl Chartrain’s pickup truck. The back of Waters’ cruiser was
full of weapons and teargas canisters. Overkill, most likely, but he wanted to
be sure they could take Mr. Lane with a minimum of resistance. Leaving two
officers in charge of traffic and onlooker-control, the rest suited up with
Kevlar vests and high-power rifles. Beau led the way. In under ten minutes they
had disabled both the red convertible and Sam’s van as getaway vehicles and
established a perimeter around the nearly dark bed and breakfast.

Beau moved stealthily to the back
door, gently twisted the knob and found it locked. He pulled Darryl’s key from
his pocket and prayed the construction man kept the lock and door hardware well
oiled and noise free. It worked. He and Rico slipped in and moved, weapons
drawn, toward the light that showed faintly into the kitchen from the hall.

Voices. He made out Sam’s. She
sounded tired. A male voice responded to something she said.

“… not that hard to override an
electronic hotel key,” the man said.

“Were you just trying to scare
Jo? Why?”

A chair scraped. Beau wished he
could see into that room. He stood with his back to the wall, weapon aimed
upward, and signaled to Rico to be ready. On his signal—one finger, two,
three—they filled the doorway. Chandler Lane spun around, shock registering on
his face.

“Drop the gun!” Beau ordered.
“Facedown on the floor!”

Lane looked for a fraction of a
second as if he might defy them. Then he dropped to his knees.

“Down!”

Lane went face down and released
the pistol. Beau kicked it toward Rico and held his rifle over their suspect
while Rico secured his weapon and cuffed their man.

“Sam, you ladies all right?” He
took his eyes off Chandler long enough to see Sam standing at the end of a
sofa, Zoë sitting up with a cover over her lap, blood on her blouse.

Beau called down the men on the
perimeter and told them to come inside to take their suspect into custody. With
Chandler Lane on his way to jail, Beau turned to the women. Sam gave a quick
recap of what had happened. Zoë’s wound looked superficial. Beau allowed Darryl
into the house and recommended he take his wife for medical care, even though
Zoë protested that a little herbal cream would heal it just fine.

Outside, Rico awaited
instructions. Beau told him to lock Chandler in their detention cell and call
Kent Taylor in Albuquerque. As for himself, he planned to take his wife out for
their anniversary.

Chapter
28

Sam protested, saying Beau had
far more important things to do at the moment, but once he’d pointed out that
it would take Kent Taylor nearly three hours to drive up from Albuquerque and
that their own plans had been on hold far too long already, she acquiesced.

“We aren’t exactly dressed for
fancy,” she said, looking down at her disheveled clothing as they walked to
their vehicles.

He reattached her distributor cap
and looked at his watch. “We have thirty minutes before they’ll give away our
reservation. Do what you can with it.”

It’s amazing what a four-minute
shower and change of shirt will do, she discovered. They walked into the
restaurant at one minute after seven and were given the choicest table in the
house. Beau chose a good wine and by the time they’d decided to order the
chateaubriand for two Sam finally began to relax.

“At the risk of making this sound
like the work day never ends,” he said, “I have to say I’m still having a hard
time putting today’s events together.”

She smiled. “We can talk about
it. I don’t mind.”

“What did he admit to you, while
he had you and Zoë trapped there?”

Where to begin? “Chandler’s got
some heavy-duty drug problems, Beau. Being around him, especially when he’s
stressed out, I really saw it for the first time. I think that’s at the bottom
of all this. Plus, he rambled a lot while we were in there—things about his
Manhattan apartment that cost ten million, how he’s bought a castle in Europe,
and how he was buying a private jet. That takes a crazy amount of money to
support those things. I think he started looking for ways to take Zack’s share
of the business. He broke into the Robinet home to steal papers from their
safe. At first I thought he was after the financial records, in order to cover
up the fact he’d cleaned out a rather large investment account, the one Jo just
now discovered.”

Beau nodded as he dipped a hunk
of bread into the olive oil and garlic mixture their waiter had brought.

“But he said something at one
point this afternoon that made me realize what he was
really
after was Zack’s copy of their original partnership
agreement. Chandler was very hyper, talked a lot, muttered on about how ‘it
wasn’t like that.’ I asked him what he was talking about. Their agreement, he
said—if one partner died, the other was to take over ownership of the whole
business.”

“Giving Chandler access to all
the millions in company assets.”

“Yes. But then he said it wasn’t
like that, and I wondered what
that
was.
It turns out each partner’s share becomes part of his estate, so upon Zack’s
death Jo inherits his half. Chandler didn’t gain a thing by killing Zack. Now
he had to get Jo as well.”

“So he tried to get into her room
at the El Monte Hotel because no one knew she was there and no one would come
checking on her.”

“He came right out and told me
how easy it was to create a little device that circumvented the key card. But I
think it started even earlier. I’ll bet if you investigate very carefully,
you’ll find that it was Chandler who ran Jo off the road last Thursday morning.
Maybe she spotted Ray Belatoni at the gas station, but I don’t think he’s the
one who chased her down. She doesn’t remember the actual crash. My guess is
another vehicle came along and Chandler had to drive away before he could be
sure she was dead.”

“His car wasn’t damaged,” he
said.

She gave him a knowing stare.
“The rich have their resources. If Jo’s car miraculously got repaired in just a
day or two, doesn’t it make sense his could have, as well? Or, maybe he has
more than one vehicle. Have you ever met a rich, single guy who didn’t?”

The waiter brought their dinner
and went through the ritual of carving and serving. Sam could tell Beau’s
wheels were turning until the server left.

“So he went to the Kingston Arms
in Albuquerque and killed Zack. Once Krystal left the room, it wouldn’t be
difficult to get Zack to open the door to his own business partner. Quickly, he
shot the heroin into a vein, left the room, drove back to Taos. I want to
review the video tapes from the hotel. Two or three businessmen were seen
walking along that hall. I suspect Chandler was one of them, being careful not
to let his face be seen on camera.”

Again, Sam saw his mind working,
making a mental note to get back to that aspect of the investigation, as she
took her first few bites of the incredibly tender beef.

Beau continued, thinking aloud.
“Then Chandler came back here and tried to get rid of Jo. Killing her wouldn’t
have solved his problem, though, because half the company—in Zack’s
estate—would have simply passed to their son, Bentlee.”

“I imagine when he realized it,
that was when he decided he needed to get his hands on the partnership
agreement. He could destroy the old copies and replace them with a new version.
As long as Jo had amnesia he had no worries that she could mess things up. Even
later, he could always point out her knock to the head as a reason she wouldn’t
remember the document accurately. Except once her memory came back, she was
very clear on everything. The chance of the whole problem being forgotten was
now gone.”

Beau smiled at her. “You know, for
a lady who just went through a traumatic ordeal you have a remarkably
analytical take on all this.”

Perhaps she did. Sam felt herself
blushing a little at the compliment. Or maybe it was just the wine. She gazed
out the window and a moment later, movement caught her attention. A familiar
tangle of brown curls, the slender figure in a perky floral dress. Her
daughter.

At first Sam didn’t see the man
but then he walked into view and Kelly reached for his hand, laughing at
something he’d said. He wore dark slacks and a tweed sport coat.

A rush of emotion flooded through
Sam. She caught it, thought about the reaction.

“Sam?” Beau’s eyes followed hers.

“It isn’t Julio,” she said. “I’m
ashamed to say it, I’m relieved that Kelly’s new guy is someone else.”

“Julio? Your baker? Why would
that bother you?”

Why indeed? Despite the fact
she’d had this argument with herself over the past two weeks, despite the fact
that she knew and liked Julio and really respected him, something told her he
wasn’t the right one for her daughter.

“I wish Julio all the best in
finding the perfect woman in his life. I just—I don’t know how to say it. A guy
with a record and a bike and all those tattoos … I’m not sure I could have
welcomed him into the family.”

“Darlin’, I really don’t believe
that. I’ve never seen a scrap of prejudice in you and I think if you saw Kelly
happy with someone you knew to be a decent and hard worker, you’d accept him.”

Sam realized he was right.
Whatever was best for Kelly would make her happy.

By this time Kelly and the man
had entered the restaurant and were speaking to the maître d’. When Kelly
glanced toward their table, Sam gave a little wave. She couldn’t tell whether
the reaction was exactly joyful, but at least Kelly put on a smile and did the
right thing. She linked her arm through her date’s and brought him to their
table. Beau stood and shook hands with the man who, Sam guessed, was about
forty. He had longish, wavy brown hair, wire-rimmed glasses and a tentative
smile. This was probably not exactly how he’d envisioned meeting the parents,
walking in with no preparation whatsoever.

“Mom, Beau, this is Scott
Porter.”

 
Scott’s expression relaxed when Sam and Beau
both greeted him warmly.

“Scott is a history professor at
the UNM campus here.”

How on earth had Kelly met a
professor? Sam could foresee a girl’s lunch out where she would ferret out all
the answers.

“Join us,” Beau offered. “I’m
sure we can arrange a couple more chairs and place settings.”

“Oh, no, we don’t want to
interrupt,” Scott said. “You’re partway through your meal. Plus, I understand
it’s your anniversary. Congratulations.”

“We’ll catch up later, Mom.”

The maître d’ was standing
discreetly to one side, menus in hand. He led them to the only empty table in
the place, on the other side of the room.

“Well, imagine my surprise,” Sam
said.

“Yes. I am.” Beau gave a smile
and a wink.

Sam’s mind whirled as she
finished her meal—too many new revelations in a very short time. When their
cake came to the table, everyone in the place applauded.

“There’s plenty of cake here,”
Sam told the server after he’d cut and served slices to them. “Offer it to
everyone, and be sure that young couple over there gets some.”

By the time they arrived home Sam
wasn’t sure she would ever fall asleep. Wired with the stress of the day and
the excitement of the evening she declined coffee, opting for a small raspberry
liqueur when Beau offered. Bundled against the chilly September air, they
sipped their drinks outside on the back deck. Ranger and Nellie settled nearby,
happy to have the pack together again.

Beau had called the station on
the way home, hoping he wouldn’t be needed for another late-night interrogation
session. Kent Taylor was there, assuring Beau things were moving as well as
could be expected. They would hold Chandler Lane in a cell until morning. He’d
called upon his high-power attorney and would not say another word. Transport
to Albuquerque and arraignment would take place tomorrow.

“Something just hit me,” Sam
said, turning to Beau, watching his face in the moonlight. “Kent Taylor awhile
ago mentioned a slip of paper in your case file, one with numbers on it. It was
the note Jo found in her pocket the day after she wandered into my shop. She
was onto the embezzlement even before her accident.”

Beau’s forehead wrinkled.

“Think about it. The numerals
3679854. We thought it was a phone number at first. But instead of a dash,
insert commas. The figure represents over three-point-six million, the amount
taken from the investment account. Even though she told me she assumed Zack had
moved the money, Chandler must have known she was looking into it and thought
she knew what he was doing. It explains why he came after her.”

Beau smiled at her. “You are one
smart cookie, you know.”

She sighed, happy that the last
piece of the puzzle now finally fit. The moon cast a silver streak across their
pasture land and a chill autumn breeze riffled her hair. Beau noticed her
shiver and suggested they go inside.

Despite her earlier alertness,
Sam felt her eyes drooping. She trailed behind Beau up the stairs and fell
asleep within minutes, her last sensation the feel of Beau’s kiss on her
forehead as he tucked the covers around her shoulders.

She woke to daylight and
discovered he’d left early, with a note explaining it would be a busy day for
him. When Sam arrived at her shop, Jo showed up at her van door before she had
set a foot on the ground. Judging by her lack of makeup and flustered
appearance, she’d heard the news.

“Sam, I don’t know what to say.
I’m completely shocked about Chandler. I never saw that coming.”

“No one did, Jo. It certainly
wasn’t your fault.”

“I talked to Bentlee last night,”
Jo said. “I felt that I should break it to him personally. He’s very relieved.
We talked a long time and I think things will be good between us.”

“I’m happy for you, Jo. Really
glad.”

“I also called my uncle back
east. I won’t say he was happy to learn of Zack’s death, but the two of them
clashed right from the start. Zack was a big part of my estrangement from my own
family. Anyway, Uncle Peter offered me a job in the family candy company. I’m
going to take it. There are great schools there, and it will do Bentlee a lot
of good to get away from everything he’s been facing here in New Mexico.”

“What about ChanZack Innovations?
It’s all yours now.”

“I’ll do some deep thinking about
that. I could make a huge amount of money with it, but it’s not where my heart
is. I’ll probably look for a buyer. Luckily, it’s the kind of business that can
operate from anywhere—I mean, who would guess a venture of that type originated
in this little town? With the recent introduction of the new game, the timing
seems right to look at some offers.”

“Well, I wish you luck in
everything. Who would have guessed that the scared woman who walked in here
with no memory would turn out to have such a fascinating life?” Sam hugged her
and they headed inside.

Word had spread of yesterday’s
action and Chandler Lane’s arrest, Sam learned, when Jen plopped the morning
newspaper on the worktable in front of her.

“When did you plan to mention
this?”

Becky, Julio and Jo crowded
around, catching the headline: Two Local Women Held Hostage. Beau had never
mentioned the presence of media people. She felt half-irritated and
half-grateful. At least he hadn’t spoiled their anniversary celebration with
this additional stressor.

With no other choice, Sam gave a
very quick summation, leaving out the way Zoë’s wound had healed so quickly and
making light of the fact that they’d been at gunpoint during the whole ordeal.

“We are fine now, and Mr. Lane is
facing a trial in Albuquerque,” she said. “Now, it’s time for us all to get
back to work.”

“There’s one more piece of news,”
Jen said, standing taller and ceremoniously clearing her throat. “I checked our
website this morning for new orders and there was a very nice email from Mr.
Stan Bookman.”

Sam felt puzzled. He was supposed
to be in Paris, wowing his wife with her birthday trip and gift.

Jen held up a sheet of paper and
started to read.

Dear Ms. Sweet and the entire Sweet’s Sweets
crew,

I write this informal note to express my
sincerest thanks for the excellent job in designing and presenting your
fantastic box of chocolates. My wife declares it the best birthday gift she has
ever received. I must say, I agree.