Sweets Forgotten (Samantha Sweet Mysteries Book 10) (4 page)

“We’re looking for the woman who
was in the room with him, but there were a lot of prints. Unfortunately, hotel
maids don’t exactly wipe down every surface when they clean so we can’t be sure
when the various prints were left. The desk clerk remembers Robinet heading
upstairs with a glamorous woman, so we’re running all the prints. Too bad it
doesn’t go as quickly in real life as on TV.”

“So this investigation is going
to focus both in Albuquerque and in Taos.”

“You got it.” A tired sigh came
over the line.

“I’ll get whatever I can in
background on the victim,” Beau said, telling Taylor the little he knew after
talking with Chandler Lane. “These guys have made a lot of money. That’s always
good as a motive. The partners were headed to a trade show in Vegas to
introduce another hot product so maybe a competitor is somehow involved. I
think I’ll warn Lane to be careful.”

“Let’s check in frequently,”
Taylor suggested. “I have a feeling developments will come from both of our
jurisdictions.”

Beau took a deep breath after
disconnecting from the call. A complicated murder case was the last thing he
needed with half his department sick. The phone rang again. Sam. He’d forgotten
all about the missing persons reports he was supposed to be checking for her.

Chapter
5

Sam slid an anxious glance toward
the clock above the stove, wondering what was going on with Beau’s inquiries
about the identity of her mysterious visitor. Four o’clock. It wasn’t as if
Jane Doe was causing any problems here at Sweet’s Sweets. It was more like
having a guest who’d popped in unannounced and Sam felt she needed to be
courteous and come up with ways to entertain her. The bakery was busy enough on
any given day to keep her entire crew moving at full speed; entertaining
visitors during the work day was putting a strain on her normally ready smile.

She picked up the tray of
Sherlock-themed cupcakes and walked toward the bookshop next door. If she
hadn’t heard from Beau by the time she’d delivered them she would call him.
True, his other investigation was more important than this one but, seriously,
it was getting late in the day and what was she supposed to do with Jane after
closing time?

“Ah,
bon soir
, Miss Samantha!” Ivan Petrenko, the quirky Russian who
owned the bookstore greeted her with enthusiasm. “You have bringing the
chocolate goodies for the week!”

Sam tended to forget the stories
of his colorful past—which supposedly included a daring escape from communist
Russia, a life in France where he reputedly became a renowned chef, and a
career in a top New York restaurant before he landed in Taos—until she
conversed with him and tried to work out his odd blend of languages and syntax.

“You mentioned the club was
reading Arthur Conan Doyle this week, so we went with a sleuthing theme,” she
said, setting the cupcakes on a table with a display of nineteenth-century
detective articles, along with the featured book.

“She is perfect, these treats,”
Ivan said, handing Sam a check. “How is going, your day?”

“Pretty well. We’re busy but it’s
not as crazy as it will get when the holidays begin.”

He gave her an odd look,
reminding her that the word ‘crazy’ had several interpretations. There was no
telling which one Ivan was picturing in his head right now.

“A woman showed up this morning.
She apparently has amnesia,” Sam said. “You know that word, right?”

“Oh,
da
, is the forgetting of memory.”

“Something like that. She doesn’t
know her own name or where she lives. Beau is trying to find out if anyone has
filed a missing person report but I haven’t heard back from him yet and she’s
just hanging around my shop.”

He gave a sympathetic nod.

“Hey, maybe I should send her
over here. Seeing some of the books might remind her of something.”

Ivan gave a noncommittal European
shrug. “I am opening until six. Book club come at six-thirty.”

“I’ll think about it,” Sam said
on her way out the door.

What would happen if she sent
Jane over and the woman wandered away? Beau might come up with some relatives
and then they wouldn’t be able to find her again. Plus, what if Jane’s amnesia
was caused by a traumatic event and something in the bookshop reminded her of
it so strongly that she freaked out. Sam couldn’t envision herself or Ivan
being able to handle the situation if the woman truly went berserk.

She paused on the sidewalk and
pulled out her phone. Bothersome or not, there was only one way to find out
what, if anything, Beau had learned.

“Hey, darlin’,” he said. His
voice sounded harried. “Sorry, but I haven’t had a minute to follow up on your
lady.”

“Beau, she isn’t ‘my lady’ and I
really don’t want her to become mine. I really need somewhere to send her
before we close up shop for the day.”

A quick flash went through her
head, the idea of taking Jane home with her for the night. But the earlier
vision of the woman suddenly turning into a whole different personality came
back at her. No. Jane needed some kind of professional help.

“I know, I know,” he said. “I
haven’t had any luck with our local databases and there’s been no time to take
the search further. I’ll call Melissa Masters and have her come by your place.
Her department is equipped to deal with these things.”

“Thank you.” Sam breathed a sigh,
reminding herself there were times when it really wasn’t necessary to fix
everything personally. She hung up and went back to the cinnamon-sugar ambiance
of her own shop.

“Hey, Sam,” Jen greeted. “I was
just totaling the register. Looks like we’ve had a decent day.”

Sam crossed behind the counter to
take a look. It was amazing how certain days turned out well, even when it
didn’t feel like a lot of traffic had come in.

“Becky and I were playing a
little game with Jane awhile ago, tossing out names to see if she recognized
her own.”

“And?” A rush of hope.

“No luck. No flicker even.”

“Ah well.” She told Jen about her
call just now to Beau. “I’d better inform her.”

It wasn’t as if Jane had any
belongings to gather, so when Melissa Masters pulled up in front of Sweet’s
Sweets thirty minutes later she was ready to go.

Melissa turned out to be a woman
in her fifties, probably near Sam’s age but far more matronly with polyester
slacks and a pastel color-coordinated blouse. Her hair reached her collar in short
gray waves and her smile was genuine, the sort that radiated kindness and
understanding toward those who had endured way too much in their lives. Jane
seemed to feel instantly at ease with the social worker.

“We’ll go to Casa Comfort,”
Melissa said. “The sheriff knows where we are.”

Sam nodded.

“Jane, you’ll share a room with
another lady tonight. We have nightgowns and toothbrushes and most anything
you’ll need. Depending on how many are with us at any given time, sometimes you
get a room of your own. We put women with children in the larger ones and there
are bunk beds for them. But don’t worry about it. I’m sure the sheriff will
find your identity and get your home address real soon.”

Jane seemed a little confused by all
the plans, but Sam knew that must be normal. She watched as Melissa showed Jane
out to a white Ford sedan and settled her comfortably in the passenger seat.
She’d never thought of the logistics necessary to take people in on a moment’s
notice, some of them indefinitely.

They drove away and Sam wondered
if she would ever see Jane again. Quite likely, Beau would come up with her
identity, and anxious family members would come pick her up. With luck maybe
Jane’s memory would come back immediately when she saw familiar faces and
surroundings. Otherwise, she might be in for a long haul of medical and
psychiatric care.

“Sam?” Jen touched her forearm.
“You okay?”

“Absolutely.” She surveyed the
sales room. “Ready to close?”

“Here’s the bank bag. I think
everyone else has already left.”

Suddenly, the long day closed in
on Sam and she felt an overwhelming need to get home. In the kitchen, Julio had
washed and neatly put away all the baking utensils. The oven was off and
Becky’s orders for the next day waited on the worktable. The lights, other than
the one above Sam’s desk, were off.

After checking the front door
behind Jen, she jammed the bank deposit into her backpack purse, switched out
the final lamp, got into her van and drove north. Thank goodness for the crockpot
chicken waiting at home; at this moment she didn’t even have the energy to stop
for fast food.

I miss the box
, she thought as she edged through the stop-and-go
traffic past the pueblo turnoff.
No, you
don’t. You can’t turn to magic every time you get a little tired.

An ancient VW with a wheezing
engine and bumper stickers all over the back, slowed abruptly to make the turn
at the health food market, and Sam had to hit her brakes to avoid rear-ending
it.

“Get your taillights fixed,” she
muttered to the oblivious driver, reminding herself to stay alert. It wasn’t
that much farther.

The turnoff for the ranch
welcomed her, the stone portals on each side of the long drive and the carved
lintel connecting them gave the place a solid feel. Beau’s big log house, where
Sam had moved when they married, welcomed her in the late dusk. Lights at the
windows and the sight of his cruiser parked out front comforted her. Both dogs
rose and approached the edge of the front porch as she parked her van.

“The chicken smelled so good when
I got here,” came Beau’s voice from the kitchen, “that I went ahead and mashed
the potatoes and made some gravy.”

What a prize he was. She dropped
her pack onto one of the hooks at the coatrack and set her phone on the end
table before joining him in the kitchen. He handed her a glass of wine and
insisted she take a seat at the small kitchen table while he turned off the gas
under a pan on the range top.

“Um, you taste like sugar,” he
said after kissing the top of her head.

“I should shower. I think I have
powdered sugar in every pore of my body.”

“I could get that for you.” He
licked the tip of her nose with a little flick.

“Ugh, honey. You really don’t
want to do that. There’s plenty of sweat in the mix too.”

He laughed and clicked his beer
glass to her wine glass. “Okay, you win. You want that shower before dinner or
after?”

Tiredness was settling over her
pretty quickly. She stood up and took his hand. “If you can hold dinner ten
minutes I’ll make it a very quick one.”

By the time she came downstairs,
refreshed and wearing a loose caftan, he’d lit candles on the dining table and
refilled her wine glass.

“Is there an occasion I’ve
forgotten or do you plan to always spoil me rotten?” she teased.

“Um, probably neither. Although
our anniversary is coming up soon.”

Sam gulped too quickly and
sputtered on her wine. How had she not remembered such an important date,
especially when she created fantastic desserts for other people’s occasions all
the time?

Sam’s energy began to return as
she ate. Beau talked about his investigation.

“I made a second trip out to
interview the victim’s parents,” he said. “Now that the Albuquerque police are
treating this as a suspicious death, possibly a homicide, my department is
having to look into the man’s background here at home.”

“And I’ll bet the parents swear
their son never used drugs a day in his life.”

“Most of ’em will tell you that,
yes. Especially the ones who’ve been successful in their lives and watched
their children grow up to be successful too. They really don’t think that stuff
happens in their own families.”

A picture of Kelly flashed
briefly through Sam’s mind. Aside from a lot of beer and maybe some
experimentation in her college years, surely her
own
daughter didn’t …

“So the Robinets are swearing up
one side and down the other that dear Zack was a wonderful man who never made
an enemy, who attended church every week and was probably the next Steve Jobs
when it came to his business success.”

“And you’re not buying it?”

“I think
they
genuinely believe it. I mean, most likely they’re not covering
up anything. But parents often have an incredible blind side about their adult
children. Here’s a couple who are vital and active for their ages—they travel
and get out a lot. How closely did they really stay involved in their married
son’s life?” He poured a little more wine for Sam. “I went by Zack Robinet’s
residence—nice place, by the way. Nobody home there. Most likely, the parents
or the business partner will talk to the wife before I do.”

“Still, you have to get her side
of things.”

“Yeah, she’ll be the one to
verify or deny the things the parents said.”

“Do you think she will?” Sam set
down her fork and pushed her plate aside. “She might be the one with the most
to lose by admitting her husband’s weaknesses.”

“Losing face, you mean?”

“Well, yeah. Especially when it
comes to sex and drugs. She could have been turning a blind eye to all kinds of
things, you know, in exchange for lots of money and a fantastic lifestyle.”

He nodded. “Some do. You’re right
about that. The same might be said for his business partner, Chandler Lane. I’d
planned on going back to question him some more but he’s on his way to a trade
show and won’t be back in Taos for another three or four days.”

Sam stood up and stacked the
dishes. “I’m afraid I didn’t bring anything home for dessert, but there’s ice
cream in the freezer.”

His smile told her he’d rather
have the ice cream than a pastry any day. He picked up the leftover chicken and
bowl of potatoes and followed her to the kitchen.

“So, on a completely different
topic,” Sam said as she rummaged in a drawer for the ice cream scoop, “I don’t
suppose there’s any late-breaking news on Jane?”

He paused with the freezer door
open.

“Sorry, darlin’. There’s only so
many hours in the day. I had Dixie send the photo out to surrounding
jurisdictions. Just as I was leaving for the day she said there was one
response from a town in Colorado. Pagosa Springs, I think.”

He pulled out the new carton of
vanilla and proceeded to scoop as he talked.

“For now, Jane’s safely in the
hands of Melissa and her colleagues so you don’t need to worry about her. I’ll
let you know what we find out, and chances are good that she’ll be on her way
back to her worried family by this time tomorrow.”

Back in the living room, Sam took
two bites of her ice cream but felt her earlier tiredness return. When Beau
finished off both servings and carried the bowls to the kitchen she found
herself dozing on the couch.

Beau came back and kissed her
gently on her left temple. “Hey there. You ought to go on to bed. I’ll check
the horses and dogs and lock up everything. See you upstairs.”

He didn’t have to suggest twice.
She thought once again of the carved box in the safe, feeling very tempted to
handle it a little to rid herself of this lethargic mood. But past experience
had shown that touching the box at night wasn’t a good idea if she wanted any
sleep at all. She walked past the closet with the safe and headed upstairs.