Sweets Forgotten (Samantha Sweet Mysteries Book 10) (3 page)

“Let’s take a break,” she
announced. “Jen, yes, sandwiches are a great idea. I’m just going to step out
back.”

She pulled her phone from her
pocket, noting that Becky kept forming flower petals as if her hands wouldn’t
stop the repetitive movements, even though her stomach said she was hungry.

Outside, it was a perfect fall
day with a deep blue sky, abundant sunshine and a crisp tang to the air. She
tapped Beau’s number and waited while it rang three times. Just as she was certain
she would have to leave a message, he answered.

“Sorry, darlin’, I don’t have
anything on your Jane Doe yet. I’ve been tracking down next of kin for that
Albuquerque case. I’m at Greenlee Manor right now, waiting while they track
down a couple who lives here. I’ll have to get back to you.”

“Sure. No problem.” She felt a
little letdown that he hadn’t had time to get Jane taken care of. Not that the
woman was posing a problem here at the shop but it was just strange having an
extra person looking on.

Okay, don’t be this way, Sam. Jane did save your ass when the chocolate
was about to burn. And it’s not as if she’s really under foot.

“I can put in a quick call to
social services if you want me to,” he was saying.

“No, that’s okay. She’s not
causing any trouble here at the shop. As long as I have somewhere to send her
before the end of the day, okay?”

She walked back through the
kitchen, to the sales room, to check in with Jen. The sandwiches were coming
from the deli a block over and if they didn’t want to wait someone should run
over to pick them up. She couldn’t very well send Jane to do it, a woman lost
and with amnesia. She told Jen she would walk over to pick up the lunches
herself.

Chapter
4

Beau looked up to see a
gray-haired couple in exercise clothing walking toward him. The assisted-living
resident apartment manager had already confirmed that the Robinets had a son
named Zachary, who was on record as their next of kin. George and Nancy Robinet
certainly didn’t match the picture of any retirement home residents he’d ever
met before. Both wore athletic shoes and Spandex walking shorts and shirts.
They moved with confidence and George held out his hand.

“I hear you wanted to speak to
us, Sheriff?”

“Yes. Could we go somewhere?”

“Come along to our apartment,”
Nancy said, wiping her forehead with a tissue. “I need to shed this jacket.
Funny how chilly it seems when we start out walking but how quickly we warm
up.”

The elevator ride to the third
floor took longer than Beau liked. He didn’t want to inform these people that
their son was dead until he was certain of a few minutes privacy.

“I have to admit that you two
surprised me,” he said. “You seem pretty young and fit to have chosen life in a
retirement home.”

“Well, that’s the operative
word,” George said. “We
chose
it.
Hey, no more yard work for me.”

“No cooking for me,” Nancy said
with a bright smile. “Our kitchen here has never seen more than cups of coffee
and occasional sandwiches. The cafeteria provides three meals a day if we want
them.”

“Frees up our time for travel,
too. Don’t have to worry about who’s watching our house while we’re off to
Europe or China or somewhere.”

Beau nodded and stood aside as
the elevator door slid open on the third floor. Clearly, these two had no clue
as to the reason for his visit. He felt badly about the news he was about to
spring on them.

George unlocked the door to an
apartment with an autumn-themed wreath on the door, and Nancy peeled off her
workout jacket as she walked past the tiny efficiency kitchen. The place
appeared to consist of the little galley, a comfortable living room and a
bedroom. A bathroom probably connected beyond it. The Robinets moved briskly
about the room, offering coffee but seemingly unconcerned about Beau’s
presence.

He cleared his throat. “There’s
actually an official reason I stopped by today. I’m afraid it’s about your son,
Zack.”

“Oh dear.” Nancy dropped her
jacket across the back of the sofa. “He hasn’t gotten another speeding ticket,
has he? There was that time the officer got very upset with him and took him to
jail. I had to come and provide bail.”

“No ma’am. It’s not that.”

“No, honey. Couldn’t be that,”
George said. “He’s on his way to that tradeshow, remember?”

“Maybe we should all sit down,”
Beau suggested. Keeping track of them was like trying to round up a pair of
leggy young calves. They wouldn’t hold still. He gestured toward the sofa and
armchair.

“I’m very sorry to inform you
that Zack has died.”

It took a full minute for the
information to sink in and, even then, Nancy looked at him as if he’d rattled
out something incomprehensible in a foreign language.

“The Albuquerque police called
our department with the news and asked that I contact Zack’s next of kin. I’m very
sorry.”

“Oh my god,” said Nancy, finally.
George sat on the sofa, his shoulders slumped, a good ten extra years suddenly
showing on his face.

“What about Josephine?” he said.

“That would be …”

“Zack’s wife. Oh, and my
gosh—poor little Bentlee. What will the boy do without a father?” At the
mention of her grandson, Nancy’s face crumpled and George reached out to put
his arms around her.

Beau gave them a moment, feeling
that he should leave but knowing he had still more questions to ask. Times like
this were when he really hated this job.

“Josephine didn’t go to
Albuquerque with him?”

Nancy shook her head numbly.

“I’ll need to notify her as
well,” he said. “I went by the house on Goldenrod Lane but no one was home.”

George’s mouth pursed. “Hm, I
can’t think where else Josephine would be this time of day. Except maybe Zack’s
office. She sometimes helps out with the business.”

“That would be ChanZack
Innovations?”

Nancy nodded. Giving the couple
something concrete to think about seemed to help.

“Chandler and Zack. They hit it
off really well when they first met and decided to start the business
together.”

“I’ll stop by there. Can you tell
me any more about Zack’s trip to Albuquerque? Why he went, who he planned to
see, that kind of thing?”

“He went to some kind of computer
convention,” George said. “I thought it was in Las Vegas. He only went to
Albuquerque to catch his flight.”

“Those busy freeways in the
city,” Nancy said. “I knew he shouldn’t spend so much time driving around
there.”

“There wasn’t a traffic accident,”
Beau said as gently as he could. “Zack’s body was found in a hotel room.”

Nancy’s expression said she was
processing the information as quickly as she could, working to find the logic.
Beau could tell they were anxious, wanting more information.

“He must have driven down there
early and decided to stay the night before the trip.”

“I don’t know ma’am. I was told
there was an ongoing investigation. I’m afraid I don’t know anything more right
now.”

There was no way he was going to
mention Taylor’s comments on the rough sex play, especially to the parents, and
especially in light of the fact that the victim’s wife had not traveled with
him. He repeated his condolences and left them sitting on their sofa, arms
around each other, their world instantly shattered by his visit.

Back in his cruiser, he took a
minute for a deep breath. The idea of early retirement flashed through his
mind. This was certainly not the first grieving family he had visited—it
wouldn’t be the last. He dialed the cell number George Robinet had given for
Zack’s wife, hoping to find out where she was at the moment, but after a few
rings it went to voicemail. He clicked off. There was no message he could leave
for this sort of thing. He pulled out the scanned sheet of Zack Robinet’s
information and got the address for ChanZack Innovations.

The suite of offices was in
Taos’s version of an upscale location. Since ninety percent of the businesses
in town were in small strip shopping centers or stand-alone adobe buildings,
the two-story Appleton Center with its modern façade was it. A local bigwig,
Rick Appleton, had made a fortune in real estate in the nineties and saw this
building as the embodiment of his achievements. He’d filled the twenty suites
with his own offices and other real estate related services, billing it as
‘Your one-stop property shop’ until the market tanked, helped along by onerous
building codes and development rules. Appleton had gone off to greener real
estate pastures, although presumably he still collected rent from the
current-day tenants. With the one-stop theme gone, the spaces were filled by
tech firms, graphics design places and a beauty salon attached to a high-end
ladies clothing store. ChanZack Innovations was on the second floor, probably
chosen for the corner location and view of Taos Mountain.

With any luck, maybe one of the
cars in the lot belonged to Josephine Robinet and Beau could complete his
mission quickly. Then he could get back to that other case. Sam’s voice had
betrayed her impatience at having the stranger underfoot in her shop.

“Mrs. Robinet? No, she hasn’t
come in today. Mr. Robinet is out of town,” said the model-gorgeous
receptionist behind the sleek mahogany desk.

“What about his partner? Is he
in?”

“Mr. Lane. At the moment, yes.
He’s due to leave for the airport soon. I will need to ask whether he has any
time.” She tried sending a coy glance in his direction.

Beau touched the badge on his
shirt pocket. “It’s official. I suggest that he make time.”

He stepped aside, studying a
range of colorful art on the wall beside the reception desk, while she made a
quiet call. The poster-sized photos pictured trendy and successful people
holding cell phones and tablets, staring at their screens with delighted smiles
on their faces.

“Sheriff?”

The male voice came from behind
him and Beau turned.

“Chandler Lane. What can I do for
you?” The man was one of those metro-sexual males with a polished complexion,
perfect haircut, complete with blond highlights, and upscale casual clothing
you rarely saw on Taos locals, where the tri-cultural blend of New Mexico was
very evident—Hispanic politicians, Indian artisans and aging Anglo hippies.
Lane was in his early thirties, the sort who knew he was at the top of his game
and loving every minute.

“Mr. Lane, you are Zack Robinet’s
business partner?”

“Yes, that’s right. May we offer
you some organic coffee?”

Beau declined. “Can we speak
privately?”

Lane’s deep brown eyes darted
toward the receptionist and Beau got the sense of sexual tension between them.
He followed Lane’s confident stride as the partner passed his thumb over a tiny
panel beside the connecting door. A green light, an audible click, and he led
the way into the first office on the left of a short hallway. The man’s desktop
was filled by two large computer monitors and keyboards. A laptop with the lid
closed sat on one corner of a credenza behind the desk. More posters of joyful
phone users filled two of the walls in here, as well.

“I swear I paid my taxes,” Lane
joked, holding his hands up in a no-secrets-here gesture. “That’s not why
you’re here. Okay, a donation to the police and sheriff’s association? You got
it, you know.”

“You might want to sit down,”
Beau suggested.

Chandler Lane only stood stock
still.

“I’m afraid I have bad news. Your
partner, Zack, is dead.”

“What!” Lane’s face went pale
beneath his perfect tan. “I can’t bel—wow.”

He paced the length of the room,
running his hands through his hair, pausing, pinching his lower lip.

“What happened? I mean, I’m just
stunned. We’re supposed to be in Vegas tonight. All our trade show stuff was
shipped ahead …” He crossed back and sank slowly into the chair behind his
desk.

“Did you know he was staying the
night in Albuquerque?”

“Yeah. Actually, I had planned to
go too but then we couldn’t get on the same flight and I had some other stuff
come up here in town. I’m supposed to leave by two, get to the airport, take a
seven o’clock flight tonight. My god, what—what’ll happen?”

“Tell me a little more about your
business. What types of ‘innovations’ do you have?”

Chandler took a deep breath,
switching gears. “We, uh, we develop apps. Our biggie is a game called Infinite
Star Fighter that seems to have every teen kid and half their fathers addicted
to it. Made a couple tons of money on that, I have to admit. Following up was
tough. I mean we did upgrades—version 2.1, etcetera. Our big announcement at
the electronics show this week is a spinoff that we think will capture the
girls’ market. Star Fighter Hotties, it’s called. You know, every girl wants to
think she’s so hot she’ll hook up with one of the heroes from I.S.F. Sorry, you
really don’t care about the details on all that.” He ran his hands down the
sides of his face again. “I just can’t take it in—Zack gone. What did Jo say?”

“Jo … oh, Josephine. I haven’t
been able to reach his wife yet. I had hoped she would be here. Do you know
where I can find her?”

Chandler shook his head. “She
comes once or twice a week. She coordinates ad campaigns and double-checks the
bookkeeper on tax matters. Zack and me, we’re into the gaming kid’s mind, know
how to come up with action and ideas they love. Not so good with money. Jo
coordinates all that other stuff.”

“I should probably be the one to
notify her about Zack,” Beau said, placing one of his business cards on the
desk. “If you hear from her can you find out where she is and give me a call?
Until then, I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention this to anyone else. It
would be devastating to a widow to find out from someone on the street if the
word gets out.”

“Agreed. Totally.” Chandler made
a zipping motion across his lips.

“Do you still plan to attend the
trade show?”

Chandler stared at his clasped
hands. “I suppose I’d better. We sent out all these advance press releases about
our new product. The sales team is going along to write up orders, but if no
one’s there to introduce it and do the demos, we’ve invested about a million
dollars in development that we’ll have a hard time getting back.”

Beau stepped toward the door. “I’m
sorry I brought sad news.”

Chandler Lane merely stared at
the floor and shook his head slowly.

Down in the parking lot, Beau got
into his department SUV and had barely reached to stick the key in the ignition
when his cell phone rang.

“Sheriff? It’s Kent Taylor here
in Albuquerque.”

“Yes, Detective Taylor. I was
about to call you. I’ve located and notified the parents and the business
partner of your victim, but haven’t found the wife yet.”

“Okay. I mean, let me know when
you do. Meanwhile, I’ve rushed the OMI on this and have some startling results
on the autopsy. Robinet didn’t die from asphyxiation, as we first thought.
Looks like a drug overdose. Heroin.”

“Whoa. But the marks on his
neck?”

“Yeah, he’s got those all right,
but that wasn’t the COD.”

“Meaning—sex
and
drugs at the little party?”

“The Medical Investigator
questions whether the victim injected the heroin himself. He definitely wasn’t
a habitual user. He’s thinks Robinet could have been unconscious at the time
the drug entered his system.”

Beau thought of the clean-cut
appearance of Zack Robinet from his ID photo. Apparently there was a lot more
to this situation.