Sticky Sweet Read online

  Scouting the front of the property, she spotted the town’s metal cover over the water meter. It required a special tool to lift it. Second choice would be if there was a master shut-off valve somewhere along the line. As she remembered the layout of the house, the hot water heater was in the garage, with a small bathroom the other side of the wall. Logic said that would be the point where the line entered the dwelling so she visualized a straight path from point A to point B.

  The house key was under the flowerpot where she’d replaced it, so she grabbed it and dashed in. The travertine entry was dry, but the parquet in the den already had nearly an inch of water. The culprit was a stream coming from the kitchen. Great. Multiple breaks in the house pipes, no doubt. No time to analyze it at this moment—Sam dashed for the connecting door to the garage.

  Within five minutes she’d located a valve and muscled it closed. The flow eased and then stopped. Now the real work would begin.

  The doorbell chimed about two seconds before her phone began to ring. With a backward glance at the wet garage floor, she pulled the phone from her pocket and headed for the front door.

  “Sam, I think I have some good news on the cocoa,” Benjie said. “Tanner Wholesale located about half of what we need in Albuquerque. They can have it delivered by noon tomorrow.”

  “Better yet, Beau’s there today. If he hasn’t left yet, I’ll have him pick it up. Give me the address.”

  “I’ll need to call them back. The rest of the order will be shipped today, overnight. Surely FedEx can’t lose two trucks in two days, right?”

  “Perfect. Get me that address right away. I’m getting hold of Beau now.”

  With one thumb, she ended Benjie’s call and hit the quick-dial for Beau’s cell while she reached with the other hand for the door. Arnold Zuckerman stood on the porch, tapping his toe.

  “Hey, Sam,” Beau answered.

  She held up an index finger to Mr. Zuckerman in a ‘wait’ gesture. “Have you left Albuquerque yet?”

  “Just leaving the OMI’s office. Thought I’d grab a burger then I’m on the road. Why?”

  She explained and told him she would call right back as soon as Benjie gave her the address.

  Zuckerman sputtered. “What the hell? You’re here talking on the damn phone all morning while the neighborhood floods?”

  Sam put on a smile and pointed at the driveway. “I’ve shut the water off. The last of the flood is on its way past your house right now, and it should be dry very soon.”

  “Well, it had better be. My wife’s on her way and it’s a good thing she won’t see this mess.” A gleam came into his eye. “I got romantic plans for later, don’t want her upset over anything.”

  Seriously? A mid-afternoon tryst with an eighty-seven-year-old man? Well, his daughter had said the new wife was younger, and men these days had their magic blue pills and whatever other assistance. Sam suppressed the urge to chuckle.

  The old man started back on the subject of the broken water pipes when her phone rang again. The chocolate factory number showed on the screen, so she wished Zuckerman well and closed the door in his face. She still had a lost shipment to deal with and a few hundred gallons of water to get off that parquet flooring before it seeped through the sealant and ruined it forever.

  She put a smile in her voice as she answered the phone.

  Chapter 10

  Beau pulled away from the warehouse on Academy Parkway where Sam had sent him to get a package. One box turned out to be five and the stock clerk, who exuded a faint scent of pot, seemed a little edgy as he helped load them into the back of the Taos County Sheriff’s Department cruiser. On his own turf, Beau would have asked a few questions, ferreted out some answers. But he was several counties away and wanted to get home in time to stop by the station and see how the day had gone for his deputies.

  He steered into the drive-thru lane at a corner McDonald’s, having nearly forgotten he’d planned to eat something before driving home. He dropped the folder of autopsy photos to the floor to make room on the passenger seat for the little box of chicken nuggets he would munch while he drove.

  Once on I-25, the conversation with Doctor Plante ran through his head again. He tried to imagine circumstances where Percy Lukinger would have sustained a bleeding head injury and then felt the need to go driving out of town—southbound, away from Taos and available medical care—on snowy roads. He lived in Taos. Even if the injury happened away from home, he should have been headed north. A person would normally go to a doctor or hospital, or simply go home and try to care for the wound himself. It didn’t make sense.

  Maybe he had a friend—girlfriend?—who lived south of town and he’d hoped to make it to her place. Maybe Lukinger hadn’t realized the extent of his injury—one of those bravado types who assert that they’re just fine, thanks. Maybe he was disoriented and didn’t realize he was getting farther from help?

  Beau popped the last chicken nugget into his mouth. He could ‘maybe’ the situation all day and not know the answer. This wasn’t going away, and what he needed were facts, not speculation. He asked his hands-free phone to call Rico.

  “Hey,” he said when the deputy picked up, “any luck finding next-of-kin for our traffic fatality, Percy Lukinger?”

  “Nothing yet, boss. I went to the address on his license. No one home. A neighbor told me it’s a rental and said he doesn’t know the man, but there’s a wife or girlfriend in the picture. The man wasn’t too sure. Just said a woman comes and goes, but she doesn’t always stay the night. Said they don’t seem to have any kids or pets. Lukinger himself would sometimes be away for days at a time, and the neighbor thought maybe he was a traveling salesman or something like that. With the internet and all, is there still such a thing as a traveling salesman?”

  “Probably. Surely there’s still something that can’t be bought online. I don’t know what it would be.” Beau set down his paper cup of Coke. “For a guy who claims not to know his neighbors, your interview netted a lot of info.”

  “Yeah, the man said he’s recently retired and his wife still works. I got the feeling he hovers around the windows all day, checking out neighborhood comings and goings. I went back to the Lukinger place and walked around back. Everything he said about kids and pets seemed to check out. Maybe the couple both work at jobs that take them on the road a lot, so the guy next door only catches glimpses when they both happen to be there.”

  Could be that Lukinger’s job was the reason he felt pressed to get in his car and drive when he really wasn’t in condition to do it.

  “If there’s nothing urgent on my desk, I’ll go on home when I get back to town,” Beau said. “I’ve got a folder full of stuff we’ll go over in the morning, but you can let me know if anything new comes in.”

  It was nearly dark when he pulled up the long gravel drive at home. January days were still way too short. Lights gleamed at the living room and kitchen windows, but Ranger and Nellie didn’t greet him. Sam must have let the dogs inside.

  She apologized immediately because dinner would be a chicken and pasta casserole from the freezer.

  “Long day, huh?” He took her in his arms and felt the knots in her shoulder muscles.

  “Broken water pipes, nasty mess to clean up, grumpy old man, missing shipment of cocoa and a deadline order. That pretty well sums up my day, so tell me about yours.”

  “Didn’t love the drive to Albuquerque, but it went okay. OMI threw a new wrinkle in my traffic fatality case. Rico hasn’t reached next of kin yet. You know—just standard law enforcement stuff.” He planted a kiss on top of her head. “I did stop by and dropped off your cocoa shipment at the chocolate factory on my way.”

  “Did I ever happen to mention how fantastically lucky I was to meet you?” Sam glanced at the oven timer. “Can you watch that for me? I’m going to take a super hot, super quick shower, and I’ll want a glass of wine when I get back.”

  He gave a thumbs-up as
she dashed from the kitchen. Ten minutes later, the oven timer buzzed and Sam came back, dressed in thick gray sweats and a purple pullover. Her damp hair stood up in little spikes where she’d fluffed it with her fingers.

  “Now,” she said, taking her wine glass, “tell me what it is about this case of yours that has you so perplexed.”

  “Perplexed? You can tell?”

  “Something about the way you hugged me. Plus, there’s a little something …” She avoided coming up with the word by reaching instead for the hot casserole pan he’d set on a mat in the middle of the kitchen table.

  Beau guessed the word she might have said was ‘aura.’ Sam thought she kept the supernatural stuff from him, but he knew when she handled that jewelry box she sometimes saw auras around people. The way she’d explained it, depending on the color of the haze around the person, she could often sense mood or certain deeper aspects of their personalities. He wouldn’t ever bring up the subject in law enforcement circles, but privately he was glad. She’d helped him solve more than one case.

  “Sam, do you know a Percy Lukinger?”

  She shook her head. “Don’t think so. Well, not by name. Between bakery customers, bookstore friends, and people I see around town, I might.”

  “He’s our new fatality, and we’re having trouble locating his next of kin.”

  “You have a picture?”

  “Quite a few. But you wouldn’t want to look at them during dinner. He’s forty years old, five foot nine, dark hair that’s receding, brown eyes, sharp nose. I realize that doesn’t differentiate him from more than half the other white guys in this town.”

  Clearly, she drew a blank from the verbal description. “I can handle looking at the photos later,” she said.

  “Wait—I have a copy of his driver’s license. That’ll work.”

  He left the table and went to the manila folder he’d left on the arm of the sofa. Paging past the autopsy photos, he came to the license and pulled it out. At the office, he’d enlarged it to fill most of a sheet of copy paper.

  Back in the kitchen, Sam wiped her hands on a napkin and took the page from him. She studied it carefully.

  “Hm. I have seen this man. I don’t know him well, and am very sure he never introduced himself as Percy. That’s a fairly distinctive name. But I’m pretty sure he’s been in the bakery a few times.”

  “Recently?”

  She let out a breath and looked toward the ceiling, remembering. “Within the past week. Monday, maybe?”

  “Was he alone or with someone else?”

  Her head shook slowly. “I just don’t know. Jen was waiting on him and there were other people in the room, but I can’t say for sure whether he was with any of them. Sorry.”

  Beau stood to clear their plates.

  “Want me to show the picture to Jen?” she asked.

  “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. We have an address for the man, but there was no other contact information in his wallet. It’s turning into a situation where one of the deputies has to drop by frequently, trying to catch someone home. If Jen knows anything about him—where he worked, names of relatives or friends—anything like that could be helpful.”

  What a puzzle. No other Lukingers were listed in the county; Percy’s driver’s license had only been issued a few months ago. It was as if he’d sprung up in town without a past.

  Chapter 11

  Two items topped Sam’s agenda the next morning, and she didn’t want to do either one of them. First was to line up a plumber to fix the broken pipes at the break-in house. Fairly simple task—Taos had at least a dozen plumbers. Only problem was, after the sub-zero temperatures it seemed there were a hundred-dozen water leaks around town. Every place she called she got the same answer: We’re fully booked for the next week to ten days. Priority was given to homes where people actually lived. Vacant buildings just had to take a place in line.

  So, now she had to call Delbert Crow and inform him. She’d avoided contact with her old supervisor for about a year now, but it wasn’t fair to force Sadie to continue as go-between when the poor woman was still under medical care. Sam took a breath, dialed the phone, and resolved to hold firm with Delbert.

  “It isn’t as if real estate agents can’t show the house,” she said. “No one’s going to buy and expect to immediately move in. I’ve got a plumber lined up for Tuesday after next, and we’re waitlisted with two others. It’s the best anyone could do at this point.”

  He grumbled about the house not being spotlessly clean for showings, reminding Sam of the irascible man’s manner. He grouched about everything—why not this?

  She hung up and glanced at her desk. A wedding cake and two birthdays to finish today. It would be so good to have Becky back at work tomorrow. But before Sam washed up and started the cakes, she should do as she’d promised Beau and ask Jen about the license photo of Percy Lukinger. She fished the folded page from her shoulder bag.

  “Yeah … I think so,” Jen said. “He has kind of a pointy nose? The picture doesn’t show it very well.”

  “That’s what Beau said. So, this man has been in here?”

  “A few times. He’s not really a regular.”

  “Beau wanted to know if he’s usually with anyone. They’re having a hard time locating relatives.”

  “Hmm … I don’t remember anyone being with him. He always got one slice of cheesecake, to go, in a little box. He seemed nice, always chatted a little. Tried to be flirty, but he definitely wasn’t my type. Older and, well—”

  The bells above the door tinkled and Missy Malone came in on a cloud of perfume, swathed in a large fluffy coat. Wisps of her blonde hair peeked from the edges of a matching hat. Although it was surely faux fur, it wouldn’t be a popular style here in eco-conscious Taos.

  “Hey, Jen!” Her high voice went several notes higher. “And Sam! It’s excellent to see you again.”

  Sam wondered if these chirpy visits were going to become a regular thing.

  Missy toddled to the sales counter on high-heeled boots, her eyes edging toward the photo Jen held, although Jen seemed unaware. She’d already started to hand the page back to Sam. Something in Missy’s expression changed, ever so subtly.

  Sam held the printed side of the paper toward their guest. “Do you know this man?”

  “Um, don’t think so. Why?”

  “The sheriff is inquiring,” Sam said.

  Missy’s dark brown eyes met Sam’s. “No, sorry, I don’t know him.”

  “Okay. He’s been in the bakery a few times, so we were just curious.”

  Missy shook her head and turned her attention to the bakery case. “I just had to have one of your fantastic brownies. Must be some hormone thing—I am really wanting chocolate right now.”

  Sam left Jen to fill the order, turning her own attention to the decorating that needed to happen in the kitchen. One of the birthday cakes was a fairly standard princess cake, and Jen had talked the customer into going with non-traditional colors of bright turquoise and yellow, rather than the standard pink or lavender. The other order was for an elderly man’s birthday and since the instructions said “Surprise Me!” Sam thought she had the perfect idea.

  “Julio, I need eight-inch layers, vanilla cake. Tint each one very bright—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple.”

  “Okay, boss.” Without a blink, he turned to the shelf containing the color paste.

  She began tinting fondant in the same set of colors, forming narrow strips into the shape of a rainbow. One of her signature frostings was known as White Cloud, fluffy and somewhat shapeable. The fondant rainbow would arch above the white clouds, and the surprise would come when the cake was sliced to reveal rainbow colored layers. A small storage box on the shelf caught her eye. Ah—multicolored chocolate candies would add the perfect touch, held within a secret space she would create in the center of the cake.

  While the colored layers baked, she turned back to the p
rincess. Ruffles and flourishes were always fun, and since there was no limit to the amount of frou-frou allowed on a beautiful ball gown, Sam let her imagination take over. In under thirty minutes, the cake was glorious and safely boxed. Sam carried it to the sales room for the customer to pick up, catching a glimpse of a brown fur coat outside the front windows.

  “Was Missy here all this time?” she asked Jen.

  “She hung around long enough to eat two brownies, drink a cup of coffee, and … she brought me this.” Jen held up a delicate gold chain with an astrological sign pendant.

  “Wow, what’s with all the gifts?”

  Jen shrugged. “She just seems friendly and interested in lots of things. She’s got great taste in jewelry. Did you notice her rings?”

  Sam hadn’t. “What do you guys talk about?”

  “Well, right now she’s thinking of going to forensics school, so she’s been asking a lot about Beau’s work and how a police investigation works.”

  Sam thought back to the morning Missy had quickly scooted out the door when Beau showed up. Would she actually be comfortable working with the law all the time? Well, whatever. Maybe it was an excuse to keep up a friendship with Jen. Sam shrugged off the subject. Work in the kitchen beckoned again.

  “I’ve got that wedding cake to finish and deliver,” Sam told Jen, pointing out the shelf where she’d set the rainbow cake for Mr. Rivers, whose daughter was to pick it up around three o’clock.

  The steps of stacking the tiers and giving the wedding cake an initial rough coat of white buttercream had been done yesterday; now Sam could get to the fun parts. She reviewed the sketch Jen had made on the order form. The bride had left a small swatch of pale apricot fabric, and the notation on the cake order said, ‘lighter than this, please.’

  Sam took a large ball of fondant and placed one drop of yellow and two drops of orange color paste on it. Kneading quickly, she worked the color in, happy to see that her proportions had worked out perfectly. The tone was a good match for the fabric. She ran the fondant through her roller machine and came out with a circle to fit the middle tier of the cake. With the same formula for the color, she tinted a batch of sugar paste and began forming huge, full-blown roses from it. Five of them would cover the top of the smallest tier, with two or three more to tuck artistically elsewhere.