Chapter 24

 

October thirty-first. Sam rechecked everything at Sweet’s Sweets—twice—making sure the employees were ready for whatever Halloween might bring.

“My cell phone will be right with me,” she told Becky as she loaded her supply of imported cocoas and the best of the heavy cooking pots into her van.

“Do not worry.” Becky handed her the box containing utensils. “We can handle it.”

On a final check of the kitchen, Sam remembered the tin container above the stove where she’d stashed the three pouches with the special powders Bobul had given her. For the dozenth time in a week the thought crossed her mind that she needed to figure out a way to get more.

“Okay then, I’m on my way,” she announced. “Call me if you need anything at all.”

Becky rolled her eyes and gave Sam her most reassuring smile.

Halfway to the chocolate production house, Sam remembered that she had fully intended to drop by Ivan Petrenko’s bookshop to ask about the book Scott and Kelly had mentioned last night. Surely the bookseller could come up with a copy for her, even if it had been out of print awhile. At the first stoplight she dialed his number and put her phone on speaker.

“It is called The Box?” Ivan asked.

“You haven’t heard of it? The author is Eliza Nalespar.”

“I am certain I have not been hearing of this name,” he said in his mangled-English way. “This author—the name is a real one?”

She laughed as she made the turn toward the Victorian. “Yes, it was a woman who lived here in Taos. The book was written about eighty years ago.”

“Ah, is making more sense now. I shall be checking it for you, Miss Sam.”

“If you can find a used copy that doesn’t cost a fortune, order it for me please.”

He assured her he would check his sources, in a manner that made her wonder whether he’d been involved in black-marketeering at some point during his colorful life. She pulled into her driveway as they ended the call, looking at the old house with a new perspective, wondering about the lives of the mysterious family who once lived here.

Nalespar House. She tried out the sound as she stared at the faded boards and the second-floor window in the turret. She stopped herself. These days she must think of the place as the home of Sweet’s Chocolates.

It was almost noon by the time she unloaded her supplies and set up everything to create a handy workspace. She surveyed the sunny kitchen and let out a deep breath. The place was coming together exactly as she’d hoped. She set her copper double boiler on the stove and dropped in a quantity of her finest dark chocolate. It was melting nicely when her phone rang. Beau.

“Hey there. I called your shop and they said you’d already opened for business in the new place.”

“Well, ‘open for business’ is a bit of a stretch. I’m here by myself, but I am already cooking up my first batch of dark chocolate. Mr. Bookman’s theme for this week is autumn leaves.” She glanced at the set of leaf-shaped molds she’d already washed and laid out.

“I was hoping to take you to lunch but it sounds like you’re busy.”

She caught the disappointment in his voice.

“I still eat. Want to bring something by?”

By the time he drove up she had tempered the chocolate and poured it into the molds. Once hardened, dusting the pieces with gold, crimson and orange powders would give them the special finish she wanted.

“The sandwich man is here,” Beau announced, holding up a white bag from her favorite deli.

She cleared space at one end of the table.

“Sorry, I haven’t ordered any stools yet. We’ll have to eat standing.”

“Fine by me. I’ve been at my desk, on the phone most of the morning,” he said. “Talked quite awhile with Tim Beason over in Colfax County.”

“Oh. Any new leads at all on the robbery?”

He shook his head. “Not really. Sadly, Tansy Montoya is back in a deep coma. With the crime taking place basically out in the woods, there are no witnesses to question, no neighborhood to canvass—I’m losing hope on this one.”

“Oh, Beau.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. “I wish I had some ideas for you.”

“I wish I had some ideas for me, too,” he said. “Our only hope at this point is if someone comes forward with a tip or whichever of our perps left those few fingerprints gets arrested for something else. If we’re sharp enough to match the cases, we’d have something to move with.”

“You’ll get a break, honey. I’m sure you will.”

“I love your faith in me.” He balled up the paper wrapper from his sandwich and smiled at her. “Anyway, enough about that. How’s life at the chocolate factory? Seen any ghosts yet?”

The fact he could tease renewed her faith that he wasn’t taking the lack of clues in his case too personally. In law enforcement you won some and lost some. With luck, you won most of them. The troubling thing was when, as in this instance, a crime victim’s life hung in the balance. She knew Beau would keep the case active as long as it took to find the person who had shot Tansy Montoya. She assured her husband the ghosts had not shown themselves and she was perfectly comfortable working out here with only the wind in the trees for company, but once he’d left she began to notice little sounds in the house.

Sam, it really is just the wind in the trees, she told herself. Lighten up.

But just to be sure, she went through the entire house, making certain all the doors and windows were latched. It would be silly to spook herself over a breeze coming in if one of the workers had forgotten to close a window.

Satisfied, she returned to her candy. She brought up some favorites from the playlist on her phone and let them play softly in the background as she worked. Her brain went into creative mode and she worked up ideas for some new flavors for the chocolate assortments.

It had been a long time, she realized, since she’d worked alone and she loved the creative energy that came to her without the distractions of customers, employees and interruptions. She shaped a rosemary-cashew cream into small balls which would be dipped in dark chocolate, enjoying the rhythm of the repetitive activity, when the music suddenly quit.

One glance told her the battery on her phone had died. “Bring charger,” she said, adding it to her list for tomorrow.

With the quiet, she realized darkness had fallen while she’d been completely engrossed and now the brightly lit kitchen felt exposed. She thought of the one nearby neighbor, thankful her kitchen was on the side of the house away from theirs. Still, she was out here on the edge of town, and the unfamiliarity made the joy of being alone fade a little.

“No problem,” she said aloud. “It’s quitting time anyway. I’ll just gath—”

Clunk!

Her breath caught. The sound had come from right beneath her feet.