that bridge. There are a zillion places to get rid of a small weapon like that.”
“But a man was murdered. You can’t simply let it go,” Sam said. “Doesn’t he have relatives, someone who would keep pushing at the Sheriff to get this solved?”
“We didn’t find any next of kin. Sam, I’m not going to give up on this, even though the case is getting colder by the day. I’ll get another warrant for Fenton’s office and home, go through everything more closely if I can get some additional manpower. But I really doubt that’s going to happen until Padilla is feeling securely re- elected.”
Sam fumed over it for the next fifty miles but didn’t come to any better conclusion, herself.
“I’d say it’s safe for you to go back to the Adams place and do the rest of your cleanup, whenever you want,” Beau told her as he dropped her off at her house.
At least it appeared that Cheryl Adams was alive, unharmed, and in the clear, and Sam felt relieved about that. She stood in her driveway as Beau pulled away, debating whether to devote the remaining half-day to the cleanup or to get back to Sweet’s Sweets and see how things were going there. A big head-slap later she was on her way to the bakery. What was she thinking, leaving her brand new business in the hands of two even-newer employees?
Her concern turned out to be for nothing. Jen was wiping tables that had obviously been filled with customers shortly before, and the half-empty cases attested to strong sales all morning. Becky had, per Sam’s instructions, mixed and baked the sheets and layers for the big gala cake. All were cooling on the work table when she walked in. Sam would apply the ‘dirty icing’ and get them into the fridge this afternoon. Tomorrow she would assemble and decorate her masterpiece.
She showed Becky how to make small shrubs and pine trees out of sugar cones, modeling chocolate and royal icing.
“This is fun,” Becky said after a couple of aborted attempts and then discovering the secret of holding the pastry bag at the correct angle.
“You’re showing a natural knack for it. I’ll show you some of the other techniques soon.”
Sam decorated more Halloween cookies and told Jennifer how she wanted them arranged in the front windows—might as well pull in all the holiday business she could get. Her mind raced forward to Thanksgiving and then Christmas, knowing that unique pastries and plenty of variety in her made-from-scratch recipes would be what set her apart from the mundane offerings in the supermarkets. This first holiday season could very well get the business launched for all time.
“Will this be enough shrubs?” Becky asked from her end of the work table.
Sam glanced up to see about two dozen little bushes. “I think so. We’ll probably only use eighteen or twenty of them, but it’s always good to have extras in case of breakage.”
“Got it.” The two women lifted the board with the heavy sheet cake and carefully carried it into the walk-in fridge.
“Thank goodness for this thing,” Sam said as she closed the door. “Would you believe that I used to have to bake all my sheet cakes in quarters and store them in a normal-sized fridge until the day of assembly. Then I’d put the whole thing together and get it delivered as fast as I could.”
“You’re loving the bakery, aren’t you?” Becky commented.
Both phone lines rang at once. “I’ll get one,” shouted Jen. “Can you get two?”
“Yep, loving it,” Sam said.
She picked up the second line and listened as the customer requested a special dessert for a family dinner on Sunday. Sam suggested an apple-pear tart that she’d recently tested at home. Seasonal fruit, easy to bake large enough for any number of people.
She’d no sooner hung up from taking that order than her cell phone buzzed inside her pocket.
“How are you doing with the property I gave you last week?” Delbert Crow asked. “Can we get real estate agents in there soon?”
She hedged and asked for another week. If she could just get her gala party done and those special orders for the election, she could budget an entire day for the Adams house.
Five o’clock. Jen closed out the register, handing Sam the tape showing the total and a bank bag with the cash, before leaving for the day. Becky had already gone, needing to be home for her kids.
Sam moved the few cookies and cupcakes from the window displays to the glass cases, covered the remaining product with clean white towels to keep them fresh, and turned out the lights in the front. In the kitchen she washed a couple of mixing bowls that hadn’t been done earlier.
Outside, it was nearly dark. She called home and found that Kelly was already there.
“If you haven’t started anything yet, I’ll bring dinner home with me,” Sam said.
“Pizza? I’ll call it in.” Kelly was a confirmed pizza-holic so the request came as no surprise. Sam could even guess what would be on it—everything. The large supreme pizza wouldn’t do a lot for her own dieting plans, but then running a bakery wasn’t exactly helping in that department either.
Thinking of food addictions reminded her that the weekly meeting of the book group, Chocoholics Unanimous, was coming up again soon. Last week, she had been so busy with the store opening that she’d only supplied them with some hastily baked cookies. This week she should strive for something more dramatic but at the moment she was fresh out of ideas.
Sam mulled over the idea of getting some help with her caretaking properties as she drove to Kelly’s favorite pizza place, paid for their order and headed home. She’d thought of asking Kelly, but with Beau working so many extra hours these days, her daughter was tied up caring for his mother. Sam couldn’t ask either of them to cut back on Iris’s supervision. She’d already borrowed Darryl’s crew several times, plus paying their rates would quickly eat up any income from the property. Mowing and trimming flowerbeds didn’t quite fall into the same category as the heavy lifting that she physically couldn’t do herself. She’d just have to make time for everything.
Sam found herself almost nodding off at the dinner table. She nibbled her way through one slice of the thick pizza. At least sleeping through meals would help her keep her diet on track, she thought.
“Mom, you’re pooped! You should just go to bed early.”
“Probably. But there’s so much to do.” She yawned. “At least I better get the menu finalized for the gala. We’re doing a lot of free samples all day.”
She told Kelly about the plan for the cake that replicated the shop. “If Beau can’t get away to bring Iris to the party, will you do it?”
“Absolutely. I’ve been telling her about it and she’s so excited. She wouldn’t stay away on a bet.”
“Good. Now, if I can just find the energy to get to the grocery store tonight for the special ingredients it’ll be that much less I have to do tomorrow.” She reached for a pen and notepad and began writing the list from memory. Cheeses, herbs, wines. Her head nodded but she kept writing. “Okay,” she said finally.
“Mom, I’m not letting you drive anywhere tonight. You’d probably fall asleep, even though it’s only a few blocks to the store.” Kelly held out her hand. “Here. List.” She wiggled her fingers.
Sam reluctantly pushed the page toward her daughter. “Okay. Just choose some decent wines.”
“I can handle it.”
Sam hardly remembered getting ready for bed. She rolled over and yawned the moment the bedroom lamp was out.
Chapter 14
Grocery bags waited on the kitchen table and Sam rummaged through them to be sure Kelly had found everything on her list. She scribbled a quick thank-you note and carried the bags out to the van.
The shop was quiet when she arrived and the clock told her it was still an hour or so before Jen and Becky would arrive. Sam got the first batches of breakfast pastries into the ovens before she took a break and found her coffee mug. The dark brew brought her out of the last of her morning fog. Each day got a little better, but Sam still wasn’t sure how she—the original late sleeper—functioned before sunrise.
She was in the process of organizing ingredients for the savory treats for the party, matching them with the recipes to keep everything straight, when the phone rang.
Uh-oh, this can’t be good, she thought as she reached for it. Any call before six a.m. had to be bad news.
