Death Waxed Over (Book 3 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) (3 page)

As I worked on my display, I couldn’t help
wondering what had set her off. She’d been open only a week, but I
was already seeing a sharp drop in my sales. It hadn’t really
surprised me. Gretel had the wisdom of her franchise to back her up
and help her keep from making some of the mistakes that had nearly
ruined me.

I’d been wondering if she was going to wipe
out my business, and then she actually had the nerve to make her
declaration to the world that she was going to bury me! If I lost
it all, it wasn’t going to be without a fight. I was determined to
prove her wrong, no matter what it took. If that meant extending my
hours and deepening my discounts, I could get by on less if I had
to. At least I had all of River’s Edge to help defray my expenses,
while she had only her stand-alone shop. I just wish I knew what
kind of cash reserves she had. Buying the franchise couldn’t have
been cheap, and I knew their support only went so far.

Starting Monday morning, I was going to plan
an assault on Flickering Lights that would drive one of us out of
business; I just hoped it wasn’t At Wick’s End. I loved my
candleshop too much to just let it sink quietly into oblivion.

But if a fight was what Gretel Barnett
wanted, then she was going to get one.

I laid out my display, including a free
giveaway drawing for one of Eve’s most ornately carved candles. It
was a work of art, though she hadn’t liked it when I’d said that,
and I was hoping we could get enough names and addresses with the
entry forms to start a newsletter for At Wick’s End. It was an idea
I’d picked up from my research on making small businesses grow, and
I was willing to try just about anything. Another article had said
that if you could get the kids interested in your crafts, a lot of
times the parents followed, so I also laid out some sheets of
lavender beeswax that had been damaged in our storeroom. They
weren’t good enough to sell, since one edge of the delicate sheets
had been crushed in storage, but I’d trimmed the bad parts away
with a pizza crust cutter, and they’d be perfect for kids to play
with.

Heather watched my progress, then said, “If
you need more space, I can give you a corner of my table.”

“
Is it too much?”

“
No, I’m starting to wish
I’d done more myself. It looks like you’ve done your homework on
self-promoting.”

“
Let’s just see if it
works.”

I finished displaying the candles and
inexpensive kits I’d brought along to sell, and finally I was
ready. Ten feet away, I noticed Gretel was watching me from her
table, but I wasn’t about to say a word or acknowledge her presence
again if I could help it. My signs were all homemade—and they
looked it—but hers sported a professional appearance that was just
too sleek to be her own work. There were carefully crafted displays
that showed some of the simplest steps to making candles, and even
I had to admit they were very well done. It wasn’t a fair fight
since she had a franchise’s expertise to draw from, but that didn’t
really matter to me anymore. I was ready for her. She’d thrown the
gauntlet down, and if she was having second thoughts about taking
me on, she was going to have to make the first move at brokering
some kind of peace between us.

Gretel appeared to start my way once or
twice before changing her mind and backtracking to her spot. She
was either going to start Round Two of our fight, or she was coming
over to apologize, but as the gates opened and people started
coming in, she frowned and settled into her seat. Though she was
new to the area, somehow Gretel had finessed a prime spot for her
display, and I wondered if she’d paid off the organizers. Her table
was five feet away from the Civil War cannon that adorned the
grounds, a great attraction for the visitors coming in. I’d heard
that the Founder’s Day committee had wanted to drape the cannon in
bunting too, but the Sons of the South had put their collective
feet down. That cannon was a relic from history, they’d argued, a
captured trophy from a Yankee ship, won with the spilled blood of
their ancestors, not some prop for the show. I was near the granite
steps, and I could see the old courthouse bell on the other side of
the lawn from where I stood. It had been at the county seat since
the mid-1800s, serving the early citizens of New Conover, and then
retired and covered by a stone hutch. The cannon and bell were the
two best-known artifacts in the entire town.

The flow of visitors picked up considerably,
and I didn’t have time to worry about Gretel Barnett anymore.
Before long I had a great many lookers, a handful of buyers, and a
good start on my mailing list. I was also starving, since I’d
forgotten all about breakfast in my haste to get set up in
time.

During a lull, I said, “Heather, are you
hungry?”

“
No, I always eat a big
breakfast before I do these fairs. There’s barely time to turn
around during the day.”

“
That was smart of you,” I
said.

She studied me a second, then said,
“Harrison, I’ll watch your table if you want to go grab a quick
bite.”

“
I hate to ask you to do
that,” I said, determined to suffer through my mistake.

“
Hey, we’re covering for
each other here, remember? You go now and you can watch my table
when I grab lunch for us later. It will be really busy
then.”

“
Busier than
now?”

She scanned the crowds. “Just wait. On a day
like today, folks are itching for a reason to get outside. We’re
going to make some money, my friend, just wait and see.”

A burst of firecrackers suddenly went off
twenty feet from us, and I could see more streamers dancing in the
air. The noise had started the moment Founder’s Day opened, and if
the pyrotechnics kept up, I was in for a major headache before it
was time to wrap up and go home.

“
I’d better go now then,” I
said. “Do you want anything? How about some aspirin?”

“
No, I’m fine. To be honest
with you, I kind of like the noise. It makes me feel
alive.”

I cut through the back way toward the
concession area rather than fight the crowd. It was roped off for
the vendors only, and I was glad to have the shortcut. Gretel
didn’t even notice as I passed within three feet of her table. She
was busy selling an expensive candlemaking kit to a woman with
frosted hair piled high on her head in a beehive. We sold the same
kits ourselves at our shop, but not for as much as she was
charging. I kicked myself for not bringing more of the high-dollar
items too, but I’d only had so much room on my table with my
giveaway and kids area. As I walked to the concession area, I
nearly tripped over a clown perched on the courthouse steps.
Dressed in full makeup and costume, he looked more at home at the
celebration than I did. Maybe Eve had been right. I probably should
have stayed home.

I grabbed a sausage-and-egg biscuit and an
orange juice from one of the food vendors and nearly knocked Pearly
down as I turned around to head back to my table.

“
I didn’t know you were
coming to the festivities,” I said.

Pearly said, “A man has to do something with
his time off. Harrison, there’s something I need to discuss with
you.”

“
Walk with me back to my
table and we can talk along the way,” I said. I didn’t want to
leave Heather alone for too long.

He glanced toward my spot, then shook his
head. “I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. We could go over to the
courthouse steps away from the crowd, though.”

“
Pearly, I’d love to be able
to do that, but Heather’s watching my table for me, and I can’t
leave her alone. Is it something that can wait?”

“
I suppose so,” he said
reluctantly.

“
Good. We’ll talk about it
first thing Monday morning then.”

I started back toward my table, wolfing down
the biscuit as I walked. I’d probably get indigestion from the fast
meal on my feet, but I didn’t have much choice. I tossed the
wrapper and empty carton of juice into a trash can near the cannon,
wiped my hands on my bandana, then ran my hand around the inside
rim of the pitted metal of the empty barrel for good luck before I
walked back to my vending spot amid the noise of firecrackers
exploding all around me.

While I was still fifteen feet away from my
table, I noticed a commotion out of the corner of my eye and turned
just in time to see Gretel crumple to the ground, knocking her
display down in the process.

At first I thought she’d had a heart attack,
but as I raced closer, I saw a blood stain blossom on the back of
her dress.

During one of the constant fireworks bursts,
someone had taken the opportunity to kill my chief competition.

Before I could take it all in, a woman in
her mid-forties pointed right at me and screamed, “He shot her.
That’s the man who shot her.”

Chapter 3

“
I
didn’t shoot her,” I protested, feeling my legs weaken with the
accusation.

The woman was not to be deterred, though.
She screamed hysterically, “He threw the gun into that trash can! I
saw him do it!”

Sheriff Morton, the law enforcement chief
for the entire county, was beside me in a heartbeat. His ruddy
complexion and brown hair were in sharp contrast to his
predecessor’s washed-out appearance, but I couldn’t count either of
the men as friends. “Harrison, what’s she talking about?”

“
She’s nuts, Sheriff, I
didn’t do it.”

He looked toward Gretel’s motionless form
and commanded, “Wait right here. I’ll straighten this out.” While
Morton went to check on Gretel, my accuser stood there just staring
at me, a few steps in front of the other onlookers.

I started toward the sheriff to see if there
was anything I could do to help when the woman yelled, “He’s trying
to get away. Somebody stop him!”

“
I’m not going anywhere,” I
said heatedly. “I’m just going to check on Gretel.”

Morton growled over his shoulder at me, “Get
back where you were. Now.”

I retreated back to my spot, feeling a
hundred pairs of eyes focused on me. The crowd had already marked
me as the shooter based on one nearsighted woman’s accusation.

Heather hurried up beside me. “Harrison,
what happened? Did you see it?”

“
I was just coming back when
she fell over. I thought she was having a heart attack at first.
Then I saw the blood. This lunatic,” I paused, pointing at my
accuser, “thinks I shot her.”

“
Nonsense. Surely the
sheriff will see that.” I looked at Gretel just as the EMS crew was
loading her into the back of an ambulance. There was an oxygen mask
over her face, and they were moving with extreme urgency. At least
she was still alive; that was something.

Morton rejoined me, and Heather took a step
back. Evidently not far enough, though.

The sheriff said, “Hadn’t you better get
back to your table?”

“
I think I’m needed here,”
Heather said stubbornly.

“
Don’t worry. If we need
you, we’ll let you know,” Morton said.

After Heather reluctantly left, Morton
asked, “Now what’s this nonsense about you shooting Gretel
Barnett?”

“
I don’t have a clue. That
woman over there is either blind or she’s insane, if you ask
me.”

Morton shook his head. “Stay. I’ll be right
back.”

He had a whispered conversation with my
accuser, and I saw her pointing at me again and again. Finally
Morton started back in my direction. He brushed past me though and
upended the trash can behind where I stood.

“
What are you looking for?”
I asked him.

“
She claims she saw you
shoot the victim, then throw the gun in here.” As he rooted through
the trash with a gloved hand, I said, “I threw away my orange juice
container, not a gun. She’s delusional.”

Morton, in a softer voice, said, “Well, she
also happens to be Wanda Klein. She’s married to Hank Klein.”

“
The newspaper editor?” I
asked.

“
He’s more than that; he’s
the publisher and owner of The Gunpowder Gazette,
Harrison.”

“
Let me guess. You’re taking
her word over mine,” I said.

“
I have to investigate any
lead I get. It’s my job.”

He stood, then said in a loud voice,
“There’s nothing’s here.”

“
I saw what I saw,” the
woman said loudly. “He shot that poor woman in the
back.”

“
For the last time, I didn’t
do a thing to her,” I snapped.

One of the vendors who’d gathered in the
crowd said, “You argued with her not an hour ago. There’s no use
denying it, a lot of us heard you.”

This was getting out of hand. I said, “We
had a disagreement, that’s all. I didn’t shoot her.”

There were more murmurs from the crowd, then
Morton said, “Folks, let’s break this up. If you’ve got anything
solid to report, come on up. Otherwise, I suggest you go about your
business. We still don’t know what happened here.”

“
I know,” Wanda Klein said
huffily as she stormed off into the crowd. As soon as she was gone,
the rest of the group broke up until it was just the sheriff and
me.

“
Are you going to arrest
me?” I asked.

“
Motive and opportunity
aren’t enough, Harrison.”

“
Motive? You honestly think
I’d shoot somebody because they were selling more candles than I
was? That’s ridiculous.”

“
Don’t forget, we have an
eyewitness,” Morton said.