Death Waxed Over (Book 3 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) (9 page)

A man from one of the tables said, “If they
don’t want it, I’ll pay top dollar, Millie. I’ve had your Pan Dowdy
before.”

“
Harry James Hickman, you
know better than to eavesdrop on other folks while they’re
talking.” Then she winked at him and added, “But I might save you a
piece if you play your cards right.”

“
Yes, Ma’am,” Harry said
with a smile.

“
Would it help if I talked
to George myself?” I said. “Maybe I can convince him that I didn’t
do anything wrong.”

Millie shook her head. “Thanks for the
offer, but I’m sure he’ll realize his error by the time he gets
home, especially after he misses the smell of my cooking. He
doesn’t know it yet, but George is taking me out to dinner
tonight.”

I was about to reply when Suzanne Gladstone
rushed in. She made straight for me and said, “Harrison, I need
Pearly, and I need him fast.”

“
I’m sorry, but he’s taking
a few days off.”

“
I’m sorry too, more than I
can tell you. What am I supposed to do? I’ve got a leak in my
bathroom pipes.”

“
I’ll take a look and see
what I can do,” I said, not all that confident I could
help.

Millie said, “Don’t forget to come back here
for your treat after you’re finished.”

“
I’ll be back as soon as I
can.” Plumbing was definitely not my favorite thing to do, but I’d
been a camp counselor during three summers in college and I’d
learned to take a stab at just about anything. If worse came to
worse and it was something I couldn’t fix, I’d call a plumber,
though I could ill afford the expense. As I followed Suzanne to her
shop, I found myself hoping that my handyman figured things out
quickly enough to get back to help keep River’s Edge
afloat.

Chapter 7

I didn’t know you were a repairman, too,”
Suzanne Gladstone said as I searched under the sink for the cause
of her leak.

“
I’m not making any claims,
but I’ll have to do until Pearly gets back.” The vanity in the
store’s bathroom had a bucket inside to capture the leak, and I was
glad that whoever had converted River’s Edge from a factory to
stores and shops had put individual water cutoffs in each space. At
least that way I wouldn’t have to shut everyone’s water off to fix
one leak. I peered under the sink before doing that, though. I
needed to see where the water was coming from before I could fix
it.

“
So how do you like being at
River’s Edge?” I asked as I removed the bucket.

“
It’s certainly different
from a stand-alone store. That’s what I’m used to. You’ve got quite
an unusual assortment of tenants, don’t you? No, that doesn’t sound
right. What I should have said was eclectic.”

“
I’ll take either one,” I
said as I spotted the leak. Water was seeping through the
connection between the cold water supply line and the faucet.
Gladly, it was something I could fix. I took the adjustable wrench
I’d picked up on the way over to her shop and gave the nut a quick
quarter turn, making it snug again. The water stopped, and I
pronounced it fixed.

“
My, that’s wonderful,” she
said. “Why do you need Pearly if you’re so good at
this?”

“
Believe me, I got lucky
this time. I couldn’t run River’s Edge without Pearly
Gray.”

I emptied the bucket into the drain, then
handed it back to her. “There you go. Good as new.”

“
Harrison,” she said. “I
don’t mean to butt in, but what are you going to do about that
woman’s murder?”

“
What can I do?” I asked.
“The police are looking into it.”

“
Is that good enough?” she
asked, then quickly added, “I know it’s none of my business, but I
can’t help myself. You can’t just let your candleshop die. I had a
friend in Western Mississippi who was accused by her boss of
stealing, though she never took a dime. No charges were ever filed
and there was never a hint of proof, but she couldn’t get a job in
her field anywhere in town because of the rumors. First there were
whispers, and then folks were saying things out loud. She had to
move to Tupelo, where nobody knew her, and start over. Don’t let
that happen to you.”

“
Thanks, Suzanne, I
appreciate your support.”

“
That’s what friends are
for, Harrison. Think about what I said.”

“
I will,” I promised. I
returned the wrench to Pearly’s small workroom and logged in the
repair in his ledger.

Pearly was the most organized handyman I’d
ever come across in my life, keeping track of every call he made at
River’s Edge. I wrote down the date, time and nature of the repair,
proud to be able to add my own entry. I scanned the listings before
mine, wondering what Pearly had handled while I’d been holed up
licking my wounds.

Something odd struck me as I saw Sanora’s
name listed; the times logged between the initial complaint and the
actual repair were spaced seven hours apart, though there were no
other problems that day. I glanced through the log and saw that
none of the other repairs had taken more than half an hour to get
to in the last month of the journal. The gap had been registered
the day before the fair, and I wondered where Pearly had slipped
off to for most of the day.

Was I being paranoid, as Eve often accused
me? Surely if Pearly had something to hide, he would have doctored
the entry to escape notice. Still, the gap left me uneasy, not
because of his response time, but because it was so out of
character. Could that have been when Pearly was breaking up with
Gretel? The worst thing was I couldn’t even ask him about it, not
unless I had more reason than a logged entry to suspect he was up
to no good. Pearly would take the questioning as an affront, and I
couldn’t blame him.

As I washed my hands, I remembered the
promised baked treat, and Millie had it waiting for me when I
walked back in.

I held the pan to my nose. “It smells
heavenly.”

She handed me a fork. “It’s the perfect
temperature right now. You’ve got to try it and tell me what you
think.”

It was all the prodding I needed. I took a
bite of the brown topping, then dug into the softened apples below
it. The juice from baking had been soaked into the cake-like crust,
a mixture of sensations that burst in my mouth.

“
This is
unbelievable.”

Millie smiled. “I thought you’d like it.
Take the rest back with you; it saves beautifully in the
refrigerator.”

“
It won’t last long enough
for that,” I said, then I thanked her again.

As I walked back to my candleshop, I kept
thinking about what Suzanne had said. She was right, whether I
cared to admit it or not. I couldn’t stand idly by and watch the
business Belle had worked so hard to build crumble into dust, nor
could I afford to wait for the sheriff to name the killer. He had
more time than I did.

I needed to do something, and I needed to do
it soon.

“
Jubal, I was wondering if I
could talk to you for a minute.”

Eve hadn’t minded me leaving the candleshop
at all. I’d told her I had a few errands to run, but there was no
doubt she knew what I was up to, and it was equally clear she
didn’t approve of my behavior. That was just too bad. Though her
livelihood was on the line as well, At Wick’s End wasn’t her
business; it was mine. I’d stashed what little was left of the Pan
Dowdy upstairs in my refrigerator, then after checking in with her,
I’d headed into town.

Jubal offered a sad smile. “Harrison, of
course I have time for you. Just let me ring up the next few
customers and I’m all yours.”

Three of the folks who had been shopping at
Flickering Lights had been recent regular customers at my
candleshop, and when they spotted me coming in, they’d scurried
away without buying anything, ducking out as quickly as they could.
It was what I’d suspected, but it still didn’t make it any easier
seeing them shopping at my competitor’s store and not mine. At
least Mrs. Jorgenson wasn’t there. If she’d switched alliances, I’d
rather not know about it. I browsed around the candleshop and was
surprised to find the shelf stock running low or even completely
out in some cases. I hated to think what that meant to my business
if Jubal couldn’t even keep his inventory stocked.

Once we were alone, I said, “Sorry about
that. I didn’t mean to run any of your customers off.”

Jubal shook his head. “So that’s what that
was all about. I wondered. Harrison, I feel guilty thriving because
of your misfortune. I’m not even sure candlemaking is a good fit
for me, though Gretel seemed to be quite taken with it.”

“
I thought you said you were
excited about coming here and doing this?”

“
Being near my cousin was
more the reason for my interest than any genuine affection for the
trade. I suppose I’ll run it for the interim, at least until her
brother shows up. If they ever manage to track Hans down, that
is.”

“
Have you spoken with
Gretel’s lawyer about the disposition of her things?”

Jubal said, “A tired old man came by this
morning with some papers, but he was summoned back to his office
before he had the opportunity to tell me anything. We have another
appointment this evening after my regular business hours are
finished here.”

A woman came in, plopped a large forest
green candle in the shape of a pinecone on the sales table and
said, “There’s something wrong with this candle you sold me. I
can’t get it to light.”

Jubal raised an eyebrow, and without a word
he flicked a lighter open with his left hand and lit the scorched
wick. It sputtered for a few seconds, then as the heat touched the
wax, the candle glowed in a steady light.

“
Why wouldn’t it do that for
me?” she asked.

Jubal said, “Sometimes it takes a steady
flame. Is there anything else?”

She frowned, obviously ready for more of a
fight, then blew out the flame and stormed back out.

After she was gone, Jubal said, “Some folks
are just looking for a reason to be angry, aren’t they?”

“
It takes all kinds,” I
agreed.

Jubal stood from his place behind the
register, stretched for a second, then said, “Enough about my
worries. What brings you here?”

“
I wanted to ask you if
you’ve been able to come up with anybody else who could have wished
Gretel ill.”

Jubal paused, then said, “You know, I’ve
been debating calling you. I thought of something, or someone
rather, but I wasn’t sure I should say anything. It’s certainly not
enough to bother the police with.”

“
Why don’t you tell me, and
then we’ll decide how important it is together.”

Jubal shrugged. “Very well. A man named
Runion was pressuring Gretel about the shop a few days before she
was killed.”

“
Greg Runion?”

“
I think that was his name.
Do you know him?”

I nodded. “He was nosing around River’s Edge
before I told him the place wasn’t for sale. It doesn’t make sense
why Runion would be after this place. No offense, but it’s just one
shop. I thought he went after bigger game.”

Jubal waved a hand in the air. “I told you
it was probably nothing. How’s Pearly doing?”

“
He’s taking it pretty hard.
I gave him some time off to clear his head. He’s heading up to the
mountains.”

Jubal nodded. “I know they were having
problems. I just wish...”

“
What?” I asked.

“
I wish they’d been on
speaking terms when this happened. Pearly shouldn’t have to deal
with the guilt, too.”

“
He’ll be all right. The
man’s made of stern stock.”

“
I must admit,” Jubal said,
“I’m feeling guilty myself. I keep thinking that if I’d been there
with Gretel, I might have seen what was about to happen and stop it
somehow.”

“
Don’t be too hard on
yourself. Somebody had to stay here and run the shop. I had my
assistant open At Wick’s End, too.”

Jubal frowned. “I didn’t even get a lunch
break that day; I wolfed down a bagel behind the counter between
customers. In fact, I didn’t get any sort of respite until the
police called me with the news.”

A customer walked in—not one of mine, I was
glad to see—and asked about gel candle kits. Jubal said to me,
“Sorry, I need to handle this. Harrison, if there’s anything I can
do, all you have to do is ask.”

“
Thanks. The same goes for
you.”

I left Jubal to his customer, hoping Eve was
keeping busy as well, and took off in search of Greg Runion. Why
would he be after Flickering Lights? If he’d wanted the candleshop
location, he would have been able to buy it long before Gretel
purchased the building. I wasn’t a big fan of the man, so I was
going to have to squelch my natural tendency toward him if I was
going to get anything out of him.

Runion’s secretary, a leggy brunette with a
ready smile, greeted me as I walked in the door of Runion
Developments. “May I help you?” she said in a Tennessee accent I’ve
always been a sucker for. Folks from different parts of the country
mostly heard a Southern accent as one dialect, but I’d been born
and raised in the South, and I could tell Tennessee from the
Carolinas, Georgia from Alabama. Each region had its own unique
twang, and there was nothing sweeter to my ears than the sound of a
woman from Tennessee. It didn’t help matters that nearly every
woman I’d ever met from that particular state had broken my heart
at least once.