Snuffed Out (Book 2 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) (4 page)

“
Show me,” she
said.

I tore open a pack, snipped off some wick,
then rolled a candle out of a sheet of golden beeswax.

She said, “It’s too quick.”

“
That’s where the cookie
cutters come in.” I grabbed one, cut out four stars and built
another candle.

She nodded. “I’ll take fifty packs,” she
said, shoving her credit card in my face.

“
I’ll give you a quantity
discount for that.”

After I rang up the sale, I grabbed packets
from the storeroom, pulling a rainbow of colors for her, and
carried the box out to her car. As I slid the packets onto the
front seat, I asked, “Who’s watching them now?”

“
My husband. I wanted to
take them to the movies, but he said it was too expensive, that we
should have a nice little party at home. When I left he was ready
to hand them all twenties and drop them off at the mall.” A soft
smile crept to her lips as she added, “I think I’ll take the long
way home. Twenty more minutes ought to do it.”

I waved good-bye as she drove off at a
rather sedate pace, then locked the store up yet again. At least
I’d managed to cover a few of the utilities with the final sale.
The entire day’s receipts hadn’t come close to touching what I’d
lost when Mrs. Jorgenson had walked out on me. Should I call her
and apologize? Blast it all, no. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and
while my customer service skills had come a long way since I’d
taken over At Wick’s End, I wasn’t about to say I was sorry for not
being more than five minutes early for a candlemaking lesson.

We’d just have to find a way to limp along
without Mrs. J’s cash influx.

I wasn’t in the mood to run a report from
the cash register, and though my bookkeeper would no doubt scold me
about it, there wasn’t anything that needed doing that couldn’t
wait.

I put the money from the till in our safe,
turned out the lights, and locked up.

What I needed was a hot shower, a bite to
eat, and a good book. I’d read through my late Great-Aunt Belle’s
Agatha Christie books and had moved on to her Charlotte MacLeod
collection.

I nearly missed the blinking light on my
answering machine upstairs, and I debated ignoring it, but there
was something about not knowing who was on the other end that
wouldn’t give me a moment’s peace until I hit the play button.

After I had, I found myself wishing I’d
ignored it.

Chapter 3

I punched the button and heard Ann Marie
Hart’s voice, and from the sound of it, my accountant was not
happy. “I just heard about Aaron. You need to fill that slot fast,
Harrison. Call me.”

I couldn’t face any more talk of my imminent
doom, so I decided Ann Marie could wait till morning. Why hadn’t
she called the store instead of my apartment, anyway? My place
upstairs was the only sanctuary I had.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I had
Belle’s little hideaway roof terrace, and tonight would be the
perfect time to get away from the world.

I grabbed an old rugby jersey, made a quick
sandwich, and collected a Coke from the fridge, then balanced it
all as I climbed up the rungs in my closet to the roof. The air was
starting to bite as I threw back the hatch, and I was glad I’d
brought the jersey with me. I put the scuttle access back down and
plugged a cord into an outlet nearby. Suddenly a twinkling lane of
white icicle lights lit my way. I’d made a few improvements since
taking over River’s Edge, but none as important to me as the work
I’d done on my getaway from the world. I pulled my folding recliner
chair out of a waterproof storage bin I’d hauled up the stairs and
set it up under the stars. The jersey, as warm as it was, couldn’t
hold back the chill of the wind coming off the Gunpowder River, so
I retrieved one of Belle’s whimsical blankets, this one sporting
ice-skating penguins, and wrapped it around me before I sat down.
The stars were glorious, and I was glad again that River’s Edge was
far enough away from town to give me such a view. I ate my sandwich
and drank my soda, taking in the smells of autumn as the breeze
kicked up, catching hints of wood smoke in the air. Belle’s
apartment had a tiny woodstove in one corner, and I’d been waiting
for a chance to fire it up. It looked like tonight was the
night.

But not just yet. On the river below me, I
heard a boat go by, wondering what kind of lunatic would be out on
the water, as chilly and as dark as it was. Then I had to laugh. It
was probably the same kind of idiot up on a roof all by himself at
night. A lot had happened in my life lately, and I missed not
having someone special to share it with, but I’d learned that love
wasn’t something I could make happen. Until it came along again,
I’d have to be content with what I had, which was a very full life
with people I cared about.

I stayed as long as I could stand the chill
wind, then reluctantly put my blanket and chair away, gathered up
my trash, and headed back downstairs.

I’d laid a fire in the stove two weeks
before, just waiting for the first opportunity to use it. The
pinecones I used as kindling jumped to life, and in no time at all
I had a blaze going. I knew it wasn’t all that energy efficient to
leave the stove door open, but I loved to see the flames dance, to
hear the popping embers, and smell that smoky aroma.

I decided to take an extended hot shower
before I settled in, and after a nice long steam, I was fully
relaxed. I grabbed A Pint of Murder and dove into it, glad for the
opportunity to visit another world.

The pounding on my door took me out of the
missive as surely as if someone had snatched the book from my
fingertips.

“
Good. You’re still awake,”
Markum said as he brushed past me into the apartment. His black
hair, wild and untamed as always, was in dire need of a haircut,
and his chin sprouted the beginnings of a full, dark
beard.

“
I know I don’t keep your
hours, but it’s barely ten, I’m still up,” I said. “Getting ready
for winter?” I added as I gestured to his chin.

Markum rubbed it with a huge hand and said,
“Going to Alaska next month, so I thought I’d get a little extra
insulation.”

“
What takes you so far
away?” I asked.

He shrugged. “A chance at salvage. Say, want
to join me? I could use an extra hand. The pay’s good, and I can
promise you an adventure you’ll not soon forget.”

I said, “I’ve got a shop to run, and all of
River’s Edge along with it. Thanks for asking though.” A part of me
believed that going along with Markum would be exactly the
adventure he promised, and I’d been hoping to get a look at just
what his salvaging entailed, but the wiser part of me decided being
at River’s Edge was adventure enough. Still, maybe someday I’d
surprise us both and take him up on his offer.

Markum said, “Heard about Gaston. Accidents
can kill you just as dead as the bad guys can.”

“
Did you know him?” I asked,
surprised that Markum’s path would cross the potter’s at
all.

“
The man liked working
nights as much as I do. Every so often we’d share a sip of whiskey
and tell a few lies. He deserved better than he got. I heard you’re
the one who found him. How did he die?”

“
Sheriff Morton says he must
have kicked over a bucket of water and shorted out his pottery
wheel. The cord was frayed, I saw that myself.”

Markum said intently, “You say he was at an
electric wheel?”

“
That’s where we found
him.”

A cloud crossed Markum’s face. “I don’t
believe it.”

“
What is it?”

“
Gaston hated electric
wheels. Ask anybody in his crowd, he was a stickler for the old
ways, and that included using a kick wheel.”

“
I don’t mean to show my
ignorance,” I said, “but what exactly is a kick wheel?”

“
It’s human powered, there’s
not a motor on it. Gaston claimed it was the only way he could get
the feel for the clay he was throwing. You need to let Morton know
that.”

“
Why don’t you tell him
yourself?” The last thing I wanted to do was to get embroiled in
another murder investigation.

“
The sheriff and I don’t
exactly see eye to eye,” Markum admitted. “There was an incident in
our past that was open to interpretation; he chose to see things
his way, and I chose another. Since then I’ve done my best to avoid
him. But you need to tell him, Harrison. He can’t let this go down
as an accident, not like that. Will you tell him?”

I said reluctantly, “I guess so, but he’s
going to want to know why I didn’t tell him before.”

Markum tapped his nose. ‘Tell him you heard
it through the grapevine here, he’ll believe that quick enough.”
Markum glanced at his watch, then said, “It’s late, I need to
go.”

“
I thought you stayed up
most of the night,” I said.

“
It’s not time for bed, I’ve
got a call to make. Call him, Harrison.”

I agreed, and Markum left the apartment to
talk to worlds unknown to me. Should I call the sheriff now, or
wait until morning? Who was I kidding? There was no way I’d get any
reading done until I made the call. With any luck he’d be out and I
could leave a message. I was in no mood to talk to the sheriff
myself.

Wouldn’t you know it, he picked up on the
first ring.

“
Morton here.”

“
Sheriff, I heard a rumor
that puts some doubt on your theory about Aaron Gaston’s death
being accidental.”

“
What have you heard?” he
asked without trying to hide the irritation in his
voice.

“
He used only a kick wheel,
never an electric one.”

“
What’s the difference,
Harrison?”

“
One runs on electricity,
one works with a kicking foot. There’s no motor on the wheel he
used.”

Morton chewed on that a second or two, then
said, “Maybe he was playing around with it and got burned.”

“
That’s not the way I heard
it,” I said.

“
Then why did he have one if
he didn’t use it? Answer me that.”

I thought about it a second, then said, “It
must have been there for his students. He teaches ... taught
classes just like I do. I’m sure it was there for his
students.”

“
You don’t know that, you’re
just guessing, aren’t you?”

I said, “What would it hurt to ask someone
who knew him better than either one of us?”

Morton asked, “Do you have anyone in
particular in mind?”

There was no way I was going to give him
Heather’s name, not with the way she was acting lately. Then I
remembered the ex-wife. “Isn’t his ex a potter? If anybody should
know, she should. Why don’t you call her?”

“
If I do, will it get you
off my back?”

“
I just thought you should
know,” I said.

He took so long to answer I nearly gave up
on him when Morton added, “Okay, I’ll look into it. And Harrison
...”

“
Yes,” I said.

“
Thanks for
calling.”

I was so shocked by his thanks that I
couldn’t think of anything to say before he hung up. I stoked the
fire, added another small piece of wood, then went back to my book.
My hand automatically went down to my lap where Esmeralda liked to
sit when I read, and I wondered briefly if I should get a cat
myself. I’d never felt all that alone living by myself before, but
the apartment, as small as it was, was starting to feel too big for
just one person. No, I’d get used to it, just as I’d gotten used to
everything else that had come my way. I was just beginning to think
of my living quarters as my apartment and not Belle’s. With a
little time, I was certain I’d be fine without a roommate of any
kind.

Even a feline one who tended to hog the
pillows at night.

My bookkeeper, Ann Marie, was waiting for me
at Millie’s the next morning when I stopped in before opening the
candleshop. “There you are,” she said.

“
I didn’t realize we had a
breakfast appointment,” I said with a smile as I grabbed a
blueberry muffin instead of pumpkin as a change of pace. Millie
handed me a coffee, then said, “Are you going to be around
later?”

“
I’ll be at the shop all
day. What’s up?” Then I remembered our earlier conversation. “Did
you nail your new recipe?”

“
You’ll see,” she said,
adding a quick smile.

I joined Ann Marie at her table. “Now what’s
so urgent? I know I have a storefront vacant, but there’s nothing I
can do about that right now.”

She tapped a pencil against the tabletop,
beating out a staccato accompaniment to her words. “The building
has to run at full occupancy, especially on the first floor. You
need every dime you’ve got coming in to stay afloat.”

“
I know that, Eve’s been
after me too, but isn’t The Pot Shot paid up until the end of the
month?”

Ann Marie shook her head. “You’d think so,
wouldn’t you? Unfortunately, your late Great-Aunt Belle liked to do
things a little differently. She staggered the rents so that she
had at least some income every week. I told her it was an
accounting nightmare, but Belle liked to get money more than once a
month. She said it made it feel like Christmas.”

“
I don’t even have to ask
when Aaron’s rent was due, do I?”

Ann Marie paused the beat of her pencil. “It
was due yesterday. You need to jump on this, Harrison.”

“
Fine,” I said, focusing on
my breakfast instead of my worries. It was too late. Not even
Millie’s fine baking could pep me up after Ann Marie’s
pronouncement. I didn’t have much time at all before things started
to fall down around my ears, according to everyone around
me.