Chase’s mouth went dry for the second time that morning. Was he a suspect?
He probably was. Even he had to admit it looked odd for the best friend of one murder victim to find the body of a second victim in the exact same place, murdered in the exact same way. He was lucky Jenkins wasn’t hauling him in and charging him with murder.
Wordlessly, Chase shook his head.
“All right, then you can go.” The detective started to turn away, then stopped. “I’ll be in touch.”
The words sounded like a threat.
Ed dug at his eyes with a thumb and forefinger as he stumbled toward the coffeepot. His wife sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” he snapped. “I’m going to be late again.”
She didn’t raise her eyes from her perusal of the paper. “I tried. Three times. Getting you up in the morning after you’ve been out drinking is more like a resurrection than an awakening.” She turned a page. “Besides, it’s not like anybody there’s watching a clock.”
Ed bit back a sharp response as he snatched a cup off the mug tree on the counter and sloshed coffee into it. Better to hold his tongue than to argue with Janie this morning. She’d probably heard him come home last night, though he’d tried to be quiet. But when he’d tripped over the doorjamb and knocked into the hall table, the crash had been loud enough to wake her up. At least she didn’t flip on the light and yell at him when he got into bed, like she did last time. He hadn’t meant to get rough with her, but she ought to know better than to nag him when he’d had a snootful.
The house was quiet. Too quiet. It emphasized the pounding ache in his head. He spoke just to break the silence. “Kids left for school?”
Most mornings, Janie chattered like a monkey. She must be mad at him. He could just see the top of her silver-streaked dark head nod behind the open newspaper.
Ed snatched the remote control off the table and pointed in the direction of the small television they kept on the kitchen counter. The pair who anchored the local morning news show appeared. Bright red letters scrolling across the bottom proclaimed, Breaking News! Ed punched up the volume.
“… to report the discovery of a body inside a car at the bottom of a steep embankment near the park’s north entrance. Medics arrived shortly after and declared the man dead. The police have not yet issued a statement, so the victim has not been identified. Stay tuned to Channel 13 for the latest updates on this disturbing situation.”
Coffee sloshed onto the counter as Ed slammed his mug down. He punched the off button as a curse escaped his lips. The remote control missed the table and hit the floor. The back popped off and batteries rolled across the kitchen.
“Hey, you broke it.” Janie gave him a narrow-eyed look over the top of the paper. “What’s the matter with you?”
Ed ignored her. He slammed out the back door toward his car.
That idiot! He should have known better than to leave the job in the hands of a two-bit moron. Ed could have handled the guy himself, roughed him up a little. He would have listened to reason. No need for someone else to die.
You just couldn’t trust anyone in this business.
By the time Chase arrived at the family candle factory for work, the news had broken—another murder victim discovered at Brown County State Park. He’d called his parents on the way home to grab a shower, not only to let them know what was going on, but to explain why he would be late for work. Mom had been understandably upset, but promised not to mention anything to their employees. Dad, who had taken over the cooking duties when he’d retired a year ago, responded with his usual brand of comfort. “Sorry, son. Drop by tonight and I’ll toss something on the grill.”
Now that Chase was finally at work, he was determined to keep a low profile and get some paperwork done. But it seemed everyone wanted to talk about the day’s hottest news. He considered closing the office door so he wasn’t such an easy target, but he knew the open-door policy was interpreted literally by the employees at Good Things in Wax. Closed doors made people nervous.
The scent of the previous afternoon’s pour lingered heavily in the air. Naturally it had to be Cinnamon Red Hots. The strong smell always made his eyes burn. He didn’t need to walk around with red eyes—especially not today.
“Did you hear the news, Chase?” Irene Bledsoe stood in the doorway and clutched the straps on her insulated lunch bag with both hands. Apparently the police had not identified him to the reporters, thank goodness.
“I heard.” Seated behind one of the two desks in the crowded office, Chase offered the woman a polite smile. She’d been one of the first employees Grandpa Samson had hired back in the seventies when he expanded the family business.
“I wonder if it’s related to …” She licked her pale lips nervously. “Uh, you know.”
Oh, yeah. He knew. But he didn’t want to talk about it, certainly not with one of his employees, no matter how long she’d been employed by his family.
Irene lowered her voice to a near whisper. “Maybe the police will get some leads from this case that will help them with the first one. I never believed that story the paper printed. Kevin Duncan was a good boy, no matter what they said.”
Chase managed a nod. Irene was right. Nobody knew that better than him. Without a word, Chase went back to his paperwork. After staring a moment, the woman headed for the back.
He hadn’t written three numbers on his inventory report before Alex Young stepped into the spot Irene had vacated. “You hear about the body they found over at the park this morning?”
Chase nodded but didn’t look up.
“The radio said the guy’s throat was cut.”
Chase copied another item number onto his ledger. “I heard that.”
“Kinda spooky, don’t you think? That’s the second one. Somebody down at the Dairy Dip said they found this guy around the same place, too.”
Chase raised his head slowly and met Alex’s gaze. He kept his expression carefully blank.
Alex took a backward step. “I’ll just get on in there and see about the next pour.”
“Good idea.”
Chase returned to his report. Not two minutes later, his cousin, Korey, breezed into the office and threw himself in the chair behind the second desk.
“Seen the television lately? They found another body in the park this morning. Sca-ry. I hope this doesn’t end up hurting business.”
Teeth clenched to hold back a resigned sigh, Chase tossed his pencil on the ledger. He might be able to avoid discussing the day’s hottest news with the factory employees, but his cousin was a different matter. Subtle hints were lost on Korey.
“What do you mean? How can this hurt business?”
“You know. Tourists.” Korey used his forefingers as drumsticks on the edge of the desk. “If tourists find out two people have had their throats slit in these parts, they’re probably not going to want to come to the area. They won’t be shopping, which means the candle shops won’t be placing any new orders, which means we won’t be making any sales.” He ended his drum solo with a flourish and grinned. “I thought you, being a college boy and all, would have figured that out all by yourself.”
He had to admire Korey’s logic, even if it was flawed. More proof of a fact he’d long known—his hyperactive cousin may not have the patience and temperament for school, but he sure had a knack for business. His instincts were some of the best Chase had ever seen, and sometimes that counted for more than education.
“I don’t think we have anything to worry about. If word gets out, people might avoid the state park, but they’re not going to stop coming to Little Nashville. Besides, Internet sales are climbing. If you’d take a look at that P&L statement I gave you last week—”
“Ah, you know I don’t have time for that. You’re the one who’s good at number crunching. I’d rather spend my time getting my hands dirty.” Korey jumped out of the chair and headed for the door. Nothing held the guy
in place for very long.
“You don’t fool me, bucko.” Chase smiled. “That awesome Web site you designed is what’s driving our business through the roof. That, and your contract with the Candle Corner, has our profit margin up twenty percent over last year.”
He stopped in the doorway and smirked. “Just trying to make sure I earn my keep so the new owner doesn’t throw me out on the street.”
Chase laughed. Korey liked to tease him about being the new owner, even though Chase was a couple of years away from buying out his cousin’s share of the family business. “I think you’re safe, buddy.” Then he sobered. Better give Korey the whole scoop before it broke on the news. “Guess I should tell you before you hear it somewhere else that I’m the one who found that body this morning.”
Korey’s eyes went round. “No kidding?”
Chase nodded.
“Ah, man. I wondered where you were this morning.” He paused. “Uh … what were you doing in the park?”
Chase lifted a shoulder. “Just walking. You know?”
Korey’s gaze dropped to the floor in front of his feet. “Yeah. I know. If I can help, just ask.”
It took a few seconds before Chase’s throat loosened enough so that it was safe to answer. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
When Korey disappeared in the direction of the pouring room, the face of a stubborn police detective came into focus in Chase’s mind. Was Irene right? Would Detective Jenkins uncover something that would help reveal what had really happened to Kevin?
He bounced a pencil eraser on the desk. Jenkins had refused to listen to reason last year, and nothing Chase saw this morning indicated he had changed. There had been times Chase wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him.
Maybe Chase could force him to listen to reason this time. Maybe if he offered to help the police, he could somehow help clear up the dirty rumors still circulating about Kevin’s death.
Chase stood abruptly. The desk chair rolled into the wall behind him with a loud smack. What was he thinking? No way he was getting involved with another murder investigation. One was enough.
He tossed the pencil onto the desk and headed for the door. Numbers weren’t going to hold his attention today. He’d go see if Alex could use some help with that pour.
THREE
A sign on the side of the road a couple of miles inside the Brown County line caught Caitlin’s attention.
Good Things In Wax
Scented Candle Factory
Free Tours Monday Through Saturday
Closed Sunday
3 Miles→
She tilted her left hand on the steering wheel to see her watch. Just past one o’clock. Check-in time at the hotel wasn’t until three. A tour might be a good way to kill some time. She turned in the direction the arrow indicated.
Three hours in the car with her favorite music blasting had improved her mood considerably. And she’d reached an important decision a few miles inside the Indiana border.
Who needed a guy to be happy? Not her. She had a job she loved teaching music to a terrific bunch of kids. She had her church activities, her friends, Sassy. Plenty to keep her occupied while she healed. And she needed time to heal, which was the reason she’d decided she needed a dateless year. She refused to let a romantic thought even cross her mind for at least twelve months. If God wanted her to go out on a date before then, He’d have to drop a guy on her doorstep with a bow around his neck.
After her big decision, the drive had been uneventful until she pulled off the interstate onto the four-lane road that would take her into Nashville. Or “Little Nashville,” as a billboard proclaimed. The landscape in this part of the country boasted a beauty all its own. Dense trees blanketed the rolling Blue Hills of Indiana, though at this time of year they weren’t very blue. Deep, pinkish-purple spring blooms covered the redbuds that grew in abundance throughout the woods on both sides of the road.
As promised, Good Things In Wax lay three miles off the main road. The Geo’s tires crunched over a small gravel parking lot toward a charming wooden building with a wide covered porch. The building had no windows, except for the one in the front door. Caitlin parked and climbed out of the car.
The scent of vanilla warred with the natural smells of pine and soil from the surrounding forest. She drew in deep breaths as she mounted the steps to the porch. Vanilla was one of her favorite scents.
The moment she stepped inside, a mishmash of odors and colors assaulted her senses. She stood in the factory’s gift shop, where hundreds of multihued candles lined shelves on all four walls. The door whooshed closed behind her, and for a moment she didn’t move, but let her gaze sweep the room as she adjusted to the sensory overload. She imagined there were at least fifty different varieties of candles—pillars, tapers, and candles in jars. The combination of scents, with the unmistakable smell of hot wax dominating the rest, was almost overpowering. How could people work in here all day? Maybe they eventually got used to it.
To her right stood a sales counter with a cash register and a rack of flyers. No sales clerk, though. She glanced at one of the brochures, a promotional piece about the company and a list of their most popular scents. A sign beneath the glass on the counter listed the prices for each size and announced, “Buy Three And The Fourth Is Free!”
She had just picked up a deep-maroon jar candle off the closest shelf when someone came through the doorway in the rear wall behind her.
“Hello. Feel free to look around and I’ll be happy to answer any questions.”
“Okay, thanks.” She half turned to smile at the man as she pried off the lid. When she caught sight of him, she stopped, the candle momentarily forgotten.
A friendly smile flashed in her direction as he pulled a wax-splattered canvas apron off over a head with hair the color of ripe wheat. His shirt shifted upward over a trim waist when he raised his arms. She tore her gaze away quickly as he folded the apron and tossed it on the corner of the sales counter.
And then she glanced back at his left hand.
Oh, no! I’ve turned into one of those desperate women who checks for a wedding ring! I can’t stand those women!
A stab of anger sent heat flooding through her. Her decision to embrace her single status wasn’t two hours old, and here she was, ogling the ring finger of the first handsome guy she came across.
This is Glenn’s fault. The burn. Look what he’s turned me into.
Well, she refused to become one of those women.
A full year without dating. I mean it.
“That’s a good one.”
Caitlin realized she’d been staring at his hand. Her gaze jerked upward to his face. “Excuse me?”
He nodded toward the jar she held. “Mulberry is one of our most popular scents.”
“Oh.” She pulled the lid off and raised the candle to her nose. “Mmm, that is nice. Kind of fruity.”
“Well, berries are considered fruit.” He grinned as he came around the counter toward her.
Was he flirting with her? A warm blush threatened to climb into her cheeks. Caitlin fought it off. He was a salesman, that’s all. Trying to impress her with candles was his job.
“So they are.” Caitlin busied herself with another deep sniff.
“Here, try this one.” He picked up a light green jar, popped the lid off, and held it toward her. “It’s Fresh Apple.”
She leaned forward to inhale the candle’s aroma. “Ah, that’s nice. Smells just like real apples.”
His smile lit his eyes. “Glad to hear it. We try hard to keep the scents authentic.”
The front door burst open and a woman bustled through.
“Chase, I’m so sorry I’m late. I was just going to dash into the bank, but I ran into Helen from church and I couldn’t get away from her. Seems like the whole town is talking about that body in the park. Oh.” She noticed Caitlin and raised a hand to cover her mouth, eyes round. “Sorry, honey,” she said to Chase.
&nbs
p; Body? Caitlin cast a startled glance at the man this woman had just called “honey.” His lips formed a tight line as he repositioned the Fresh Apple candle on the shelf.
“Anyway,” the woman rushed on, “here’s the receipt from the deposit.” She fished a slip of paper out of her purse and set it on the counter. A bright smile widened her mouth as she turned toward Caitlin. “Hello. I’m Betty Hollister.”
Caitlin opened her mouth to answer, but Chase beat her.
“This is my mother.”
“Your mother?” Actually, now that she looked closer, Caitlin could see a family resemblance in the shape of their eyes.
They both grinned. “Good Things In Wax is a family business,” Mrs. Hollister explained. “Though my sister and I mostly just assist these days. Chase and his cousin Korey are the next generation, and they’re the real brains behind the business.”
What a nice thing to say. Motherly pride beamed from her eyes as she turned toward her son. Caitlin smiled warmly at her.
Chase ignored the compliment, but moved his pointer finger across the shelf as he scanned the labels. “Were you looking for a particular scent?”
Ah. Back to business. “Actually, no. I just got into town and saw your sign out on the main road.”
“I didn’t think you were from around here,” Mrs. Hollister said. “I hear an accent in your voice.”
Chase cocked his head and eyed her speculatively. “South, I’d guess. But not too far south. Kentucky, or maybe Tennessee?”
“You’re good. Kentucky.” Caitlin confessed, “I don’t like my accent. I wouldn’t mind sounding like a southern belle, but I’m afraid I’m more like a hillbilly.”
Mrs. Hollister laughed. “I think it’s charming.”
Caitlin liked the woman. Something about her laugh was infectious. But then she caught a calculating sparkle in the eyes that swept from her to Chase. Uh-oh. Something of a matchmaker for her son, was she?
Murder in D Minor Boxed Set Page 38