Murder in D Minor Boxed Set

by Virginia Smith

  Glasses perched on the end of his nose, Ed scanned the inventory list. A turbulent storm of unease churned in his stomach. What did it matter if every other item on the list was accounted for? That one missing candle could ruin everything.

  “You’d better take care of this, Willie.”

  The fidgeting deliveryman from Good Things In Wax wouldn’t meet his gaze. Standing in the open doorway with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his baggy pants, he scuffed a foot on the doorjamb. “The boss said he’d take care of it.”

  Ed scribbled his name at the bottom of the form, his teeth grinding against each other. “We can’t let that candle go. I don’t care what it takes, you’ve got to get it back.”

  Willie shook his head. “But the boss said—”

  Ed thrust the clipboard into the man’s chest so hard he stumbled backward. “You really are a moron, aren’t you? Don’t you understand? Hollister’s lame attempt to impress a woman could ruin us. If she burns that candle, we’re going down. Hard.”

  Willie did meet his gaze then. A muscle twitched in his cheek. “I can’t go back to jail.”

  Fear filled his eyes as he spoke. Good. Ed didn’t want to be the only terrified man involved in this mess. “Then you’d better do whatever it takes to get that candle back.”

  “I can’t do nothing.” Willie’s throat convulsed as he gulped. “I don’t even know who the lady was. I never saw her before.”

  Ed slitted his eyes. “You’d better find out. Fast.”

  “But the boss—”

  Ed cut him off with an impatient gesture. “I don’t care what he said. Ask Hollister who the girl was. Make up some excuse, say she looked familiar or something. If you’re smart about your questioning, you might even be able to dig up something helpful, like where she’s staying.” Even as he said it, Ed knew smart wasn’t an adjective anyone ever used to describe Willie. But what choice did he have? At this point, he had to use any resource he could to find that candle.

  From the increasing speed of Willie’s twitch, Ed could tell he didn’t relish the idea of questioning Hollister, but the man nodded and started to turn in the open doorway. Then he stopped.

  “Hey! That’s her. That’s the girl with the candle.”

  Ed looked toward the other end of the parking lot where Willie pointed. What he saw twisted his gut into instant knots.

  Hollister’s girlfriend was the blond customer who’d just been shopping in his store. She unwittingly held his fate in her possession. And she was getting into the car with his wife and daughter.

  SEVEN

  The afternoon’s schedule kept Chase too busy to dwell on Detective Jenkins’s questions. He and Irene did a pour of three dozen Freesia jar candles, followed by a batch of Georgia Peach pillars that made him think of Caitlin’s charming southern accent.

  He’d just finished setting the last pillar mold on the cooling table when Alex entered the workroom.

  “You seen Korey?”

  Chase shook his head as he helped Irene gather their tools from the table and take them to the sink for cleaning. “He’s probably involved in some woodworking project or other. You know how he is.”

  When their grandfather ran the factory, the old man used to hound Korey to stop wasting so much time “playing with wood” and focus on the family business. But Korey loved working with wood in a way that he’d never loved candle making. And he had a way with wood, just like he had a way with computers.

  “Yeah, he’s probably busy whittling a toy train or something.” Alex stuck a thumb through a belt loop and eyed Chase with a sly look. “So, did you score a date with that girl on the tour this afternoon?”

  Chase set the tools on the counter and smiled his thanks to Irene, who started to fill the sink with hot, soapy water. He answered Alex without looking at him. “Not exactly a date.”

  A scowl compressed Alex’s features. “What do you mean, ‘not exactly a date’? Are you going out with her or not?”

  Chase glanced at him. Did he detect a hint of jealousy in their resident Don Juan’s attitude? “We’re going to church to hear a gospel group.”

  Alex stared with disbelief. “Are you kidding? A looker like that, and you ask her to go to church with you?” He shook his head. “You religious types blow my mind.”

  Chase picked up a scraper and attacked the stray drops of hardened wax that had dripped onto the worktable. “Taking a girl to church is a lot better than hanging out in a smoky bar, if you ask me. Maybe you ought to try it sometime, Alex.”

  “Me?” Alex’s shoulders shook with laughter. “There’s nothing I want in any church.”

  Chase scraped at the table without looking up. He’d been over this ground before. The guy left very few openings for Chase to share his faith. He’d learned to keep the conversation light, or risk turning Alex off completely. Better to scatter a few seeds here and there, and then pray for the Lord to send water in His time.

  “I don’t know about that,” he said. “You might be surprised at what you’d find there.”

  Cynicism stole over Alex’s face. “Yeah? Like what?”

  “Well, for instance, at my church tonight, you’ll find a cute little blonde.” Chase grinned. “With me.”

  Irene, arms up to the elbows in soapy water, remained silent, but Chase saw her mouth curl with amusement when Alex issued a disgusted snort and left the room.

  Chase’s pickup rolled to a stop at a red light. He’d left the factory earlier than usual, giving his mom the excuse that he wanted to get home in time to shower and change before picking Caitlin up. Truth was, he couldn’t concentrate. The image of the body in the car kept looming in his mind, and the monotonous task of candle making had failed to distract him. He had to get out of there, get moving.

  Problem was, his thoughts came with him.

  George Walter Lancaster, a drug dealer from Indianapolis. What was he doing in Nashville? Did he have connections here? Drug buddies? And were they the same people from whom Kevin had bought heroin?

  The light changed to green, and Chase took his foot off the brake. The pickup rolled forward.

  He knew nothing about the drug scene. Until Kevin’s death and those lab results, Chase hadn’t even been aware that heroin was available in Little Nashville. “Ignorance is bliss,” the saying went. Well, not when it punched you in the gut with the death of your friend.

  The worst part was the guilt. He’d been too involved with his own life and his plans with Leslie, and had ignored his friend. Over and over in his mind he’d replayed the times Kevin suggested that they get together for a game, or go grab a pizza. But Chase always had other plans, and hadn’t been willing to change them. If he had, maybe Kevin would have confessed his problems. Maybe he could have helped.

  And yet, he still had a hard time believing Kevin could hide something as serious as drug use. Nobody suspected. Not his family. Not Mom or Korey or Aunt Dot or Irene, who worked side by side with him at the factory every day. Those lab results had stunned them all.

  Chase’s hand tightened on the steering wheel. It just didn’t make sense.

  A line of police cars in front of an apartment building up ahead drew his attention. Four of them. Unusual to have so many in one place. As he drove slowly by, the building door opened and a cluster of uniformed officers and one man in a suit and tie exited. One of them carried a blue plastic container, identical to the ones his mother stored her scrapbooking stuff in. Following him, Chase caught sight of a familiar face.

  Detective Jenkins.

  Just as Chase’s foot was about to stomp on the gas pedal for a quick escape, Jenkins looked up. Their eyes met. Chase let out the breath he’d been holding. He’d been spotted.

  Talking to the detective three times in one day definitely wasn’t high on Chase’s list of things to do, but if he sped away, surely it would look suspicious. It would look like he was following the guy, watching him, and hoping not to be seen. Better to stop and prove that he had nothing to hid
e.

  He swept his pickup to the curb in front of the first cruiser and hopped out. The group of officers approached.

  “What are you doing here, Hollister?” Jenkins watched him through narrowed eyes.

  Chase lifted a shoulder. “I’m on my way home. I saw all the cars and was curious.”

  “Hmm.”

  Jenkins didn’t sound convinced. He stared at Chase for a long minute, and Chase held his gaze without flinching. Finally, he pursed his lips and turned away.

  The officer carrying the container passed by, heading toward the closest police car. Chase glanced inside. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of small, shiny packets lined the bottom. His stomach soured.

  “Is that drugs?”

  The young officer standing beside Jenkins nodded. “Heroin. About twenty-thousand-dollars’ worth.”

  The detective shot him a look full of warning, and the officer’s mouth snapped shut.

  Chase watched as the container was loaded in the back seat of one of the police cars. “Looks like you just ruined some drug dealer’s day.” The idea gave Chase a sense of grim satisfaction. That was twenty-thousand-dollars’ worth of drugs off the streets of his town.

  Jenkins’s jaw tightened. “Trust me. His day was already ruined.” He didn’t meet Chase’s gaze, but stared at the building.

  Understanding dawned. “That’s where Lancaster lived?”

  Jenkins gave a single nod. He cocked his head, his stare intense. Chase turned to look at whatever claimed the detective’s attention. All he saw was a brick, two-story apartment building with shutterless windows in neat lines on either side of a red wooden door. Not a soul in sight.

  “Did you find anything else in there?” he asked.

  Chase didn’t really expect Jenkins to answer, and he didn’t.

  The younger officer standing beside them shifted his weight from one shoe to the other. “You want me to do something else, Detective?”

  “Yeah.” Jenkins spoke without removing his gaze from the building. “Paperwork. A recovery like this results in tons of paperwork, Matthews.”

  A long, almost silent sigh escaped the deputy’s lips. “Yes, sir.”

  Chase ducked his head to hide a grin. Apparently paperwork was not one of the deputy’s favorite tasks.

  Detective Jenkins turned suddenly. His hand rose, and he snapped his fingers in front of Chase’s face. “Jelly beans!”

  Chase took a half step backward. “Excuse me?”

  “I said jelly beans.” Jenkins didn’t wait for a reply, but whirled on his highly polished shoe and stomped toward one of the police cruisers.

  Chase spoke to the man’s retreating back. “That’s what I thought you said.” He cast a look of inquiry toward Deputy Matthews.

  The younger man lifted his shoulders. “Don’t ask me. Maybe he’s hungry.”

  Matthews headed for his own car, leaving Chase alone on the sidewalk. He inspected the building once again. Nothing remotely resembled jelly beans.

  “Okay, let’s hear it once more. But this time I want you to focus on abdominal support. That’ll help you control the air arriving at the embouchure and give you a stronger tone.”

  They sat in Nicky’s bedroom before a collapsible music stand. Caitlin tapped the beat with her hands as Nicky ran through her solo again, while her mother, on the bed, leaned against the headboard and listened. The room filled with a pure, clear tone from the girl’s flute.

  When she finished, she lowered her instrument and beamed.

  “Excellent!” Caitlin joined Janie in applauding her effort. “You’re going to nail that solo tomorrow.”

  Nicky sat straighter for a minute, but then her shoulders drooped. “It’s easy here, with just you and me and Mom. But tomorrow night, in front of an audience …” She shook her head. “I’ll probably choke.”

  “Don’t talk like that,” Caitlin scolded. “Think positively.”

  “I am positive.” Gloom filled Nicky’s tone. “I will choke.”

  Caitlin placed a sympathetic hand on the girl’s arm. “The violinist in my trio has such horrible stage fright she used to get physically ill before every performance. One thing that helps her is to get her bearings before the performance starts. Spend some time practicing in the room where you’ll perform.”

  The girl looked thoughtful. “The concert’s in our gymnasium. Maybe I could go over my solo tomorrow after school.”

  Caitlin gave her a bright smile. “Perfect! Run through the piece a few times, get a feel of the performance space, and you’ll be fine tomorrow night.”

  Nicky fixed a hopeful gaze on Caitlin. “Do you think you could come with me? You know, help me remember all the stuff you just taught me?”

  Janie sat up on the bed. “Nicky, Caitlin’s in town on vacation. It’s not fair to ask her to spend her time working.”

  “But it’s just for a few minutes.” The girl’s fingers tightened around the flute in her lap. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

  Caitlin had no resistance against her pleading. How well she remembered her own first flute solo, when she’d been about Nicky’s age. Facing an audience could be terrifying. A shy girl like Nicky needed every advantage she could get.

  She smiled broadly. “I’d love to.”

  Air whooshed out of Nicky’s lungs as she let out a screech of joy and launched herself out of her chair to throw her arms around Caitlin. “Thank you!”

  Janie clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Are you sure? We don’t want to impose on your time.”

  “I’m positive. And I might just come to the concert tomorrow night, too.” Caitlin glanced at her watch. Chase would be coming to pick her up in about an hour. She steeled herself against the nerves fluttering in her stomach as she stood. “But I’ve got to get going. Do you mind running me back to my car now?”

  “Of course. Just let me get my keys.”

  Caitlin followed Janie into the kitchen while Nicky continued practicing. A teenager with long, unwashed hair stood by the counter. The waistband of his ragged jeans sagged far down his rear, giving Caitlin an unwelcome view of several inches of blue-and-white boxer shorts. At their entrance he jerked around, obviously startled. Janie’s purse lay open on the counter in front of him.

  “Drew, what are you doing in my purse?” Janie’s voice held a note of accusation.

  The teen’s eyes flicked toward Caitlin before he answered. “Looking for your keys. I need to use the car.”

  Janie drew herself up, bristling at the insolent tone. Caitlin looked away. If she’d talked like that to her mother when she was a teenager, she’d have been grounded for life.

  But apparently Janie wasn’t going to push the issue in front of Caitlin. Her tone remained even. “I’d appreciate it if you’d ask first, before you go through my purse.”

  Drew’s eyes rolled upward. “Fine. Can I please use the car?”

  Janie’s lips tightened before she spoke. “No, you may not. This is my friend, Caitlin, and I’m driving her somewhere right now. Then I’m going to the grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner. When I come back, you may use my car.”

  Drew’s arms flew up as he huffed, furious. “Man, this sucks. I’m gonna be late.”

  He stormed out of the room, brushing by Caitlin without a glance.

  Janie gave an embarrassed half laugh. “Teenagers, huh?”

  Caitlin didn’t have to comment on the nature of rude teenagers, because at that moment the telephone rang. Janie picked it up.

  “Hello?” She paused. “Yes, Ed, she’s still here. We’re just getting ready to leave, though.” Another pause. “Okay, I will. Bye.”

  She hung up the phone and stood looking at it for a moment. “I don’t know what’s come over him today. I never hear from him until he comes home from work late at night. He’s called three times in the last half hour.” She gave a laugh and looked at Caitlin. “He wanted to make sure I pay you for your time today.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Caitlin
waved a hand in dismissal. “Forget it.”

  Janie tilted her head. “Are you sure? I mean, this is what you do for a living, right? I wouldn’t dream of asking you to teach Nicky for free.”

  “I’m sure. I enjoyed it.” She glanced in the direction of the bedroom. “She really is talented. I hope she stays with it all the way through school.”

  A proud smile hovered on Janie’s face as her gaze followed Caitlin’s. “I hope so, too.”

  Caitlin trailed Janie to the garage and slipped into her car. As Janie pulled out of their neighborhood heading toward town, they passed a dirty white van parked on the side of the road. Caitlin wouldn’t have noticed it at all, except that it pulled out onto the street behind Janie’s car.

  A shiver of unease worked its way down her spine. Why did she have the eerie feeling that the van was following them? She glanced back. It was too far away to make out the person behind the steering wheel. But when Janie turned onto the main road, the van did, too.

  “Is something wrong?” Janie asked. She glanced into the rearview mirror.

  Traffic was heavier on this street than in Janie’s neighborhood—the van was two cars back now. The buffer eased Caitlin’s worries. She was imagining things. Mrs. Hollister’s mention of a body and the policeman visiting Chase must have spooked her more than she realized, which was silly. Whatever the reason behind those things, it had nothing to do with her.

  She turned a quick smile toward Janie. “No, nothing’s wrong.”

  But tonight she was going to come right out and ask Chase about that policeman’s visit. No doubt there was a perfectly reasonable explanation, and hearing it would put her mind at ease.

  EIGHT

  The congregation of Blue Hills Church turned out in droves to hear the Twyman Family Quartet croon their country gospel tunes. Cars filled the small parking lot, and men wearing reflective vests directed newcomers into an empty field next to the church. Excitement tickled in Caitlin’s belly as she watched a stream of people file through the double doors of the midsize brick church. She told herself the excitement was all about the upcoming concert and not in any way connected to the handsome man at her side.