Murder in D Minor Boxed Set

by Virginia Smith

  As he searched for a way to casually suggest that he accompany her on her shopping expedition, they approached Buckeye Street.

  “Hey, one of my employees, Willie, lives down this street.” He glanced to the left. “Only a couple of blocks that way. Would you mind if we ran down there?”

  Caitlin’s brow creased. “Why?”

  “Because he didn’t show up for work this morning. I tried to call a couple of times, but couldn’t get an answer. It’ll only take a minute to check on him.”

  She considered for a moment, then her brow cleared. “Okay. I’m not in any hurry.”

  They turned down the street and walked the three blocks in companionable silence.

  “There it is.” Chase pointed out an older frame house with a rickety white railing around a deep, covered porch. “He rents an apartment in the basement.”

  Caitlin came to a halt on the sidewalk, staring intently. Chase followed her gaze, and saw Willie’s beat-up old van parked at the curb.

  “Something wrong?” he asked.

  For a moment she didn’t reply. “N-no. It’s just that …” She gave her head a quick shake. “Oh, nothing.”

  Chase watched her for a moment, then let it go. He led her down the driveway past a half dozen trash bags piled against the peeling wood siding, their tops gaping open. The smell of garbage rotting in the hot sun made his nose curl. Chase’s shoes crunched on chunks of broken concrete as he descended five crumbling steps to the basement. He knocked on the door.

  Nothing.

  Exchanging a glance with Caitlin, who waited in the grass, he pounded with a fist. “Willie? Hey, Willie, are you in there?”

  Not a sound from inside. To Chase’s right, another door opened, this one leading into the main floor of the house. An elderly woman in a housecoat stepped out holding a scruffy dog.

  “He ain’t answering.” Her gravelly voice gave testimony to years of smoking. “I been trying to wake him all morning, since I seen his van out front.” She peered first at Caitlin, and then at Chase. “You friends of Mr. Evans’?”

  “I’m his employer.”

  “From out at the candle factory?”

  When Chase nodded, the old lady made her way to the top of the basement steps. Pink scalp showed through her thin gray hair, and the threadbare housecoat she wore could have used a good washing. Spindly legs extended below an uneven hemline, and her feet were covered by worn slippers.

  “I’m a mite worried about him. He was actin’ strange when he came home last night. Jumpy.”

  Willie always acted jumpy, but Chase didn’t mention that.

  Concern flooded Caitlin’s features. “Maybe he’s ill and can’t come to the door.”

  The woman turned to her, nodding. “I thought so, too, but I hated to go in there with no cause.” Her glance slid back to Chase. “But you’re his boss.” She fished in a deep pocket of the housecoat and pulled out a simple metal ring with a single key, which she thrust toward Chase. “Here. You open it.”

  Indecision warred in Chase. What if Willie was just sleeping off a hangover or something? That would be completely in character. On the other hand, Willie never missed work. He’d showed up a few times when he shouldn’t have, still not quite sobered up from the night before. Chase had been forced to send him home, but at least he always showed up.

  “I think you should, Chase.” Caitlin wrapped her arms around her middle and nodded toward the door. “He might need help in there.”

  She was right. Chase climbed halfway up the stairs, took the key from the landlady’s hand and returned to the bottom. He pounded on the door once again.

  “Willie, if you’re in there, say something.” No response. Chase fit the key into the lock. “I’m coming in.”

  He unlocked the door and turned the handle. The air inside had the cool, dank feel of basements everywhere. A smell struck him, a blend of the familiar and the unfamiliar. Chase stepped inside.

  And froze.

  A slightly built man lay face down on a large throw rug in front of a threadbare sofa, his head at an unnatural sideways angle. Willie. An incredible amount of blood soaked the thin rug. Chase’s stomach lurched. He kept his ice cream down through sheer willpower. From his vantage point, he could see that Willie’s throat had been cut.

  Just like the man in the park. Just like Kevin.

  He backed out, and pulled the door closed. He couldn’t look at the two women standing at the top of the stairs. Instead, he rested his forehead against the door.

  “Chase?” Caitlin sounded worried. “Is everything okay?”

  Chase swallowed. Hard. “We’d better call 911. Willie’s dead.”

  TWELVE

  Caitlin stood beside Mrs. Poulson, the owner of the house, and watched a line of deputies march down to the basement. At the top of the stairs, Chase looked faintly green as he spoke with a detective. No wonder. She’d be a basket case after finding two dead bodies in as many days.

  Mrs. Poulson’s voice shook as she spoke. “I should have known. My Bo-Bo here, he just kept barking and barking. He musta heard something.” A choked sob stilled her voice. The wiry-haired dog in her arms extended its neck to lick her chin with a pink tongue.

  “I’m so sorry.” Caitlin put an arm around her thin shoulders and squeezed.

  Chase and the detective approached.

  “Mrs. Poulson,” Chase said, “this is Detective Jenkins of the Brown County Sheriff’s Department. He’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  “I didn’t hear nothing,” she said immediately, “but my Bo-Bo woke me up in the night barking. I think he musta been protecting me.”

  The detective reached out to pet Bo-Bo, but pulled his hand quickly away when the creature growled at him. He cleared his throat. “What time was that, ma’am?”

  “Around one, I think.”

  “Could you tell me about the victim, Mr.—” He tossed a questioning look at Chase.

  “Evans,” Chase supplied. “Willie Evans.”

  Jenkins smiled at Mrs. Poulson. “What can you tell me about Mr. Evans, ma’am?”

  The old woman shook her head. “He never caused no trouble. Kept to himself mostly. Didn’t have visitors. Quiet. Paid his rent on time. He was a good renter.” The dog squirmed in her arms, and she held him tight.

  “How long has he rented from you?”

  “’Bout six months, I guess. Ever since he started working over at that candle factory. Mr. Evans delivers—” Her throat moved as she swallowed. “He delivered their candles for them.”

  Caitlin squeezed the woman’s shoulders again.

  A deputy approached. He cast a furtive glance at Chase, then said, “Detective, c’mere and look at what I found.”

  Detective Jenkins turned to follow the man around the corner of the house. After exchanging a glance with Caitlin, Chase followed. Her heart wrenched to see the droop of his shoulders. Poor Chase. She fought the impulse to run after him and slip a comforting arm around him, but the memory of their hug last night—and the torrent of feelings it caused—stopped her. She’d better keep her distance, physically. But he needed a friend with him right now. With a final smile for Mrs. Poulson, she trailed behind the men.

  The deputy stopped at the pile of black plastic trash bags and pointed. “Look there.”

  One of the bags lay on its side, and the garbage had partially spilled out. Caitlin saw immediately what had caught the deputy’s attention. Half-buried beneath a pile of slimy black banana peels and wadded up tissues lay a glass jar. No mistaking that kind of jar.

  A candle.

  She sucked in a breath. A dark purple Forbidden Fantasy candle.

  Her whirling thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a girl trotting up the driveway beside the police cruisers, a camera hanging from a strap around her neck and a bulky bag swinging at her side.

  “Sorry I’m late, fellas.” The girl flashed an apologetic smile around. “I was taking an early lunch. I’ll get started working the scene im
mediately. Just point me in the right direction.”

  Detective Jenkins stabbed a finger toward the candle. “Get pictures of this. And somebody give me some gloves.”

  Chase disconnected his call and went to stand near Caitlin, to watch the deputies dig through the garbage.

  “How’d your mom take the news?” she asked.

  Chase shook his head. “I didn’t tell her about Willie. News like that shouldn’t be delivered on the phone.”

  Caitlin, arms wrapped around her middle, hugged herself as she nodded. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Chase.”

  He heard concern in her voice. Having her calming presence nearby made the gruesome discovery of Willie’s body a little more tolerable. He gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

  Detective Jenkins broke away from the others and came toward him. His stern expression caused Chase’s muscles to tense. He was about to be put through the wringer, and from personal experience, he knew Jenkins was an expert at cranking the handle. Chase forced himself to relax. He had done nothing wrong.

  Jenkins wasted no breath on preamble. “I don’t know how you’re involved, Hollister, but you are.”

  Frustration churned in Chase’s stomach. Frustration—and a touch of fear. Willie was the second person close to him who’d been murdered within a year.

  What’s going on around here?

  He did his best to keep his expression impassive as he faced the detective. “I know it looks that way, but I promise you, I’m not. It’s just a coincidence.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  Chase bristled at the man’s flat tone. Was Jenkins calling him a liar? “I don’t care what you believe, Detective. I’m telling you the truth. There’s no connection between Willie and Kevin Duncan. They never even met, as far as I know. Kevin died a year ago, and Willie has only been at the factory for—”

  He snapped his mouth shut. When had Willie joined the Good Things In Wax team? Korey brought him on board right about the time they’d signed the contract with the Candle Corner, which was about six months ago. No connection to Kevin at all. But to his cousin …

  “Yes?” Detective Jenkins’s eyebrows formed arches as he waited for Chase to continue.

  Chase tried to wet his lips with a dry tongue. He looked at Caitlin, whose sympathetic smile encouraged him to continue. “We hired Willie a few months after Kevin was killed.”

  “I see. What do you know about Evans? Did you run a background check before you put him on the payroll?”

  “We checked his driving record, and made sure he had the proper ID, a social security card and all that. Since we were hiring him as a deliveryman, that’s all we were concerned with.”

  “Did he fill out paperwork? An application, I-9, all that?”

  Chase ground some grass beneath his heel. Did he think they were complete idiots when it came to hiring an employee? “Of course he did. We’re running a business. We follow all the rules, Detective.”

  A cold smile flashed on the detective’s face for a second. “I’m sure you do. I’ll need to see any documents you have on record for him.”

  Chase nearly said something about needing a warrant, but he decided against it. Willie might not have been his favorite person, but the man was dead. Anything he could do to help the police apprehend his killer, he should do. “No problem. Can we go now?”

  He put an arm under Caitlin’s elbow and made as if to step away, but Jenkins’s reply stopped him.

  “Not quite.” He looked toward the group of deputies and shouted, “Matthews, bring that bag over here, please!”

  Matthews approached carrying a large, clear zipper bag. As he neared, Chase got a good look at the contents. His stomach dropped to his feet.

  Not one, but three Forbidden Fantasy candles.

  Jenkins’s gaze remained locked on to Chase’s face as he held out a hand, and Matthews slapped a pair of rubber gloves into his palm. “They have a rather distinctive odor. Hard to miss. Smells like black jelly beans and something else.”

  “Eucalyptus,” Caitlin put in.

  Jenkins looked at her for a moment, then nodded. “That’s it. George Lancaster’s apartment reeked of it.”

  Ah. That explained the detective’s obscure comment about jelly beans yesterday.

  As he talked, he pulled on the gloves, opened the bag and withdrew one of jars. When he twisted off the lid, the blended aroma of eucalyptus and licorice filled the windless air around them.

  “I couldn’t help but notice that your company manufactures this candle, Hollister. The same company that employed our latest murder victim. And the first murder victim, who was also your friend.” He kept his gaze fixed on Chase as he turned the candle absently in his hand. Then he looked at Caitlin. “And last night, your car was broken into while you were in his company. I ran a background check on you this morning.”

  Caitlin stiffened with outrage. Her mouth opened to say something, but Jenkins cut her off.

  “Standard procedure, I assure you. I found nothing. Not even a parking ticket. But then today you turn up in his company again, along with yet another murder victim.” His gaze slid back to pierce Chase. “Now, tell me again how you’re not involved.”

  Cotton filled Chase’s mouth as he stared at the candle. “I …” He swallowed and tried again. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Thoughts whirled in his brain. Forbidden Fantasy was Korey’s creation. Korey had hired Willie. And lately Korey had been acting … well, odd. More distracted than usual.

  No! He’s my cousin. Korey’s a good guy.

  Of course Chase had thought Kevin was a good guy, too.

  He ran a hand across his forehead, trying to focus his thoughts.

  “No wick,” Caitlin said. Chase and Jenkins both looked at her. “There’s no wick in this candle.”

  Jenkins straightened. “It’s been melted?”

  Excitement made Caitlin’s nod quick. “I use a candle warmer to melt candles instead of burn them. The wick always slips down into the hot wax.”

  Jenkins stared at the candle. His eyes widened.

  Chase nodded. “There’s something inside the candles.” Korey, no! What have you done?

  The detective’s jaw hardened. “And I’ll bet I know what it is, too.” The detective extended the jar in his gloved hand. “Do you have any more of these?”

  Chase wiped his sweating palms on his jeans. “We manufacture them exclusively for Ed Graham at the Candle Comer downtown. That’s the only place they’re sold. In fact, Willie delivered a shipment there yesterday.”

  Jenkins’s gaze snapped to the deputy’s face. “I want a warrant to search that store and every piece of property Graham owns.”

  The deputy whirled toward the line of cruisers in front of the house. “I’m on it.”

  Chase couldn’t think. This could not be happening. His own cousin, involved in a drug ring right under his nose? Using the family business, no less? But the pieces fit.

  Lord, I’ve got to be the worst judge of character on the face of the earth.

  Still, he couldn’t bring himself to point the finger at his cousin in front of Detective Jenkins. Not yet. Not until he’d confronted Korey himself. Let the police get their warrant, search Ed Graham’s store and find whatever was hidden in those candles themselves.

  Korey was at home in bed today. Was he really sick? Chase’s hands tightened into fists. Just wait until he got hold of his cousin.

  Caitlin climbed up into Chase’s pickup and pulled the door closed behind her. She glanced at her watch. Two-forty. That police detective had kept them there for hours, asking the same questions over and over.

  On the other side of the truck’s cab, Chase slid behind the wheel. “Are you hungry? We could grab something before I take you to the school.”

  The morning’s ice cream had long since worn off, but Caitlin couldn’t eat. Her thoughts kept circling around Nicky and how devastated she would be when she discovered her fat
her was selling drugs. And Janie, too. Because Caitlin was convinced neither of them had any idea.

  She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not very hungry.” The pickup maneuvered out of the parking lot. She turned in her seat to face him. “Oh, Chase, how will I act normal around Nicky and Janie, knowing the police are searching their house the whole time we’re practicing?”

  “Would you rather not go?” He took his foot off the gas pedal, and the truck slowed. “I’ll take you back to your hotel if you prefer.”

  An image of Nicky’s anxious face loomed in her mind. “No, I’d better go. But how long do you think it will be before the police get their warrant?”

  “I don’t know. Not much longer, I’d guess.” His lips tightened into a firm line. “I just hope they find that shipment of candles we delivered there yesterday, so they can nail that guy.”

  “They will. There were a bunch of candles in those boxes I saw. Mr. Graham couldn’t have sold the whole shipment in one night.”

  Chase went still. His head turned toward her, eyes wide. “A whole shipment—minus one.”

  Caitlin gasped. “The candle you gave me.”

  He held her gaze as he nodded. “It’s still on the shelf under the cash register. And we don’t need a warrant to look inside that one.”

  Caitlin glanced at her watch. She still had thirty-five minutes before she had to be at the school. “Let’s go.”

  The bell over the door sounded, and true to his prediction, the knot in Ed’s insides jangled in unison with his nerves. He raised his head from restocking the potpourri bags, certain this time he’d see the gray uniform of a police officer in the doorway. Instead, a trio of smiling tourists filed inside, chattering as they entered. Breath flooded his lungs as a band around his chest loosened.

  He put on his professional face. “Good afternoon, ladies.”

  “Hello,” they sang in unison.

  The telephone rang. Ed glanced toward the sales counter, where Laura reached for the receiver. His smile broadened for his customers. “Are you just browsing, or can I help you find something in particular?”

  “Oh, we’re just browsing at the moment.” The first woman reached for a decorative candle as her friends moved down the center aisle, whispering to each other.