A Flicker of Doubt (Book 4 in the Candlemaking Mysteries)

by Tim Myers

  A FLICKER OF DOUBT

  By Tim Myers

  Book 4 in the Candlemaking Mysteries

  Praise for the Candlemaking Mystery series by Tim Myers

  “Excellent storytelling that makes for a good reading experience…(Myers) is a talented writer who deserves to hit the bestseller lists.”

  ---The Best Reviews

  “A sure winner.”

  ---Carolyn Hart, author of the Death on Demand series

  “An interesting mystery, a large cast of characters, and an engaging amateur sleuth make this series a winner.”

  ---The Romance Reader’s Connection (four daggers)

  “A smashing, successful debut.”

  ---Midwest Book Review

  “I greatly enjoyed this terrific mystery. The main character…will make you laugh. Don’t miss this thrilling read.”

  ---Rendezvous

  Praise for the Lighthouse Mystery series by Tim Myers

  “Entertaining ... authentic ... fun ... a wonderful regional mystery that will have readers rebooking for future stays at the Hatteras West Inn and Lighthouse.”

  —BookBrowser

  “Tim Myers proves that he is no one-book wonder... A shrewdly crafted puzzle.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “Colorful... picturesque ... light and entertaining.”

  —The Best Reviews

  The Lighthouse Inn Mysteries by Tim Myers

  Innkeeping With Murder

  Reservations For Murder

  Murder Checks Inn

  Room For Murder

  Booked For Murder

  The Candlemaking Mysteries by Tim Myers

  At Wick’s End

  Snuffed Out

  Death Waxed Over

  A Flicker Of Doubt

  The Soapmaking Mysteries by Tim Myers

  Dead Men Don’t Lye

  A Pour Way To Dye

  A Mold For Murder

  The Cardmaking Mysteries by Tim Myers written as Elizabeth Bright

  Invitation To Murder

  Deadly Greetings

  Murder And Salutations

  A Flicker of Doubt

  by Tim Myers.

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2006 Tim Myers

  All rights reserved.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To Emily,

  For Scrabble, road trips, Mythbusters, and white trucks everywhere!

  “Reputation is only a candle, of wavering and uncertain flame, and easily blown out, but it is the light by which the world looks for and finds merit.”

  —James Russell Lowell

  Chapter 1

  As my kayak brushed against the woman’s body, I thought I’d hit another half-submerged log. The Gunpowder River was full of all kinds of debris, washed there from the banks in the heavy rains that had assaulted us over the past two weeks. Paddling through the water was more like an obstacle course than the smooth river I usually found on my excursions.

  It wasn’t until I looked closer that I realized what I’d brushed up against

  In a moment of panic I dropped my double-bladed paddle, but I managed to catch it again before it skittered off the sleek surface of the boat and into the water. Without it, I’d be hopelessly adrift “Harrison, what’s wrong?” I looked over on shore and saw Markum, a big bear of a man with wild black hair and the look of an ogre about him, standing near the concrete steps that led down to the water in front of the complex. It was funny how he had become one of my best friends in the world. To the casual eye, we had nothing in common; no mutual interests to forge the friendship we had found nonetheless. Markum based his business at River’s Edge—my converted warehouse that featured retail shops downstairs and offices upstairs. My apartment was the only living space on the second floor, and it was perched above my candleshop, At Wick’s End.

  My name is Harrison Black, and my great aunt Belle had left me the entire place, including At Wick’s End, along with a hefty mortgage and a caveat not to sell the place for five years, not that I had any intention of ever parting with it. The people of River’s Edge had become family to me.

  I could hardly bear to bring myself to look. “There’s a body floating in the water,” I shouted inanely. “She’s dead. What should I do?”

  Markum considered it for a moment, then said, “I could call the sheriff, but it’s hard to tell how far the body will drift by the time he gets here. Do you have any rope with you?”

  “Yes,” I admitted reluctantly, understanding instantly what he had in mind. I was-a candlemaker by trade, so the worst things I had to deal with in my business were wax bums and nasty customers; nothing in my life had prepared me for what I was facing. Markum-was a self- proclaimed expert in salvage and recovery, though I’d never been able to pin him down much more than that on what he did from day to day. He didn’t sound at all panicked by the situation, but then again, be was standing safely on shore while I was the one drifting six inches from the lifeless body.

  “Harrison, you’ve got to bring her in,” he said.

  “I know that” I shouted a little harsher than I meant to. I wasn’t sure if I was up to the task, but I didn’t really have a choice. I couldn’t exactly ask Markum to swim out there and get her himself.

  I reached behind me and retrieved the rope I kept on board to tie the kayak up while I went exploring some of the Gunpowder River’s coves. I was going to have to get a new tether after this. There was no way I’d ever be able to use it again once this was over. After I had the rope in my hand, I wondered how I was going to tie it to the body securely enough to pull her to shore.

  Markum called out, “I hate to bring this up, but you’re drifting away at a pretty good clip. You can stare at it all you want to, but it’s not going to get any easier.”

  I hated it, but I knew he was right Judging from the general area where I’d found her, if I waited much longer, I might not be able to pull her weight through the water back upstream. And if she got away from me and drifted swiftly down the river, I’d be haunted by the memory that I’d let it happen. Where could I attach the rope, though? Should I tie it to her hand? I shuddered at the thought No way. How about her leg? That was too gruesome to even consider. There was a belt on her dress, maybe it would hold until I got her to shore. I hastily pulled my rope through it and tied it off. My hand had brushed against her waist by accident, and I nearly dropped the rope as the body bobbed gently from my touch.
With a grim determination, I started paddling backward toward the steps of the complex.

  I’d covered less than a dozen feet when my load suddenly got lighter, Blast it all. The belt had come off and I could see the woman drifting downstream again. I paddled back toward her, not daring to look at Markum.

  For some reason I was furious with him, probably because he was safely on land and I was wrestling with this body.

  I approached her again, then I saw to my horror that when the belt had come loose, it had somehow flipped her over in the water.

  Staring down at a stranger would have been bad enough, but I knew this woman and knew her all too well.

  It was Becka Lane, my ex-girlfriend.. Her lustrous blonde hair was fanned out around her head in the water like a halo, and the peaceful expression on her face looked more like she was sleeping than dead. Her dress had bunched up near her waist when the belt had come loose, and I had to fight the urge to pull the errant material back down over her legs.

  “Harrison,” Markum yelled from the shore. “You have to get moving.”

  I ignored him.

  Poor Becka. What had led her to this? I hadn’t seen her in nearly a month, but I still felt as though she were a part of my life. We’d gone from dating to animosity to friendship, and I was going to miss not having her around. She had become a presence in my life, and her death was going to leave a hole that might never be filled. In my mind, I could suddenly hear the essence of her laughter and feel the soft tenderness in her touch as I stared down at her.

  I did my best to choke back my emotions. I couldn’t grieve yet. I had a job to do. Trying not to think about what I was doing, I tied the tope around Becka’s chest I nearly fell in as I pushed the rope under her shoulder blades, but I managed to steady myself at the last second.

  It was miserable towing her back to the steps, but somehow I managed it. I didn’t even realize I was crying until I tried to speak to Markum.

  “It’s Becka,” I managed between sobs as I climbed out of the kayak and slumped onto the lowest exposed step just above the waterline. Becka’s body was tugging insistently against my boat in the current, and I had to hold onto the kayak to keep everything from drifting downriver. I knew I should pull Becka in, but I didn’t have the heart to touch her.

  Markum patted my shoulder and said, “Harrison, I’m sorry.” He hesitated, then added, “Millie came out while you were paddling in. She called the police, so they should be on their way.” Millie Nelson, a plus- sized woman with brown hair and soft gray eyes, ran The Crocked Pot Cafe, a place where I took most of my meals.

  True to the promise, I heard sirens in the distance. I started tugging on the rope to pull Becka out of the water when Markum said, “You’d better leave her there and let the police handle it.”

  I nodded numbly, and he started to stand when I grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t go. Please.”

  Markum settled back down beside me on the step. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,”

  Sheriff Morton, a tall man with a ruddy complexion and a mop of brown hair, came rushing down the steps toward us a minute later. “What happened?’

  Markum said softly, “She was in the water. It’s Becka Lane. Harrison used to date her, so take it easy on him.”

  Morton’s face softened. “I know. Sony, I didn’t know who it was.” Two of his men arrived just behind him, and they carefully pulled the body out of the water and onto the bottom step. What happened after that was lost to me. I felt the sheriff grab one arm and Markum the other as they pulled me to my feet I didn’t care if the kayak drifted away. The way I felt at the moment, I was never going out on the water again.

  The sheriff shouted to one of his men to pull the kayak up onto the steps as Markum led me to Millie’s place.

  Morton released my arm and asked, “Are you all right?”

  I managed to nod, but I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact. It must have satisfied him, though, because he left me to rejoin his deputies.

  Millie stepped in as she wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Come on, Harrison, let’s get you upstairs.”

  Markum took a step back, deferring to her.

  “Could I have some coffee first?” I asked. “I need something strong.” The truth was that I didn’t want to be alone, but the coffee would be welcome as well.

  “Of course,” she said, “Come into the cafe I’ll fix you right up.”

  I walked inside, nearly stumbling as I crossed the threshold. I was surprised by Millie’s strength in righting me. She led me to a table near the back, and Markum joined me. Millie returned in a minute with three cups of coffee and I felt the liquid burn as I gulped it down. We sat in silence, each of my friends giving me space, but staying close by in case I needed either one of them.

  After a while, Markum looked outside toward the river and said, “It looks like they’re finally, finished out there. Are you ready to go upstairs now?”

  “I’m feeling better” I said as I stared into the last dregs of my cup. As I pushed it away, I added, “I have to open the candleshop.”

  Markum said, “Harrison, you’ve just had a tremendous shock. Close the blasted place up for a day, or a week if you need to. Your customers will understand.”

  “And what do I do in the meantime? Should I hang around my apartment feeling bad about what happened to her?” I asked him. “Becka was my friend. Who am I trying to kid? She was a lot more than that to me, at least at one time. I’m sorry she’s gone, but there’s nothing I can do for her anymore.” I was surprised to find myself crying again as I spoke.

  Markum looked surprised by my outburst, but Millie just patted my shoulder with a comforting touch. “Why don’t you at least let Eve handle things this morning? You can work after lunch if you feel up to it.”

  I shook my head, wiping at the tears that betrayed my words. “I can’t. She’s not coming in until this afternoon.”

  Millie wasn’t about to let it go, though. “So we’ll call her at home. You know she’ll pitch in if you ask her to help you.”

  I started to protest when Millie added, “Please, will you do it for me? You need to take some time to accept this.”

  I was still struggling with the suggestion when the sheriff walked in and sat down heavily at our table, blowing out a bellow of air as he did.

  Millie asked him, “Can I get you something?”

  “I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee. I’ve been up all night, and I’m starting to feel it”

  She left to get his coffee, and Markum said to me,

  “Harrison, if you need me, I’ll be over there.” He and the sheriff had a heavy dose of natural animosity between them, and they would never willingly be together anywhere, not even to support me.

  After the sheriff and I were alone, Morton asked gently, “Are you up to talking about this?”

  I nodded. “We might as well get it over with. I was kayaking this morning before I had to open the candleshop. It was a good day to be out; the rain had finally broken, and the sun was coming out There was a lot of junk that had been washed into the water, though. At first I thought I’d hit a log, but then I saw it was a woman’s body. I didn’t realize it was Becka until she flipped over. I managed to tow her to shore. That’s when Millie called you.” I stared down into my empty coffee mug, then asked, “Do you have any idea what happened to her?”

  He shook his head as he played with the sugar dispenser in front of him. ‘There were no obvious signs of trauma, so they’re going to have to look harder. She hasn’t been in the water long, maybe an hour or two at the most, from the look of her.”

  “So you don’t have any idea at all what could have happened?” I asked.

  Morton said, “That’s right I don’t know, and I’m not about to start guessing. I’ll let the coroner figure it out, and then we’ll go from there.” He paused, then asked gently, “When’s the last time you saw her, Harrison?”

  “Are you honestly looking for an alibi?” I asked,
letting my words bite, not caring if he felt my hostility in them.

  ‘Take it easy, I have to ask.” When I saw the softness in his gaze, I knew he hadn’t wanted to ask me that question, but I also realized that he didn’t have any choice, either.

  Fighting to keep my temper in check, I said, “We went out for pizza at A Slice of Heaven last month.”

  “So then you two were dating again?”

  Millie brought him his coffee as I said, “No, we were just two friends going out together for a meal. There was nothing happening between us, at least not romantically. What about the guy who was stalking her a few months ago? Is he still in jail?”

  Millie hesitated at the table and frowned at Morton— no doubt hovering nearby to offer me her support—when the sheriff said, “As of ten minutes ago he was. Listen, I’m not accusing you of anything, Harrison, I’m just trying to collect information. I know finding her like that had to be hard on you. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m not afraid to admit that I’ve been better,” I said. Millie must have been satisfied with the sheriff’s softened tone, because she left us and went back to her register.

  I told Sheriff Morton, “Everybody thinks I should hide in my apartment upstairs, but I want to get back to work. I need to keep busy.”

  He nodded. “If it matters to you what I think, I believe it’s the best thing you could do. It will help take your mind off what happened.”

  He threw a dollar on the table and said, “Listen, I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything, okay?”

  “I’d appreciate that,” I said.

  After the sheriff was gone, Markum came back to the table. “What did he want? Did I hear him right? Did he actually ask you for an alibi?”