15 Minutes of Flame

by Christin Brecher

  “Let me know if I can help,” she said.

  “Me too,” said Emily, rising as well. “I’d better get back to Neal.”

  “You have four days to recover,” I said. “I’m still hoping to see you at Halloween Haunts.”

  “I thought it was canceled,” she said.

  “We’re going to see how it goes today,” I said. “The Girl Scouts are meeting there after school. I’m going to make sure they leave excited about it. We’re not going to drop the ball for the town’s neediest. No way.”

  “Good for you,” said Clemmie.

  Fortunately, it was a busy day at the Wick & Flame, so I couldn’t dwell too much on the fact that I was missing the excavation at Old Holly’s, or wonder what news Peter wanted to tell me. In addition to selling out my Tinker Specials once more, I decided to keep busy by making more of my candle clocks. Customers enjoyed the live exhibit, and I even sold a couple.

  At about two, when I was beginning the get antsy about what had happened at the well and my impending date with the Girl Scouts, I got a phone call.

  “Hello?” I said, not sure who belonged to the number on my screen.

  “Hi,” said Leigh. “I got your number from Kate. Just thought I’d reach out to a friendly voice after this morning.”

  “I’m so glad you did,” I said. “How did it go today?”

  “Well, I did it,” she said. “I climbed back down the well, in honor of Robbie and to be the professional I know I am. It was my first solo. Andy came with me, which was so nice.”

  “I think it took a lot of courage to go back there,” I said, realizing she’d had no idea Andy was keeping an eye on her. Well done, Andy.

  “I made sure my walkie-talkie worked this time,” she said with what sounded like a choke in her throat.

  “Did Fontbutter drive you crazy? I know he showed up,” I said, trying to change the subject to some mutual commiseration.

  “Actually, he was fine,” she said. “Andy wouldn’t let him come down, but he gave me your candles. I lit them and took a picture. It was beautiful.”

  “Are you free for a drink this evening? We should celebrate.”

  “I’d love to,” she said. “The police have asked me to stay for at least twenty-four more hours because of their investigation, but I can’t wait to leave Nantucket. I have a funeral to plan, you know.”

  “I know. But tonight, take a break if you can. Red or white?” I said.

  “Both?” she said with a chuckle.

  “The Girl Scouts will be gone by five. Come then,” I said.

  When we hung up, I thought about the police’s request that Leigh stay on island for twenty-four more hours. That meant that Leigh was still on their list. I called Andy, but he did not answer, so I left him a message to get in touch.

  A moment later, I was rewarded, as promised, with at text from Leigh that contained her photo of the bottom of the well. Fontbutter had been right about choosing black candles. The popped against the pale stones and flickered with mystery. I couldn’t help it, but suddenly I hoped I’d get a credit in his show.

  It’s unusual for me to feel this way, but when I turned my sign to CLOSED, I was excited to head out the door. I went straight to the liquor store. A lot of anchor stores have closed on Main Street since I was a kid, but an important one remains: Murray’s Beverage Store. I popped in, grabbed three bottles of wine—a white, a red, and a rosé. Remembering there was very little at the Morton house, I grabbed three more. I also picked up a couple of pre-made cheese plates. I bought more than I needed for some wine with Leigh, but they were on special. And, let’s face it, I’m a sucker for cheese.

  I knew there was real hope for Halloween Haunts when I pulled up to my newfound home. Opening the car door, I once again heard the shrieks and laughter of the girls. I was glad I’d risked being the town witch if that was what it took. Tinker seemed quite pleased too. Before I’d even opened the front door, he sprang onto the windowsill to greet me, wearing a tiny witch’s hat that someone had made.

  “Greetings, Witch Scouts,” I said when I entered.

  “Mwahahaha,” screamed the girls in unison.

  Their cackles were music to my ears.

  I dropped the wine in the kitchen and was delighted to see that screens had been put in the living room to create a path that would be part of the haunted-house section of the event. The girls were planning to start the haunted part of the visit in the living room and then continue it through the kitchen and up the back stairs to two of the bedrooms that opened into each other from the back. The tour would end in the third room, where I had set up my workspace last night. I’d be sure to clean it out for them.

  “Come see our spider webs,” Cherry called to me.

  I was happy to hear her voice. That meant that Agnes and Flo were by her side.

  Making my way back through the maze, I heard their voices in the dining room, which had been designated for younger visitors. There would be craft tables set up to make necklaces, sand sculptures, and beaded Halloween jewelry, along with some face painting. When I entered the room, I saw that the craft tables had been set up. Two Girl Scouts stood on ladders, while Cherry, Agnes, and Flo called out orders about how and where to hang their truly gorgeous spider webs.

  “I told you we could do better than that gauzy stuff,” said Flo as both Shelly and I entered from different sides of the room.

  “You weren’t lying,” I said.

  I couldn’t imagine how long they’d worked to make so many cobwebs, but their inventory seemed endless. Fortunately, the ceilings in these old houses were quite low, so the Girl Scouts could reach the beams from a small ladder. Every corner glistened with their threads, and they even extended up toward an old chandelier.

  “Ms. Stella?”

  Three scouts came bounding into the room, holding their cellphones.

  “Your candles look so pretty!” said young Jane, the most boisterous imp. She flashed a picture of my candles in the well, a similar version to the picture Leigh had sent to me.

  The picture was on Fontbutter’s Instagram account. I noticed he did not give me credit for the candles. I guess Clemmie had been right about hazelnut coffee drinkers.

  “Why are you following this account?” I said to the scout.

  “He followed us, so we follow him,” she said.

  I now remembered that Fontbutter had originally learned about the stories of Nancy and Patience through the Girl Scouts’ feed.

  “We’ve been posting great photos for Halloween Haunts,” said the girl, touching her screen and handing her phone to me. “Check it out.”

  Indeed, the girls had done a great job at recording the development of Halloween Haunts. There were photos of meetings, decorations they’d made, images of the house as we turned it from a run-down and forgotten home into one of the town’s best attractions. There was even a photo of Tinker, nestled between photos of the Candleers’ cobwebs, and a couple of images about the discovery of Nancy at the well.

  Outside, I heard a horn honk. On cue, the girls began to gather their belongings and head out the door, each knowing that their parent’s arrival was imminent. I handed the phone back to the young Girl Scout, thinking something was not quite right about the photos, but not sure why. They were innocuous enough.

  I couldn’t shake the feeling, however, that something in general was not right. I looked about the house, and could think of nothing out of place. The girls had returned, Halloween Haunts was back on track, Shelly looked pleased, and the Candleers were on a roll.

  “Can we stay and finish the living room now that the screens are up?” said Flo.

  “Not without the girls to help,” said Shelly. “It’s their project.”

  “Pish posh,” said Agnes. “We’re going to drape them over the edges of the screens. They don’t need to be here for that.”

  I looked at them, bright-eyed and ready to keep working.

  “Can you make an exception, Shelly?”

 
; Shelly seemed to catch on that the work was as good for our Candleers as it was for her scouts. She nodded, and the ladies got to work.

  I walked to the window to watch the girls pile into their parents’ cars, some alone, others with friends. Tinker hopped next to me. He whisked his tail and curled up for a nap.

  “Quite a crowd,” I said, still experiencing that nagging feeling. “Do you ladies want some wine? I have red, white, and rosé.”

  “Red is good for the heart,” said Flo.

  “Then let’s start with red,” I said.

  I went to the kitchen and opened the bottle of red. I’d just passed around the glasses when there was a knock on the door.

  I opened the door to find Leigh, on time.

  “I’m so glad you made it,” I said.

  “Hi, sweetie,” said Cherry. “Be careful. We’ve got cobwebs everywhere!”

  “I’m so glad you invited me,” said Leigh, looking around the house. “This looks amazing. And that red wine looks delicious!”

  “Join us!” said Flo.

  “Come on back to the kitchen,” I said, leading her through the maze the girls had made today.

  “You have a really nice town,” said Leigh.

  I turned around and handed Leigh her glass. She was seated at the kitchen table, looking tired. Her canvas bag was overflowing with the day’s tools, and gear sat atop the table next to her.

  “I know you are living through your worst nightmare,” I said. “I’m glad our town can be here for you.”

  “Cheers!” she said.

  As I took a sip from my glass, my eyes fell upon Leigh’s bag. Specifically, I noticed a coffee cup from The Bean, shoved into a side pocket. It was safe to assume that the drink had been given to her by Fontbutter, as part of his contribution to the morning. What I found interesting, however, was a marking on its side: HN.

  “The coffee at The Bean is delicious, isn’t it?” I said. “I’ve never tried the hazelnut.”

  “Hazelnut is the only flavor I drink,” said Leigh. “It’s my weakness.”

  “Like me and cheese,” I said, my throat beginning to tighten.

  “This is an amazing spread,” Leigh said, reaching for a piece of cheddar.

  Her confession about her love for hazelnut coffee made my heart sink.

  The thing was, no one had been drinking coffee when we were at the well yesterday. In spite of that, Fontbutter had known without consulting her that I should order a hazelnut for Leigh today. Worse, his request had been the only flavored order I’d made. I could think of no other way he’d know Leigh’s weakness but that he had already known her before the excavation, and known her well.

  I thought again about Fontbutter’s videos. Specifically, my mind went to the clip featuring Leigh before she descended the well. I remembered her smile, and Solder coming into view. I had assumed she was smiling at Solder, but now I wondered if she had been smiling at Fontbutter.

  It was my turn to take a really big sip of my wine.

  I put down my glass as the Candleers chatted audibly in the living room next to us about whether they needed more cobwebs. Their presence gave me the courage to press on.

  “How long have you known Fontbutter?” I asked.

  Leigh lowered her glass. I knew I’d asked a valid question from the fear I could see in her eyes.

  “It’s not what you think,” she said.

  “Then what is it?” I said.

  “I met Fontbutter at the conference in Boston,” she said. “That’s all.”

  “And then you met again yesterday.”

  “If you think this has something to do with Robbie’s death, you couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  At that moment there was a knock on my door.

  “I’ll get it!” said Cherry.

  “What’s the news?” said Agnes, coming into the kitchen with Flo and Cherry.

  Andy followed behind them. He noticed that Leigh was in the room and nodded. His expression was serious, all-business.

  “Good job today,” he said to Leigh.

  “Thanks,” she said. She looked at me desperately. I was tempted to tell Andy about the coffee, but did that prove she was a killer?

  “I heard you were hanging cobwebs here, Agnes,” said Andy. “The fingerprints came back on the bone You’ll be relieved to know that we were able to pick up a partial print of someone else.”

  “Andy Southerland, I’ve known you since you weren’t even my own height,” said Agnes. “The fact that you could have thought me capable of such violence even for an instant is something that’s going to take me quite a while to recover from.”

  “Who else handled the bone?” I said, hoping against hope that Andy didn’t say Kyle Nelson or my cousins, Ted and Docker.

  “I’d like a whack at them,” said Agnes.

  “Cool your knickers,” said Flo.

  “Well, who?” I said.

  “Brenda Worthington,” said Andy. “We have her prints on file from a few years ago. She tried to block the demolition of an old house. It seems that Brenda hit Solder over the head.”

  “But, she wasn’t at the dig,” said Cherry.

  “Apparently she was. Do any of you know where she is?” said Andy. “We haven’t been able to find her.”

  Chapter 21

  My head was spinning, but I kept my cool.

  “I haven’t seen Brenda since this morning,” I said. “She told me she had lost interest in communicating with Patience Cooper. That she no longer wanted to visit The Shack. She left quickly and said she might try her luck with Nancy instead.”

  “I didn’t see her at the well,” said Andy.

  “Who’s Brenda Worthington?” asked Leigh, her eyes beginning to brim with tears.

  Flo sat down beside her, and I could hear her tell Leigh about Brenda’s tours.

  “Let’s check out The Shack,” I said. “I had a thought when I left this morning that maybe Brenda wanted to be there without me. But why?”

  “I don’t know,” said Andy, “but let’s check. You all stay here.”

  “OK,” said Cherry, refilling everyone’s glass.

  “Are you kidding?” said Agnes. “I’m coming.”

  “Sit,” said Flo. “Leigh is upset. Let Andy and Stella do their job. We’ll do ours.”

  I opened the back door, still wondering if I’d let my imagination run wild about Leigh and Fontbutter. I took a breath, told myself to get it together, and headed to The Shack with Andy.

  “You OK?” said Andy, probably noticing my frustration.

  “I’m fine. How’re you doing? How’s Georgianna? I haven’t seen her lately.”

  “I guess you didn’t hear,” he said. “We broke up a couple of days ago.”

  I stopped dead in my tracks and looked at Andy in the twilight. He stopped as well but didn’t make eye contact.

  “I guess I got so caught up with Patience and Nancy that I haven’t thought about much else. What happened?”

  “She thought that I was holding back,” he said.

  “I’m so sorry,” I said.

  “Let’s go see if a killer is in The Shack,” he said. “We can talk about relationship problems later.”

  As we reached The Shack, Andy raised a hand and motioned for me to stand on the protected side of the door. He put his hand on his holster and leaned against the wall.

  “Brenda Worthington?” he said. “This is Andy Southerland. If you are inside, please signal your presence.”

  Silence.

  “Brenda,” he said. “I’m here on official business. If you are inside, you need to let me know.”

  “Brenda?” I said. “It’s Stella. Andy needs to talk to you. I’m here too.”

  We waited a few more moments, but there was no sound.

  “I’m coming in,” said Andy. “If you are inside, raise your hands in the air.”

  Andy motioned for me to stay put and headed inside.

  “All clear,” he said, a moment later.


  I turned on my phone’s flashlight and joined him.

  “Do you think she’s at Old Holly’s?” I said.

  “I already called the police officer on guard,” he said. “He hasn’t seen anyone.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t rely on him,” I said, remembering how easily Bellows and I had passed him on our own visits to the well. “I have a feeling his night vision isn’t the best.”

  “How would you know that?” said Andy.

  I’m pretty good by now at keeping a straight face with Andy, but I turned off my flashlight to be on the safe side. There was no need for him to know I’d been down the well last night. We now stood in the dark. I wasn’t sure where to go next. I was also aware that Andy was leaning against the wall of The Shack and not really moving.

  “Any reason why?” I said.

  “Why what?”

  “Why Georgianna thought you were holding back?”

  “Did it seem like I was holding back?” he said, putting his hands in his pockets.

  “I think you’re always holding back a little,” I said, feeling a lump in my throat I hadn’t expected. I hated to see Andy sad.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t hold back so much,” he said.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t either.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Why? Did Peter say anything to you? He was acting very strangely when we spoke this morning.”

  Andy chuckled. His jaw shifted, and I knew he was done talking.

  “What the hell,” he said. “I’ve got to go find Brenda.”

  And then he was gone.

  “That was very romantic,” said a ghostly woman’s voice.

  I aspire to be brave, but this wasn’t my finest moment. I ran to the doorway, ready to run back to the house, fly up the stairs, and jump right under my bed; except I realized after I’d crossed the threshold that it was not Patience who had spoken to me. I stepped back inside.

  “Brenda?” I whispered, then turned my flashlight on again.

  From the chimney space, I saw two feet drop to the ground. Brenda knelt and crawled out to join me.

  “I climbed up as far as I could when I heard you coming,” she said. “I almost fell out when Andy looked up the chimney, but thankfully it’s dark up there and I was too far up for him to see me.”