15 Minutes of Flame

by Christin Brecher

  “Hopefully.”

  “And who are our suspects?”

  “Leigh, Bellows, and Fontbutter.”

  “Why them?” she said.

  “Because they have weaknesses in their stories,” I said.

  “What are these weaknesses?”

  “Leigh could have knocked over the tree, strangled Solder, and then pretended she was stuck. She says she would never kill Solder, but we only have her word for it. “

  “It’s her,” said Clemmie. “I always thought it was her. Didn’t I tell you at The Bean?”

  “It could also be Fontbutter,” I said. “He could have killed Solder when he returned from chasing Brenda. With Solder gone, no one could vouch that Brenda had taken the map. And then he could take over the show with Leigh, as he has.”

  “I never thought about that,” she said. “He was smart to tell the truth about Brenda. Then no one thinks he’s lying. A lie of omission is what they call it. I watch NCIS.”

  “And then there’s Bellows. Why did he return to the scene of the crime? Of all of our suspects, he’s the only one who has a history of violence. He fought with an officer in New Bedford in order to get access to what he considers his own realm of historical artifacts. If you ask me, he and Brenda have a little too much in common that’s not healthy.”

  “Do you know which one of them did it?”

  “I think I do, but I’m not going to take any chances,” I said.

  “How about the candle ladies?” asked Clemmie. “Can we invite them?”

  “Sure,” I said. “They can handle themselves.”

  “And definitely Shelley,” said Clemmie with a laugh. “I’d like to see the look on her face.”

  “And Emily,” I said. “She’ll never forgive me if she’s not there.”

  At this point, we were pulling up to the Morton house.

  “Party, party, party” said Clemmie. “What is this going to be? Like one of those murder-mystery parties?”

  “Sort of,” I said. “I need you to set up my wine and cheese. I’ll invite everyone.”

  “I’m on it,” she said. “Kyle can bring me a dress. And some extra wine. And Perrier for you. Stella Wright has already sobered up once tonight.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  While Clemmie hustled inside, I typed up a text I planned to send to everyone on my list:

  Good news. I’ve found the map. I’m having a few people over for drinks in a half hour. Get over here so we can put our heads together and figure out where the treasure is before the police come and take it. Time is ticking.

  Within five minutes, every person on the list responded that they would be over shortly.

  My guest list settled, I got to work on my party.

  “Brenda?” I said, when I entered the house.

  I ran upstairs.

  “You still here?” I said. “I need your help.”

  The light went on in the bedroom, and Brenda stepped out.

  “We’re going to catch the murderer,” I said. “Do you trust me?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said.

  “What do you have to lose?”

  “Well, there’s—”

  “All I need you to do is collect the candle clocks that are in my workroom and bring them downstairs. Put them everywhere.”

  “Like the olden days,” she said, immediately interested.

  “Unplug every lamp, and unscrew every light bulb too,” I said.

  “I’m on it,” Brenda called up to me.

  When she disappeared, I grabbed all of the Candleers’ spider webs from the second floor. My arms loaded, I went downstairs and out the kitchen door toward The Shack.

  Outside, I noticed how bright the moon was. I guessed it was almost full. I crossed the field, excited to set my trap.

  Balancing my spider webs on one hip, I pulled at the chain with my free hand. Without a moment to spare, I ran across the room to the hearth. Patience’s grave was still covered by a sheet. As I remembered, it dropped about a foot over the edge of the hearth so that some of the hearth’s opening was slightly hidden.

  “Perfect,” I said to myself.

  “What is?” said Peter.

  “Oh my God, you scared me,” I said.

  He came into the room carrying a dripping wet bag. Fortunately, the room was dark enough that no one would notice the drops of water, but a wet bag wouldn’t do for the plan I had in mind.

  “Take your T-shirt off,” I said.

  “OK,” said Peter, “but this is not at all what I was expecting when you called me about hermit crabs. I thought you were working on the murder case.”

  “I am,” I said, taking his shirt and drying the crabs in it. “Here. Hold these a second.”

  “I’m both fascinated and disappointed,” said Peter. “I’m not going to lie.”

  I laughed, in spite of the fact that I was racing against time to catch a killer.

  Lifting the spider webs, I headed to the hearth. Once inside, I turned on my light and searched for stones that were loose in a couple of places. Carefully, I began to tuck the strong but delicate web into the stones.

  “Hand me the crabs,” I said.

  I stuck my arm out of the hearth and felt Peter’s T-shirt in my hands. The crabs were squirming around, as I’d hoped they would. When I stood back up, I placed his shirt above the netting and finished tacking the web to the circumference of the chimney. When I’d finished, I had a heavy package resting upon the circumference of the spider web, which was attached at all sides. Above, there were yards more of the spider web.

  “OK,” I said. “Let’s go to a party.”

  “I have no shirt,” he said.

  “I noticed,” I said, tearing myself away from The Shack and heading back up to the house.

  “Hello,” said Clemmie when we entered the kitchen. “Look at you two. Kyle, look at these two.”

  Clemmie had changed. She was wearing a dress. Red. Sequined. Awesome. Her blue tresses were up in a high bun too. Fabulous. Kyle came into the room in a green, silk dress shirt and jacket.

  “Kyle, give Peter your shirt,” she said. “You can pull off a jacket with no shirt.”

  “Yes, I can,” said Kyle, following his wife’s orders.

  “Nice shirt,” Peter said to Kyle.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I got it on Amazon. It’s a good thread count. I’ll send you the link.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “No problem,” said Kyle.

  “Stella, put some lipstick on,” said Clemmie, handing me a tube of bright pink lipstick. “You’ll feel much more prepared to catch a killer.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” I said, dabbing some on.

  “The cheese is plated, and the wine is airing,” she said.

  Turns out, even while catching a thief, my appreciation for cheese is strong. I took a few cubes of cheddar as Clemmie left the kitchen with generously flowing platters.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s happening?” said Peter.

  “I think it will work best if no one knows,” I said. “Everyone? Grab a match, and let’s light these candles.”

  In no time, the house was lit only by candles. I made a few adjustments to the height of my candle clocks, so that they were all burning at the same level, and finished just in time for the first knock at my door.

  “What do you want us to do?” said Clemmie.

  “All you have to do is drink wine and eat cheese,” I said. “The killer will reveal himself without our having to do a thing.”

  I opened the door to Fontbutter.

  “Gorgeous,” he said, sober and washed. “Truce?”

  “Truce,” I said. “Now hand me your phone. No pictures tonight.”

  Fontbutter looked annoyed but complied.

  The Candleers arrived next, and I took their phones, too. I was pleased they liked my décor. I had an ulterior motive for my party, but I had to admit the place looked good. Once again, I found myself thinking about how mu
ch I loved the Morton house. I would be sad to leave it.

  It took all of about five minutes for the party to assemble. Once everyone’s phone was collected, we all gathered in the dining room. I let the guests mingle for another twenty minutes, allowing their anticipation to grow. When the time was right, I lifted a spoon and clinked it against my glass to get everyone’s attention.

  “Thanks, everyone, for coming,” I said. “I have a confession to make.”

  “You killed Solder?” said Old Holly.

  “No,” I said, ignoring his bad joke. “My confession is that this is really a surprise party.”

  “You didn’t find the map?” said Bellows. I’d noticed he’d been perspiring more than usual since he’d arrived.

  “No, I did,” I said.

  There was an audible sigh of relief from everyone in the room.

  “Where was it?” said Leigh.

  Clemmie circled the room and poured more wine into everyone’s glasses as I continued.

  “Brenda kindly helped me with the map,” I said. “But that’s only the beginning of the story.”

  I held up the diary of Mary Backus.

  “I came upon a diary earlier tonight that gave me the whole story.”

  “You mean it was all in her book?” said Shelly. “What did I miss?”

  “Turns out, I found more than the map,” I said. “I found the Petticoat Row treasure.”

  I watched everyone’s face as I spoke those words. Bellows and Fontbutter looked like they could have sprung from their chairs to grab the book from me.

  “The treasure is more valuable than Mr. Bellows even suggested. We found coins, silver, and other valuables that the women had collected.

  “Where is it?” said Fontbutter.

  “At the moment, Patience is guarding it,” I said.

  “Nice,” said Flo.

  “Meanwhile, the police are about to arrest someone for the murder.”

  Again, I scanned the room. My eyes rested on one person among the group who looked ready to bolt at my words. I decided to go with my gut and turn on the heat.

  “Earlier today, I told the police I’d heard about an art dealer in Cairo who’d had shady dealings with Solder. They followed up and said that as a result of my information, they’d found their man.”

  “Who?” said Agnes, rising indignantly from her chair.

  “I don’t know,” I said, “but I have it on good authority that they are on their way to make an arrest now. Once we have word that he’s in custody, we can all take a look at the loot and celebrate.”

  Everyone applauded.

  “This is thrilling news,” said Cherry. “I love that we’re going to have a private showing.”

  Most people in the room raised their glass in agreement.

  Like clockwork, at that exact moment, all of my candles extinguished themselves.

  In a flash, the party was left in pitch black.

  “Where are our phones?” said Agnes as everyone voiced their confusion about the darkness. “I need a flashlight. I can’t see a thing.”

  “Can we turn on a light?” said Fontbutter.

  “I’m trying,” said Leigh. “They won’t go on.”

  “Quiet, everyone,” Brenda suddenly said. “The spirits are calling us.”

  I couldn’t have planned Brenda’s act any better. The room quieted down, and we sat in the dark. I sipped my Perrier.

  I heard Bellows take a long drag on his inhaler.

  Fontbutter sneezed.

  “You and your cat,” he said.

  “Patience? Is that you?” Brenda said.

  I heard one of the tables the Girl Scouts had set up for crafts begin to shake.

  “Shhhhh,” she said.

  “What the hell is going on?” said Old Holly from one side of the darkness.

  “Shut up, Gil,” said Agnes, from the other side.

  In the midst of the chaos, I made my way across the room and out the door before anyone’s eyes adjusted to the pitch black. Quietly, I slipped out the kitchen door, and I ran across the yard under the dark night sky and straight into the even darker Shack.

  There I crouched, in the corner of the cold room.

  “Come on,” I said, growing a little nervous.

  I waited.

  Then I was rewarded.

  A dark figure came into The Shack and headed straight to the hearth. I watched the silhouette feel about Patience’s burial place. Having no luck, I saw him duck into the hearth. After a moment, I heard a horrible, terrified scream.

  A ghostly apparition, covered from head to toe in the Candleers’ cobwebs, flew out of building and across the yard. Tinker ran in circles around it. Finally, the apparition fell to the ground.

  “Help me,” he said, choking in his shroud.

  “Not until you confess,” I said.

  “I’m being attacked,” he said through the white threads. “Patience has me.”

  “She wants you to confess,” I said.

  “I did it,” he said. “I did it! I killed Solder. Patience, leave me be. Someone help me.”

  “What is going on here?” said Andy, rounding the house and joining me in the backyard.

  “Here’s your killer,” I said.

  Andy walked over to the huddled mass. The figure had crabs crawling all over its spider webbed shroud and was shaking.

  As I suspected, there was only one person who had known he’d have to bolt after my announcement that the police had followed up on a lead about a man in Cairo. Only one person would have known the story was false, and that the police would turn to the person who had fabricated the tale. That person would also need cash, and quick, to fund a life on the lam. My description of the treasure I had made up would have been just what he needed.

  “Fontbutter,” said Andy, pulling the cobwebs off our man.

  Chapter 25

  Friday night, I circled the craft room at Halloween Haunts. Inspired by Clemmie’s party wardrobe, I felt fabulous in a black sequined number I’d ordered online. I enjoyed being the hostess of the party, but I knew that this would be my last night as the lady of the Morton house. I was excited to go home to my own apartment, with a brand-new window, but I knew I’d miss the place.

  In my arms, I held Victoria, the beautiful if sniffly baby. True to my word, I promised Emily that I would help out more with babysitting. Emily was delighted. She and Neal were currently making their way through the haunted maze, something they certainly could not have enjoyed with a baby strapped to them.

  I waved to a Girl Scout who was manning the bead table.

  “Turns out they fumigated the skeleton room. No toxins,” I heard a mom say as I passed through the dining room and into the backyard, which we’d decorated with skull-shaped lights.

  “Bah,” said Baby Victoria, in what seemed like a direct response to the woman. I wondered if the babe had spoken her first words but decided not to let Emily know. She’d never forgive herself.

  The backyard had become party central, with everyone wanting to visit Patience before Bellows packed her up and took her to the Historical Association for safekeeping. I popped my head inside The Shack and waved to Leigh, who was surrounded by youngsters as she told them the story of Patience Cooper and explained to them which bone was which. The room, by the way, had not been fumigated.

  “Hey,” said my cousin Ted.

  I turned around to find him standing with Docker.

  “How’s our favorite cousin?”

  “I could be better,” I said. “I’m still concerned about this issue of a financial windfall. What’s going on with you two?”

  Ted looked at Docker, who looked at me.

  “If we tell you,” Docker said, “you can’t tell our mother, OK? She worries.”

  “Should I worry?” I said.

  “No,” said Ted with a smile. “We’re buying a new truck. Our third.”

  “We took out a loan,” said Docker. “We were afraid it wouldn’t come through because we only
recently bought our second. But then we got the good news. We were waiting for the right time to tell Mom, though.”

  “That’s amazing,” I said, hugging my cousins over Baby Victoria’s head.

  “If you ever need a loan,” said Ted, “we’d be happy to help you figure it out.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t need a loan,” I said. “The Wick and Flame is doing well. Knock on wood.”

  “Not that I want you to leave my place, but maybe you want a mortgage?” said Chris, joining us and looking up at the Morton house.

  I admired the house with him.

  “Thank you, Stella,” said Emily, arriving at my side and taking Victoria back into her loving arms. “It’s so great not to feel sick anymore. I’m still catching up on everything I missed. It’s hard to imagine that Fontbutter was caught right here, on this lawn.”

  “How did you know it would be him?” said Ted.

  “Fontbutter told me once that his secret was showmanship, but he had a bad poker face. This time, his ambition and greed got the better of him.”

  “I can’t believe Andy let you do that,” said Emily.

  “He didn’t,” I said. “And I couldn’t tell him my plan. I think it would have been entrapment if he’d known.”

  “I thought the murderer was going to be Bellows,” said Clemmie, joining us with Agnes. “Stella said he knew the map was missing way before anyone else did.”

  I pointed across the lawn to Brenda Worthington, who was out on bail for assaulting Solder and stealing evidence at a crime scene. She stood next to Jameson Bellows. The two were in deep, animated dialogue with many of the Girl Scouts. They led the first group inside The Shack to see Patience and to explain the positive power of history and spirits, neither of which, I heard them say, should be feared. As the Historical Association’s new curator, Bellows had taken possession of the two skeletons and had decided Patience could hang around during Halloween Haunts.

  As it turned out, the one mystery I had not known to solve was the blossoming friendship between Brenda and Bellows. It did explain, however, how he’d found out the map was missing. Brenda had kept her treasure map and her blackmail woes hidden from Bellows, but she had let it slip that the map had disappeared from the crime scene. Seems in spite of his love for history, his love for Brenda enabled him to believe that Patience had told her so.