Death Waxed Over (Book 3 in the Candlemaking Mysteries)

by Tim Myers

  I walked Heather out as she locked up her shop. Then she turned to me and said, “Would you like to grab some dinner? We could go over to A Slice of Heaven.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got to run my reports, make out my deposit, restock shelves and get an order ready for tomorrow. I’m going to be here for a while.”

  “Okay, but I’ll give you a rain check,” she said.

  “And I’ll cash it once things slow down around here,” I said.

  I walked back to the candleshop, wishing I’d brought a jacket with me. Even though I was wearing one of my favorite flannel shirts, the wind was biting enough to make me wish I had more on. There wouldn’t be any rooftop soirees tonight.

  The total on my report was healthy enough to make me believe that the worst of our slump was over. Steadily our business had been picking up until we were nearly at the levels we’d been at before Gretel had died. I had half-expected another slow period when Pearly had been named as a suspect. After all, the paper had gone out of its way to tie him to River’s Edge in their story. Though some of my other tenants might have seen some fluctuations because of it, it hadn’t affected me, at least not yet.

  I did my chores, locked the shop and considered leaving the deposit for the next day. But if I did that, I knew I’d have to tell Eve I’d skipped a day at the bank, and frankly, it wasn’t worth it. Besides, though it was chilly out, it was a beautiful night for the short drive into town. I was sleepier than I’d realized, though, and the warm air from the heater was lulling me into a rest I couldn’t afford to take yet. I shut the blower off and rolled both windows down, letting the cold air wash over me as I drove. There was no danger of me falling asleep after that.

  By the time I got back to my apartment, I was ready for a quick sandwich and then bed. It was hard enough standing up working all day at the candleshop, but running around grilling people without letting them know why was even more of a strain. I was ready for some sleep, and hopefully I’d be rested up enough the next day to keep tracking down the person who had shot Gretel Barnett.

  A ghastly crying clown was chasing me in my sleep when I jolted suddenly awake.

  An explosion still echoed outside as I jumped out of bed. It sounded as if a car had blown up in the parking lot. I reached for the aluminum baseball bat I kept by the door for emergencies, but it wasn’t there. Then I remembered I’d loaned it to Suzanne for a church league game. Not wanting to go outside without some kind of protection, I grabbed the hammer on the end table by the door, and was glad I’d forgotten to return it to its proper place. I raced out of my apartment and flipped on the light to the stairs. Nothing happened. There was something wrong with the switch or the fixture; Pearly had just replaced the bulb two weeks ago. Barely pausing, I hit the first step, then I felt my feet go out from under me as I missed the second one.

  The claw on the other end of the hammer saved me. Without thinking, I threw my hands out to stop my fall, and luckily, the clawed end dug into the drywall, acting as an anchor. Pearly would have a sizable hole to patch and I’d have a sore tailbone for a while, but that beat tumbling down the long flight of stairs. I crawled back up to the landing, managed to pull myself to a standing position, then limped back to my apartment for a flashlight. I found it, then studied the step where I’d tripped.

  A handful of children’s marbles were scattered on the second step, as well as a few below it. It was no wonder I’d fallen.

  Carefully holding the rail, I brushed the marbles aside and went outside to see what had happened. One of the trashcans I kept on the walkway was in the middle of the parking lot, far enough away from the automatic lights to keep from tripping the switch. The can was smoking, and from the heavy smell of gunpowder in the air, I knew someone had lit an M-80 firecracker. They were supposed to be illegal in North Carolina, but there were places across the border in South Carolina they could be had, for a price.

  It was clear someone had used the trashcan as a ruse to get me downstairs in a hurry so I could break my neck on the steps. But who would want me dead, or hurt enough so that I would be out of the picture?

  I pulled the trashcan back in its place and realized that the lights never came on. Had they been disabled as well? No, when I walked back to the stairwell door, the lights came on. So there was a dead spot in our layout. Had the attacker known that, or had he just been lucky? I didn’t want to think about the first option, since Pearly and I had installed those lights ourselves.

  I collected the marbles and headed back upstairs. I decided to keep the incident to myself in case I could use the information later. Fortunately, it hadn’t turned out as the culprit had hoped, so only two of us knew about the marbles. After taking a couple of Tylenols, I stretched out on the couch with a book, knowing that sleep was most likely out of the question. To my great surprise, I woke up the next morning with a sore rear end and a burning curiosity about who had tried to kill me the night before.

  I was getting ready to open the candleshop when there was a persistent knocking at the front door. I tried to ignore it, since I still needed to do a few things before we opened and I was moving a little slower than usual, but the pounding was relentless.

  “We’re not open yet,” I said as I walked to the front of the shop.

  Jubal looked startled to see me as I opened the door for him. “Good, I’m glad I caught you in. I’m so sorry to bother you,” he said. “I just need a minute of your time.”

  I unlocked the door and stepped aside. “Come on in, Jubal. I thought it was just another overenthusiastic candle-maker.”

  He tried to smile, and almost made it. “Do you get many of those?”

  “We have our share. What can I do for you? Wait a second, it’s about what happened yesterday, isn’t it? Sorry I never got back to you. I didn’t hang up on you. The phone slipped off my shoulder, and by the time I retrieved it, I got overwhelmed with customers and forgot all about our conversation.”

  “Please, there’s no need to explain. I must admit, you left me curious with that cryptic comment of yours. Are you truly close to something?”

  I admitted, “I’m beginning to think it was wishful thinking. Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to get your hopes up.”

  Jubal didn’t look upset at all. “It’s no problem, really. We both just want to know what really happened to Gretel.”

  “So if you’re not here for an apology, what brings you out to River’s Edge?”

  “I wanted you to know Flickering Lights is shutting down.”

  Though I couldn’t say the news of my chief competition closing upset me, I did feel bad for Jubal. “How did that happen?”

  “They finally managed to track Hans down, and he wants the shop closed as soon as possible. He’s even letting the franchise revert, but since Gretel paid in full for an exclusivity clause, the candle shop won’t be back to haunt you later. Evidently I’ve been given free reign to liquidate any way I see fit. If you can imagine, he’s not even coming to Micah’s Ridge to handle the estate. There was something too pressing in South America that he couldn’t leave, he told me.” Jubal shook his head. “Hans never was all that concerned with details.” He paused, then added, “I suppose I shouldn’t complain. Since Gretel left me out of the list of beneficiaries, Hans is allowing me to keep the proceeds of the liquidation, as long as I do it quickly.”

  I’d been curious about that since Markum and I had uncovered the fact of his absence in Gretel’s will, and this was the perfect time to satisfy my curiosity. “Why did she neglect you, do you suppose?”

  Jubal said, “Don’t look so surprised, Harrison, I knew Gretel’s intent, and heartily endorsed it. Ten years ago I found myself in a predicament, one that required an immediate and generous cash transfusion. I never would have asked Gretel for help, but she got wind of it and bailed me out. That’s one of the reasons I came down to be with her, actually. I never thanked her as well as I should have.”

  “I’m sure she knew you were grateful,” I said, hap
py to have at least that point solved.

  Jubal said, “The reason I’m here is that I was wondering if you might be interested in buying my supplies. In fact, I can make you a good deal, less than wholesale, if you take the entire inventory off my hands immediately.”

  “I should tell you that you’d make more if you took a few weeks and had a ‘Going Out of Business’ sale. I’m not sure if I could do better than what you’d make that way.”

  Jubal idly spun a ring on his left hand. “I appreciate your candor, but it appears I’m being forced to evacuate the premises in forty-eight hours. There’s really no time to do it properly, and truth be told, as charming as your little town is, I can’t say I’ll be sorry to go. Bad memories and all that, you understand.”

  “Completely,” I said. “How about this? I’ll come by this evening and look over your stock. Then tomorrow I can get together with Eve and we’ll have a figure for you by noon. I can’t promise even fair market value, but I should be able to come up with something.”

  Jubal pumped my hand. “That’s all I can ask. I appreciate your promptness in this. I’ll see you this evening, then.”

  Heather was standing at the door when I let Jubal out.

  She had Esme in her arms, and Jubal stepped a few paces back when he saw her. “I love cats, but unfortunately I’m allergic to them. It breaks my heart that I can’t have one of my own.”

  Heather said, “I don’t know what I’d do without Esmeralda, though I imagine Harrison would take her in a heartbeat if we ever had to split up.”

  “I guess she’s okay as a temporary boarder, but I don’t know about anything more permanent than that.” If Esme was offended by the statement, she didn’t show it.

  Heather laughed. “Don’t let him lie to you; he’s a great deal fonder of this gal than he lets on.”

  Jubal said, “Well, I really must go. Until tonight, Harrison.”

  Heather walked into the candleshop and said, “Has Pearly been by your place?”

  “No, I haven’t seen him.”

  “Harrison, I’m really worried about him. He didn’t sleep in the shop last night. In fact, he hasn’t been back since that cop came by. He thinks I turned him in. I just know it.” Esme started to squirm in her arms, but Heather held fast. It was pretty obvious the cat was picking up on her unsettled mood.

  “Come on, Heather, he knows you better than that. If he didn’t come back, it’s probably because he knows River’s Edge is the logical place for the sheriff to keep looking for him. Pearly’s a brilliant man. He’s not going to get caught in a trap.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she said. “I feel responsible for what happened.”

  “You didn’t call the police, did you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then you’ve got nothing to feel guilty about, Heather.”

  I glanced at my watch. “Shouldn’t you be opening up? I know it’s almost time for me to start my day.”

  Heather got it. “I’m sorry, Harrison, I didn’t mean to keep you from your work.”

  I gave Esme a quick rub under the chin, put my hands on Heather’s shoulders, then said, “Don’t worry, about him. He’s all right. Have faith in Pearly.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. I’m probably just overreacting.”

  After she and her companion were gone, I saw that I only had two minutes before opening, so I switched the sign from closed to open and got ready to face another day’s worth of customers.

  I’d had a pretty decent morning when Mrs. Jorgenson came in, holding a set of small glass containers in her hand. “I’ve got a problem,” she said as she thrust them out to me.

  I took them and studied the first one. She had neatly arranged some semiprecious stones in the bottom of the container and had poured red-tinted wax around them. However, there were huge gaps between the rocks and the wax, and the gel wax itself was filled with so many bubbles it was hard to see what was suspended in it. I said, “The wax was too cool when you poured this one.”

  I studied the next one and saw that there were segments of wax in it, as if she’d waited for the wax to partially coalesce before pouring it. “You must have spooned the wax out for this one. You can always reheat it once it cools, you know.”

  She took the candles back from me. “No, I didn’t realize that.” After studying the candle with lumps in it, she said, “You know, I’m beginning to like this look. It’s growing on me.”

  “It certainly has its own charm, doesn’t it?”

  She nodded. “More heat it is then. I confess I was interrupted during my session, and I neglected to recheck the temperature before I poured. Thank you, Harrison.”

  “You’re most welcome. Would you like to try it again here? I can set you up in ten minutes, and I promise I won’t let anyone distract you.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’d better get back home. I will make a sincere effort be more careful next time. Thank you. Just add this session to my bill.”

  I had to look twice to see if she was kidding, and I still couldn’t tell. “Mrs. Jorgenson, this one’s on the house.”

  “I don’t take charity or handouts, Mr. Black. You should know that about me.”

  “My advice is free. I give it to anyone who walks in the door, and I never hand them a bill for it.”

  She frowned, then said, “I won’t hear of it, and I expect that to be the final word on the subject.”

  “Fine, have it your way.” If she insisted on paying for something I gave freely to anyone else who came into my shop, I’d find a way to give it back to her, either through a discount on her supplies or a few extras in her bag the next time she went on a shopping binge. There were some real benefits to owning the place myself, and if I couldn’t hand out a free candle every now and then, I didn’t want to be in business.

  Chapter 17

  “I didn’t know you came out in the daylight,” I joked with

  Markum when he walked into the candleshop just before lunch. “I was beginning to wonder if you were a vampire or something.”

  Markum yawned, then covered it with his massive hand. “Yeah, this isn’t exactly my time of day, but I’ve got to adjust to a new schedule.”

  “Is it the job in Eastern Europe you were telling me about?”

  “No, it’s something else,” he said, picking up a carved candle I’d done a week earlier. “How do you get it to drip like this?”

  “You have to do it while the wax is still warm,” I said.

  He glanced at the price, so I added, “It’s a time-consuming process.”

  “Harrison, I run my own business, too, remember? You have to charge what the job is worth to you, or it doesn’t make sense doing it.” He pulled out his wallet and said, “In fact, I’d like this one for my office.”

  There were no customers in my shop at the time. “Tell you what, you can have it. You’ve helped me out enough out here.”

  Markum slid two twenties across the counter. “Appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll enjoy it more if I pay for it.”

  I took his money, handed him a little change, and said, “Then I thank you.”

  He grinned. “Now I can burn it without any guilt. If you’d have given me the thing, I’d have felt bad every time I lit it.” He said, “Pearly been around?”

  “Heather was here this morning asking the same thing. If he’s anywhere near River’s Edge, he hasn’t let me know about it. I told Heather he was a big boy. He’s been taking care of himself long before any of us were around.”

  “Too true, but he hasn’t had a cloud like this one hanging over him, I’ll wager.”

  That got my attention. “Do you think we should be worried?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m sure he’s fine. Knowing Pearly, he’s probably got three or four places to hide out, no doubt rated in order by convenience, amenities and risks of being discovered. The man’s methodical; you have to give him that.”

  Talking about Pearly, I suddenly realized I hadn
’t told Markum about what I’d discovered under the handyman’s workbench or about Evelyn spotting the clown just before Gretel had been shot. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something. I uncovered two things that I think might be related to what happened to Gretel. I found a tube of greasepaint under Pearly’s workbench yesterday, and a woman I saw at the festival just before Gretel was shot said she saw a clown hanging around Gretel’s booth. It would be the perfect disguise with all that activity going on, wouldn’t it? It sounds like somebody’s trying to set Pearly up.”

  “It surely does. Did you see anybody dressed like a clown the day of the fair?”

  There had been clowns, jugglers and balloon-twisters wandering the streets all morning, but then I remembered the clown perched on the courthouse steps. “You know what? I think I nearly tripped on him.” I told Markum what I’d seen the day of the festival.

  He said, “So at least now we think we know what happened. One of our suspects was dressed up like a clown, pulled out a gun and shot Gretel, then faded back into the crowd.”

  He paused, then added, “Harrison, I’ve just about decided that Runion was responsible for Gretel’s murder. There’s little doubt in my mind that he did it. I keep thinking about who had the most to gain, and he keeps coming up number one. I don’t know how much he stood to make if he could buy Gretel’s property, but you can bet it’s more than the forty grand those masks Pearly got are worth. Even Hans’s share would be peanuts compared to the total take Runion was set to bring in.”

  “I don’t know, I keep thinking Hans had to have had something to do with her death. Don’t forget, he had a lot to gain, too.”

  Markum said, “But what if Runion was sure Hans would sell the building if he inherited it from Gretel? Wouldn’t that give him enough of a push to expedite the inheritance?”

  “If that’s true, wouldn’t that mean that Hans would have to be around?” I said. “I’m starting to wonder if Pearly’s the only one hiding around here. Think about it. We don’t have anyone’s word that he’s out of town, except for Jubal. How hard is it to fake a long-distance telephone call, anyway? These days it’s as easy to call from London as it is Charlotte.”