by Tim Myers
Markum nodded. “You’ve got a point. Now I’m not generally a trusting soul, but why did I so readily accept the fact that man was out of the country? Harrison, my friend, perhaps it’s time I went into another line of work. If my internal lie detector isn’t working, I don’t have a chance doing what I do.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” I said. “This isn’t one of your business adventures.”
“No, but it’s turned out to be some kind of twisted hobby, hasn’t it? So what’s the complete list? Who do we think might have had a hand in this?”
I took a paper bag from under the counter, the type Belle had used before I took over. I’d switched over to plastic because it was cheaper to print our candlelit logo, but Eve preferred the old style, so we kept both at the register, at least until we ran out of the paper. “Let’s list our suspects,” I said. “First, there’s Hans.”
“I don’t agree he’s number one, at least not by himself,” Markum said.
“This isn’t in any particular order, but if it will make you feel better, we’ll put Runion first.” I squeezed Runion’s name in on top of Hans’s, then jotted down Martin Graybill’s name.
“Who’s this character?”
I explained to Markum, “He owns a restaurant on the block Runion wanted to buy. The man’s pretty desperate to move out of town, and Gretel’s refusal killed that dream.”
“Okay, he can stay. Don’t forget your Mrs. Jorgenson. She needs to be on that list, too.”
“Come on, do you really think she could have done it? I don’t believe it. If nothing else, I can’t see her dressing up as a clown and shooting someone. You don’t know her as well as I do. It would be beneath her.”
Markum tapped the bag. “We’re just hypothesizing here, remember? Besides, she could have paid someone to do it. Put her down.”
I reluctantly wrote down “Mrs. J,” then said, “Who else does that leave? There’s an investor in Minnesota who owns part of that block, but from what I understand, he’s never even been here. At least that’s what Runion said. So where does that leave us?”
Markum studied the list, then said, “Well, I’m pretty sure Pearly didn’t do it, and I think we can rule you out as well. You couldn’t very well be in two places at once, dressed up as a clown and running your booth at the same time.”
“Gee, thanks for your support,” I said.
He smiled. “Come on, Harrison, I’m kidding. I don’t think Jubal killed her; he didn’t have any motive since she left him squat, so that should wrap up our list.”
I studied it a moment, then added one last question mark. Markum said, “Who’s that for?”
“There could be somebody involved in this that we don’t know about, someone with a grudge against Gretel from another time and place in her life.”
Markum took the pen from me and scratched through it.
“Why’d you do that?” I asked.
“Harrison, if somebody killed her we don’t even know about, there’s not a prayer in the world we’ll find him, so it’s not all that productive to spend time worrying about it, is it?”
I had to agree with his logic. I looked at the list again and studied the names: Runion, Hans, Graybill and Jorgensen. “So as far as we’re concerned, it’s one of these four.”
“Like I said, I’ve got my money on Runion,” Markum said.
“And I think Hans did it,” I said. “It would help if I knew exactly where he was.” I shook my head. “I just don’t know what good it’s going to do us. I’ve been digging into everyone’s life who’s been connected to Gretel since the newspaper accused me of killing her. What else can we do?”
Markum said, “I’ll tell you exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to go have a talk with Runion myself. I’ve got a feeling I might be able to get more out of him than you did, no offense.”
“None taken,” I said. “You’re more than welcome to try.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to see if there’s any way I can find out more about that clown. That’s the real key to uncovering who killed Gretel.”
Markum grinned at me. “How much do you want to bet it was Runion behind the greasepaint?”
“Let’s see, I’ve got about ten bucks in my wallet. How’s that sound?”
“Harrison, that’s what I like about you. You’re not afraid of high stakes.”
“I just don’t want to take any more of your money than I have to.”
Markum said, “Let’s touch base again later. I want to see if I can catch this developer before he takes off for the day.”
“Be careful,” I said.
“I didn’t think you believed he did it.”
I shrugged and asked, “What if I’m wrong? I don’t want anything to happen to you because of me.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be on my toes. I promise you that.”
After Markum was gone, I decided to call in a favor to see if I could find the identity of that lethal clown.
“Mary Fran, this is Harrison Black over at the candleshop,” I said after looking up the number for the local television station in the Micah’s Ridge telephone book.
“Is my order in yet?” she asked. Mary Fran Duffy had just discovered the joys of pouring, and she was having a blast with the process. She was also a writer for our local news outlet, a cable team that was too small to support a channel of their own.
“No, the Christmas tree mold’s been back-ordered again. Soon, I promise.”
“So why are you calling?”
“I hate to ask, but I need a favor. I saw one of your cameramen shooting footage at the Founder’s Day Celebration. Is there any chance I could come by and watch what they shot?”
Mary Fran didn’t reply immediately, and I quickly added, “If there’s a problem or if it’s going to get you in any trouble, let’s forget about it, okay?”
She said, “It’s not that. The sheriff asked for the same thing last week. He watched our footage for an hour but he didn’t find a thing on it. I’m afraid you’d be wasting your time.”
“You could be right, but maybe we aren’t looking for the same thing. Can I come by this evening?”
“Tell you what, it would be better if you could drop by in the morning. We’re just about ready to shut down for the night. How early can you make it here?”
“I can be there at six,” I said.
She groaned. “A.M.? You’ve got to be kidding. Come at seven, and bring two coffees with you.”
“Should I bring anything for myself?” I asked.
“One of the coffees is for you, Harrison. See you tomorrow. Argh, at seven.”
“Thanks, Mary Fran.”
Maybe I’d be able to spot the clown in the video they’d shot, or maybe it would be a total waste of my time, but at the moment, it was the best thing I could come up with.
I was glad to see Eve when she came in later in the day to relieve me. I grabbed my coat and she said, “You’re in an awful hurry. Do you have a big date tonight?”
I raised an eyebrow and said, “You’re kidding, right? I haven’t had a real date since I took over this place.”
“Well then, what’s the hurry?”
“Jubal Grant is shutting Flickering Lights down,” I explained. “He’s offered to sell me their stock at rock-bottom prices, but I’ve got to jump on it fast.”
“Harrison, I should go with you. I know you’ve picked up a great deal working here, but I’m better versed in what things cost.”
“Come on, Eve, don’t you think I know that? I’ll take a rough inventory, then we can come up with a price tomorrow morning.” I suddenly remembered my appointment with Mary Fran at the television station. “I’ve got an errand to run first thing, but it shouldn’t take too long. I promised Jubal we’d have a price for him by noon.”
“What’s the rush?” she asked as she hung her jacket up.
“He wants to be done with it, and he’s only got forty-eight hours to
clear out. I already told him he’d do better by having a big sale, but he’s not interested. Jubal told me he just wants to get out of Micah’s Ridge as quickly as he can.”
Eve frowned, then after a few moments’ thought, she said, “Here’s what we’ll do. After you take the inventory tonight, come back here and put the list on your desk. I’ll come in early tomorrow and give you a figure we can live with before we open.”
“I don’t want to steal from him,” I said. “This is going to be the only inheritance that Jubal gets.”
Eve said, “As you’ve told me so many times before, we’re not running a charity here, Harrison. But don’t worry, I’ll work up a fair price. Remember, though, he’s the one who’s demanding a quick sale. I’m taking that in to account, or you can figure it and come up with an offer yourself.”
I’d been dreading the process of coming up with prices for a jumble of supplies. “No, I trust you’ll be fair to him without bankrupting us. So, it looks like we’re in the clear, doesn’t it?”
“What, just because there isn’t any competition left in town? Hickory’s not that far away, Harrison, and you know all of the craft shops they have, not to mention what all’s available in Charlotte. This is certainly no time to rest on our laurels.”
“But it’s still good news,” I insisted.
“Yes, it’s going to help us, there’s no doubt about that.”
I smiled. “That’s all I wanted to hear. I’d better get over there. I’ve got a long night ahead of me as it is.”
She said, “Hold on a second, I’ve got something that might help.”
She disappeared into the office for a few minutes, then came out with six printed sheets. I took them and asked, “What’s this?”
“It’s something I’ve been working on for the shop. I’ve just about got it ready, but it needs a little tweaking before I’m ready to use it here.”
The sheets had listed in neat entries everything we stocked at the candleshop, from additives to wicks. “Wow, this is incredible.”
She fought her smile, but I saw it creep in before she vanquished it. “I just thought it would make our lives easier when we ordered supplies.”
“This is excellent. You’ve just saved me four or five hours of work.”
“At least that,” she said. “One thing, though. You should make a copy of this before you use it. It’s my master list.”
“You did this on a typewriter?” I asked.
“I’m not a big fan of computers,” she said. “Just be careful with it.”
I went back to the office and found a large envelope, then slid the sheets inside. “Thanks, this will help a lot.”
“Go on, you’ve still got a lot of work to do.”
I left the candleshop, happy for the first time in weeks. It actually felt like we were going to make a go of it. It was too bad that Gretel wouldn’t have the chance to run her shop, and I honestly felt terrible about her death. But for now, I was feeling like At Wick’s End was a going concern again.
Chapter 18
“Have you ordered anything since you’ve been open?”
I asked Jubal as I studied his shelves.
“Gretel handled all that, I’m afraid. Is it worth your while to make an offer?”
“I’ll know better after I do a complete inventory list. It shouldn’t take too long.”
He saw the sheets in my hand. “What are those?”
I handed the copies to him and said, “Eve made these up for our shop.”
“What a grand idea.” He handed them back to me and said, “Do you need my help?”
“No, I should be fine. You’re not going anywhere, are you?”
“I’ll be right here. I’ve got scads of paperwork to complete for Hans.”
“He’s at least paying you for your work, isn’t he?” I wasn’t sure how much of a legacy I’d be able to offer for the meager supplies at the candleshop.
“Oh yes, I’m on the clock. I don’t really need the money, but he’s being such a nit about it all, I’m going to stick him for every hour I can. I daresay after this, we’ll never see each other again.”
I jumped all over that. “Then he’s in town after all?”
Jubal looked startled by the notion. “Goodness no, he’s still in South America. I suppose I should have said we won’t have any contact with each other again. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to wade through this paperwork the attorney has saddled me with.”
I started working in the front of the store and made my way toward the back, marking down quantities of each item there. Without Eve’s sheets, I’d have been there three days, despite the low inventory level. As I worked, I glanced over at Jubal and felt sorry for him. He was studying a sheaf of legal documents, and I noticed he was nervously rubbing the bridge of his nose with one finger. I wouldn’t trade places with him for all the money in the world. He caught me studying him, so I shot him a quick smile and got back to my work.
By 10 p.m., I had the lion’s share of the work wrapped up. All that was left was what was in his storeroom. “Jubal, do you have a second?”
He marked his place in the document he was studying and said, “Certainly, Harrison, what can I do for you?”
“I just have the storeroom to do, but I was wondering if you might have a Coke or something around.”
He said, “My goodness, here you’re working late doing me a favor and I’ve completely ignored my duties as a host. Let me run down to the convenience store and get you something to drink. Are you hungry, too? I could order takeout and bring it back here.”
My stomach rumbled, but I said, “No, I’m fine. Something to drink would be great.”
“Nonsense, I insist. Do you know anything about this place called Slice of Heaven? I confess I’ve been meaning to try it, but I never seem to have the time. I’m starving myself.”
I finally admitted, “A pizza would be great. I’ll go pick it up, though.”
“No, you keep working. You call it in and I’ll go pick it up.”
I grabbed his telephone and dialed April May’s number. One of her waitresses answered, and I placed my order.
After I hung up the telephone, I said, “It’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”
“My, that’s fast service.”
“The owner prides herself on it. Be sure to tell them it’s for me, I want credit for the order.”
“I’m paying cash, Harrison. There’s no need to use your credit account with them.”
I smiled. “No, that’s not it. I appreciate you buying, but the owner has a policy that for every ten pizzas you order, you get to request an old song for the jukebox.”
“I’d heard about that, but I thought it was some kind of joke. What’s this proprietress named?”
“April May, if you can believe it. You need to meet her before you leave Micah’s Ridge. She’s worth the trip herself.”
“I’ll be sure to ask for her by name,” Jubal said. “Lock up after me, if you will. I’d hate to have a customer barge in on you while you’re working.”
“That’s a good idea. Thanks for doing this.”
“No sir, you’re the one who deserves my thanks. You’ve helped a great deal. By this time tomorrow, Micah’s Ridge will be a fading memory. No offense,” he added hastily.
“None taken,” I said. “I’m sure this hasn’t been easy on you.”
“Let’s just say it will be a chapter I’m ready to close and leave it at that, shall we?”
After he was gone, I went back to my inventory, but my neck was stiff from bending over and peering at the shelves. I decided to walk around and stretch until Jubal came back with our late dinner. Maybe after I ate, I’d be in a better position to finish up and go home. As I walked around the shop, I wondered if Markum had managed to get more out of Runion than I had. I didn’t want to admit it, but the big man could be persuasive when he put his mind to it. I still thought he was going after the wrong man, but I could be mistaken. If Hans were somewhere in to
wn, surely he’d show up at the candleshop before Jubal left for good. How could he stay away? I glanced at the papers Jubal had been reading and saw that he’d been going over sale documents for the building. So Hans had him doing the preliminary work for selling the candleshop. The man had no end of nerve, and I didn’t blame Jubal a bit for wanting to get out of there.
There was a tap on the door that startled me, and I saw Jubal outside, a pizza box in one hand and a six-pack of Cokes in the other. I let him in and he put it all down on the sales counter. “Thank you, Harrison. It was too awkward fishing for my keys. Did you finish yet?” he asked, glancing down at the papers he’d left.
“No, I just thought I’d take a break.” I pointed to the papers and said, “I didn’t mean to be nosy. I was just stretching. I can’t believe Hans has the gall to have you handle the sale of the building, too.”
Jubal laughed. “He wanted me to do more than that. He actually expected me to stay here for the next month until everything was wrapped up. I told him he didn’t have enough money in his bank account to convince me to do that.”
I grinned. “Good for you.” I took a slice of pizza and put it on one of the plates. “So, what are your plans now?”
“Well, as I told you when I first moved here, I was just getting set to enjoy my retirement when Gretel called. I believe I’m going to revert to my previous plan and start traveling.”
I took one of the Cokes and took a healthy swallow, then said, “Any place in particular you have in mind?”
“I’ve always wanted to visit the Florida Keys. There’s a place called Big Pine Key that has the smallest deer in the world. There’s just something about that idea that appeals to me.”
I nodded and said, “I’ve heard all about the key deer. One of my customers, an artist named Ruby Hall, used to live down there. She adored them.”
He ate a bite, then said, “It’s the first of many travels I have in mind.”