Death Waxed Over (Book 3 in the Candlemaking Mysteries)

by Tim Myers

  Chapter 6

  I discovered that some kind citizen had left me two newspapers in front of the candleshop when I went downstairs the next morning. They’d thoughtfully provided yesterday’s edition of The Gunpowder Gazette, along with Monday’s paper as well. I considered tossing them in the recycling without reading them, but my curiosity got the better of me, and after going inside, I unfolded the papers with dread.

  It was even worse than I’d expected. candlemaker slain at fair, the headline screamed across the top of page one of Sunday’s paper. The top of the fold carried the story, along with a glamour shot Gretel had used for publicity announcing the opening of Flickering Lights. When I flipped the paper over, I was shocked to find my own face staring back. The tag line under it said, “Harrison Black, rival candlemaker, questioned at the scene.” It wasn’t the most flattering photo I’d ever seen of myself, and somehow they’d managed to shade it two tones darker than normal, giving me a dark and sinister look. If that was how they’d handled the photograph, I couldn’t imagine what the article itself said. I scanned it for my name and found it uncomfortably close to the top. Harrison Black, embroiled in a heated rivalry with the victim, was present at the scene of the crime. Though Mr. Black was questioned extensively by the police, he was released due to insufficient evidence. An anonymous source with the police department said that though there was an eyewitness to the slaying, there was no other specific direct evidence against Mr. Black at the time of his questioning. That was just wonderful. Reading the article, I was starting to get the suspicion that I’d done it myself.

  The follow-up paper wasn’t much better, but at least there were no photographs of me in it. Instead, there was a small headline below the fold that said the police were close to an arrest. I was startled to see that it also mentioned several anonymous tips the police had received, and that they’d even noted Sheriff Morton’s visit to River’s Edge the night before! It was obvious someone had been watching the candleshop last night.

  Eve came in and found me reading the paper. “Honestly, Harrison, don’t you have anything better to do with your time than read that rag?”

  “I didn’t buy it. Someone left it on our doorstep. Did you see this?” I asked, waving the paper around in the air.

  “I don’t read rubbish,” she said, “And you shouldn’t, either. Don’t you have a class to prepare for?”

  “Do you honestly think she’s coming?” Mrs. Jorgenson was strong willed and tough minded, but I couldn’t believe she’d show up after all the bad publicity I was getting lately.

  “Come, Harrison, she’s too devoted to candlemaking to believe these lies. She’ll be here.”

  “Then I’d better get ready for her, just in case she shows up,” I said.

  I started pulling the supplies we would need for our next lesson. We’d already covered candles rolled from beeswax sheets, and touched on dipping candles, too. Now it was time to pour, something I’d been practicing quite a bit on my own and was most eager to start teaching.

  Eve came back as I was setting the worktables up in the classroom for our lesson. From the look on her face, she was bearing more bad news.

  “What is it?”

  “Mrs. Jorgenson called. She’s not going to be able to make it.”

  I slammed a block of wax down on the table. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Harrison, she had a meeting she forgot all about, and you know how she loves those things.”

  As I gathered the materials back together, I said, “So if she really wanted to be here, when did she reschedule her next class for?”

  When Eve didn’t answer, I pushed her. “Well?”

  “She said she’d let us know.”

  “Yeah, right.” I brushed past Eve and said, “We gave it our best shot, didn’t we?”

  “Harrison Black, we’re not out of this yet.”

  “Face it, the ship is sinking, and we’re both going down with it.”

  Eve frowned, started to say something, then changed her mind as she headed for the front.

  I asked her, “Where are you going?”

  “We’re still open for business, Harrison. I’m going to go unlock the door.”

  I let her go, lost in my own self-pity. My worst fear had come true: Mrs. Jorgenson had abandoned us, cutting the last vestiges of profitability we had. I’d have to speak with Mary Ann, my bookkeeper, and see how much of a cushion we had before it was time to print up the going out of business signs.

  When I walked up front to find her number, Eve was actually waiting on a customer. The woman looked familiar to me, but I didn’t recognize her immediately. She had frosted hair piled on her head in some kind of complicated structure that defied gravity, no doubt with the aid of a full can of hairspray. As Eve rang up her sale, I said, “It’s good to see you here again.”

  “I’ve never been in this shop in my life,” she said, avoiding eye contact with me. “I just found out about this place this morning.”

  “I’m sorry, but haven’t we met before?”

  “No, I’m sure you’re mistaken. I’m new to the area.” She grabbed her change from Eve, nearly forgot her bag, then retrieved it and bolted out of the shop.

  “What was that all about?” I asked. “Another faithful reader of The Gunpowder Gazette?”

  “No, at least she never mentioned it. She told me she just moved down from Charleston, West Virginia. Harrison, you really should try harder to remember our customers. Belle was an expert at it.”

  “Come on, Eve, I can’t remember every single person who comes in the door.” I looked around the shop. “Until lately, that is. I’m telling you, that woman looked familiar. If I didn’t see her in here, where did I see her?”

  “I do hope that’s a rhetorical question,” Eve said. “I certainly can’t help you with it.”

  “It’ll come to me. Just give me some time to think about it.”

  She frowned, then said, “In the meantime, you really should speak with Mary Ann about our situation. It might be prudent to find out where we stand financially. Not that I’m trying to tell you how to run the business.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing myself. I’ve been meaning to give her a call.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to dial Mary Ann’s number. I was serious about seeing what kind of slump we could handle before things got really desperate, but the phone call would have to wait. Pearly Gray walked into At Wick’s End, and from the look on his face, he’d just lost his last friend in the world.

  Pearly said, “Harrison, do you have a moment?”

  “I do for you. Come on back to the office.”

  He said, “I hate to ask, but could we speak outside?”

  “No problem.” I would have gone to the zoo with him if it would make him feel better. “Eve, I’ll be back.”

  “That’s fine,” she said, carefully avoiding Pearly’s glance. The two of them had gone out a few times, until Eve had discovered that Pearly was escorting several different women around town. Since then, they had been going through a rather chilly exchange of insincere pleasantries.

  I walked outside the candleshop with Pearly and asked, “So where would you like to talk? We can take Belle’s truck somewhere.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” he said. “The steps here will be fine.”

  I followed him down the concrete steps in front of River’s Edge that led to the Gunpowder River, and we sat three levels from the water’s edge. It was nearly as good as the tailgate of a truck for talking. Most Southern men didn’t like a lot of eye contact when they talked to each other, and any pretense to avoid it was acceptable.

  As he stared out over the water, Pearly said, “Harrison,

  I owe you so many apologies I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “My friend, you don’t owe me anything. You come here every day and do a fine job keeping River’s Edge afloat. It’s all I have any right to expect of you.”

  “You said it yourself, though.
We’ve become friends since your Great-Aunt died. And a friend owes you more than an employee does. I should have told you from the beginning that I was keeping company with Gretel. In my defense, I didn’t know that she’d planned to open a candleshop until she’d already bought the place. The fool woman paid cash for the building and her franchising fee, if you can imagine that.”

  “She wasn’t just renting? I can’t believe she owned the space outright.” I was more than a little jealous. If I lived to be eighty, I might own River’s Edge, but that depended on a lot of good luck to happen along the way.

  “She got some kind of incredible inheritance when her parents died. Her brother squandered his, but Gretel had a knack for making her portion grow. They ended up hating each other because of it. It bothered me at first, knowing how much she was worth, but Gretel never put on airs about it. I’m doing this badly,” he added with a heavy sigh.

  “You’re doing fine,” I said. Though I knew Pearly’s history as a psychologist, I also realized that professional relationships and personal ones were quite different. While I never doubted for an instant that he had been good at his job, I knew it was difficult for most people to apologize.

  “Don’t be so sure. There’s more I haven’t told you yet. I’m afraid she got the idea for her shop from me, at least indirectly. I was bragging about what a fine job you’ve been doing here, and she started to ask questions. I thought she was just taking an interest in my life, but it turns out she was mining me for information. I probably should have walked away after that, but blast it all, it’s been difficult for me to find a woman who challenged me like she did.”

  “Nobody has the right to expect that kind of loyalty in their friendship. You followed your heart, Pearly.”

  “You’re being too easy on me, Harrison. She thought River’s Edge was coming between us, and I’m afraid she started to resent you. She told me she was going to wipe you out, so I broke it off with her.”

  “When did all this happen?”

  “The night before she was murdered,” Pearly said, his voice nearly choking. “I was at the fair to make amends—to see if we couldn’t work out some kind of compromise— but it took me too long to work up my nerve, and by the time I was ready to talk to her, she was dead.”

  I couldn’t imagine what he was going through. His unresolved issues with her would probably haunt him the rest of his life, and I didn’t envy Pearly that at all. And to think I’d called my troubled sleep nightmares!

  “I’m sorry if I played any part in your grief, Pearly.”

  “I’ll work it out, Harrison. I have to find a way to live with what happened. The first step is making things right with you.”

  “We’re fine, Pearly. If you need someone to talk to, I’m right here.”

  He nodded, then we both stood. As he offered me his hand, Pearly said, “I appreciate the offer, but what I really need right now is a few days away to clear my head. Would that be all right with you? I’d like to go up into the mountains alone and sort this out.”

  I could hardly deny his request. “Take as much time as you need.”

  “You’re a good friend, Harrison, better than I have any right to expect.”

  “I have my moments,” I said, smiling slightly.

  Pearly left, the slump in his shoulders eased somewhat. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through, but I’d do my best to help him deal with it. I’d find a way to hold the complex together until he got back.

  It was too early for lunch, but I couldn’t face going back to an empty shop, so I decided to indulge in one of Millie’s pastry treats. She waited on a few customers ahead of me, then said, “What can I get you today, Harrison?”

  “I was hoping you had something special on the menu this morning.”

  She smiled. “You mean something along the lines of a bakery item?”

  “I wouldn’t say no to something sweet,” I said.

  “I’ve got just the thing, if you can wait five minutes. It’s cooling on the rack. It’s called Apple Pan Dowdy and it’s wonderful, if I say so myself. I got the recipe from George’s mother, though she put off giving it to me until we’d been married ten years. She wanted to make sure the marriage was going to last before she shared the family secret; it’s that good.”

  “I can’t wait,” I said.

  “Well, you’re going to have to force yourself. It’s so much better when it’s cooled slightly.” She lowered her voice, though most of her customers had taken the tables near the windows to enjoy the river view. “How are you?”

  “Well, I was hoping it was just my imagination, but if things keep going the way they are, I’m going to be out of the candleshop business by spring.”

  “Harrison, you’ve got to have more faith in people than that. Your customers are going to stick by you.”

  I considered telling her about Mrs. Jorgenson’s cancellation, and the feeble excuse she’d used, but there was no reason to burden Millie with my problems. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Her telephone rang, and as she answered it, I looked through the display case to see what else Millie had been up to. Though she was trying to keep her voice low, I could catch everything she was saying. “I won’t do it, George, so stop asking.” After a pause, she said, “I don’t care what they think, and frankly, I’m disappointed you do. Good-bye, George.”

  Millie hung up the telephone rather forcefully, then stared at me a moment. “Don’t pretend you didn’t hear that,” she said.

  “It’s none of my business,” I said.

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Some of the folks George works with think I should take a vacation until this mess is cleared up, and my loving husband, who’s normally bright enough to know better, suggested I do just that.”

  “Millie, I’m sorry. I can’t believe this is affecting you.”

  “We’re a family here, Harrison. What affects one of us affects the rest. Don’t you worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

  Millie said, “In fact, I can do you one better than that. I made an extra Pan Dowdy for George, but he’s shown himself particularly unworthy at the moment. I want you to have it; if you like the recipe, that is.”

  “I shouldn’t,” I said, thinking of the calories more than anything else.

  “Nonsense, you’ll hurt my feelings if you turn it down. It’s either you or George eating this. Otherwise it’s going in the garbage.”

  A man from one of the tables said, “If they don’t want it, I’ll pay top dollar, Millie. I’ve had your Pan Dowdy before.”

  “Harry James Hickman, you know better than to eavesdrop on other folks while they’re talking.” Then she winked at him and added, “But I might save you a piece if you play your cards right.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Harry said with a smile.

  “Would it help if I talked to George myself?” I said. “Maybe I can convince him that I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Millie shook her head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m sure he’ll realize his error by the time he gets home, especially after he misses the smell of my cooking. He doesn’t know it yet, but George is taking me out to dinner tonight.”

  I was about to reply when Suzanne Gladstone rushed in. She made straight for me and said, “Harrison, I need Pearly, and I need him fast.”

  “I’m sorry, but he’s taking a few days off.”

  “I’m sorry too, more than I can tell you. What am I supposed to do? I’ve got a leak in my bathroom pipes.”

  “I’ll take a look and see what I can do,” I said, not all that confident I could help.

  Millie said, “Don’t forget to come back here for your treat after you’re finished.”

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Plumbing was definitely not my favorite thing to do, but I’d been a camp counselor during three summers in college and I’d learned to take a stab at just about anything. If worse came to worse and it was some
thing I couldn’t fix, I’d call a plumber, though I could ill afford the expense. As I followed Suzanne to her shop, I found myself hoping that my handyman figured things out quickly enough to get back to help keep River’s Edge afloat.

  Chapter 7

  I didn’t know you were a repairman, too,” Suzanne Gladstone said as I searched under the sink for the cause of her leak.

  “I’m not making any claims, but I’ll have to do until Pearly gets back.” The vanity in the store’s bathroom had a bucket inside to capture the leak, and I was glad that whoever had converted River’s Edge from a factory to stores and shops had put individual water cutoffs in each space. At least that way I wouldn’t have to shut everyone’s water off to fix one leak. I peered under the sink before doing that, though. I needed to see where the water was coming from before I could fix it.

  “So how do you like being at River’s Edge?” I asked as I removed the bucket.

  “It’s certainly different from a stand-alone store. That’s what I’m used to. You’ve got quite an unusual assortment of tenants, don’t you? No, that doesn’t sound right. What I should have said was eclectic.”

  “I’ll take either one,” I said as I spotted the leak. Water was seeping through the connection between the cold water supply line and the faucet. Gladly, it was something I could fix. I took the adjustable wrench I’d picked up on the way over to her shop and gave the nut a quick quarter turn, making it snug again. The water stopped, and I pronounced it fixed.

  “My, that’s wonderful,” she said. “Why do you need Pearly if you’re so good at this?”

  “Believe me, I got lucky this time. I couldn’t run River’s Edge without Pearly Gray.”

  I emptied the bucket into the drain, then handed it back to her. “There you go. Good as new.”

  “Harrison,” she said. “I don’t mean to butt in, but what are you going to do about that woman’s murder?”

  “What can I do?” I asked. “The police are looking into it.”

  “Is that good enough?” she asked, then quickly added, “I know it’s none of my business, but I can’t help myself. You can’t just let your candleshop die. I had a friend in Western Mississippi who was accused by her boss of stealing, though she never took a dime. No charges were ever filed and there was never a hint of proof, but she couldn’t get a job in her field anywhere in town because of the rumors. First there were whispers, and then folks were saying things out loud. She had to move to Tupelo, where nobody knew her, and start over. Don’t let that happen to you.”