Snuffed Out (Book 2 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) (14 page)

“
You’re awfully quiet,
Harrison. You know something.”

I shrugged. “It’s a terrible thing, isn’t
it? I’d love a cup of coffee and one of those blueberry muffins, if
you have any.”

She wasn’t buying it, not for a second. “I’m
not serving you until you come clean. What is it?”

I should have known better than to try to
keep something from Millie. She was the eyes, the ears, and in some
ways the heart of River’s Edge. “Do you have a second?”

“
For you, I’ll manage it.”
She called out, “Vera, I’m stepping out a moment. Would you watch
the front?”

“
Be right there,” Mrs.
Quimby called out, and she was as good as her word. “Harrison, did
you hear the news?”

“
I already told him,” Millie
said, and I watched Mrs. Quimby deflate. “We’ll be back in a
shake.”

I led Millie to Heather’s storefront and
pointed to the window. “The sign changed sometime from nine last
night to three this morning. Heather was in town, and we both know
she had reason enough to hate Sanora.”

Millie shook her head, a frown creasing her
lips. “I don’t believe it. Not from Heather.”

“
You sound certain,” I
said.

“
You would be, too, if you
knew that girl as well as I do. She wouldn’t do it,
Harrison.”

“
I want to believe that
myself, but we can’t go by what’s in our hearts and not our heads.
We should tell the sheriff about this.”

“
And give him more rope to
hang Heather? I don’t think so. He’s the great detective, let him
figure it out for himself. I won’t be a party to locking her
up.”

“
I don’t know,” I said
hesitantly. “It could be important.”

“
Let me track Heather down
and speak with her before you say anything, Harrison. Give me a
day, that’s all I’m asking. What could a day hurt?”

I wanted to say it could mean the difference
between attempted murder and a successful one, but I had to go with
Millie’s instincts. After all, chances were Morton would ignore my
input anyway.

“
You’ve got one day. Then I
tell him,” I said.

Millie smiled gently. “If I can’t resolve
this in a day, I’ll tell the sheriff myself. Now let’s go get you
that muffin. And Harrison, why don’t you keep your observation to
yourself? I’m happy to have Vera working for me, but she has a
tendency to talk out of turn.”

“
Okay by me,” I said,
relieved to have the burden lifted, if only for a day. Chances were
Millie was right and there was a reasonable explanation for what
had happened. I just couldn’t imagine what it could be.

As I started out for At Wick’s End, Sanora
Gaston called out to me. “Harrison, do you have a minute?”

“
Absolutely. Hey, I’m glad
you’re all right. Do you want to grab a cup of coffee?”

She shook her head. “I’m not in the mood to
face Millie this early. Come down to the shop.”

I followed her to The Pot Shop, and she
locked the door behind us. “I don’t want anybody trying to get a
sneak-peek of my grand opening.”

“
You’re still going through
with it after what happened this morning?” I asked.

“
Absolutely. Why shouldn’t
I?” She studied me a moment, then added, “So you’ve
heard?”

“
Everybody in Micah’s Ridge
has probably heard by now. I can’t believe you’re still going to
open today.”

“
Harrison, this thing is
getting blown way out of proportion. The more I think about it, I’m
sure it wasn’t intentional. After all, who would want to hurt
me?”

“
Tell me what
happened.”

She paced around the room, straightening
things now and then as she spoke. “I was jogging along, just as I
do every morning, and I looked up as a truck approached. It was a
big red Wee Haul, so I moved a little more to the edge to give them
plenty of room to get around me. The next thing I know, the truck’s
drifting toward me. I jumped into the bushes and barely missed
falling over the side of the road into the river.”

I said, “And you don’t think it was meant
for you?”

She laughed softly. “Come on. Who in their
right mind would use a big red truck for a hit and run? You’ve got
to be joking.”

I pointed to her arms, where she had
bandages showing and hints of yellow beneath them. “That doesn’t
look like a joke to me.”

“
Whoever was driving
probably didn’t even see me. No doubt they were studying a map when
they should have been watching the road.”

“
So why did you call it in?”
I pressed.

Sanora looked uncomfortable with the
question. “Okay, since Aaron died I’ve been a little jumpy. I
overreacted, I admit it.”

“
You should still be more
careful,” I said.

“
Yes, sir,” she said with a
slight grin.

“
So is that why you asked me
down here?”

Sanora said sheepishly, “Actually, I was
wondering if you’d do the honors and cut the grand-reopening
ribbon.”

“
I thought the mayor was
doing that for you.” I’d heard Sanora had pulled about every string
she had to get the mayor to come.

“
She was supposed to, but I
got a call this morning. She’s delivering twins and it could take
her all day.” Since Micah’s Ridge was too small to have a full-time
mayor running things, Katherine Drake presided over things when her
medical practice allowed it. Her rival for office, and our deputy
mayor, Catherine Green, normally stepped in, but she wasn’t fond of
public appearances, most likely one of the reasons she kept coming
in second in our mayoral races. The last campaign had been filled
with signs that sported giant Cs and Ks, and for a while Micah’s
Ridge looked like an episode of Sesame Street run amok.

“
Sure, why not,” I said.
After all, how bad could it be? Say a few words, cut a giant
ribbon, and get on with my day. “What time do you need
me?”

“
The press is coming around
one,” she said. ‘Thanks, Harrison, you’re a lifesaver.”

“
My pleasure. Now if you’ll
excuse me, I’ve got some candles to make before I open At Wick’s
End.”

“
See you around one,” Sanora
said as she let me out

“
I’ll be there.”

I’d been hoping to get a little practice in
before I had to open the candleshop, but I was stunned to find Mrs.
Jorgenson’s monstrous car idling in front of At Wick’s End, though
it was a good five minutes before we were scheduled to open. Eve
was already inside. She’d turned on all the lights, and I could
look through the window and see her busily restocking the shelves,
something I should have already taken care of myself. No doubt I
would hear about it from my lone employee, but I resisted the urge
to dash in and help her.

I approached Mrs. Jorgenson’s car and before
I could get within ten feet of it, she threw the door open and
stepped out.

“
Good morning,” I said in my
most level voice.

“
Now before you say
anything, I know I’m early for our next lesson.”

“
By a day at least,” I said,
trying to hide my chagrin with a smile. I needed more practice
before I was ready to tackle anything new with her. After all, I
was barely half a step ahead of her when it came to our
candlemaking lessons, no matter how much I practiced and studied on
my off-hours. There was only so much time I could devote to actual
candlemaking, as much as I enjoyed it. I needed time to get away
from the wax and the wicks, so I could bring a fresh attitude to it
every time I worked. Kayaking on the Gunpowder River was just the
kind of diversion I needed, but it was getting inconvenient having
to trot down to Erin’s every time I wanted to go for a
paddle.

Mrs. Jorgenson looked apologetic, something
I wished I could get on film. “I simply can’t wait. If a lesson
right now inconveniences you, I’m more than willing to pay extra
for the privilege.”

“
No, ma’am, I won’t take
advantage of you like that. Come on in; I’ll set things up for a
lesson.”

As she followed me inside, Eve said, “You’re
late,” the last word dying on her lips as she saw Mrs. Jorgenson
following close behind me.

“
Look who I found in the
parking lot waiting for us to open.”

I swear Eve almost curtseyed. “I didn’t see
you there. I would have opened early if I’d only realized.”

Mrs. Jorgenson said, “No need to apologize,
dear, I wasn’t expected today. I trust you can run things while
Harrison gives me a lesson?”

“
Of course,” Eve
stammered.

“
Very well. Harrison?” She
called out to me as she headed for our classroom in back of the
store.

“
I’m right behind you,” I
said as I offered Eve a broad wink.

In the classroom area, I said, “I need to
start the wax melting. Do you mind if we use pellets today, since
you already know how to chip off the block?”

I didn’t think there was a chance in the
world she’d agree with it, but to my surprise she said, “That would
be fine. They melt quite a bit faster, don’t they? Besides, I have
the wax-pounding down to an art.”

As I set up two stations for melting, she
said, “Are you going to be dipping with me today?”

I nodded as I turned on the burners and
started the water boiling. “We’re going to be doing flats and
braids today, so we’ll need some freshly dipped tapers to start
with.”

After the water started boiling, I poured
the wax beads into the double boilers and got the wicks ready. Mrs.
Jorgenson watched the process, then asked, “Did you know Mr. Gaston
well?”

“
Not really,” I said idly,
watching the wax start to melt.

She pressed on though. “I understand foul
play may have been involved.”

That got my attention. I looked up from the
wax and said, “As far as the sheriff is concerned, it was
accidental. Why do you ask?”

Was she actually blushing? No, it had to be
the light in the classroom. After a moment, she said, “Normally I
don’t speculate on idle gossip, but I heard from my gardener that
there was some doubt about the circumstances. Being on the scene
and all, I thought you might be aware of more than the police are
privy to.”

“
They seem to be satisfied
with their conclusions.”

She looked triumphant. “Aha, you don’t
believe it either. Tell me, Mr. Black, who is it you suspect?”

Should I tell her, or let it slide? The last
thing I wanted was for Mrs. Jorgenson to be involved in a situation
Markum and I were investigating. Then I got an idea. I took a deep
breath, then said, “Can I tell you something in strict and utter
confidence?”

She nodded vigorously, so I said, “The
electrical cord of the wheel appeared to be a little too perfectly
frayed.”

She nodded. “So the bucket of overturned
water was prearranged as well.”

“
Mrs. Jorgenson, I’d
appreciate it if you didn’t tell anybody what I’ve told you.” What
possible excuse could I use to get her to hold her tongue? Then I
had it. “We don’t want any of our suspects to be forewarned. And,”
I added for dramatic flair, “If you say anything, you could be in
danger.”

Her pupils dilated and she took a quick
sharp breath of air. “Of course.  I understand completely. You
will keep me informed though, won’t you?”

“
I promise,” I said. “Now
why don’t we dip some candles and see what we can come up with
today?”

She forgot about Aaron Gaston quickly enough
once we were dipping candles, and I only hoped she’d keep her focus
on wax and not homicide.

Once we both had suitable tapers in
translucent wax, I hung them on the cooling rack. We had eight
tapers between us, plenty for experimenting.

Mrs. Jorgenson asked, “What happens now?
Shouldn’t we twist them or something?”

I said, “We have to let the wax cool a
little.” I retrieved two rolling pins, matching pieces of maple,
then touched the surface of one of our candles. It felt solid, not
tacky at all. Snipping the candles’ connected wick, I took one and
handed the other to my student.

“
Now the first step is to
roll the candle with the pin to flatten it. Not all the way,” I
said as she started from the very top. “Leave about an inch at the
top and bottom.”

“
Why not flatten it the
entire length?” she asked.

“
The bottom needs to be
round so it can still fit into a base. As for the top, I just think
it looks better that way.”

I looked up from my worked candle and saw
that she’d merely managed to somehow square up a round candle.
“You’re going to have to press harder than that,” I said. “Flatten
it out to around three eighths of an inch thick.”

She put more effort into it and soon had the
desired thickness.

“
Now what?” she
asked.

I picked my own flattened candle up and
said, “Start twisting it with your hands like this.” I twisted and
kneaded the wax until I had a fairly true taper. I’d done it
several times before, so it had become a practiced skill. Mrs.
Jorgenson’s attempt turned out rather differently. Her taper had a
definite cant to the left, while the spiral itself was an
undulating wave of wax. She held it toward me, both of us studying
her efforts critically, then thrust it into my hands. “Fix it and
show me what I did wrong.”

I took the taper from her, worked at the wax
more until I had a fairly uniform taper, then straightened the
whole thing into a decent spiral.