Free Death Waxed Over (Book 3 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) by Tim Myers Page B

accused
me? Surely if Pearly had something to hide, he would have doctored
the entry to escape notice. Still, the gap left me uneasy, not
because of his response time, but because it was so out of
character. Could that have been when Pearly was breaking up with
Gretel? The worst thing was I couldn’t even ask him about it, not
unless I had more reason than a logged entry to suspect he was up
to no good. Pearly would take the questioning as an affront, and I
couldn’t blame him.
    As I washed my hands, I remembered the
promised baked treat, and Millie had it waiting for me when I
walked back in.
    I held the pan to my nose. “It smells
heavenly.”
    She handed me a fork. “It’s the perfect
temperature right now. You’ve got to try it and tell me what you
think.”
    It was all the prodding I needed. I took a
bite of the brown topping, then dug into the softened apples below
it. The juice from baking had been soaked into the cake-like crust,
a mixture of sensations that burst in my mouth.
    “ This is
unbelievable.”
    Millie smiled. “I thought you’d like it.
Take the rest back with you; it saves beautifully in the
refrigerator.”
    “ It won’t last long enough
for that,” I said, then I thanked her again.
    As I walked back to my candleshop, I kept
thinking about what Suzanne had said. She was right, whether I
cared to admit it or not. I couldn’t stand idly by and watch the
business Belle had worked so hard to build crumble into dust, nor
could I afford to wait for the sheriff to name the killer. He had
more time than I did.
    I needed to do something, and I needed to do
it soon.

    “ Jubal, I was wondering if I
could talk to you for a minute.”
    Eve hadn’t minded me leaving the candleshop
at all. I’d told her I had a few errands to run, but there was no
doubt she knew what I was up to, and it was equally clear she
didn’t approve of my behavior. That was just too bad. Though her
livelihood was on the line as well, At Wick’s End wasn’t her
business; it was mine. I’d stashed what little was left of the Pan
Dowdy upstairs in my refrigerator, then after checking in with her,
I’d headed into town.
    Jubal offered a sad smile. “Harrison, of
course I have time for you. Just let me ring up the next few
customers and I’m all yours.”
    Three of the folks who had been shopping at
Flickering Lights had been recent regular customers at my
candleshop, and when they spotted me coming in, they’d scurried
away without buying anything, ducking out as quickly as they could.
It was what I’d suspected, but it still didn’t make it any easier
seeing them shopping at my competitor’s store and not mine. At
least Mrs. Jorgenson wasn’t there. If she’d switched alliances, I’d
rather not know about it. I browsed around the candleshop and was
surprised to find the shelf stock running low or even completely
out in some cases. I hated to think what that meant to my business
if Jubal couldn’t even keep his inventory stocked.
    Once we were alone, I said, “Sorry about
that. I didn’t mean to run any of your customers off.”
    Jubal shook his head. “So that’s what that
was all about. I wondered. Harrison, I feel guilty thriving because
of your misfortune. I’m not even sure candlemaking is a good fit
for me, though Gretel seemed to be quite taken with it.”
    “ I thought you said you were
excited about coming here and doing this?”
    “ Being near my cousin was
more the reason for my interest than any genuine affection for the
trade. I suppose I’ll run it for the interim, at least until her
brother shows up. If they ever manage to track Hans down, that
is.”
    “ Have you spoken with
Gretel’s lawyer about the disposition of her things?”
    Jubal said, “A tired old man came by this
morning with some papers, but he was summoned back to his office
before he had the opportunity to tell me anything. We have another
appointment this evening after my regular business hours are
finished here.”
    A woman