Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [26]
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 came in, plopped a large forest green candle in the shape of a pinecone on the sales table and said, “There’s something wrong with this candle you sold me. I can’t get it to light.”
Jubal raised an eyebrow, and without