Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [27]
“Why wouldn’t it do that for me?” she asked.
Jubal said, “Sometimes it takes a steady flame. Is there anything else?”
She frowned, obviously ready for more of a fight, then blew out the flame and stormed back out.
After she was gone, Jubal said, “Some folks are just looking for a reason to be angry, aren’t they?”
“It takes all kinds,” I agreed.
Jubal stood from his place behind the register, stretched for a second, then said, “Enough about my worries. What brings you here?”
“I wanted to ask you if you’ve been able to come up with anybody else who could have wished Gretel ill.”
Jubal paused, then said, “You know, I’ve been debating calling you. I thought of something, or someone rather, but I wasn’t sure I should say anything. It’s certainly not enough to bother the police with.”
“Why don’t you tell me, and then we’ll decide how important it is together.”
Jubal shrugged. “Very well. A man named Runion was pressuring Gretel about the shop a few days before she was killed.”
“Greg Runion?”
“I think that was his name. Do you know him?”
I nodded. “He was nosing around River’s Edge before I told him the place wasn’t for sale. It doesn’t make sense why Runion would be after this place. No offense, but it’s just one shop. I thought he went after bigger game.”
Jubal waved a hand in the air. “I told you it was probably nothing. How’s Pearly doing?”
“He’s taking it pretty hard. I gave him some time off to clear his head. He’s heading up to the mountains.”
Jubal nodded. “I know they were having problems. I just wish...”
“What?” I asked.
“I wish they’d been on speaking terms when this happened. Pearly shouldn’t have to deal with the guilt, too.”
“He’ll be all right. The man’s made of stern stock.”
“I must admit,” Jubal said, “I’m feeling guilty myself. I keep thinking that if I’d been there with Gretel, I might have seen what was about to happen and stop it somehow.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. Somebody had to stay here and run the shop. I had my assistant open At Wick’s End, too.”
Jubal frowned. “I didn’t even get a lunch break that day; I wolfed down a bagel behind the counter between customers. In fact, I didn’t get any sort of respite until the police called me with the news.”
A customer walked in—not one of mine, I was glad to see—and asked about gel candle kits. Jubal said to me, “Sorry, I need to handle this. Harrison, if there’s anything I can do, all you have to do is ask.”
“Thanks. The same goes for you.”
I left Jubal to his customer, hoping Eve was keeping busy as well, and took off in search of Greg Runion. Why would he be after Flickering Lights? If he’d wanted the candleshop location, he would have been able to buy it long before Gretel purchased the building. I wasn’t a big fan of the man, so I was going to have to squelch my natural tendency toward him if I was going to get anything out of him.
Runion’s secretary, a leggy brunette with a ready smile, greeted me as I walked in the door of Runion Developments. “May I help you?” she said in a Tennessee accent I’ve always been a sucker for. Folks from different parts of the country mostly heard a Southern accent as one dialect, but I’d been born and raised in the South, and I could tell Tennessee from the Carolinas, Georgia from Alabama. Each region had its own unique twang, and there was nothing sweeter to my ears than the sound of a woman from Tennessee. It didn’t help matters that nearly every woman I’d ever met from that particular state had broken my heart at least once.
“Knoxville, right?” I said with a smile.
“I grew up ten miles outside the city limits. You’re good.”
“I do party tricks too,” I said. “Is Mr. Runion around?”
She looked at his schedule, then frowned. “Is he expecting you? I’m afraid I don’t have any openings till next week.”
“I think he’ll want to talk to me.” That was a stretch, but I needed to get past her somehow.
She picked up the telephone