Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [45]
“Harrison Black, you’re as stubborn as she is.”
I grinned, “Yeah, but I’m not as stubborn as Belle was. Give me time, though. I’m working on it.”
Eve snorted loudly, then said, “I’m going to lunch.”
While she was gone, the foot traffic in the candleshop picked up considerably. By the time she got back, I was in a deep discussion with a woman about incising candles with dimensional designs and overdipping. The woman purchased a set of carving knives and some different wax tints, and after she was gone, Eve said, “My, you’ve come a long way, Harrison. I didn’t know you’d learned to incise candles.”
I showed her a round white candle I’d overdipped in red wax, then scribed feathery crystals into the surface. “I made this last week.” It had actually been much easier to create the effect than it appeared. I had always enjoyed drawing, and etching the surface of the red wax to expose the white beneath it was the same technique as drawing, just in a different medium.
Eve took the sample from me, studied it in the light, then said, “You may have gone a little deep here.” She pointed to a slight gouge. “And you should have brushed this wax away after you scribed it,” she added as she pointed out an errant hint of white.
Before I could reply, she said, “Otherwise, it’s a perfect job.”
“Thanks,” I said, happy to get any compliment on my candlemaking from her, even if it was a backhanded one. We worked together until five, then Eve prepared to go home. I was staying open until seven that evening, and while I didn’t particularly care to work the shop alone, getting a morning off now and then more than made up for the inconvenience.
Ten minutes after she was gone, Sheriff Morton walked in, and from the sour expression on his face, I knew he wasn’t there to make a social call.
“Where’s Pearly?” he said without salutation.
“Still in the mountains,” I said. “And how are you today, Sheriff?”
“Save it, Harrison, I’m not in the mood for your glib comments. I need to find your handyman.”
“Like I told you before, he’s away on vacation. What’s the sense of urgency?”
Morton frowned. “The headline from The Gunpowder Gazette tomorrow is going to name Pearly as my chief suspect. It’s going to be kind of embarrassing if I don’t know where he is, now isn’t it?”
“Is the Gazette running the sheriff’s office now?”
Morton got up in my face and said hotly, “You might want to watch yourself.”
I took a step back. “Sorry, that was out of line. Who told them Pearly was even on your list?”
“You’re not the only one digging into this besides me. Don’t even try to look shocked or outraged; I’ve heard what you’ve been doing around town.”
“Sheriff, can you really blame me? I’ve been trying to clear my name.”
“I never named you a suspect,” Morton said.
“You didn’t have to. The newspaper did that without your help. What did they find out?”
“Somebody leaked Gretel’s bequest to Pearly. That, added to the fact that they’d just broken up and Pearly was spotted at the fair, makes for a pretty solid case.”
“Surely you don’t believe it,” I said.
“Love and greed can be a pretty powerful combination,” Morton said. “I need to talk to him, Harrison.”
“Sorry, but I don’t know where he is. Believe me or don’t, but it’s the truth.”
Morton frowned at me again, then slammed the door to the candleshop on his way out. There hadn’t been anything I could do to protect Pearly. Even if I’d known where he was, I wouldn’t have told the sheriff, though. I would have warned my handyman to stay out of town as long as he could. I knew firsthand what the scrutiny of an article in the Gazette could bring, and I didn’t envy him the experience.
Millie walked in and said, “Thank goodness, you’re still here.”
“Why would you think otherwise?”
She said, “I saw the sheriff drive up, but I was with a customer when he left. I just thought...you know, that something might have happened.