Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [61]
“Good enough,” I said and hung up. After the sale, I returned Jubal’s call.
“Sorry about that,” I said. “I was with a customer.”
“I applaud you for putting them first,” Jubal said. “Working retail is certainly more taxing than I thought it would be.”
“I know exactly what you mean. I think everybody should have to spend a month of their lives waiting on other people. I don’t care if they sell clothes, candles or wait tables; I bet it would improve most folks’ manners.”
“No doubt. I was calling about Pearly. That was a rather scathing hatchet job the newspaper did, wasn’t it?”
“They did everything but flat-out accuse him of shooting her,” I agreed.
“Has he been arrested?”
“No, the sheriff doesn’t have enough on him yet, but he is looking pretty hard for him.”
“You mean he’s gone?”
I took the chance to straighten the displays on the counter as we talked. “He took some long-due vacation time. Losing your cousin was quite a blow to him.”
“Of course, I understand.”
I couldn’t let him think that Pearly was a murderer. “I know how thorough a job the newspaper did hanging this on him, but I promise you, Pearly didn’t kill Gretel any more than I did.”
Jubal paused, then said, “I wish I could be as certain as you are. They left things rather badly between them.”
“I’ve got me eye on someone else,” I said rashly. I didn’t really, but I couldn’t let Jubal think Pearly could have done such a cold-blooded thing. I nodded to a customer who walked in and told Jubal, “Listen, I’ve got to go”
“Whom do you suspect?” Jubal asked.
I’d been holding the phone against my cheek and shoulder as I’d been straightening things up, and before I could answer him, it slipped out of my grip. By the time I grabbed it to explain, he was already gone.
I’d have to call him back later and tell him I hadn’t just hung up on him, but at the moment I had a customer to wait on. It didn’t do either of us any good to speculate further about what was going to happen to Pearly. I was frankly glad for the distraction my customers brought me. In the end, I’d much rather focus on candlemaking than crime, no matter how worried I was about my friend.
I sold several blocks of wax, some dyes and scents and a pair of nice beginning candlemaking kits as the evening progressed. It was ten minutes until closing time, and I was happy to be back in my element surrounded by all those candles and supplies.
Then the chime over the door announced another visitor.
It wasn’t another customer, though. Markum walked in and said abruptly, “Close up early, Harrison. There’s something you need to see.”
“What is it? You have no idea how cranky Eve gets when I lock the doors before I’m supposed to.”
Markum looked around. “Is she here?”
“No, she left at five.”
He shrugged. “So she’ll never know.”
“Believe me, she’ll know. I don’t know how, but I’d swear she has a spy around here to keep tabs on me when she’s gone.”
“Harrison, do you own this place or does she?”
I smiled. “Technically, most of it belongs to the bank. From the way I figure it, I own the bay window up front and part of one aisle.”
“This is important,” he said.
“Okay, I believe you.” I flipped the sign from open to closed and deadbolted the door. “Where are we going?” I asked. “Do I need my truck keys?”
Instead of answering, he pointed to Heather’s shop. I looked in and saw that the lights were still on, and caught a quick glimpse of Heather as she moved around in the back of her store sweeping the floor.
“So? You brought me out here to see Heather working?”
He shook his head, then tapped the door gently to draw my attention to the print, but not loud enough to alert Heather that we were outside. “Look at the hours,” Markum said.
I studied the listing, then said, “Okay, so she’s staying open past her regular business hours. I do that myself now and then.”
Markum stepped up and opened the door. “Let’s go in and see, shall we?”
When Heather saw us, she said, “Hey, what are you two doing here this late? Do we have a community watch program I didn’t know about?”
Markum ignored