Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [66]
Heather said, “I don’t know what I’d do without Esmeralda, though I imagine Harrison would take her in a heartbeat if we ever had to split up.”
“I guess she’s okay as a temporary boarder, but I don’t know about anything more permanent than that.” If Esme was offended by the statement, she didn’t show it.
Heather laughed. “Don’t let him lie to you; he’s a great deal fonder of this gal than he lets on.”
Jubal said, “Well, I really must go. Until tonight, Harrison.”
Heather walked into the candleshop and said, “Has Pearly been by your place?”
“No, I haven’t seen him.”
“Harrison, I’m really worried about him. He didn’t sleep in the shop last night. In fact, he hasn’t been back since that cop came by. He thinks I turned him in. I just know it.” Esme started to squirm in her arms, but Heather held fast. It was pretty obvious the cat was picking up on her unsettled mood.
“Come on, Heather, he knows you better than that. If he didn’t come back, it’s probably because he knows River’s Edge is the logical place for the sheriff to keep looking for him. Pearly’s a brilliant man. He’s not going to get caught in a trap.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said. “I feel responsible for what happened.”
“You didn’t call the police, did you?”
“Of course not.”
“Then you’ve got nothing to feel guilty about, Heather.”
I glanced at my watch. “Shouldn’t you be opening up? I know it’s almost time for me to start my day.”
Heather got it. “I’m sorry, Harrison, I didn’t mean to keep you from your work.”
I gave Esme a quick rub under the chin, put my hands on Heather’s shoulders, then said, “Don’t worry, about him. He’s all right. Have faith in Pearly.”
She nodded. “You’re right. I’m probably just overreacting.”
After she and her companion were gone, I saw that I only had two minutes before opening, so I switched the sign from closed to open and got ready to face another day’s worth of customers.
I’d had a pretty decent morning when Mrs. Jorgenson came in, holding a set of small glass containers in her hand. “I’ve got a problem,” she said as she thrust them out to me.
I took them and studied the first one. She had neatly arranged some semiprecious stones in the bottom of the container and had poured red-tinted wax around them. However, there were huge gaps between the rocks and the wax, and the gel wax itself was filled with so many bubbles it was hard to see what was suspended in it. I said, “The wax was too cool when you poured this one.”
I studied the next one and saw that there were segments of wax in it, as if she’d waited for the wax to partially coalesce before pouring it. “You must have spooned the wax out for this one. You can always reheat it once it cools, you know.”
She took the candles back from me. “No, I didn’t realize that.” After studying the candle with lumps in it, she said, “You know, I’m beginning to like this look. It’s growing on me.”
“It certainly has its own charm, doesn’t it?”
She nodded. “More heat it is then. I confess I was interrupted during my session, and I neglected to recheck the temperature before I poured. Thank you, Harrison.”
“You’re most welcome. Would you like to try it again here? I can set you up in ten minutes, and I promise I won’t let anyone distract you.”
She shook her head. “No, I’d better get back home. I will make a sincere effort be more careful next time. Thank you. Just add this session to my bill.”
I had to look twice to see if she was kidding, and I still couldn’t tell. “Mrs. Jorgenson, this one’s on the house.”
“I don’t take charity or handouts, Mr. Black. You should know that about me.”
“My advice is free. I give it to anyone who walks in the door, and I never hand them a bill for it.”
She frowned, then said, “I won’t hear of it, and I expect that to be the final word on the subject.”
“Fine, have it your way.” If she insisted on paying for something I gave freely to anyone else who came into my shop, I’d find a way to give it back to her, either through a discount on her supplies or a few extras in