Snuffed Out - Tim Myers [11]
Markum tapped his nose. ‘Tell him you heard it through the grapevine here, he’ll believe that quick enough.” Markum glanced at his watch, then said, “It’s late, I need to go.”
“I thought you stayed up most of the night,” I said.
“It’s not time for bed, I’ve got a call to make. Call him, Harrison.”
I agreed, and Markum left the apartment to talk to worlds unknown to me. Should I call the sheriff now, or wait until morning? Who was I kidding? There was no way I’d get any reading done until I made the call. With any luck he’d be out and I could leave a message. I was in no mood to talk to the sheriff myself.
Wouldn’t you know it, he picked up on the first ring.
“Morton here.”
“Sheriff, I heard a rumor that puts some doubt on your theory about Aaron Gaston’s death being accidental.”
“What have you heard?” he asked without trying to hide the irritation in his voice.
“He used only a kick wheel, never an electric one.”
“What’s the difference, Harrison?”
“One runs on electricity, one works with a kicking foot. There’s no motor on the wheel he used.”
Morton chewed on that a second or two, then said, “Maybe he was playing around with it and got burned.”
“That’s not the way I heard it,” I said.
“Then why did he have one if he didn’t use it? Answer me that.”
I thought about it a second, then said, “It must have been there for his students. He teaches ... taught classes just like I do. I’m sure it was there for his students.”
“You don’t know that, you’re just guessing, aren’t you?”
I said, “What would it hurt to ask someone who knew him better than either one of us?”
Morton asked, “Do you have anyone in particular in mind?”
There was no way I was going to give him Heather’s name, not with the way she was acting lately. Then I remembered the ex-wife. “Isn’t his ex a potter? If anybody should know, she should. Why don’t you call her?”
“If I do, will it get you off my back?”
“I just thought you should know,” I said.
He took so long to answer I nearly gave up on him when Morton added, “Okay, I’ll look into it. And Harrison ...”
“Yes,” I said.
“Thanks for calling.”
I was so shocked by his thanks that I couldn’t think of anything to say before he hung up. I stoked the fire, added another small piece of wood, then went back to my book. My hand automatically went down to my lap where Esmeralda liked to sit when I read, and I wondered briefly if I should get a cat myself. I’d never felt all that alone living by myself before, but the apartment, as small as it was, was starting to feel too big for just one person. No, I’d get used to it, just as I’d gotten used to everything else that had come my way. I was just beginning to think of my living quarters as my apartment and not Belle’s. With a little time, I was certain I’d be fine without a roommate of any kind.
Even a feline one who tended to hog the pillows at night.
My bookkeeper, Ann Marie, was waiting for me at Millie’s the next morning when I stopped in before opening the candleshop. “There you are,” she said.
“I didn’t realize we had a breakfast appointment,” I said with a smile as I grabbed a blueberry muffin instead of pumpkin as a change of pace. Millie handed me a coffee, then said, “Are you going to be around later?”
“I’ll be at the shop all day. What’s up?” Then I remembered our earlier conversation. “Did you nail your new recipe?”
“You’ll see,” she said, adding a quick smile.
I joined Ann Marie at her table. “Now what’s so urgent? I know I have a storefront vacant, but there’s nothing I can do about that right now.”
She tapped a pencil against the tabletop, beating out a staccato accompaniment to her words. “The building has to run at full occupancy, especially on the first floor. You need every dime you’ve got coming in to stay afloat.”
“I know that, Eve’s been after me too, but isn’t The Pot Shot paid up until the end of the month?”
Ann Marie shook her head. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Unfortunately, your late Great-Aunt Belle liked to do things a little differently. She staggered