Snuffed Out (Book 2 in the Candlemaking Mysteries)

SNUFFED OUT

By Tim Myers

Book 2 in the Candlemaking
Mysteries

Praise for the Candlemaking
Mystery series by Tim Myers

“
Excellent storytelling that
makes for a good reading experience…(Myers) is a talented writer
who deserves to hit the bestseller lists.”

 
---The Best
Reviews

“
A sure winner.”

---Carolyn Hart, author of the Death on
Demand series

“
An interesting mystery, a
large cast of characters, and an engaging amateur sleuth  make
this series a winner.”

---The Romance Reader’s Connection (four
daggers)

“
A smashing, successful
debut.”

---Midwest Book Review

“
I greatly enjoyed this
terrific mystery.  The main character…will make you
laugh.  Don’t miss this thrilling read.”

---Rendezvous

Praise for the Lighthouse
Mystery series by Tim Myers

“
Entertaining ... authentic
... fun ... a wonderful regional mystery that will have readers
rebooking for future stays at the Hatteras West Inn and
Lighthouse.”

—
BookBrowser

“
Tim Myers proves that he is
no one-book wonder... A shrewdly crafted puzzle.”

—
Midwest Book
Review

“
Colorful... picturesque ...
light and entertaining.”

—
The Best Reviews

The Lighthouse Inn
Mysteries by Tim Myers

Innkeeping With Murder

Reservations For Murder

Murder Checks Inn

Room For Murder

Booked For Murder

The Candlemaking Mysteries
by Tim Myers

At Wick’s End

Snuffed Out

Death Waxed Over

A Flicker Of Doubt

The Soapmaking Mysteries by
Tim Myers

Dead Men Don’t Lye

A Pour Way To Dye

A Mold For Murder

The Cardmaking Mysteries by Tim Myers written
as Elizabeth Bright

Invitation To Murder

Deadly Greetings

Murder And Salutations

Snuffed Out

by Tim Myers.

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2004 Tim Myers

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or
locales is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced,
scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without
permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of
copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. This is
a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either
are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.

Dedication

It’s no mystery why this one’s for Patty and
Emily.

Chapter 1

I was hunting for the short circuit that
knocked out the power to River’s Edge when I stumbled across Aaron
Gaston’s body. I hadn’t known the potter all that well, exchanging
a few greetings and a shared cup of coffee or two since I’d taken
over the complex of small businesses from my Great-Aunt Belle. My
candleshop, At Wick’s End, was on the other side of the converted
warehouse/factory from The Pot Shot, Aaron’s name for his pottery
studio. Still, I had no trouble identifying him in the weak beam of
my flashlight as he lay sprawled on the floor in the middle of his
studio. As the new owner of the building, I should have been more
involved in my tenants’ lives and businesses, but running the
candleshop was nearly more than I could handle. I’d let Pearly
Gray, my well-educated and erudite handyman, serve as my liaison to
most of the folks who worked at River’s Edge.

Now it appeared that I’d lost my last chance
to get to know Aaron.

With a shaky hand, I reached for the
telephone and called Sheriff Morton. He was the final authority for
the law in Micah’s Ridge, at least as far as I was concerned.

“
Morton here,” he answered
after the desk sergeant rang me through.

“
I’ve got a problem,” I said
after identifying myself.

“
Write a letter to Ask
Ernestine,” he said, “I’ve got my hands full right now.”

I wasn’t in the mood for his brusque manner.
“Sheriff, one of my tenants is dead. I’m standing here in the dark
with his body, and my flashlight’s starting to flicker out.”

That got his attention. “Sorry, Harrison,
I’ve got three deputies out sick at the same time. There’s a really
nasty bug ripping through my department. Are you sure he’s
dead?”

I reluctantly trained the dimming beam over
the body again. While dusk was just approaching outside, the shop
was in near total darkness. There was still light enough from my
flashlight to see the pallor of his face, though. Aaron was
surrounded by a pool of darkness that I initially mistook for
blood, but after a closer look, I could see that it was nothing
more than spilled water. My imagination was definitely running on
overtime.

“
There’s not much doubt
about that,” I said.

“
Don’t touch anything,”
Morton said, then added with a hint of chagrin in his voice,
“You’re using his phone, aren’t you?”

“
Yes, I grabbed his
telephone. I had to call you, didn’t I?”

After a sigh, Morton said, “Let me amend
that, then. Don’t touch anything else. And Harrison?”

“
Yes?”

“
I know it’s not all that
pleasant, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t leave the body until
I got there.”

After hanging up the phone, I stayed with
Aaron about two seconds before I decided that staying with the body
could mean a lot of different things. If I waited for Morton
outside by the shop’s front door, blocking the way of anyone else
trying to get in, that should satisfy him.

It was going to have to, since my light was
just about gone, and there was no way I was going to stand around
in the dark with a dead body.

I used the master key Pearly had given me
when we’d started checking on our tenants and locked the door
behind me. I hadn’t wanted to keep up with all those keys in the
first place; there were over a dozen places of business at River’s
Edge, so I’d let Pearly watch after them for me. It was all I could
do to keep up with the keys to my apartment upstairs, both trucks,
and of course, the ones for At Wick’s End. Sometimes, particularly
moments like the one I was experiencing, I’d wished my Great-Aunt
Belle had left me a minor league baseball team, a yogurt stand,
even a bowling alley; anything but a candleshop and the building it
was housed in. She’d died in At Wick’s End, and some folks thought
it creepy that I’d taken over given the circumstances, but they
hadn’t read the letter my Great-Aunt had left me. At Wick’s End was
her baby, and she’d wanted more than anything else in the world for
me to watch over it for her. No one had been more surprised than I
had been when I took to candlemaking from the very start, not even
Eve Pleasants, the woman who had helped Belle and now worked for
me.

“
Harrison? Is that
you?”

From the shadows of one of the storefronts,
Heather Bane appeared. In her mid-twenties, Heather ran The New
Age, a shop full of crystals and tomes on spiritual healing,
situated next door to At Wick’s End. Heather’s long blonde hair was
pulled back into a ponytail, and she was wearing a tie-dyed smock
over her blue jeans and T-shirt. Esmeralda, her store cat and my
one-time roommate, flicked her tail at me as they approached.

“
Guilty as charged,” I said.
“You’re working late tonight.”

She grumbled, “My register totals don’t
match again. I must be losing it, Harrison, this is the third time
it’s happened this week. I was trying to figure out how I’d goofed
up this time when the lights went off. What’s going on with the
power?”

I knew the grapevine at River’s Edge would
spread the news of Aaron’s demise soon enough, but I didn’t want to
be the one to start the story. Still, Heather had a right to know
what was happening in one of the shops around us.

“
It’s Aaron,” I
said.

Heather’s gaze shot to the door behind me.
“What about him?”

“
I don’t know how to tell
you this. He’s dead.”

“
Dead?” I wasn’t sure what
reaction I was expecting, but her trying to fight past me to get
into The Pot Shot was not one I’d have considered.

“
You can’t go in there,” I
said, holding her arms gently in restraint. “There’s nothing we can
do. I’ve already called the sheriff. He’s on his way.”

“
He can’t be dead,” she
started to sob. “He can’t be.”

“
I’m sorry,” I
said.

She let out a wail that startled Esmeralda,
then before I could stop her, Heather shoved her cat into my arms
and raced for her car. Oddly, her lime-green Volkswagen Beetle was
out in front instead of in its usual spot in back of the building
with the rest of the tenants.

I called out, “Hey, where are you going?
What about your cat?”

Esme tried to twist out of my arms, but I
held fast. If that cat managed to slip out of my grasp, I’d have a
nightmare of a time trying to find her. Headier was taking the
potter’s death much harder than I’d expected. Granted, Aaron’s
death was a shock, but Heather had instantly fallen apart. I knew
that everybody reacted to trauma differently, though. It was just
starting to sink in with me that one of my tenants was dead. I was
still numb, and that was the only thing that was keeping me going.
When it hit me later, as I knew it would, I’d have my own shock to
deal with.

Heather didn’t reply to my questions as she
got into her car and drove off, but I could see the tears streaming
down her cheeks as she turned toward me for an instant.

After the sheriff drove up and joined me in
front of The Pot Shot, Morton gestured to the cat. “Got an
eyewitness there, or is that the culprit?”

“
She belongs to
Heather.”

“
So where is she?” the
sheriff asked.

“
She had to run an errand,”
I said, not wanting to go into Heather’s reaction until I’d had a
chance to talk to her about it some more.

“
So you’re stuck
cat-sitting.”

I stroked Esme’s head. “Let’s just say we’re
hanging out together.”

Morton raised one eyebrow, then said,
“Whatever. Okay, let’s see the body. Can you turn some lights on
around here? I know times are tough, but you can afford a little
electricity, can’t you?”

“
The power shorted out and
blew a fuse. That’s how I found him. Pearly and I were both looking
for the cause. As far as I know, he’s still upstairs. Do you have a
flashlight in your car?”

“
Absolutely. Give me one
second.” As I waited for Morton to grab his flashlight, I was glad
to be able to put this in the sheriff’s hands, whether it was an
accident, or more unlikely, a homicide. I’d been forced to look
into my Great-Aunt Belle’s murder when Morton hadn’t believed that
her death had been deliberate, but that had been personal, and I
had no doubt the sheriff would be able to handle this particular
situation. I didn’t have time to help even if he asked, which I was
certain he wouldn’t be doing. I had my star student and number-one
customer, Mrs. Henrietta Jorgenson, coming in tomorrow, and we were
embarking on a new way to make candles. Earlier we’d learned, with
me barely one step ahead of her, rolling candles out of sheets of
wax and the basics of pouring hot, melted wax into molds. I was
going to teach her the dipping method, and some of its variations,
and I’d been practicing like a madman when she’d announced she was
ready to tackle a new way to make candles during her last visit.
Mrs. Jorgenson had very deep pockets and an honest love for my
craft, two things that endeared her to me.