Snuffed Out (Book 2 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) Read Free

“I’ve got a
pretty good idea. Oh, that’s right. You don’t know about my
ex-wife. She was quite the candlemaker. The whole thing kind of
left a bad taste in my mouth, you know?”
    “ Well, if you ever change
your mind, I’m here,” I said.
    Morton tipped his hat, then left me to my
dipping.
    I glanced at the clock and saw it was
approaching ten. If I was going to be fresh in the morning for my
one-on-one class, I needed to get some rest. Besides, there wasn’t
all that much wax left floating on top of the water, and what was
there was starting to congeal.
    I still probably had time for that last bowl
of ice cream before I went to sleep.
     
    Sometime in the middle of the night, I
bolted upright in bed in pitch darkness, having barely survived a
dream where I was attacked by a giant feather duster that was
trying to choke me.
    Esme barely stirred on the pillow beside me
as her tail flopped lazily toward where my face had just been.
    It was going to take some time getting used
to sleeping with a cat in my bed, and I wondered when Heather would
come back for her charge.
    I worried about my new friend, but there was
nothing I could do for her at the moment.
    And in a few hours, I was going to have to
get up and prepare for another assault by Mrs. Jorgenson.
     
     

 
    Chapter 2
     
     
    I had half-expected Heather to wake me
sometime in the night to collect Esme, but when my alarm clock
suddenly jumped to life the next morning blaring out a song I
hadn’t heard in twenty years, my houseguest was still with me.
    “ Morning,’’ I said
automatically to the cat as I got up and stretched. Esmeralda
opened one eye, looked at me as if I’d just handed her a bill for
her night’s stay, then promptly went back to sleep. What a tough
life.
    The shower managed to wake me up, but not
before I turned off the hot water supply and endured a sudden and
heart-stopping icy stream. I’m not normally a proponent of cold
showers, but I’d lost too much sleep tossing and turning the night
before, and I had to be fresh for Mrs. Jorgenson.
    I knew just what would take care of whatever
cobwebs remained in my head that the shower hadn’t reached. I left
fresh water for Esme, added a little food to her bowl, then headed
downstairs for a cup of Millie’s coffee.
    Millie Nelson ran The Crocked Pot, River’s
Edge’s answer to Starbucks, and she was also quickly becoming my
best friend.
    “ Look what the cat dragged
in,” Millie said cheerfully as I took a seat at her long counter.
There was a display of pumpkin doughnuts on hand, something I’d
first tasted recently but had quickly found addicting. As I started
to reach for one, she said, “If you can wait two minutes, I’ll have
a fresh batch ready.”
    “ I can wait. Coffee,” I
grunted, and Millie laughed.
    “ Harrison Black, did you tie
one on last night?” She was too cheerful to have heard about Aaron
Gaston, and I dreaded having to break the news to her.
    “ You haven’t heard,” I said
as I took a grateful sip of the coffee. It was hot enough to scald,
but I barely noticed. The older I get, the harder it is for me to
deal with sleep deprivation. And for me, anything short of eight
hours is just not enough.
    “ Heard what?” she asked as
two golden pumpkin doughnuts suddenly appear before me.
    “ Aaron Gaston. He died in
his shop last night.”
    Millie dropped the mug she was holding, and
it shattered on the hardwood floor.
    “ Millie? Are you all
right?”
    She nodded. “Heather doesn’t know yet, does
she?”
    “ She found out last night.
The second I told her, she tore out of here like River’s Edge was
on fire. She even left Esmeralda with me. What’s going
on?”
    Millie ignored my question and retrieved a
dustpan and broom from the kitchen. As she swept up the shards of
pottery, I asked again. “Why did Heather react like she did?”
    “ I’m not one to spread idle
stories,” she said, chasing the last fragment with her
broom.
    “ There’s