Death Waxed Over (Book 3 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) Read Online Free Page A

yelled, “He’s trying
to get away. Somebody stop him!”
    “ I’m not going anywhere,” I
said heatedly. “I’m just going to check on Gretel.”
    Morton growled over his shoulder at me, “Get
back where you were. Now.”
    I retreated back to my spot, feeling a
hundred pairs of eyes focused on me. The crowd had already marked
me as the shooter based on one nearsighted woman’s accusation.
    Heather hurried up beside me. “Harrison,
what happened? Did you see it?”
    “ I was just coming back when
she fell over. I thought she was having a heart attack at first.
Then I saw the blood. This lunatic,” I paused, pointing at my
accuser, “thinks I shot her.”
    “ Nonsense. Surely the
sheriff will see that.” I looked at Gretel just as the EMS crew was
loading her into the back of an ambulance. There was an oxygen mask
over her face, and they were moving with extreme urgency. At least
she was still alive; that was something.
    Morton rejoined me, and Heather took a step
back. Evidently not far enough, though.
    The sheriff said, “Hadn’t you better get
back to your table?”
    “ I think I’m needed here,”
Heather said stubbornly.
    “ Don’t worry. If we need
you, we’ll let you know,” Morton said.
    After Heather reluctantly left, Morton
asked, “Now what’s this nonsense about you shooting Gretel
Barnett?”
    “ I don’t have a clue. That
woman over there is either blind or she’s insane, if you ask
me.”
    Morton shook his head. “Stay. I’ll be right
back.”
    He had a whispered conversation with my
accuser, and I saw her pointing at me again and again. Finally
Morton started back in my direction. He brushed past me though and
upended the trash can behind where I stood.
    “ What are you looking for?”
I asked him.
    “ She claims she saw you
shoot the victim, then throw the gun in here.” As he rooted through
the trash with a gloved hand, I said, “I threw away my orange juice
container, not a gun. She’s delusional.”
    Morton, in a softer voice, said, “Well, she
also happens to be Wanda Klein. She’s married to Hank Klein.”
    “ The newspaper editor?” I
asked.
    “ He’s more than that; he’s
the publisher and owner of The Gunpowder Gazette,
Harrison.”
    “ Let me guess. You’re taking
her word over mine,” I said.
    “ I have to investigate any
lead I get. It’s my job.”
    He stood, then said in a loud voice,
“There’s nothing’s here.”
    “ I saw what I saw,” the
woman said loudly. “He shot that poor woman in the
back.”
    “ For the last time, I didn’t
do a thing to her,” I snapped.
    One of the vendors who’d gathered in the
crowd said, “You argued with her not an hour ago. There’s no use
denying it, a lot of us heard you.”
    This was getting out of hand. I said, “We
had a disagreement, that’s all. I didn’t shoot her.”
    There were more murmurs from the crowd, then
Morton said, “Folks, let’s break this up. If you’ve got anything
solid to report, come on up. Otherwise, I suggest you go about your
business. We still don’t know what happened here.”
    “ I know,” Wanda Klein said
huffily as she stormed off into the crowd. As soon as she was gone,
the rest of the group broke up until it was just the sheriff and
me.
    “ Are you going to arrest
me?” I asked.
    “ Motive and opportunity
aren’t enough, Harrison.”
    “ Motive? You honestly think
I’d shoot somebody because they were selling more candles than I
was? That’s ridiculous.”
    “ Don’t forget, we have an
eyewitness,” Morton said.
    “ She’s either lying or she’s
wrong. So arrest me, if you’re so convinced I did it.”
    “ Harrison, losing your
temper’s not going to do either one of us any good.”
    “ I don’t appreciate being
accused like that,” I said.
    “ Then you’re probably going
to love this.” He motioned to one of his deputies, who held a
fishing tackle box in one hand. As he removed a swab and some
liquid from the box, I asked, “What’s this