Read At Wick's End (Book 1 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) for Free Online

the candleshop. The
lightning strike was like a blow to the chest, driving me back
against a display bench, and extinguishing the candle in my
grasp.
    But it wasn’t just the harshness of the
explosion that made me stumble backward. There, by the window, was
a bloodless white face peering in at me.
    I dropped the candle as my back hit a
display shelf, my sight lost again from the flash of lightning. The
man outside beat on the window and yelled, “Open up,” as I
scrambled blindly for the beeswax candle. I finally chased it down
under one of the shelves. That’s the problem with cylindrical
objects; they have a tendency to roll. Just as I started to light
the wick again, the power came back on.
    The ghostly face I’d seen was clear now with
illumination. Standing outside the shop was a man in uniform,
soaked to the bone, with one of the palest complexions I’d ever
seen in my life. He flashed a badge and repeated his command to
open up.
    I did so, but not before grabbing a
hand-forged iron candlestand that would do in a pinch as a
weapon.
    “ I’m one soaked rat,” the
cop said as he walked in, shaking the water from his jacket and
running his fingers through his hair.  “The rain’s coming down
so hard and blowing in under the awning I didn’t have a chance.” He
noticed the stand in my hand and added, “Plan on clubbing a cop,
are you?”
    “ Do you mind if I have
another look at that badge?”
    He grinned, a reaction that surprised me.
“Don’t mind a bit. Listen, I hate to leave puddles all over your
store, Belle would have shot me. How about getting me a towel from
the bathroom? She keeps extras on the shelf above the mirror.”
    I glanced at his badge, then retrieved a
towel. Man, I was getting too paranoid for my own good. First, the
wind had rustled through the bushes, then that storm really had
given me the creeps. Seeing the sheriff’s pale face lurking in the
window hadn’t helped matters.
    As he dried off, the sheriff said, “My
name’s Coburn. You must be Harrison. Belle told me a lot about you.
She was a truly fine lady.”
    I nodded. “I think so too. Did you come to
investigate the break-in upstairs?”
    Coburn shook his head, drying some of the
moisture from his hair. “I thought Stevens took care of that.”
    “ He seemed to think it was
some random act of violence,” I said.
    “ And you believe
differently,” he said flatly.
    “ Think about it. Whoever
broke in had to have had a key. There was no sign that the lock had
been forced, and Lucas Young swears he locked the door behind him
when he came by to do his inventory this morning. The lock worked
fine too, I tested it myself after everyone else was gone. And
another thing, what thief in his right mind would randomly break
into an apartment on the second floor of a building like this? It
just doesn’t make sense.”
    “ So your instincts are
better than my man’s,” he said evenly. “Mind if I ask what
qualifications you’ve got?”
    I debated telling him I’d cut my teeth on
Agatha Christie, and had continued my love affair with mysteries
ever since. I figured out the killer more times than not in just
about every book I read, but I doubted it would carry much weight
with him. “Common sense. I tried to tell your man that, but he
seemed more concerned with your jewelry store robbery.”
    The sheriff stopped toweling his hair for a
moment as he gave me a solid stare. “The robbery’s nothing, as far
as I’m concerned. It’s the murder that’s got my blood boiling. I
take it personally when somebody dies in my jurisdiction.”
    Okay, I had to admit he had a point. “I
understand that, but I still don’t like the idea of somebody
breaking in Belle’s place, no matter what your deputy thinks
happened.”
    Coburn said, “I read the report. Like you
said, there was no sign of forced entry, so the door was either
unlocked when the thief got there, or whoever was up there had a
key. Either way, that problem should be