Scent of Murder

She straightened and infused her tone with politeness. “Thank you for that tour. And for this.” She popped the lid off the candle, lifted it to her nose, and inhaled. “Mmm—”

Her throat closed off in a choke as the odor reached her nostrils. Or, rather, assaulted her nostrils. A pungent blend of eucalyptus and…was that licorice? Tears sprang to her eyes. Whatever it was, the combination was horrible.

“Oh.” She replaced the lid, blinking rapidly to clear her eyes. The smell clung to the back of her throat. If Chase hadn’t been standing there watching, she would have wrinkled her nose and coughed. “That’s really strong.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Oh, no, it’s not that,” Caitlin hurried to assure him. “It’s just that it’s, uh…” She swallowed. What could she truthfully say about that terrible smell without offending him? “Really strong,” she repeated lamely.

Though his expression was serious, laugh lines creased the edges of his eyes. “It is one of our strongest scents.”

“Well, at least it’s…” Caitlin held the jar up and peered at the dark purple wax. She’d been about to say, “At least it’s pretty,” but she wasn’t a fan of purple. And this was so dark it was almost black. Black candles had such sinister connotations, she wouldn’t dare display this one in her living room. She searched desperately for something nice to say.

“To be honest,” Chase said, “it’s not one of my favorites.”

She caught sight of a twitch at the corner of his lips, and relaxed. “Mine, either,” she confessed. “I’m more of a plain vanilla kind of girl.”

He took the candle from her unresisting hands and tucked it on a shelf beneath the sales counter. “In that case, we have a triple-scented vanilla candle you’re going to love.”

Caitlin let him guide her toward a shelf on the opposite side of the shop, ignoring the warmth of his light touch at the small of her back. “You said the store in town sells a lot of those Forbidden Fantasy candles?”

“A ton.”

She tried to keep the disbelief off her face, but apparently failed, because he held his hand out, palm up and fingers splayed, as he shrugged.

“I don’t understand it, either.” He lowered his voice and glanced at the three women on the other side of a display shelf. “Personally, I think they stink.”

A giggle escaped her lips. Caitlin cut it off quickly. She might not be interested in the guy, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to think she was one of those giggly women she couldn’t stand. They were often the same ones who checked for wedding rings.

Chase didn’t seem to mind. He picked up a jar filled with creamy white wax, twisted off the lid, and extended it toward her. “How’s this?”

She inhaled, and breathed a happy sigh. “Wonderful. I love that one.”

His smile deepened as he put it in her hands. “Good. We like to keep our customers happy.”

Was there a bit of extra meaning in those words? Heat flooded Caitlin’s face, and she tore her gaze away from his. “I think I’ll buy one of those Fresh Apples you showed me earlier. My mom loves candles, and the green will match her bathroom perfectly.”

Mrs. Hollister stepped behind the cash register to ring up the purchases of the pair of women she’d been helping. Caitlin took her place in line behind them while Chase wrapped her candles in thick paper. When the women left with bulging bags clutched in their hands, Mrs. Hollister turned her wide grin on Caitlin.

“And how did you like the tour, dear?”

“It was fascinating. I never knew the process of making candles was so involved.”

The woman locked her arm through Chase’s and beamed up at him. “Chase is going to own the whole company some day.”

“Mother.” He gave her a stern look and extracted his arm.

Caitlin hid a smile as she took her wallet from her purse. She handed Chase enough money to cover the total displayed on the register’s screen.

“So, how long are you in town?” Mrs. Hollister asked.

“Until Sunday afternoon. My friends and I have a musical trio and we’re playing at a wedding Saturday evening, but I came up a few days early.”

“You’re here alone?”

Caitlin could almost see the thoughts flying back and forth behind the woman’s arched eyebrows. Uh-oh. She knew what came next. Better halt this conversation right now, or she’d find herself fending off an invitation to their house for a big family dinner.

“My friends couldn’t get off work until Friday, but I decided to come a few days early to spend some time in prayer and bible study. You know, a kind of retreat.” She raised her eyebrows. “Alone.”

That made Mrs. Hollister pause.

Chase cut into the conversation, his tone holding a note of polite dismissal. “Thanks for taking some of your retreat time to visit our factory.” He extended the bag across the counter toward her, his smile friendly. “We hope you have a nice time in Little Nashville.”

Caitlin took the bag, more than willing to be dismissed. The sooner she got out of Mrs. Hollister’s calculating presence, the better. “I’m sure I will. Thank you for the tour, and the candle.”

She turned to go, and Mrs. Hollister practically ran around the counter. “Wait! Since you’re here on a retreat, you should come to our church tonight.”

Caitlin paused. “Your church?”

The woman’s eager smile deepened as she nodded. “We’re having a miniconcert tonight instead of our regular Wednesday service. One of the local gospel groups is performing. I really think you’d enjoy it, especially since you’re a musician yourself.”

Caitlin’s interest sparked to life. She loved gospel music. “That does sound good.”

“Excellent!” Mrs. Hollister put a hand on Caitlin’s arm. “The concert is at seven-thirty, so how about coming to dinner at our house around six?”

Ah. There it was. As expected.

Chase stood silent behind the register, his lips pressed into a tight line. He didn’t want Caitlin at his family’s dinner table any more than she wanted to be there. A completely unreasonable stab of disappointment assaulted her at the realization.

Caitlin took a step toward the door, beyond the woman’s clutch. “Thank you, but I’d better not come for dinner. Tell me where your church is, and I might come to the concert.”

Mrs. Hollister was nothing if not determined. “Oh, it’s much too complicated for you to try to find on your own. Chase will pick you up. Where are you staying?”

Caitlin opened her mouth to protest, but Chase stopped her.

“Actually,” he said, “our church is off the beaten path. It might be best if I gave you a ride. That is, if you plan to come.”

Klaxon alarms sounded in Caitlin’s ears. Her heart was vulnerable, and she knew it. The pain inflicted by Glenn was too fresh, too raw. That’s why the dateless year was so important. She needed time to heal so she wouldn’t fall head over heels for the first good-looking guy who came along. And Chase definitely fit that mold.

But this wasn’t really a date, was it? It was a concert at church. No harm in that, surely.

“I’m staying at the Nashville Inn,” she told Chase.

“I’ll pick you up around seven, then.” His gaze fixed on something behind her. A half-formed smile froze on his lips.

Caitlin turned and looked through the window in the door. A vehicle pulled into the space next to her Geo, white with green lettering and the unmistakable red-and-white bar across the top. A cruiser from the Brown County Sheriff’s Department.

“It’s the police.” Mrs. Hollister’s voice was low. “What do they want?”

“Me.” Chase stared out the window. “They want me.”

Startled, Caitlin jerked her head around to stare at him. The police were here for the handsome candle man?

What have I gotten myself into?

FIVE

Chase stood in the parking lot beside Detective Jenkins’s vehicle and watched Caitlin’s car disappear down the treelined street. She was an attractive woman with a sweet, appealing air about her that he didn’t come across often. And she’d survived Mom’s clumsy maneuvering with grace. Exactly the kind of woman who could coax him back into the dating world. But the sight of the sheriff sent her scurrying away like a frightened squirrel. Not that he blamed her.

He glanced toward the detective, who sat behind the wheel of his car with a cell phone held to his ear. Chase’s hands tightened into fists. The hours he’d spent last year being questioned by Jenkins were still fresh in his mind. This morning had been easy compared to the investigation surrounding Kevin’s death. And Chase had never been able to make any headway in prying out information that would help him understand the real reason behind Kevin’s murder. The detective’s accusations had gnawed at Chase since the moment he’d first uttered them. And the worst part was, Jenkins had hard evidence to back up his claims, evidence Chase couldn’t ignore and couldn’t begin to explain.

Blood tests didn’t lie. At the time of his death, Kevin had been high on heroin.

The guy Chase had known since grade school, the one who had worked right alongside him at the candle factory, wasn’t the clean, straight-up friend he’d always appeared to be. He’d fooled everyone, including Chase.

The car door opened. Jenkins’s head appeared over the top, his gaze locked on to Chase as though daring him to turn away. Chase stood his ground and returned the hard stare without flinching.

“Hollister.” The man left the car door open and came around it.

“Detective Jenkins.” Chase managed an even if guarded tone. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“You can count on seeing a lot of me until we solve this crime.” A smile flashed onto Jenkins’s face and disappeared just as quickly. “The team is still combing the area where you found the body. Judging from the tire tracks, the car was pushed down the embankment from approximately the same place as your buddy’s last year. If the killer is the same person, and I have no doubt it is—” Jenkins’s stare became hard “—we won’t find anything to identify him or her inside the car.”

So much for Irene’s suggestion that this crime would lead to new evidence about Kevin. From the sound of things, they didn’t expect to find the killer this time, either.

But why come all the way out here to tell him? Just to needle him?

Chase let out a slow breath before he spoke. “What do you want from me, Detective?”

“For the moment, information.” His eyes narrowed. “Ever hear of a man named Lancaster?”

Chase felt pinned beneath Jenkins’s searching stare. “Lancaster?” He searched his memory. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“You sure? George Walter Lancaster.”

“No. I don’t know anybody named George.”

“Ever hear Kevin Duncan mention someone by that name?”

Jenkins’s stare hardened, as though he could pry a confession out of Chase. But there was nothing to confess. Whoever this Lancaster guy was, Chase didn’t know him.

After a minute, Jenkins’s gaze fell away. “I hoped you might have heard of him. Lancaster is the dead guy you found in the park this morning. He wasn’t from around here, and there’s no indication he was in town a year ago when your buddy was killed. But he does have ties to a heroin ring up in Indianapolis.”

“Heroin.” Nausea churned in Chase’s gut. How he hated that word.

Jenkins nodded. “I talked to DEA up there. Seems they’d been watching him for a while. Got a couple of tips that Lancaster’s responsible for some pretty powerful stuff that’s been hitting the streets in that area. Black tar heroin, all the way from Mexico.”

“Then why didn’t they arrest him?”

“They never caught him with the goods. They were making progress, but he must have gotten wind that he was being watched. He disappeared a couple of weeks ago. Guess we know where he slithered off to.”

“Slithered” was right. If there was anything Chase despised more than a drug dealer, he couldn’t think of it. “So he came down here and got tangled up with the same person who killed Kevin last year.”

Of course he did. Druggies stuck together, didn’t they? Chase ground his foot into the gravel that covered the parking lot.

“Apparently.” Jenkins cocked his head. “You sure you never heard of him?”

Chase stiffened. Was the detective insinuating that he hung out in the same circles as heroin users? But in the next instant he wilted. As far as Jenkins was concerned, he did. He used to hang out with Kevin.

He swallowed. “I’m sure.”

His answer seemed to satisfy the detective. With a brief nod, Jenkins rounded the cruiser. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Detective?”

Chase stopped him with a word before he slid into the seat. The man paused in the act of bending. Chase licked suddenly dry lips.

“Uh, if you need help with anything, I’m here. Just ask.”

Jenkins’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of help would you be able to give me, Hollister?”

Chase lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. Whatever. If I can help you track down the person who killed Kevin, I will.”

The man studied him for a long moment. Chase shifted his weight, but held Jenkins’s gaze. Finally the detective pulled his card case out of his pocket, extracted a card, and held it across the roof of the car. Chase took it.

Jenkins spoke. “If you hear anything that might give us a lead, call me. Otherwise, stay out of our way.”

With a hard swallow, Chase nodded. Jenkins slid into the car and shut the door. The vehicle’s tires crunched on the gravel as it backed up, turned around, and headed for the road. Chase stood, unmoving, and watched until it was out of sight. He examined the card in his hand. How much help could he be? He didn’t know anything about drugs or drug dealers, and he certainly knew no one who could commit murder. But he’d keep his ears open and feed any helpful scraps of information to the detective. It was the least he could do for Kevin.

Detective Jenkins clutched the steering wheel as he drove toward headquarters. A long afternoon in the office lay ahead of him. A regular death resulted in a ton of paperwork—the load doubled with a violent murder. And then there were extra reports to be filed with the DEA folks, even though they hadn’t found any illegal drugs on Lancaster’s body. Still, after his conversation with Indianapolis, DEA would want to be informed.

He turned onto the main road, and passed the sign for Hollister’s candle factory. Interesting development, Hollister offering to help, even though he obviously disliked Jenkins. Not that Jenkins blamed him. Things had gotten pretty rough between them last year, what with Hollister insisting his buddy was clean. Jenkins had finally been forced to lay out the facts, show him the labs. That had taken the wind out of his sails.

There was something about Hollister, something Jenkins couldn’t quite put his finger on. He’d picked up on it last year, and again just now. The man was smart, no doubt about that. Something told Jenkins that Hollister was connected to this Lancaster slime. Jenkins had been a cop too long to ignore that niggling in his gut. He’d better keep an eye on Hollister.

SIX

Caitlin walked up the picturesque street, shopping bags swinging at her side. Hundreds of darling shops and art galleries lined the streets of Little Nashville. The sidewalks were crowded with samples of the wares for sale inside, everything from hand-carved wind chimes to intricate macramé planters overflowing with multicolored blooms. The Internet had described Nashville as an artist colony, and Caitlin could see why. This place was a craft lovers’ paradise.

She’d checked into the hotel, dropped her stuff in the room, and then left to wander what seemed to be the town’s main street. A hand-painted sign pointed the way to Antique Alley, and that was something she definitely didn’t want to miss. Her checking account was going to take a hit during this trip, and she didn’t even care.

But she did care about her feet. All these brick and cobbled walkways looked charming, but they were rough on the feet. She had slipped on a pair of sandals, but tomorrow she’d opt for her comfy, worn sneakers. Jazzy would be horrified at the breach of fashion etiquette, but Jazzy wasn’t here, was she? Caitlin put more stock in comfort than show.

Of course, she’d take extra care with her appearance tonight. It wouldn’t do to look shabby when Chase picked her up for church.

She came to a halt on the sidewalk at the traitorous turn her thoughts had taken. Tonight is not a date.

So why then, had she mentally planned to wear the most flattering outfit she’d brought with her? She set her jaw. She would not violate the dateless year. Tonight was nothing more than a visit to church with a friendly stranger. And to prove it, she’d wear the orange sweater Jazzy said clashed with her blonde hair and made her look like a giant candy corn.

Besides, what was that policeman doing at the candle factory? Chase hadn’t seemed at all surprised to see him. In fact, Caitlin had the definite impression that he’d expected the visit. Maybe there was a perfectly good explanation, but coming so soon after Mrs. Hollister’s mention of a body, the sight of that police car raised a few red flags in Caitlin’s mind. If she was going to be tempted to bend in her resolve, it wouldn’t be because of someone who was even remotely involved with dead bodies and police officials. Even if her skin did tingle at his touch.

Her determination firm, she continued down the sidewalk. Up ahead she spied a shop sign that sounded familiar. The Candle Corner. That was the place that sold those horrible-smelling candles Chase’s company made. Since she was right here, she might as well check it out.

A bell at the top of the door chimed as she pushed her way in. This place was far more crowded than the shop at Good Things In Wax. More than just candles filled these shelves. Shiny brass stands, colorful ceramic shades and trays, decorative metal holders, even lanterns—this shop sold anything remotely associated with candles, it seemed. There was a wide selection of candles from Good Things In Wax, and not just Forbidden Fantasy, she was glad to note.

Caitlin wandered down the first narrow aisle, holding her bags carefully so they didn’t knock into anything. Behind her, the bell chimed again as another customer came inside.

The young woman behind the sales counter, who had not spoken to Caitlin, perked up when she caught sight of the new customer. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Graham. Mr. Graham’s in the back receiving a delivery from one of the suppliers. Do you want me to tell him you’re here?”

“That’s okay, Laura. We’re not in a hurry.”

Caitlin glanced toward the dark-haired woman. She must be the boss’s wife. And the girl beside her was probably their daughter.

“Mom, I’ve got to get home.” The girl’s tone was anxious, her brow furrowed with worry. “The concert’s tomorrow night. I’ve got to practice.”

Caitlin’s ears perked up. She understood all about preperformance jitters and wanting to get in as much practice time as possible.

She picked up a ceramic candle shade and looked at the sticker. Then she quickly put it back down. This store was a little too pricey for her tastes. She headed toward the rack of candles from Chase’s company.

“Don’t worry, Nicky. You’ve got all night to practice.” The woman’s voice drew nearer as she made her way down the aisle next to Caitlin. “Look at these tea lights. They must be new.”

“They are,” said the sales clerk. “They just arrived last week.”

“Nicky, wouldn’t they look adorable in your room?”

“I guess.” Judging from Nicky’s sulky voice, she wasn’t in the mood for decorating.

Caitlin half listened as she scanned the shelves. There. Forbidden Fantasy was easy to pick out. It was by far the darkest candle here. She picked it up. This jar was smaller than the one Chase had given her. On impulse, she twisted off the lid. Surely it wasn’t as bad as she remembered.

One whiff set her coughing and sputtering. As she clamped the lid back down on the jar, a low laugh sounded beside her.

“Not fond of that one?”

Caitlin tried to put on an apologetic expression as she faced the store owner’s wife. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a special fragrance for this store.”

The woman raised her hands, palms toward Caitlin. “Hey, don’t apologize to me. I think it’s awful myself.”

Caitlin nodded her agreement. “I’m afraid I agree. Do people really buy it?”

The woman gave a short laugh. “A lot of them, apparently. My husband says he thinks it’s mostly people who smoke or have a bunch of animals in their houses. Apparently it kills other strong smells.”

“I believe it.”

The girl hovered behind her mother, an anxious frown tugging at her mouth. She looked about twelve or so, long-legged and rail thin with straight dark hair tucked behind her ears.

Caitlin smiled at her. “I couldn’t help overhearing earlier. You’re playing in a concert tomorrow?”

A quick, dark-eyed glance in Caitlin’s direction, and then the girl gave a shy nod and half turned away.

Her mother’s face lit with pride. “It’s the school band’s last concert of the year, and the first chair has come down with the flu. Nicole just got a big solo, her first.”

“That’s wonderful.” Caitlin addressed the girl. “What instrument do you play?”

“Flute,” came the mumbled reply.

“Really?” Caitlin didn’t bother to filter the delight out of her tone. “I play the flute, too.”

That brought the girl’s gaze back to her. “You do?”

Caitlin nodded. “I’m in town because I’m playing in a wedding this weekend. I’m a flute teacher. I teach flute and piccolo back home in Kentucky.”

Nicky’s eyes widened to twice their normal size. “Do you think you could give me a lesson?”

“Nicky! Don’t be rude.” The girl’s mother scolded her with a stern look. “I’m sure she doesn’t have time to give you a lesson.”

“But it would only take a few minutes.” Nicky turned a pleading glance toward Caitlin. “I’m not very good, and I just know I’m going to blow the whole thing.”

In the face of Nicky’s worried expression, Caitlin hated to turn her down. Many of her students were that age, so full of middle-school angst that a solo they weren’t prepared for could feel like the end of the world. And now that she thought about it, giving a lesson to an anxious girl might be the perfect excuse to cancel with Chase.

No, she’d feel like a heel. Mrs. Hollister would be beside herself. Caitlin had said she’d go, and she would. Besides, she really was looking forward to an evening of gospel music.

Caitlin was saved from answering Nicky’s plea by the appearance of a man through a doorway in the corner. Irritation clipped his words short as he spoke to the clerk. “Laura, do you have any idea where I left my glasses?” His irritated expression deepened when he caught sight of Nicky’s mom. “Janie, what are you doing here? I’m working.”

Now it was Janie’s turn to look worried. She flashed a quick, almost embarrassed smile in Caitlin’s direction and then placed a hand on her husband’s arm. “We came to tell you some good news, Ed. Nicky has a solo in tomorrow night’s concert. Isn’t that great?”

Ed’s gaze flickered toward his daughter for an instant before he asked impatiently, “What concert?”

“The band concert at school.” Janie’s voice lowered. “You remember. It’s the last one of the year.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.” He put a hand on top of Nicky’s head and gave it a quick rub. “That’s great, sweetheart. Congratulations.” He glanced toward the door he’d just come through, then spoke to his wife. “I might not be able to make it, though. Be sure to take the camcorder, okay?”

Nicky looked at the floor, the corners of her lips twitching downward. Caitlin’s heart twisted in sympathy. Her arms itched to comfort the girl with a hug. Or her mother, who looked just as stricken as Nicky.

“You’ll try though, won’t you, Ed?”

“Yeah, sure. Of course I will.” He seemed to register Caitlin’s presence at that moment. A wide smile transformed his features as he gestured toward the candle in her hands. “Are you finding everything okay?”