Scent of Murder. Virginia Smith
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?”