Solve-it-yourself mystery
At 8: 00 pm, Sheriff Margo Jessup was just finishing dinner when Deputy Clay Donovan called, his voice filled with concern.
“There was an arson attempt at The Green Place,” he said. “You’d better get down here, Sheriff.”
The Green Place was a natural health center in a cozy riverfront community. Its main tourist attraction was an eclectic mix of second-generation family businesses.
When the economy soured, Leah Poole, entrepreneur and risk-taker, bought Abby’s Health Emporium for pennies on the dollar after Abigail Soames was forced to close her doors. Leah redecorated, changed the name and began stocking eco-friendly products for her new clientele.
Her 100% pure beeswax line of lotions, lip balms, unscented candles, cosmetics, soaps and even bars for removing rust and polishing wood flew off the shelves. Adding mail-order convenience cinched her success while other shopkeepers in The Green Place still struggled to rebound.
“Abby’s probably gloating over this,” Donovan said, gesturing to the smoky air filtering through the back door of the shop when Sheriff Jessup arrived on the scene.
“What happened?” she asked the fire chief as she stepped into the back office.
“Looks like there were a bunch of candles burning on this wooden desk. Beeswax candles this size—’ bout 24 ounces— have a slow burn time,” he said, showing part of a thick pillar. “Good thing the door and window were closed behind whoever did this. Otherwise, a draft might’ve sped things up and ignited the wood.”
“Well, the front door’s locked,” Donovan observed. “Which means our firebug came through the back.”
“And that he or she knew Leah was out of town on a buying trip,” the sheriff remarked, inspecting bits of scented wax on the floor. “Any witnesses?”
“Spencer Banks, the accountant who reported it, and Selene Ayers from the aromatherapy spa. They’re waiting up front, but I haven’t questioned anyone yet.”
Spencer was first in line for questioning. “I was walking my dog,” he began, “and took a shortcut through the alley to get back home. I saw something flickering through the curtain but no lights were on inside. I banged on the window and back door. When no one answered, I dialed 911 straight away.”
“Would you stay a while longer?” Jessup asked.
“I suppose,” he said, tightening the restless terrier’s leash with a sniff.
“By the way,” Jessup added as she walked away, “I hear you and Abby Soames are dating. Is there any truth to that?”
“That’s a private affair!” he sputtered, red-faced.
“That’s a loaded word,” the sheriff grinned, moving over to where Selene stood fidgeting with the sleeve of her shirt.
“I was mixing essential oils in my workroom, which faces Leah’s rear entrance, when I saw someone come out the back door, get in a van and drive off in a hurry,” she said, her eyes wide with anxiety. “What time was that?” “6: 30— the timer on my oil diffuser dinged just then, otherwise I would never have known the time.”
“Did you see who it was or recognize the vehicle at all?”
Selene shook her head. “It was dark, but I assumed it was Leah because she drives a van…look, I’m really busy. Are we done here?”
“Almost, just sit tight for a moment,” the sheriff said, calling her deputy aside.
“One of them can go,” she told Donovan, glaring at the culprit.
Q: Who was the culprit?