Candle With Care

 
  • Publisher: Muddle House Publishing
  • Series: A Magic Candle Shop Mystery , 4
  • Release Date: Feb. 11, 2025
  • Genre: Cozy Paranormal Mystery
  • Available Formats: eBook and Print
  • Digital: 978-0-9997054-9-0
  • Hardcover: 978-8-9923571-0-3

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Amateur sleuth and candle maker Tabby Winslow and her twin sister, Sage, are finally making a go of The Book and Candle Shop. It seems like the only heat they’ll feel this June is from the strong sunshine in Savannah, Georgia. Then their acquaintance Detective Sharmila Belfor is gravely injured in a vehicular assault and is in a coma. Cops turn the city upside down searching for the offender, keying in on the detective’s boyfriend Herbert R Ellis, her felon cousin, and her case files.

Fearing the police are looking at the wrong people, Herbert begs Tabby to investigate. He knows what most don’t, that Tabby has psychic abilities that allow her to home in on emotions and motives. Since he’s a lifelong friend of Dr. Quig Quigsly, Tabby’s fiancé, she agrees. But before she finds answers, Sage’s former coworker is murdered, and her twin pleads with Tabby to find the killer. With dead ends at every turn, Tabby fears the city’s troubles are paranormal in origin. By investigating the crimes, she risks exposure of the way her family manipulates energy and uses other psychic talents. Keeping a low profile is essential.

Meanwhile, Quig’s parents are throwing them a black-tie engagement party in two weeks, and Tabby is burning the candle at both ends. Can Tabby end the crime wave and protect her loved ones before she is quenched?



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Excerpt


2025

Though the air temperature in Savannah, Georgia, registered at only eighty degrees, the large crowd attending this late afternoon press conference radiated so much heat, it was hard to breathe. A camera crew bustled around the microphone-draped podium, testing equipment before the event.

As I walked toward the tribute area with my contribution, the cloying scent from bouquets of roses bombarded my senses as did the murmurs from those assembled. I blocked the intense odors and crowd noise with a thin energy barrier. I found a safe spot for my candles just to the left of the life-sized poster of the injured detective Sharmila Belfor. Kneeling, I placed my pie tin of sand, seashells, and three of my Savannah Sunrise pillar candles on the concrete. Carefully, I touched a flame to each candle wick.

The flickering flames barely added to the heat, and they brought a radiance to the dark crime that had occurred. It galled me that someone I knew and respected had been targeted and seriously injured. “Love and healing light to you, Sharmila,” I said under my breath.

A person jostled me, and I pitched toward the candle tin. Yikes. My hands hit the cement hard to stop the fall, but that was better than banging my knees. I turned to see the offender was one of my regular Book and Candle Shop customers, Fawn Meldrim.

“Oh, my!” Fawn said as she helped me up. Her blue hair showed an inch of black roots. “Sorry, Ms. Tabby. Someone bumped me from behind, knocking me into you. I hope you’re okay. Quite a crowd here.”

“I’m fine, but I’m concerned about the detective. From what I read in the paper, she’s still unconscious in the hospital. I hope the police have answers.”

“Me too. She didn’t deserve to be terrorized and injured.”

I studied the stuffed bears, flower arrangements, photographs, and candy arranged around the podium. The assault on Sharmila’s vehicle happened when she was off-duty and driving her personal car. None of this was fair. I hate it when bad things happened to good people.

Fawn bent and added a bag of chocolate covered peanut candies on the pile. “I heard these are her favorite. Let’s hope they save this stuff and give it to her when she awakens. Oh, my friends are waving for me to join them. See you later.”

If she wakes up.

Don’t go there. We’d figure this out.

With another glance at my candles to make sure everything was safe, my gaze returned to the chocolate candy. I’d contributed something from my shop, but Fawn brought a gift that Sharmilla preferred. How thoughtful of this Savannah College of Art and Design student to find out the detective’s likes.

Self-consciously, I swiped at the sweat beading in my hairline. They needed to get this press conference going soon or the risk of heat stroke would become a reality for many.

Mentally donning my amateur sleuth hat, I dropped my energy barrier to scan nearby auras in case Sharmila’s assailant was here. That effort lasted for all of two seconds before I was bombarded with anger, excitement, greed, disappointment, joy, confidence, determination, and more. With such a large pool of overlapping currents, my brain hurt. I hurt.

Moving to the side of the tribute area, I shut down my “other” vision and bumped out my energy barrier again. Relief flooded through my body like a tidal surge as the invisible insulation allowed me a measure of peace.

Using a sheet of folded paper, I fanned my face. Soon Captain Haynes would emerge from the historic district station to speak on camera. While I hoped he’d already arrested Detective Belfor’s attacker, Savannah had a way of concealing her criminals in the shadows.

A children’s choir dressed in white shirts and dark shorts filed out and assembled on one side of the podium. The crowd quieted as they listened to the angelic voices. Tears welled in my eyes as my emotions got the best of me.

My fiancé, Dr. Octavian “Quig” Henry Quigsly IV joined me. His presence felt comforting through he radiated a lot of heat. I was glad I’d worn a sleeveless summer dress today, but the idea of a cold shower appealed to me right now.

A slight commotion in front of the tribute area caught my eye. Jeanine Acworth dressed in black from head to toe had elbowed her way to the front of the crowd. I shuddered at the discordant vibes rolling off her body. She was the most annoying person I’d ever met; worse, she’d developed a vendetta against my twin sister in high school, which now extended to me.

No point in wasting another thought on my nemesis. The reason I was slow roasting in the heat was for Sharmila Belfor. If she died from her injuries, the assailant would be charged with homicide. Though I prayed the detective lived a long life, predicting the future was not in my psychic wheelhouse.

I’d met detectives Belfor and Nowry last fall when they questioned our shop clerk, my sister, and me about a murder. Given that dubious start, I’d never be the detective’s best friend. Too much saltwater under that bridge.

As the choir softly hummed a familiar melody, Captain Haynes marched out with an older couple. His dress uniform brass gleamed in the sunshine. The seniors wore somber colors and solemn expressions.

“Thank you for coming.” Captain Haynes’s voice boomed through the sound system. “I’m here with Dr. and Mrs. Belfor. We need your help in finding the person or persons who attacked their daughter, one of our finest officers, Detective Sharmila Belfor.”

Haynes paused, and the crowd stilled even more. Then he leaned into the microphone cluster to speak again. “My officer was off-duty and driving home in her personal vehicle two nights ago after an evening with a friend. From the cameras along her known route, we know a black sedan slammed into her rear bumper and kept assaulting her car. She attempted evasive maneuvers, but her vehicle lost responsiveness with each strike. When the road widened so the attacker could pass, the other car’s driver continued the vehicular assault.

“She radioed in and described the vehicle menacing her. Units were dispatched. When they arrived, Detective Belfor’s vehicle was wrapped around a streetlight, and she was unresponsive. Belfor was immediately transported to Memorial. After triage and surgery, she was placed in a medically-induced coma to facilitate healing.”

He motioned for Ms. Belfor to step forward. “The detective’s mother would like to say a few words.”

Nothing the captain said was news to me, except the part that the assailant keep attacking Sharmila’s car when they could have sped on past. What kind of person did that? Why did they do it?

Ms. Belfor stepped up to the podium. Her husband stood behind her, a hand on her shoulder. Ms. Belfor glanced down for a long moment. No one spoke or moved in the crystalline silence.

Then she began speaking, her soft voice rising and catching on every word. “My name is Tyra Belfor and with me is my husband, Alonzo. We have lived in Savannah for forty years. We ask our friends, neighbors, and all of Savannah for help in our time of need. Our daughter Sharmila is unconscious in a hospital bed. Doctors don’t know if she’ll survive.”

Ms. Belfor paused to gather herself. Her head rose, and her tear-stained face spoke volumes. “Somebody saw something. I know you did because this city is still awake after midnight. I’m begging you to step forward, to do the right thing for my baby girl. The police need a name. Please… please help us.”

My heart broke three times listening to her plea. Such courage and fortitude. Could I be this strong if something happened to my family? I hoped it never came to that. But if it did, I would remember this moment and this woman’s strength.

Captain Haynes returned to the podium, and the Belfors edged to the side of him. Quig bent to speak in my ear. “You okay?”

I gave a brief nod. “I will be. Her words moved me. I want to help.”

“Tabby, let the cops handle this one.” His cheek twitched. “There’s a reason Haynes had Tyra speak instead of Dr. Belfor, who is very upset. A grieving mother is more persuasive than an angry father. She did her job. She motivated people to help.”

He meant well in trying to dissuade me, but my mind was set. I wanted to find her attacker. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Herbert R. Ellis came up beside Quig, radiating sadness. “Thought you’d be at the hospital,” I said softly.

“They wouldn’t let me in the ward. Sharm and I’ve been dating for months, but her father instructed the hospital to limit visitors to her immediate family.” He glared at Dr. Belfor. “I want to be with her. I need to see her.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Quig said.

Captain Haynes tapped a microphone, and the resulting squelch silenced the crowd. “Thank you, Ms. Belfor. I urge any witnesses to come forward. Call us or Crimestoppers with your tip. If you saw a 2018 Acura TLX black sedan leaving the historic district around midnight last night or early this morning, call the tip line. We need your help.”

He recited the phone numbers twice and then turned to speak to two officers. The children’s choir dispersed. Conversations buzzed in every direction. The radio and TV crews gathered their equipment.

“Mr. Ellis, please come with us,” said one of a pair of police officers.

I blinked in astonishment that the police would bother him at a time like this. His heart ached for his girlfriend, and he wasn’t allowed to see her.

“What’s this about?” Herbert asked, not moving at all.

The cops crowded closer to Herbert. “The captain has questions for you.”

Herbert made a sweeping gesture with his hands. “I don’t know anything. I’m as mystified as everyone else is.”

Dr. Belfor stepped toward us, leveling a finger at Herbert. “Arrest that man. He hurt my daughter.”

“I love Sharmila. I would never hurt her.” Herbert insisted. “Please, I need to see her.”

“Lock him up and throw away the key,” Dr. Belfor said while Tyra Belfor sobbed silently at his side. “You’re never seeing my daughter again.”

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