At Wick's End (Book 1 in the Candlemaking Mysteries)

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At Wick's End (Book 1 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) Page 6

by Tim Myers


  Millie had been right; there was no need for a newsletter for the folks at River’s Edge. It appeared the grapevine in place took care of distributing information just fine without it. “I don’t know much about it myself,” I said. “Mr. Young, Belle’s attorney, had just done an inventory of her things, and when he checked the place again, he said nothing was missing.”

  Pearly frowned. “But then he didn’t know your great-aunt as well as some of us did. Who’s to say he didn’t miss something during his first canvass?”

  “Pearly, you haven’t always been a handyman, have you?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  I said, “You just seem a little too...”

  “Eloquent?” he asked with a smile.

  “Exactly.”

  Pearly paused a moment, then reluctantly admitted, “In another life, I served the world as a clinical psychologist.”

  “So what happened to bring you here?” One look at his face told me I’d overstepped my bounds. “Sorry, it’s really none of my business.”

  Pearly shook his head. “Actually, I understand your curiosity. Harrison, when I finally realized I couldn’t save the world, I decided to lower my sights and keep River’s Edge running. It’s a glorious old place.”

  I knew there had to be a lot he wasn’t telling me, but I wasn’t about to push him any further. I had to get over the fact that Pearly was dressed in a pair of faded bibbed overalls and clunky work boots, and accept the fact that the man was most likely a great deal smarter than I was. It was just so easy to take him at face value based on his appearance and forget the life he’d led before opting to become a handyman.

  “If something was stolen from Belle’s, it’s long gone,” I said. “There’s nothing anyone can do about it now.”

  “Still, I’d like to survey the scene on my own, if you don’t mind.”

  Enough was enough. “Pearly, the place has been cleaned up. You’re too late to see anything. I’ve got some boxes ready for the Salvation Army and I’ve already moved my things upstairs. As far as I’m concerned, the incident’s over.”

  He nodded. “I suppose you’re correct. It can be difficult to let go though, can’t it?”

  I patted his shoulder. “Sometimes that’s the only option we have.”

  I thought the conversation was over, but Pearly hesitated, then added, “By the way, the new lock was an excellent idea.”

  “Thanks. I get them every now and then,” I said, then added a smile so he could see I was joking. Before Pearly could leave, I asked, “Since I’ve got you here, I’d like to ask you something. What do you know about this Markum fellow upstairs?”

  “The salvage and recovery gent? Truthfully, we haven’t had the opportunity to get to know one another yet. He keeps pretty well to himself, and from what I’ve seen, his office hours are only at night. Belle joked that he must be some kind of vampire to work when he does. Well, I’d better scat. Aaron Gaston has a leak in his sink, and potters are absolutely anal about their water supply. Have you met Aaron yet?”

  “No, is he the one who runs The Pot Shot?”

  “He’s the man. An unusual fellow, not somebody you’d pick out of the crowd as an artist, but the gentleman is a true talent. He’s been teaching me pottery, or at least attempting to. You should take lessons yourself, if you’re interested, they’re quite reasonable. Fascinating hobby, pottery. The clay has a mind of its own sometimes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get to that sink.”

  After Pearly was gone, I found myself wondering how he’d known I’d had the lock replaced upstairs. Was he being a good handyman, prepared to offer to replace it himself when he spotted the new work, or had he tried to gain reentry to continue his search and been foiled by the replacement? His offer to look around Belle’s place could have been a friendly gesture, or it could mean Pearly wasn’t ready to give up his search. I was learning one thing—investigating Belle’s death was making me suspicious of everyone in her life. It was amazing how many things could be twisted when I started with that frame of reference.

  My stomach was just starting to growl from hunger when Heather from The New Age came in with a picnic basket. “Harrison, how would you like to join me for lunch?”

  “That sounds great. Let me check with Eve first, though, and make sure she doesn’t need me here.”

  After Eve assured me that I could take all the time I needed, a little too enthusiastically for my taste, I joined Heather at the door of At Wick’s End.

  “Does this mean you’re free?” she asked.

  “I got the distinct impression I’m not exactly crucial to At Wick’s End’s operation at the moment.”

  Heather laughed. “Oh, pooh, you’re just learning, Harrison. These things take time.”

  Outside, the autumn day was glorious, the sunshine warm enough to enjoy but without the brutal heat and intensity of summer. Though we were near the mountains, we still got blistering summer temperatures nearly as much as Charlotte and Hickory did. No doubt about it, autumn was my favorite time of year. I loved to see the changing leaves decorate the world with their pallets of color and taste the air scrubbed clean and fresh, with just a hint of the chill to come.

  I took in a deep breath, then asked Heather, “So where should we eat?”

  “If you don’t mind the concrete steps, I nearly always eat my lunch near the river. You can’t imagine the things you see float by.”

  “That sounds good,” I said as I followed her down the steps that led to the water.

  After we found a spot we liked, Heather opened her basket and pulled out sandwiches carefully wrapped in brown paper. I took one offered and said, “I’m starving. What are we eating?”

  She held her wrapped sandwich up and said, “I made us bean sprouts. They’re really great.”

  I tried to hide my disappointment. What else should I have expected from a hippie shop owner? I should have realized that a club sandwich would be out of the question before I agreed to come.

  Trying to put the best face on things, I promised myself I’d choke it down if I could and never accept another invitation without knowing what was on the menu first.

  I unwrapped the sandwich with no great haste. “Hey, it’s ham on rye.”

  Heather grinned impishly. “Dijon mustard too. You should have seen your face when I told you it was bean sprouts. What would you like to drink? I’ve got Dr Pepper and Mountain Dew.”

  I took the Dr Pepper and twisted the top off the iced bottle. After taking a healthy swallow, I said, “Okay, I admit that I might have misread you.”

  Heather smiled brightly. “Then I’ll confess to setting you up just then. I love bean sprouts, but I wasn’t about to force my tastes on you, especially not during our first shared meal. So what do you think of River’s Edge so far?”

  I took a bite of my sandwich as I considered the question. “It’s quite a collection, isn’t it?”

  “Of businesses or people?” she asked.

  “To be honest with you, both.”

  Heather nodded. “That’s why I love it so much. Not many nine-to-five types here, unless you count Gary Cragg, and he’s an oddity in his own way.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  She said, “My experience has been that most lawyers cluster together near the courthouse. I’ve often wondered what he’s doing out here by himself.” She took a bite from her sandwich, then added, “If I’m being honest about it, it could just be the suit I’ve got problems with. I’ve never been all that impressed with anybody who has to wear a tie to work. I doubt Gary has ever been on a picnic in his life.”

  I smiled softly. “Maybe you should have invited him instead of me.”

  Heather shook her head. “I don’t think so, Harrison. I made the right choice.”

  I nodded my thanks. “I’m honored you asked.”

  A pair of mallard ducks swam by us near the shore, pausing now and then to dive for something in the water. Heather tossed a piece of her bread to th
em, and they attacked it with zeal. I followed suit with the little that remained of my sandwich, popping the last of the meat in my mouth as I threw the bread. They waited around another minute after gobbling it down just as quickly, realized the lunch counter was closed, then went back to their fishing.

  “It’s really peaceful here, isn’t it,” I said, mesmerized by the drifting currents of the water.

  “It can be,” she replied. “Hey, did you ever get rid of those boxes for the Salvation Army?”

  “Not yet. I’ve been so busy around the store, I haven’t had a chance.”

  Heather put the last of the wrappings in her basket as she said, “The offer’s still open if you need me to drop them off for you.”

  “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” I said as I stood and stretched. The concrete had been a hard seat, but I hadn’t realized how hard until I stood up. I dusted off my hands and said, “I’ll have to return the favor sometime soon. Thanks again for lunch,” I said as I walked back to At Wick’s End.

  “You’re most welcome,” she said. “I’m here every day at noon. Just let me know.”

  After I was back inside the candle shop, I couldn’t help wondering if Heather’s lunch invitation had been just another way to get a crack at those boxes again, or if it was, as it appeared, a friendly gesture welcoming me to the building. I told myself, “Harrison, old boy, you’re going to have to stop seeing villainous motives behind every action, or you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

  But how was I going to recognize something that really was a clue, if I didn’t examine every action and motive I ran across?

  Detective work surely wasn’t as easy as they made it look in books.

  I found Eve in the office having a sandwich of her own. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were eating,” I said as I started to back out of the room.

  She patted the chair across from her. “Sit, keep me company. Belle and I always used to split our lunch breaks, but if no one was in the shop, we’d share a bite or two together.”

  I sat where she directed. “You must really miss her.”

  Eve nodded. “It’s amazing how large a hole somebody can leave in your life when they’re gone.” She stared at the remains of her sandwich, took another bite, then said, “It’s just not ever going to be the same around here.”

  “You know, you’re free to go somewhere else if you’d like if it’s too painful,” I said gently. I could see that I’d worded it badly by the way she reacted, but before she could say a word of retort, I added, “Not that I don’t appreciate you staying on. Eve, I’m the first person to admit that I don’t know how I’d run the shop without you. But it sounds like losing Belle might be more than you can take and stay on here at the shop.”

  Eve tossed the unfinished bite of her sandwich in her bag, then threw the whole thing into the trash. “I’m staying,” she said firmly.

  “Because you want to?” I asked gently.

  “Because I have to,” Eve blurted out. “I love candles. Where else am I going to be able to find someone to pay me to be around them all day? I’ll go if you want me to, Harrison, but it won’t be willingly. You might need a little help throwing me out.”

  “Eve, you’ve got your job as long as you want it,” I said. Now why did I say that? If she turned out to be the one who had shoved Belle off that ladder, she’d be gone as fast as I could turn her over to the police. But until I knew without a doubt that she’d been the one, I needed Eve’s presence at Wick’s End more than she needed me.

  “I’m glad that’s settled,” Eve said as she brushed at a few nonexistent crumbs on the desktop. “Now let’s get to work and teach you how to pour candles. It’s the next logical step in your training.”

  Unfortunately, it was not to be. We had a steady stream of customers the rest of the afternoon, something Eve told me was rare enough to savor. As before, I worked the register while she helped our clientele, and by the time we put our closed sign up, I was beat from standing on my feet all afternoon. That was one good thing, probably the only good thing, about selling those computers; most of the time I could do it sitting down behind my desk.

  As I turned the lock and pulled down the door shade, I said, “Man, I’m beat.”

  Eve said, “You can’t stop now, Harrison. There’s more work that needs to be done before we’re ready to go home.”

  I smiled softly. “Point me in the right direction and I’ll get to it.”

  “We need to restock the shelves, total the day’s receipts, then you need to take our deposit by the bank. I’ve done it when I’ve had to, but carrying cash around town makes me nervous.”

  It suddenly hit me that I knew nothing about the ins and outs of running the place myself. “I don’t even know how much money you make. When do you get paid? Do I cut you a check myself or should I pay you in cash out of the register?”

  Eve smiled. “Relax, Harrison, Belle had a system in place before we opened our doors. Ann Marie Hart does our bookkeeping. She’s the one who cuts my check, yours too if you keep Belle’s system in place. Instead of taking money off the top, Belle drew a salary just like I do, then she gave us both Christmas bonuses every year.”

  “That sounds like a good plan,” I said.

  Eve added, “When we had good years, it worked out quite nicely. Some of my bonuses at first were in the form of supplies when she couldn’t afford to give me cash.”

  I nodded. “It sounds like I need to talk to Ann Marie.”

  Eve creased her lips, and I asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, but I may have jumped the gun. I’ve already set up an appointment for you with her first thing Monday morning. Don’t worry, you’ll be finished before Mrs. Jorgenson gets here, Ann Marie’s an early riser, and she doesn’t dawdle or waste time if she doesn’t have to.”

  “That works for me, but until then, what do I do with our deposit tonight?”

  “I’ll show you how to balance our receipts with the register tape,” she said. “Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, they match perfectly.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  “Then we order something from Millie and stay here until they do.”

  Amazing as it was given the fact that I’d run the register most of the day, we balanced out to the penny. After a quick lesson at logging the deposit and filling out the slip, Eve said, “Now you’re ready to deposit this at the bank.”

  “Let me grab my truck keys,” I said, “and I’ll take it right now.”

  “Why don’t you take Belle’s truck? It’s yours now too.”

  That certainly got my attention. “Are you telling me my great-aunt had a truck?”

  Eve said, “In this business, you need one, believe me. We do more than just the shop, Harrison. There are street fairs, demonstrations, all sorts of times where you’ll be on the road representing At Wick’s End. Mr. Young should have mentioned it to you.”

  “Where is this mystery truck?” I asked.

  “Behind the building parked in Belle’s spot. I guess that’s yours too now.”

  I pocketed the keys to my old Dodge Ram, a pickup truck on its last legs, and followed Eve outside, the zippered deposit bag tucked under my arm. There was a two-tone brown Ford pickup with a brown camper top over the long bed parked in back of the store. “Wow, she’s a beauty,” I said the second I saw it.

  “It’s nearly ten years old, but Belle babied it,” Eve said as she handed me the keys. “Don’t forget, we bank with Micah’s Ridge Community Bank. None of those big corporate conglomerates for Belle. She believed in doing business with local folks whenever she could manage it.”

  I nodded absently and unlocked the truck. There were running boards on the side, no doubt to help Belle step up into the cab. This was a luxury addition, with carpeting, automatic transmission, cruise control and even four-wheel drive. “Unbelievable. Belle was just full of surprises, wasn’t she?”

  “More than you’ll ever know,” Eve said.

  I start
ed the engine, then said, “Can I drop you off anywhere?”

  “No thank you. I walk whenever I can, and ride when I have to. Have a good evening, Harrison. I’ll see you in the morning.” As she started away, she stopped and turned back. “You did a fine job today.”

  Before I could reply, she was gone.

  I dropped the deposit off at the bank without any problems, and thought about taking the truck out for a spin, but ultimately decided I needed to get back to River’s Edge. I was discovering that having property involved more than just collecting the rent. It was more like being the mayor of a small town. Owning River’s Edge must have been perfect for Belle. Never the type to complain about being lonely, nonetheless I was sure that the varied group of tenants occupying space there was all the immediate family she really needed around her.

  The one thing that kept recurring as I talked with the folks who knew my great-aunt best, day in and day out, was her warm heart.

  I’d really missed out by not making her more of a part of my life than I did. And now the opportunity was gone forever.

  I’d do the next best thing though. I’d do my best to carry on the legacy she’d given me. And if I could manage it, I’d find the person who’d taken her from us all too soon.

  Chapter 6

  I found a note from Gary Cragg taped to my apartment door when I got back from the bank. In hastily written cursive, ‘Don’t forget our appointment’, was scrawled on the back of his business card. So much for my plans to take a long hot shower and read a little to unwind from a full day at the shop. I looked longingly at my apartment door, then walked to the attorney’s office down the hall.

  Cragg was at his desk working through a stack of papers when I knocked on the doorjamb.

  “If you’re tied up, we can talk another time,” I said, hoping for a reprieve from our meeting.

  “Nonsense, I’ll just be a moment,” he said as he finished proofreading a document, clearly a letter, before signing it in a flourish of script that was fancier than I would have ever expected from him.

 

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