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

by Tim Myers

  “Harrison’s fine.”

  She nodded. “Then I’m Ann Marie. Shall we get down to business?”

  “I’m ready if you are.”

  We walked back to the office, and Ann Marie said, “Harrison, I’ve been up since 4 am going over everything just to make sure I had my ducks all in a row. Let’s teach you about business for At Wick’s End.”

  As she spread her books across the desk Eve and I and I shared in the office, I said, “There’s something you should know right up front. All the cash is gone from Saturday’s deposit.”

  The air went out of Ann Marie as she slumped against the desk. “Which is it, gambling, booze, drugs, or fast women, Harrison? She asked in a dogged voice.

  “Pardon me?”

  Ann Marie said with a sigh. “It will help me if I know exactly what problem we’re dealing with here. Now I can put you an allowance if you’re willing, and I’ll make arrangements to come by and do the deposit every night myself. That is if you’re interested in saving this business and not running it into the ground so you can go out and raise a little mischief.”

  “Hang on. Ann Marie, you’ve got me wrong. I don’t have any bad habits, at least not any of the ones you mentioned. The worst thing I do is drink right out of the milk carton without bothering with a glass. Okay, I’ve been known to dog-ear the page of a book now and then, but I’m trying to break that habit, believe me.”

  “So what happened to the cash?”

  I said, “I was boneheaded enough to leave it in my truck when I went into the library, and somebody broke the window and stole it.”

  Ann Marie looked thrilled by the revelation. “So you’re just careless. We can work on that. I’ve had a bad run of luck lately with my clients, and I’m glad you’re not going to be adding to the mix. I just found out one of my clients in Conover is drinking his way into an early grave and stealing from his business to cover things up with his wife. I don’t even want to talk about Max Bleeker being murdered. I don’t know how I’ll ever get over that.”

  “Who’s Max Bleeker?”

  She said, “He ran his own jewelry store.” Ann Marie sighed. “But let’s stick to your problems, Harrison. We’ve got enough on our plate here without dragging the rest of this part of North Carolina in on things.”

  “Ann Marie, I’ve beaten myself up about what happened more than anyone else could. Mr. Young told me how thin a tightrope I’m walking here. It won’t happen again.”

  She said, “I believe you, Harrison. It makes a difference when it’s your own money, doesn’t it? I don’t know that things are all that dire, though; there’s a real chance you’ll be able to make this work. That’s funny, Lucas isn’t usually so cynical. Our bad streak of luck must be getting to him too.” She clapped her hands together once, then said, “Now let’s take a look at the books and teach you the ins and outs of this candle shop.”

  By the time we were finished, my head was swimming with numbers, schedules, tax payments and property valuations. I stood and stretched. “Bottom line, how are we doing?”

  “Getting by, I’d say,” she said after thinking about it a moment. “You’re doing about as well as can be expected here, given the fact that Belle didn’t believe in advertising. There’s enough to pay Eve and keep your inventory going, shoot, we could probably bump you a few dollars above what Belle was pulling in, but I wouldn’t be planning any trips to Europe if I were you.”

  “As long as we’re not bankrupt, I’m happy. You should know I’m planning an ad campaign myself, and we’ve also got a star customer who should help the bottom line.”

  Ann Marie smiled and said, “Don’t tell me, Mrs. Jorgenson has finally discovered At Wick’s End.”

  “How’d you know that?”

  “Oh, please, I do the books for several crafters around here. Mrs. Jorgenson is a legend in your circles. I’m glad things are going well for you.”

  “As well as can be expected, given the circumstances. As long as you’re using black ink and not red, I’m thrilled.”

  Ann Marie said, “You’re easy to please, aren’t you?

  Do you have any questions I can answer in the meantime?”

  “Yes. When’s payday? I’ve got enough to hold me for a while, but it might help to know how long my nest egg has to stretch before I draw a salary.”

  She reached into her purse and pulled out two yellow envelopes. “I love getting questions I can answer. I come by every other Monday with your checks. This is the good Monday.” She handed me both checks, then added, “Your draw is tied into the store’s profits, so it varies. Eve gets a straight salary. If that doesn’t work for you, we can always change it. Now if you’ll give Eve’s check to her, I’ll get over to The Yarn Barn. I’m meeting Lucas Young for a counseling session. We can offer a lot of advice as a package deal, and a great many folks take advantage of it.”

  “Thanks Ann Marie, I appreciate the lesson today.”

  She smiled broadly. “You’re paying for it, Harrison. Call me any time. Except after 5 pm, or on weekends. I’m off on Wednesdays, so that’s no good either. Sometimes I baby-sit for my sister Sarah Ann’s three kids, so I’m not always home then. I never answer the phone before 8:30 am, that’s when I’m working on everyone’s books. But other than that, I’m all yours.”

  I chuckled softly to myself as she left. Ann Marie was something entirely unto herself, and though she’d painted a dark picture of my earnings, it wasn’t as bleak as Lucas Young had implied.

  I peeked at my check, not sure what to expect. I was a little disappointed at first by the amount, then I realized I was my own landlord, so rent and utilities were covered from that account, a sizable expense I would be exempted from. The amount of the check certainly gave me incentive to see how I could raise profits around the candle shop, since my pay was tied directly to it. It was a fair way to do it, and I was glad Belle had chosen to set it up that way.

  As I handed Eve her check, I asked, “Is Mrs. Jorgenson here yet?”

  “No, but I’ve heard she’s always punctual. Are you ready for your lesson?”

  I ticked the steps off in my mind, fairly confident I could follow the correct procedures in the right order. “I think so.”

  Eve added, “While we’re waiting for her to arrive, there’s something I need to discuss with you.”

  “What’s that?” I asked as I checked over the supplies I’d laid out for the day’s lesson.

  “It’s about yesterday,” she said hesitantly.

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” I said. “You deserve some time off now and then.”

  Eve snorted. “I wasn’t taking a vacation day, and you know it. I came unglued when I heard about the break-in upstairs, and I left you here alone. It was unforgivable.”

  “It’s already forgotten,” I said.

  Eve pushed, “It rattled me, Harrison, and there was no reason for it. Belle’s death has shaken me more than I’ve been willing to admit.” She took a deep breath, then said, “I’m dealing with it, though. Work will help.”

  A thought suddenly struck me. “Eve, how many hours do you work in a normal week?”

  Instead of offering a direct answer to my question, she said, “I don’t mind coming in, Harrison. You need help until you get your feet on the ground here.”

  “I need to know. What’s a typical week for you?”

  Eve said, “I usually work three full days a week, every afternoon, plus one or two evenings and every other weekend. But nobody expects you to take over the shop until you learn the ins and outs of the candle business, Harrison.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you could work with me this week, but starting next Monday we go back to your old schedule, the one you had with Belle.”

  “If it’s the money, we can consider part of it as volunteer work,” Eve said frostily.

  “I’m not going to lie to you and tell you money’s got nothing to do with it, but that’s just part of it. I need to learn to stand on my own two feet here.
I’m going to make mistakes, I fully expect that, but the more I work the store on my own, the quicker life around here can get back to normal. I do have one favor to ask, though.”

  “You know I’m happy to oblige,” she said.

  “Keep teaching me the processes. I’m having a wonderful time learning, but I know more than anyone how weak my background is in the basics.”

  Eve offered one of her rare smiles. “You’ve got a knack for it, Harrison. I can’t tell you how happy I am you enjoy it. Belle would have been so pleased.”

  The overhead bell chimed, and I saw Mrs. Jorgenson coming toward me, a resolute expression on her face. So much for “Feel Good” Monday.

  “Good morning,” I said as I led Mrs. J back to the classroom. “Are you ready to get started?”

  “Absolutely. I’ve turned off my telephone, so we won’t be disturbed this time.”

  I got her started with sheets of wax and wicks, and to my chagrin, she was nearly perfect from the start. I had counted on spending an hour having her roll and reroll her candles, but I had to admit, her first attempt was better formed than my last. How in the world was I going to keep her occupied now?

  She studied the results, then said, “Surely there’s something else we can do with these sheets.”

  I was suddenly very thankful I’d put so much time in preparing for this lesson. “We’re just getting started,” I said. I reached behind me and retrieved an array of cookie cutter molds with waxy edges. “Let’s try your hand at some different shapes.”

  I grabbed another batch of various colored wax sheets I’d retrieved from the storeroom and ripped the packs open.

  As I fanned the sheets out on the table, I said, “There are several ways you can do this. Cut-outs all from the same color look nice, but complementary colors are attractive, too. Why don’t you cut six pieces of the same shape and we’ll make a candle with them.”

  Mrs. Jorgenson opted for a maple leaf cutter and quickly cut out six leafy imprints.

  “Now measure out your wick, put it between two leaves, then keep sandwiching the cut-outs evenly. Your goal here is to keep the wick in the center of the candle.”

  She did as she was told, then delicately pressed them all together.

  “That was easy,” she said as the leaf-candle fell apart, the wick lying on the table like a discarded string.

  “What happened?” she asked, studying the fallen sections.

  Fortunately, my first cut-out candle had done the same thing, so I knew just what to do. “Put it all back together, press firmly this time, then we’ll try adding a little heat.”

  I took a blow-dryer out of one of the cabinets and gave the leaf a good blast of heated air around the edges after she reassembled it. “Pinch the edges together like this. It gives the candle a more rounded look.” It held together this time, and Mrs. Jorgenson looked pleased with the results.

  “I’d like to do another one on my own now.”

  She chose a club shape from one of the card cutters and opted for a lavender wax. This attempt was a great improvement over the last, and by the time our session was over, she’d made nine different shapes and seven rolled candles.

  I collected them for her, carefully wrapping each candle individually before placing it in her bag. I still couldn’t tell from her expression or demeanor whether she had enjoyed the process or not. It was possible my star student had taken her first and last lesson all at the same time.

  As we walked out to the cash register, Mrs. Jorgenson waved a hand at Eve and said, “I need a selection of colors from your stock of sheet wax. Let’s say three packs of each.”

  “We have sixteen colors in stock,” Eve said.

  Mrs. Jorgenson thought about it a moment, then said, “Is that all? We’d better make it six packs of each then, I have a great deal of work ahead of me.” She frowned, then added, “I just had a thought. I’ll need three sets of every cutter you have in stock.”

  I was standing just behind her. “You only need one set of cutters.”

  Eve shot me a dirty look as Mrs. Jorgenson turned to me and said, “I’ve decided to give two sets to my nieces as presents.” While Eve disappeared into the storeroom to put the order together, Mrs. Jorgenson handed me her credit card. “Why don’t you handle the billing while we wait?”

  I totaled up her bill including the merchandise Eve was collecting and the supplies we’d used in our lesson today. Before I ran it through our system, I said, “Excuse me a moment, would you?”

  “Certainly,” she said. “That will give me the opportunity to browse a little.”

  I found Eve quickly going through the boxes in the storeroom, making up Mrs. Jorgenson’s order.

  She brushed a wisp of hair out of her face. “Is something wrong? Did she change her mind?”

  “Keep pulling stock,” I said as I helped her with a heavier box off the top shelf. A wave of anxiety ran through me when I realized I was standing on the exact spot where Belle’s body had been discovered, but I fought it back.

  “Why are you here, then? I can handle this, Harrison. Honestly, you shouldn’t leave her out there alone. She might leave.”

  “Right now I doubt I could get her out of the store with a crowbar; that woman’s got the candlemaking fever worse than I do. I need to know what we charge for private lessons,” I said.

  Eve said, “I haven’t a clue. I know what the group I lessons run, but we’ve never had an individual demand personal instruction before.”

  “Let’s double the regular fee then. What do you say?”

  Eve frowned and bit her lower lip. “I honestly don’t know. We don’t want to alienate her.”

  I laughed. “The lady is determined to learn. Why not charge her for the privilege?”

  “It’s your shop, Harrison.”

  “Double it is, then.”

  When I got back from the storeroom, I couldn’t find Mrs. Jorgenson anywhere. Oh, no. I shouldn’t have left her alone after all. Then I saw her head appear above a shell full of copper cookie cutters, a dozen or so in her hands. “I’ll take these as well.”

  I added them to her total, along with the amount, astronomical in hindsight, I was charging her for lessons. Seeing it on paper gave me a bout of cold feet. Would she balk at the fee and walk out? I mentioned the total to her casually, fighting to keep the jitters out of my voice.

  Her only comment was, “That sounds quite reasonable,” and I suddenly wondered if I’d charged her enough. Oh, well, it was too late now.

  Eve began carrying boxes out of the storeroom, and Mrs. Jorgenson gave her the remote control to her trunk. I said, “Hang on a second, I can take care of that.”

  “I don’t mind,” Eve said as she disappeared outside.

  I handed Mrs. Jorgenson her credit card as well as the receipt for her to sign, then gave her the other copy. “Would you like to set up your next lesson now?”

  She nodded. “Let’s say the same time next week, shall we? I plan on devoting this week to rolling.”

  She started for the door, then said, “You know, I’m quite impressed with your ability to teach candlemaking. It’s as if you still remember what it was like to learn it for the first time.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “You have a feel for the wax, don’t you?”

  “I’d like to think so,” I admitted. “You’ve got a real knack yourself.”

  When Eve came back inside a minute later, there was a bemused smile on her face. “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “She actually tipped me,” Eve said, holding a ten up in the air. “Did she give you one too?”

  “Not a chance. It looks like you’re buying lunch,” I said.

  Eve tucked the money in her blouse pocket, then studied the bill I’d made out. She gasped when she saw the amount I said, “I didn’t charge enough, did I?”

  “Enough? Harrison, that total I gave you was for an entire class of five. You charged her much too much.”

  I grinned. “F
unny, she thought it was quite reasonable.”

  Eve still looked troubled. “I still think it’s too much.”

  I said, “Then I’ll give her a break on her supplies the next time she comes in, but I don’t think it was a mistake. I’m telling you, she didn’t bat an eye.”

  “Let’s not try to make up all of our losses on her,” Eve said softly. “No matter how tempting it might be.”

  I was about to respond when Pearly came in, a scowl on his face.

  “What’s wrong,” I asked him, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

  Chapter 10

  Pearly said, “I was just upstairs at my locker. Do you mind telling me what happened? It smells like a perfume factory blew up in there, and all my possessions are scattered about on a table. Are we having an unscheduled yard sale no one mentioned to me, Harrison?”

  Eve looked flustered by the comment and said curtly, “I need to tidy up the back room, if you’ll excuse me.”

  After she was gone, Pearly asked, “Was it something I said?”

  “No, she’s been like that since yesterday.” I took a deep breath, then said, “We had another break-in the night before last. Somebody went through the locks with a bolt cutter and dumped everything out onto the floor.”

  Pearly frowned. “There was a bottle of aftershave my granddaughter bought me for Christmas. I suppose it’s all gone as well, isn’t it?”

  I nodded sadly. “I’m sorry, there were several broken bottles in the mess.”

  He brightened for a moment, then said, “I suppose that’s the silver lining in all this then. I detested the concoction, and now I can honestly say that it was destroyed by vandals. That should save me until next Christmas, though I can’t imagine what that will bring; my granddaughter has a rather eccentric taste in scents. Do the police have any idea who could have done it?”

  “Sheriff Coburn’s too busy to deal with it,” I said, trying to hide the ire in my voice.

  Pearly nodded. “I don’t doubt that. Rumor has it that he’s under a great deal of pressure from the mayor and town council about the murder in the jewelry store, Harrison. It most likely makes this appear to be nothing more than the act of a juvenile delinquent.”