A Flicker of Doubt (Book 4 in the Candlemaking Mysteries)

by Tim Myers

  I started for the door when he called out, “You can’t do that I’ll own that candleshop of yours now. You struck me.”

  “Where’s your proof? It’s your word against mine.” -

  He looked at the secretary who’d taken my money, but she replied meekly, “I’m sorry, Mr. Klein, I was on the phone with a customer.”

  There was no one else in the room. I said, “I’d better not see my name mentioned in your paper, either. Do we understand each other?”

  “You can’t threaten the free press,” he said.

  “I’m not threatening the newspaper,” I said as I stepped closer. He flinched as I approached, but I never laid another finger on him. Instead, I whispered, “I sun threatening you, though.”

  He jumped back at my words. “There, did you hear that? Gladys, I’m talking to you.”

  She was on the telephone again and held one hand over the mouthpiece, “Sony, I wasn’t listening. Did you need me for something?”

  Klein looked exasperated, then stormed back into his office without another word. I noticed Gladys letting a smile slip past her lips before she could rein it back in.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  She smiled brightly at me and said, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re thanking me for.”

  “Guess,” I said as I headed for the door.

  “Mr. Black,” she called out.

  I turned, and she motioned me toward her. When I was close to her, she said softly, “Good for you. He’s too casual about pushing people around.”

  “I lost my temper. Believe me, it’s something I would normally never do.”

  She said, “Perhaps you should lose it more often then.”

  “You might be right,” I said as I walked out of the office with the newspaper tucked under my arm. Confrontations usually left me cold and shaking, but after this one, I felt like I could take on the world. Maybe it was because I’d been fighting for what was left of Becka’s memory and reputation. I meant what I’d told him, too. If Hank Klein said one derogatory thing about Becka Lane, he was going to have to answer to me. I’d been so furious with his interview ambush that something nagged at the back of my mind, something about the conversation we’d just had. It wasn’t so much what he said as it was how he’d said it I’d heard that voice recently, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember where.

  Then it hit me.

  I knew in my heart who Becka’s secret boyfriend had been, the one who’d been trying to get her back.

  It was Hank Klein’s voice on her answering machine. I might not be able to prove it without the tape, but I had a new lead to go on, one that I wouldn’t let go until I found out the truth.

  I couldn’t wait to get back to River’s Edge before I dug the newspaper out I found a park bench and opened the paper to page 8A, the same sheet Becka had cut. Pulling the folded section from my pocket, I laid it over the paper I’d just bought

  The articles included brief snippets about an indicted congressman, new proposed stalking laws, illegal dumping and an unidentified woman’s body discovered in Larkspur Lake. I got chills as I read the last article. Though there was no mention of sleeping pills found in the woman’s system, I had to wonder if Becka had an idea about what would happen to her. I cut the section out with the penknife on my keychain and slipped it in my pocket I’d have to see what Morton could find out about the woman who drowned. Becka might have just managed to lead us to her own killer.

  Chapter 7

  I had some time before I had to get back to open the candleshop, so I decided to try to see Cyrus again. Our earlier conversation had disturbed me greatly, and I wasn’t about to obey my friend’s wishes. Something was going on there, something that just didn’t feel right.

  I tried the doorknob when I got to his place, but it was locked this time. I rang the bell, and a few seconds later a large, heavy set man wearing a pair of dress pants and a Windbreaker answered the door.

  “Help you?” he asked gruffly.

  “I’m here to see Cyrus,” I said, trying to see past him inside the house.

  “He’s not accepting visitors,” the man said as he started to close the door.

  “I’m his friend. Tell him Harrison Black is here to see him.”

  The man said, ‘I’ve got orders about you in particular. You’re supposed to go away and not bother him anymore. Do you understand?”

  “Just who are you, anyway?”

  The man smiled grimly. “I’m the guy between you and this door. Now beat it,” he said, then slammed the door in my face.

  Why had Cyrus hired this bulldog to watch his front door? I couldn’t imagine anyone threatening him, but why else would he put such a formidable barrier up to visitors? I got in the truck and drove around the corner, then parked behind another vehicle that held ladders, buckets and other cleaning equipment That was one good thing about driving a pickup truck in neighborhoods like this one. I was usually mistaken for a craftsman at work catering to the needs of people who spent mote time behind their desks than they did in their homes. It was the modern, too-often told story of suburbia. Bored housewives and working-class folks inhabited those brightly decorated houses that felt empty nonetheless.

  I grabbed a clipboard from under the seat and shoved a pencil behind one ear. Markum had taught me that trick. With a clipboard in his hand and a worried look on his face, a man could go just about anywhere without anyone questioning him. I cut through a neighbor’s yard and made my way over to Cyrus’s house. There had to be something going on in there that someone didn’t want the world to know about

  The windows were dirty from accumulated grime. I pulled out my bandana handkerchief and tried to wipe away the dirt Was that a newly built ramp covering the steps going up from the sunken living room? Blast it all, I couldn’t see much of anything. I was still struggling to get a good look inside when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder.

  “You don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

  The clipboard fell out of my hand as I realized it was Cyrus’s personal Cerberus, diligently guarding the gate.

  “He’s my friend,” I protested.

  “And he’s my employer,” the man said as he started pushing me toward the front gate.

  “How’d you know I was here?” I asked.

  “There’s new security around the perimeter. I knew you were coming the second you stepped on his land. Don’t come back. I won’t be so easy on you next time.” He gave me a forced shove, and I nearly lost my balance as I stumbled forward. By the time I’d managed to right myself, I saw that I had crossed the property line. The goon retrieved the clipboard, studied it a moment, then threw it at my feet

  I thought about saying something, but I couldn’t think of anything appropriate that might help my case. Most likely he was under the impression that he’d won the war, but all I was willing to concede was a single battle. I’d be back—I wasn’t sure how yet—but I would slip past him and see my friend. I considered using some of Becka’s grand to buy my way past the bulldog, but it wouldn’t be fight when we’d earmarked that money for looking into Becka’s murder. Besides, I wanted to beat him fairly, not pay him off. I’d find a way, sooner or later.

  As I drove to At Wick’s End, I wondered exactly what had happened to Cyrus. Was he a prisoner to his fears, or was there something more ominous going on there?

  I got back to the candleshop and started on the daily preparations to open it. There was a knock on my door ten minutes till opening, but I’d learned not to ignore those summonses in the past. When I looked up, though, I was surprised to see that Heather was standing outside.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” I said as I opened the door for her.

  Instead of answering, she held up a bouquet of flowers arranged in a coffee cup. It was filled with muted shades of yellows and browns, and there was enough green finery in it to make the contrast apparent.

  “What’s with that?” I asked, pointing to the bouquet.

  “The
y’re for you,” she replied.

  “I didn’t know you cared.”

  “I didn’t buy them, you nit. The floral shop dropped them off with me when they saw you weren’t open yet.”

  I took the arrangement and said, “Thanks, I appreciate that”

  Heather said, “Aren’t you even going to read the card?”

  “Why, have you seen it already?”

  “I resent that Harrison. I would never do such a thing,” she added with a slight smile, “Besides, it was taped shut and I couldn’t figure out how to peek without you knowing it”

  I laughed, then said, “Thanks again.”

  “Okay, but don’t expect me to share the next juicy secret I uncover with you.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  The look of frustration from her denied curiosity as she left would have been worth the price of the bouquet if I’d sent it myself.

  I slit the envelope open and retrieved the card. “Thanks for sharing last night with me. Don’t worry, your secret is safe. Erin.” It was a sweet gesture, but I thanked the heavens above that I hadn’t read it in front of Heather. There were a thousand things she would have read into that message, and all of them would have been wrong. I put the flowers on the front counter, but tucked the card into my jeans pocket I wasn’t eager to have Eve quiz me, either.

  I called Erin’s number at work, and she picked up on the first ring. “Thanks for the flowers,” I said.

  “You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Why should I mind? I appreciate the gesture.”

  Erin sighed, then said, “As soon as I ordered them, I started having second thoughts. Most men would be embarrassed to get flowers.”

  “Well, I’m not one of them. I should have been the one to think of it, though. You did me a lot more good than I did you.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that, Harrison, I needed that talk myself. And I promise, I meant what I said. I’ll keep your secret”

  “I know you will.” A customer knocked on the door, and I glanced at my watch to see that I was thirty seconds past opening. “Listen, I’ve got an eager candle- maker dying to get in. I’ll talk to you later, but I wanted to say thank you.”

  “You’re most welcome,” Erin said.

  I hung up and unlocked the door. Before I could flip the sign from closed to open, the man bolted inside.

  “May I help you?’ I asked.

  “I need mold release. I thought I had enough, but I ran out in the middle of a pour.”

  “You didn’t leave the heat on your wax, did you?” I asked as I led him to the spray releases.

  “Of course hot. What do you think I am, an amateur? I’ll take two cans.”

  I rang up the sale, put his purchases in the bag, then handed it to him. “Thanks for coming by.”

  He raced for the door. “I don’t have much choice, do I? You’re the only game in town.”

  It was customers like that that made me sometimes wish that Belle had left me an emerald mine instead of a candleshop. Mostly, though, I loved the people who shopped At Wick’s End.

  After he was gone, I looked though the mail and saw a letter from Gary Cragg. He was my attorney of record for River’s Edge. The only advantage of having him was his proximity; it was also the biggest disadvantage of the arrangement. I put the letter under the stack of others I had to read and left them on my desk. I’d look through them later. At least there shouldn’t be any bills there. They went straight to my accountant, an organized woman named Ann Marie who handled the lion’s share of my paperwork for me.

  I was just finishing up with another customer when Millie came in carrying a basket of something that smelled like ambrosia. I quickly bagged the woman’s purchases and nearly shoved her out the door.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “Harrison, I was wondering if you’d mind tasting a new recipe for me.”

  “Let me grab some cold milk and I’ll get right on it. What did you make?”

  She pulled the cloth aside and I saw some golden brown muffins. “They have orange slices in them. Try one.”

  I took a bite, then another, and then the entire muffin was gone. “Wow. Was that nutmeg mixed in with the cinnamon?”

  “You’re developing quite a palette for baking, aren’t you?”

  “Hey, as long as you’re willing to keep trying new recipes, I’ll taste them for you. This batch is a keeper.”

  “Pooh, I’m beginning to think you’re getting too lax. You like everything I bake.”

  I grinned. “Hey, it’s not my fault. If you want a harsh critic, Eve should be here any minute.”

  “No thanks, I’ll stick with your evaluation. Have you decided what you’re going to do about Heather and Sanora?”

  They were two of my tenants and also my friends. The women had forged a truce the last I’d heard, but I hadn’t been at River’s Edge as much as I should have been lately. “What’s going on with them?”

  “They’re both threatening to leave,” she said simply. I felt my heart plunge into an ice water bath. “Wait a second. What about their leases? They’ve both committed to River’s Edge.”

  Millie frowned. “Do you mean to tell me Gary Cragg hasn’t spoken with you yet?”

  “About what?” Despite how good that orange slice muffin had been, it suddenly lay in my stomach like concrete.

  “He should be the one to tell you. I might get some of the details wrong.”

  “Come on, Millie, don’t do this to me.”

  She sighed, then said, “Oh, all right, I suppose you have to hear about it sooner or later. According to our lease agreements, any of us can leave River’s Edge up to six months after Belle’s death. It’s been nearly that, and Sanora and Heather are saying that one of them is going to have to go. I’m just afraid you’re going to lose them both.”

  I couldn’t stand the thought of my River’s Edge family breaking up. “What about you? Are you going to bail out on me, too?”

  She frowned. “Harrison Black, you know me better than that. Unless you double my rent, I’m staying.”

  “What about the rest of the tenants? Come on, Millie, this is no time to be coy. I know everybody in the complex talks to you about everything.”

  ‘I’d be offended if I could manage to be convincing. Yes, several folks have already talked to me about the situation.”

  “So who can I count on, and who’s going to leave?”

  She said, “Cragg will stay, he’s got a fondness for this place, despite how he acts sometimes. I’m here, Suzanne Gladstone’s not taking her antique shop anywhere, and you know Markum will stay. The rest are mostly in favor .of continuing on, but I’m afraid you’re going to lose Heather or Sanora, if not the both of them.”

  “Blast it all, I thought we got past that”

  Millie shrugged. “Sorry to bring bad news to you. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”

  “You could broker peace between them,” I said.

  “Anything but that,” she said.

  “Coward,” I said, smiling.

  “I won’t deny it I’d better get back to my café. See you later, Harrison.”

  “Bye, Millie, and thanks for the snack.”

  “You’re most welcome.”

  I tried to call Cragg, but either he wasn’t answering his telephone or he was out I dug through the stack of letters on my desk and found the one from him.

  I ripped it open and read his brief missive. Millie had stated it clearly enough. I was in danger of losing every tenant I had at River’s Edge.

  As soon as Eve walked in the door, I said, “Good, you’re here. I’ve got to take care of some things.”

  “Harrison, are you meddling in Becka’s death? Need I remind you that you have a business to run?”

  “This is business,” I said. “I just read Gary Cragg’s letter, and I’ve got to stop Heather and Sanora from moving out”

  After I explained the details of the leases with her, she asked, “Well, t
hen why are you standing here? Go speak with them before they both do something you’ll regret”

  Eve wasn’t a big fan of Sanora’s, but she and Heather got along fine. Still, she knew as well as I did that River’s Edge just barely hung on with full occupancy. Losing two major tenants could be enough to drive me into foreclosure if I couldn’t make that monthly mortgage payment

  It was time to see if I could convince them both to stay without resorting to blackmail or threats, though if I had to, I wouldn’t hold back.

  Not if it meant keeping River’s Edge.

  Chapter 8

  I wanted to talk to Cragg before I approached either woman, so I hustled up the stairs hoping he’d been screening his calls. He was the only attorney I’d ever heard of who didn’t have a secretary/receptionist working the front Knowing how cheap Cragg was, though, it didn’t surprise me.

  He was in his office sitting behind his desk, wading through a stack of papers.

  “I just called you,” I said.

  “I chose to ignore it much as you’ve been ignoring my requests for a meeting lately.”

  “In case you hadn’t heard, I’ve kind of been busy, finding old friends dead and things like that.” The two of us had gotten off on the wrong foot from the first day we’d met and our relationship had soured even further since then. If there was one tenant bolting from River’s Edge, I wouldn’t have shed many tears for Cragg’s departure.

  His perennially dour expression softened for a moment. “I was sorry to hear about your friend.”

  “Thanks,” I grunted, not really caring for the man’s stab at sympathy. “About this letter,” I said, waving it in the air.

  “I’m familiar with its contents, since I wrote it myself. Harrison, I’m afraid your great-aunt should never have trusted such an incompetent lawyer to draft those leases.”

  “I’m sure she had her reasons,” I said. There was no use discussing it with him. “The question is what are we going to do about it now?”

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing that can be done. You’re going to have to go to each tenant and have every last one of them sign new lease agreements.” He slid a stack of papers off one corner of his desk and handed them to me. “You’ll see that I’ve already taken the liberty to sign mine.”