by Tim Myers
“You don’t believe that any more than I do,” I said. “There’s no way this could be random, not with what happened in Belle’s apartment. Besides, who carries bolt cutters around with them on the off chance they’ll be able to use them?”
“There are odd powers at work here, Harrison. It would be in your best interest to keep your eyes open and your back protected.”
I asked softly, “Pearly, is there something you know that you’re not telling me?”
“Nothing concrete, Harrison, but I suspect we’re not done with this, and I’ve learned to trust my instincts over the years.”
After the handyman was gone, I decided to see what was keeping Eve so enthralled back in the storeroom. “Everything under control back here?” I asked.
“We’ll need to reorder our sheet wax kits, Mrs. Jorgenson nearly wiped us out. Is Pearly gone?”
I nodded. “Listen, I’ve been thinking about it. If you honestly think I cheated Mrs. Jorgenson on her lesson, I’d be happy to give her a rebate the next time she comes in.”
She shook her head. “No, I overreacted. Belle was always chastising me for looking out for the customer more than I did the shop. It is a business, after all, and we must run at a profit if we want to continue. I believe you charged just the right amount, Harrison. I’m certain Belle would have approved.”
“Okay, we’re set then. And now we have a fee schedule for private lessons, if it should ever come up again.”
Eve laughed. “Oh, I doubt we’ll get many Mrs. Jorgensons. They are a rarity in our circles.”
“Hey, we never thought we’d get one, remember?” My stomach rumbled, and I said, “Do you want to go to lunch first, or should I?”
She glanced at her watch. “You go. I like eating later, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Good enough. I’ll see you in a little bit.”
I headed over to Millie’s and picked up a sandwich and a Coke to go. I wasn’t in the mood for company after the morning I’d had. The lesson had gone well with Mrs. Jorgenson, and my meeting with Ann Marie had been quite illuminating, but I just wanted to be by myself, if only for a half an hour or so. I was discovering that part of owning a store was the fact that the store owned part of me. As soon as Eve went back to her regular hours, I’d be tied to it as if I had a toddler of my own, and I wasn’t sure I liked that feeling.
Pearly was in Millie’s standing near the counter, and I nodded to him as I placed my order. I half expected him to say something else about the trouble at River’s Edge, but one look into his eyes told me that he was in no more of a mood to discuss it than I was. As Millie started making my sandwich, Pearly said, “I was just sharing with Millie news of my recent day trip to the dog park to wager on a few of the tail-waggers with a lady friend from Charlotte. On the tour bus, I spent most of the ride enjoying myself analyzing the folks there from Micah’s Ridge. You wouldn’t believe it, it was like a roster of Who’s Who in local society. The mayor was there, Lucas Young sitting right beside him, why, I even saw Clara Ridgway from the Junior League pretending she was going to visit a cousin I know for a fact she doesn’t have. Watching them squirm was more fun than the gambling.” It was obvious he was trying to lighten the mood, but I wasn’t interested. I had too much on my mind.
Millie returned with my sandwich, and Pearly said, “Care to join me, Harrison? I’m getting ready to order myself.”
“Thanks, but I’m going to take advantage of this day while I can.”
I took the sandwich and started for the steps that led to the water, but it was too close to River’s Edge, and for once I just wanted to get away from the complex. I walked along the riverbank for ten minutes until I got to a spot that offered an uninterrupted view of the water and was away from the highway as well. A torn section of newspaper skittered in the wind close enough for me to grab it as I sat, and as I ate, I perused the old headlines, reading the story of the robbery/murder that had Micah’s Ridge in such an uproar.
It seemed a thief had entered Bleeker Jewelers just after they opened for business that morning. The thief must have known enough to steal the videotape from the security camera along with a great many diamonds, so the police initially thought it might be a disgruntled former employee who knew about the security system. Bleeker’s was a family operation, though, and the few employees outside the family had solid alibis. No one knew why the thief had turned murderer. Bleeker had gone against his own policy and had opened the store that day by himself. He’d always told his employees that if a robber came in not to be a hero; jewels could be replaced, lives could not. It was a pity the man had ignored his own advice.
I crumpled the paper up and tossed it into my now empty lunch bag, wondering what could drive someone to commit murder.
Then I started thinking about Belle, and I was more confused than ever. Certainly she wasn’t the easiest woman in the world to get along with at times, there was too much salt and vinegar in her, but could someone have possibly been driven to murder her? Could it have been another theft gone bad, like the jewelry store? One look at the meager till of At Wick’s End would cancel that notion, unless someone thought a candlemaking shop took in a great deal more than it did. That started me thinking about the break-in of the truck. Was there any way the theft of the cash from my Saturday deposit was tied into Belle’s death? No, it was probably just my boneheadedness that had led to that particular crime. So if Belle hadn’t been killed for money or passion, why had she been murdered? Did she know something she shouldn’t have? What in the world could that crusty old lady know that might get her killed?
I was no closer to an answer when I finished my meal than I had been from the start. A quick glance at my watch showed that I’d overstayed my lunch hour by ten minutes. As I gathered up my trash and headed back, I smiled when I realized no one would be able to dock my wages but me.
Lucas Young was there waiting for me at the candle shop when I got back.
“What brings you to At Wick’s End?” I asked.
“This isn’t a business call. I just wanted to see how you were settling in. Are there any problems with the store, or the building itself, for that matter?”
I wasn’t about to admit the cash theft, not directly, at any rate. There was no need to mention the additional break-ins, either. Frankly, I didn’t want the word getting around Micah’s Ridge that bad things were happening at River’s Edge. “We’ve had a few bumps in the road, but things are settling down now.”
“Good to know. Well, if you need an ear to bend, I’m available.”
I shook his hand. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”
Belle certainly did have a way with people. I didn’t know many lawyers willing to make house calls just to check in like that. It was more a testament to her life than any eulogy could have been.
The rest of the day was fairly quiet, with a steady stream of customers interspersed with lulls that allowed me to clean up the classroom. Mrs. Jorgenson had left quite a wake of discarded wax from her lesson. Worse yet, some of it had hit the floor and had been stepped on, making it a pain to remove. I was suddenly happy with the high rates I’d charged her as I scraped fragments off the floor with a putty knife.
Eve left a few minutes early to go by the bank in order to cash her paycheck, and I decided to close the store myself and join her.
“Where are you going?” she asked me as I followed her to the door.
“I thought I’d go by the bank too.”
Eve said, “Harrison, we are open till six. Our customers rely on that.”
“Come on, nobody’s going to have a candlemaking emergency,” I said. “What chance is there that a few minutes is really going to matter?”
“If you insist, I’ll stay and you can go.”
She was worse than my mother when it came to guilt. “No, I had plenty of time to go at lunch. I’ll go tomorrow. I still think we’d be safe shutting down early.”
Before the last word was out of my mouth, the door chime
d and an older woman with the most marvelous silver hair hurried in. “I’m making a centerpiece for my party and I ran out of wax,” she said, nearly out of breath. “Thank goodness you’re still here.”
Eve buried her gloating enough to wave good-bye as I waited on our last customer of the day. I should have gone to the bank earlier, but I’d forgotten all about it. That meant canned soup and another sandwich for dinner.
Tomorrow, I promised myself, I’d make it a point to cash my check so I could stock my larder upstairs. As much as I enjoyed Millie’s food, eating at The Crocked Pot would bankrupt me before long.
I finished the deposit slip after ringing up the centerpiece emergency and did a quick check of the inventory levels. We were going to have to order soon, and I didn’t have a clue how to go about it. I made a note to ask Eve about the process in the morning, my list of questions for her growing instead of shrinking. I didn’t have the slightest idea how I’d manage without her once she went back to her regular hours.
That evening, I had just finished eating my soup and sandwich in my apartment when there was a knock at my door. I peered through the peephole and found Heather on the other side.
“It’s too late to invite me out,” I said with a grin as I opened the door, “I just finished eating.”
The levity left me the second I saw the expression on her face. “What’s wrong, Heather?”
She held fiercely to a tabby cat as she said, “My mom’s in the hospital, and I’ve got to go be with her. Harrison, I need a huge favor.”
“Anything,” I said before I noticed the litter box and carrier off to one side.
“Can you watch Esmeralda for me while I’m gone? My dad can’t tolerate cats. I don’t know what I’m going to do. Mrs. Quimby can’t take her, her husband’s deathly allergic. You aren’t, are you? My friend Sally was going to watch her for me, but she’s out of town on a photo shoot.”
“Is she a model,” I asked, trying to buy some time to deal with Heather’s request.
“No, she’s a photographer, one of the best around here. I know I’m babbling, but I’m worried about my mother. So could you? Please?” Heather looked as if she was on the brink of breaking into tears.
What was one night? “Okay, I’ll do it.”
The relief on her face was instantaneous. “What a relief. Thank you, Harrison, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t said yes. I don’t know when I’ll be back,” she added as she thrust Esmeralda into my arms. The cat had other ideas, executing a remarkable spin that would have done an Olympic diver proud, then scampered into my apartment.
“She feels at home here. Belle used to keep her for me now and then.” Heather added, “She won’t be any trouble at all, I promise. I fed her a few minutes ago. Oh, dear, do you know about litter boxes?”
“Don’t worry about Esmeralda, my girlfriend in college had a cat, so I know what to do.” I didn’t add the fact that Janie’s cat Mr. Fluffy had hated me from the beginning, jealous of my presence and the attention I diverted from him. I had known better than to give her an ultimatum. We were clearly through, but before I could break it off, she dumped me. It appeared that Mr. Fluffy was the only male in her life, and I wasn’t even in the running for second place.
“This is so wonderful of you,” Heather said.
A thought suddenly occurred to me. “Who’s going to run your store while you’re gone?”
“Mrs. Quimby’s going to do it. Don’t worry, she’s got all of that covered. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Heather reached up and kissed me on the cheek, then hurried away before I had a chance to change my mind.
It took me ten minutes to find Esmeralda once Heather was gone. I finally found her on the bookshelf, curled up in front of Belle’s Agatha Christie collection. I spoke with her a few minutes, offered my hand, then tried to stroke her, but she was in no mood to be social. That suited me fine. I’d feed her, even change her litter box, but that was going to be the extent of it.
After rinsing my bowl, I picked my book up and started back in on it. Dame Agatha was as mesmerizing as ever, and I wanted to get back to her tale.
Fifteen minutes later I heard a soft thump on the hardwood floor. I pretended to ignore the sound, watching Esmeralda out of the corner of my eye as she slowly stalked toward me. After sniffing the air, she pounced on the couch beside me, then somehow managed to slide up under my book without the slightest bit of noticeable effort. It was almost as if my temporary roommate had been born without bones.
I started to stroke her fur, but she moved away before I could manage it. This relationship wasn’t going to be any easier than the one I’d had with Mr. Fluffy.
Reading wasn’t possible with the cat on my chest, and Esmeralda was in no mood to just hang out with me. I was tired anyway. It had been a big day. Heather had supplied a cat bed, so I laid it out in the living room, then went into the bedroom and closed the door. Two minutes after I shut the door, there was the most pitiful mewling outside.
“Go to sleep,” I said through the wood, but the noise just grew louder.
“All right, you win. You can have your bed in here.” It appeared that it was the only way I was going to get any sleep. Esmeralda seemed pitifully grateful when I opened the door. She circled the room while I brought her bed in and put it at the foot of mine. As she settled in for the night, I turned off the light and tried to put aside the thoughts scrambling through my mind. The same time last week I’d been in an entirely different job and apartment, my great-aunt Belle was still alive, and I hadn’t been around a cat for a dozen years. It was ironic that I’d been looking for a change in my life not all that long ago.
It was a perfect example of being careful what you wished for; it just might come true.
Chapter 11
I woke up the next morning with an anvil on my chest. At least that’s what it felt like to me. It took me a few seconds to realize that sometime during the night Esmeralda had moved from her bed to mine. Evidently the mattress had been too soft for her.
“Okay, rise and shine,” I said as I gently lifted her off me. There are ways to hold a cat, and then there are ways to lose a hand. Janie had taught me how to hold Mr. Fluffy, though he’d been indignant about the whole procedure. Sometime during the night Esmeralda had accepted me as a surrogate, so she appeared to put up with my clumsy movements. Any port in the storm, I guessed, even for a cat.
Esmeralda studied me as I got dressed and ate breakfast. I tried to offer her food, but she insisted on observing me instead of eating. I couldn’t imagine what she found all that fascinating.
I was still wondering what to do with her, whether to banish her to the bathroom or try to take her to the candle shop with me when there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find a sprightly little woman who immediately identified herself as Mrs. Quimby. She scooped Esmeralda up as the cat trotted over to her.
“Hello, princess,” she said to the cat before she had another word for me. “Heather asked me to collect her majesty, I hope you don’t mind. Esmeralda here is a fierce watch-cat for The New Age.” She made eye contact with me as she added, “My Herbert is deathly allergic, else the princess would have spent the night with me. Did you two get along all right?”
“We did fine,” I said. “Have you spoken to Heather this morning?”
“Oh my, yes. She knows I keep an insomniac’s hours, late to bed and early to rise. Honestly, I just don’t seem to sleep much anymore. Be happy for the hours of peaceful slumber you get, young man, they are a true gift from above.”
“How is her mother doing,” I asked.
“Much better. Heather’s hoping to be back here by tomorrow night.”
It appeared Esmeralda and I would be roomies for at least one more night then. “Good enough. Do you want to drop her off here after you close the shop? I’ve got some errands to run, but I should be back by seven.” The New Age ran odder hours than At Wick’s End, open on a schedule I couldn’t figure out even after study
ing the posted times on the door.
“That would be lovely,” Mrs. Quimby said. “It will give the princess and me time to commune.”
“Don’t let me keep you,” I said as I led them out the door. “Do you need the litter box?”
“Gracious no, the shop’s got duplicates of everything. Haven’t you been in yet?”
I admitted I hadn’t had the opportunity. “Things have been kind of hectic lately.”
“Oh, you owe yourself a visit. Heather has the most remarkable stock in her inventory.”
“I don’t doubt that for a minute.”
As we split and went in different directions, Esmeralda looked back at me, almost as if to say, ‘so this is how it’s going to be.’ I offered a shrug and a wave. If she was upset about my informal farewell, I couldn’t tell. But then I’d never been able to decipher the motives of any cat I’d known in my entire life.
Cragg, the attorney from upstairs, was in The Crocked Pot when I stopped in to grab a cup of coffee from Millie before heading over to the candle shop.
Cragg said grimly, “Harrison, I’d like a word with you.”
“I need to get to my shop,” I said as I gratefully took the cup Millie offered. She’d already learned my preferences and catered to them without being asked. It felt good being one of her regulars.
“I’ll make it brief,” he said, “but it is important.”
Blast it all, I couldn’t avoid the man, I was his landlord. “What can I do for you?” I asked as politely as I could manage, taking a sip of my coffee.
“I want to apologize for the way I acted before. I can be too aggressive for my own good sometimes, I realize that about myself. I shouldn’t have pushed you like I did.”
“No blood, no foul,” I said. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t help you.”
