The Book of Candlelight

by Ellery Adams

  “I think Lou lied to me when she said that she’s never heard of him, so I was going to ask Patty next. I stopped by the inn on my way to Hester’s, but Patty and Lou were too upset about Micah to see me.” She filled June in on the details. “Once Micah is found, I’ll go back over. I want to find out if Lou and Patty bought the pottery outright or if they came by it another way.”

  “Like they struck some kind of deal with Danny?”

  The Bronco dipped into a deep pothole on the gravel road leading to Danny and Marie’s house. Nora waited for the truck to stop rolling like a boat in a storm before responding. “I’m hoping Marie can answer that one. If she feels up to talking.”

  “If she doesn’t, we won’t push her,” June said firmly. “She’s not in any shape to go through your Jessica Fletcher treatment.”

  “Me, as Jessica Fletcher? I take that as a compliment. Murder, She Wrote was one of the best television shows ever made.”

  June dismissed this remark with a flick of the wrist. “That old bat can’t hold a candle to my Luther. I’ll take Idris Elba over Angela Lansbury any day.”

  At Marie’s house, June parked the Bronco as close to the road as she could. “That drop makes me nervous,” she said as she gathered up the gift basket.

  Nora looped the tote bag over her arm and rang the doorbell.

  It took over a minute for Marie to respond. Finally, Nora and June heard a click of a deadbolt. The door was cracked open and Marie’s wan face peered out at them.

  “Hi,” said Nora. “I hope you’re up to visitors. We brought you a few things.”

  Marie opened the door a little wider. Her movements were listless, and her expression was blank.

  Nora placed the tote bag on the kitchen counter and gestured for June to leave the basket there as well.

  “You look like you’ve been eating,” Nora said to Marie. “That’s good.”

  Marie’s hand fluttered to her stomach. “Only because of her. I want her to be healthy.”

  After introducing herself, June gestured at the gift basket. “That’s full of stuff to help you with that.”

  Marie nodded. She made no move to come into the kitchen. She stood in the hallway, her arms crossed over her middle.

  “Marie, I saw some of Danny’s pieces at an inn in town. Could we sit down and talk about them? I could make coffee first if you’d like.”

  “No coffee. Herbal tea is better for the baby.”

  June smiled. “I’ll make it. You two go on and get settled.”

  In the living room, Nora was amazed by the view all over again. Dust motes danced in the bars of light streaming through the windows and everything in the room seemed infused with a golden glow.

  “Have you ever been scared?” she asked. “Living on the edge like this?”

  Marie shook her head. “The posts are buried real deep. And sunk in concrete. If they give way and the house drops down into the trees—I’d be fine with that.”

  Nora didn’t want Marie to be pulled under by her grief. Not yet. She was being selfish, she knew, but she needed to understand the connection between Danny and Patty and Lou. At first, she’d wanted the answers to these questions for her own sake. But now, she wanted them for Marie even more.

  “I’ve been learning a bit about traditional Cherokee art,” she said, and saw a glimmer of interest in Marie’s eyes. “I watched a video of a Cherokee woman working a loom. She was making a blanket. While I watched, I thought of how different the blanket would look without one of its colors. Like blue. The pattern wouldn’t make sense without the blue. That’s how I feel about your husband’s passing. Something is missing. Something that keeps us from seeing the pattern.”

  “The sheriff calls every day,” Marie said in a near whisper. “He says that he’s still working on the case, but there isn’t any news right now. I think he’s giving up. Everyone is. Except me.”

  Nora was stunned. “Did you tell the sheriff about the blackware? Or about how much Danny’s traditional pieces are worth?”

  Marie nodded.

  “I searched around online, looking for pieces like the ones I saw at the Inn of Mist and Roses. Have you ever heard of the inn? Or of the owners? Patty and Lou?” Nora was talking too quickly. She was also invading Marie’s personal space. Marie shrank back.

  “Teatime,” June announced, placing a tray with three cups of tea and a plate of Hester’s honey buns on the coffee table.

  Nora shot June a grateful glance. She moved away from Marie and quietly sipped her tea. June followed suit.

  Marie didn’t reach for her teacup. She stared out the window, her forehead furrowed in concentration. She was deep in her mental file cabinet, sifting through conversations and images.

  Slowly, she turned to Nora. “Can you describe the pieces at the inn?”

  “I can do better than that.” Nora took out her phone and put it on the coffee table. A blackware vase filled the screen. “These aren’t Danny’s, but I found photos of pieces that looked like the ones I saw at the inn. Keep swiping to the left to see the rest of them.”

  Marie moved through the photos quickly. “It’s been years since Danny made those shapes. But a few weeks before . . . he . . .” Unable to complete the thought, she moved on. “We were in his studio and he was unwrapping some of his older pieces.” She pointed at Nora’s phone. “They looked just like those.”

  “Go on,” Nora gently prodded.

  “After they were unwrapped, Danny made notes in his inventory book,” Marie continued. “When I asked if he’d sold the pieces, he said he expected to sell them soon. To someone he’d met at the flea market. I don’t understand why he packed them all in his truck that . . . that morning. Was he trying to sell them that day? If so, why? And why meet at Cherokee Rock? Who was the buyer?”

  Patty or Lou, Nora thought.

  “Did you always work the flea market together? If the two ladies from the inn spoke to Danny, would you remember them?”

  Marie shrugged. “I wasn’t always there. I volunteer at a soup kitchen two Saturdays a month. I help with their baking.”

  June told Marie about her experience working in a homeless shelter in New York while Nora considered who else might have seen Lou or Patty talking to Danny. Another vendor? Beatrice?

  She carried her teacup into the kitchen and washed it. Her phone, which she’d put back in her pocket, buzzed to tell her that she had a new message. Because she needed to be sure that all was well at Miracle Books, she read the text.

  The message from Sheldon had nothing to do with the bookshop. It was a grainy photo, taken in dim light. Nora squinted at it but didn’t recognize it as the bookstore. A second message popped up. Sheldon’s text read, Patty sent me the pic. They just pulled down the library shelves and found a secret door where the shelves were. Behind the door is a ladder going to the second floor. Do you see the carving on the wall?

  Nora moved closer to the sink and tilted the phone to let the natural light fall on the screen. She studied the image again. A wood panel—the door—had been pushed inward to reveal an opening in the wall. It wasn’t as wide as a regular doorway. In fact, it was quite narrow. A person could squeeze through, but not easily.

  “What carving?” she murmured, zooming in. The more she zoomed, the fuzzier the image became. She saved the photo to her camera roll and used a brightening filter to banish some of the shadows. A ribbon of sunlight fell across her screen and, for a second, she thought she saw a shape etched into the hidden wall.

  A bird.

  Nora returned to the living room and held up her hand, signaling for June to stop talking.

  “Could there be a connection between Danny, or Danny’s family, to the inn?” Nora asked Marie. “It’s an old building.”

  Marie was baffled. “I don’t even know which inn you’re talking about. There are three or four in town.” Her voice turned shrill. “Why are you asking? What’s this about?”

  Nora sat down next to Marie. “The house—which
is now the inn—has secret hiding places and passageways. This morning, one of the library bookcases, which wasn’t original to the house, was pulled down. Behind a door made to look like part of the wall, they found a narrow space with a ladder going upstairs. This was carved into the wall of that space.”

  She showed Marie the image, zooming in on the bird. The second Marie saw it, she reeled back like a rabbit dodging a snake strike.

  “That’s Danny’s bird. His mama and grandma’s bird.” Marie’s stare was accusatory. “It’s the same bird someone painted on Cherokee Rock. What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Nora said. “I wish I did. But there must be more to this bird than a family nickname. When I get back to the shop, I’ll research the inn. There must be a clue somewhere that can explain why a symbol used by your husband’s family marks a secret ladder leading to the second floor. Who used that ladder? Why was it hidden?”

  Marie stared out the window again. She was shutting down. June shot Nora a warning look.

  Taking Marie’s hand, Nora said, “This is a lot to take in at once. It must feel like it’s crushing you. Don’t let it. Help me figure this out.”

  Marie met her eyes.

  Nora took this as a sign of assent. “Can you try to search for a link between Danny’s people and that house? A scrapbook, a pile of letters, a diary? Even if you have to ask his family members, will you do it?”

  “I’ll try,” Marie whispered.

  “You’re stronger than you think,” June said. She walked over to the sofa and wrapped her arms around Marie. Marie let out a little sigh and hugged June back.

  June held her for a long time. She then squeezed Marie’s shoulder and said, “Take care of yourself. We’ll see you soon.”

  When she and June were back in the car, Nora said, “I want to stop by that rock on the way home.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” June glanced in the rearview mirror as if she could see Danny and Marie’s house behind them. “I feel like I need to stand where Danny stood. Maybe I just want to tell him not to worry because we’ll be looking in on his wife.”

  Nora held on to the ridiculous hope that June would notice something everyone else had missed. She was good at that. She was amazing at reading people. Occasionally, she caught a vibe about places too.

  “I’m going to call Sheldon and the sheriff on the way,” Nora said, taking her phone out. “I can’t just show up at the inn and demand answers from Patty and Lou. I’ll have to leave that to McCabe.”

  Sheldon answered Nora’s call right away. He told her that everything was peachy keen and that she didn’t need to rush back. Relieved, Nora raised the subject of the secret space.

  “Were you there when they found it?”

  “No. I was on my way to work.” Sheldon sighed happily. “Lawd, it feels good to say that. I feel like a normal, functioning adult.”

  Nora told him that she hoped he’d never be normal. Then, before he could go off on a tangent, she asked, “How do Patty and Lou feel about the discovery?”

  “The ladder led to Patty’s room. Hers is the one overlooking the garden. She never saw the trap door in her closet because it’s pretty dark in there. Anyway, it gave them something else to think about for a bit. They’re really worried about Micah.”

  Nora’s stomach twisted. What was Micah’s story, anyway? Was he truly a naturalist taking a very long hike or was he running from something? The Trail had always been a place where people could drop off the radar for months. Or forever, if that’s what they wanted.

  “I’m sorry that he hasn’t been found yet,” she said. “Did you get to know him at all?”

  “Not really. He seemed like a good kid. He was quiet and polite. Very introspective for his age. The books he left behind were all philosophy books. I think he wanted to find his way in the world by getting lost in the wilderness. A male version of Cheryl Strayed’s Wild.”

  “Was Micah an experienced hiker?”

  Sheldon said that he had no idea and that he had to run because a customer needed his help.

  Nora called the sheriff next. His cell phone rang and rang, so she disconnected the call and dialed the station. The desk sergeant informed her that Sheriff McCabe was tied up and put her through to his voicemail. After leaving a brief message about the value of Danny’s blackware pottery as well as the discovery of the bird scratched into the inn’s hidden wall, Nora hung up.

  “He’s not there,” she told June. “He might have joined the search for Micah, the missing hiker.”

  “Or he’s looking for the creep in the white T-shirt,” June said, turning onto the road leading to Cherokee Rock.

  Nora remembered the way the man had stared at her through the rain. The rigidness of his body. The intensity of his gaze. She felt a sudden chill. It was the same sensation she’d felt the night she’d seen him standing across the street from the diner. The air above her missing pinkie finger had vibrated then. It was vibrating again now like the silent thrum of a rattler’s tail. Like a whispered phrase.

  Get away. Get away.

  Covering her right hand with her left, Nora wondered if there was a clue at Cherokee Rock. Something they’d all missed. A line to help connect the dots.

  She hurried over to the cliff face and stared at the pictographs for a long time. They told her nothing. Next, she examined the much newer, much more vibrant painting of the red bird.

  “Whoever did this is a good artist,” June said, coming to stand next to Nora. “It can’t be easy to make a thin line with spray paint.”

  “It’s not hard. There are step-by-step instructions on YouTube on how to make a skinny needle cap for a standard spray paint can. I looked it up after I saw a bottle of Cardinal Red spray paint in the hardware shop.”

  June reached out to touch the bird. “Do you think the person who bought that red paint made this?”

  Looking at the bird, at the proud tilt of its beak, its bright plumage, and the spark of life represented by a dot of white paint in the center of its black eye, Nora wasn’t sure. “I saw the paint on the brick thrown through my window. I’d swear that it was the same shade used on your house. And to make this bird. They were all done in Cardinal Red.”

  June covered her mouth with her hand as she took all of this in.

  “The man in the white T-shirt,” she whispered, as if mentioning him too loudly might make him appear. “Could he be Danny’s killer?”

  “According to a flea market vendor, Danny was meeting with a woman. White T-shirt could have an accomplice, but what’s his motive? Why kill Danny? Why bully us? There’s no profit in these acts. So what does this man want? Fame?”

  June grunted. “I hate to say this, but Danny’s death is yesterday’s news. By now, there’s a fresh batch of shock and awe stories in the paper. If the killer wants celebrity status, he’d use social media. It’s worth mentioning that idea to the sheriff.”

  Though it was time to get back to the bookstore, Nora was reluctant to leave. She and June were alone in the peaceful place. The soft rustle of leaves in the woods surrounded them. Birds and squirrels moved in the tree branches. Beyond the trees, Nora could hear the rhythmic rush of the river.

  The river.

  Nora thought of how Danny’s body had floated in the same river.

  If I look at it now, without the muck and debris, would that help me see Danny as he was at the flea market? Would I see his smile or how lovingly he gazed at his wife?

  Nora started walking toward the river. June followed her.

  Green had invaded the forest. The leaves on the hardwood trees were grasshopper-green. The pine needles were a dark emerald. The immature cones looked like prickly pears. Weeds rose from the soil like crocodile heads breaking the water’s surface. Even the light filtering through the trees was tinged with a lime hue.

  Because she was enveloped in green, Nora didn’t notice the olive-green backpack off to her right. She was too focused on the river, too lost in the vision of D
anny being carried away in its watery arms.

  “Nora.”

  June’s voice wasn’t the mountain cold of river water. It was sepulcher cold.

  Nora turned toward her friend. Which is when she saw the backpack. A black hoodie covered in leaves. A hiking boot pointing skyward.

  Finally, she saw the hand.

  The fingers were curled into stiff commas. Ants paraded over the dirty skin. A centipede crawled across the compass tattoo.

  Nora closed her eyes, but the darkness behind her lids couldn’t erase what she’d seen. The image had been burned into her retinas.

  That rigid hand.

  That tattooed wrist.

  They’d found Micah.

  Chapter 14

  Stand at the top of a cliff and jump off and build your wings on the way down.

  —Ray Bradbury

  June called 911. Though Nora heard her friend speak, the words didn’t penetrate the bubble of shock enveloping her. She stood completely still, staring down at Micah’s body.

  He was on his back. His torso, legs, and face were covered by leaves and pine needles. It was clear that someone had tried to bury him under a layer of leaves, scooping them from around his body and piling them over him. But errant winds had swept down from the mountain, shifting the leaves and exposing Micah’s boots and backpack. And his right hand.

  His resting place was the base of an enormous tulip poplar. The lichen-covered trunk was as wide as Nora was tall. It grew straight and proud, like a soldier at attention, and was crowned with dense, light-dappled branches. The yellow-green flowers nestled among the leaves were just beginning to open. Soon, blooms shaped like tulips would cover the entire tree.

  Nora wondered if Micah had looked up at the beautiful canopy before he died. She hoped that he’d seen the sun shining through the leaves before the darkness came. She hoped that he hadn’t been afraid.

  Despite the sunshine, Nora felt chilled. She crossed her arms over her chest and shuddered.

  Suddenly, June was there. She put an arm around Nora’s shoulder and leaned over until her cheek rested against Nora’s cheek. June’s skin was warm. Nora smelled her coconut lotion and drew comfort from her familiar scent.