At Wick's End (Book 1 in the Candlemaking Mysteries) (9 page)

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Authors: Tim Myers

Tags: #at wicks end, #candlemaking, #cozy, #crafts, #harrison black, #mystery, #north carolina, #tim myers, #traditional

BOOK: At Wick's End (Book 1 in the Candlemaking Mysteries)
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More than you’ll ever
know,” Eve said.

I started 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.

He started to pick up another letter and I
stood up. “Listen, I don’t have all night. We can talk some other
time.”

Cragg reluctantly put the letter down and
said, “Stay. This can wait.” He leaned back in his leather chair
and said, “Harrison, I know inheriting this white elephant from
your aunt was more than you bargained for.”


She was my great-aunt, and
yes, I was surprised when I found out she’d left all of River’s
Edge to me.”

Cragg nodded. “Exactly. Now this
establishment was a fine match for Mrs. Black, but you’re a
relatively young man with his life still ahead of him. You surely
don’t want to be burdened by the arduous task of running this
building. The tenants are, as kindly as I can put it, all rather
eccentric. Therefore,” he said as he leaned forward and held up a
document from his desktop, “I’m willing to offer you a considerable
sum to alleviate all of your problems immediately. Sign this, and
you’ll have more money than you would have cleared in five years
selling those second-rate computers you’ve been peddling.”


But this place is
mortgaged to the hilt,” I blurted out.


Once the property is in my
possession, I have no doubts that I will be able to turn a
reasonable profit above what I’m willing to pay you. Given your
recent salary history, it’s a quite generous offer.”

So the attorney had done his homework about
my past work. Not only did he know where I’d worked, but most
likely he’d discovered the dismal amount of pay I was used to. I
took the document from him, studied the figure on the paper, then
frowned at it in surprise. I had no idea how much River’s Edge was
truly worth above and beyond what I owed the bank, but I doubted it
was possible it was worth that much. It didn’t really matter. Mr.
Young had made it quite clear why I couldn’t sell the place before
I’d been there five years, but I wasn’t ready to admit that, at
least not until I had a chance to see just how badly Cragg wanted
it, and why.


You know, now that I think
about it, this figure seems a little low,” I said as I floated the
paper back across the desk to him. It was all I could do to keep
from grinning as I said it. I would have said the same thing no
matter how much he’d offered. I was looking for a great deal more
than a higher price on a parcel I was in no position to
sell.

Cragg looked at me a moment, tore up the
document, and to my surprise, the man actually smiled as he handed
me another piece of paper. “It appears you are more savvy than I
credited you for. This figure should be more to your liking.”

I studied the substantially higher number
for a few moments. Cragg was serious about acquiring River’s Edge,
if that second offer meant anything. I still didn’t know why
though.

I said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let
this go on as long as I have. River’s Edge is not for sale.”


Mr. Black, let me assure
you, the offer in your hands is well above the current market value
of the property. No one is going to be willing to match it, let
alone top it.”


I’m not disputing that,” I
said. “Just out of curiosity, why are you willing to pay more than
you admit it’s worth? I’m not about to believe it’s for the place’s
sentimental value.”

Cragg stroked his desk lightly. “You’re
wrong, there; I have grown quite fond of River’s Edge.” He shook
his head, then added, “However, you are correct in the assumption
that there is more driving me than emotion. I plan to evict the
other tenants and turn this entire building into a legal complex.
We’re close enough to the courthouse to walk, and once the papers
are signed, I’m certain I can persuade several of my colleagues to
join me.”

I slid the second paper back to him as well.
“It’s a moot point, actually. I couldn’t sell you River’s Edge even
if I wanted to. Belle added a clause to her will that forbids me
from selling the complex, at least any time soon.”

Cragg smiled without warmth. “Believe me, we
can break that proviso without any problem. All I need is your
approval, and I can move immediately.”

I stood. “Even if you’re right, I’m not
willing to part with River’s Edge. I’m more interested in Belle’s
intent than I am in breaking her last request.”


Your decision is final
then?” he asked, the hard edge coming out in his voice.


My hands are tied,” I
said. “If not entirely by the law, then by my great-aunt’s desires,
and those are more important to me than any document.”

Without another word, Cragg destroyed the
paper I’d returned to him, then he turned his attention back to the
stack of papers on his desk. I was as effectively dismissed as I
had ever been in my entire life.

It appeared that one of my tenants was
already unhappy with his new landlord.

That was just too bad for him. I never was
one to respond well to pressure.

When somebody pushes me, I have a tendency
to push back.

I had to walk past Markum’s mysteriously
vague salvage-and-recovery operation to get back to my apartment. I
was dog-tired, but my curiosity outweighed my desire for that hot
shower.

I knocked on the door, waited thirty
seconds, then knocked again, this time quite a bit harder than
before.

No reply. Jiggling the handle, I discovered
that the door was locked. It appeared that Markum was not in.

So what was the sound of voices I heard
coming from the other side of the door? I patted my pockets and
came up with an old grocery list and scratched out a quick note on
the back of it. Would like to meet you. Harrison Black, Belle’s
place.

After sliding it under the door, I headed
back to my new apartment. It was time for that shower after
all.

Glory be, hot water was not a problem in my
new accommodations. I don’t know how long I stood under the
pounding heat of the shower, but by the time I shut the water off,
my fingers were starting to prune up. As I walked into the kitchen,
toweling my hair dry, I lit Belle’s candle, most likely the last
one she’d ever made, and watched as the wick jumped to life. 
The flame, strong and steady, reminded me of Belle, a solid part of
my early life. There was a hint of cinnamon in the air that I
loved. It reminded me again of sweet rolls, apple pie and
Snickerdoodle cookies.  I let the candle burn as I cooked my
self a pasta dinner and kept it glowing while I ate. At the rate it
was burning. I’d have that candle memorial for a month, a fitting
period of mourning for my great-aunt.

Later, after the dishes were done, I went
prowling around the apartment for something to read. Belle was an
avid reader. She’d been the one who’d gotten me hooked on the
printed word, mysteries in particular, giving me a complete set of
Agatha Christies on my ninth birthday. Okay, I’d asked for a new
baseball glove, but by the time I’d read The Mysterious Affair at
Styles. I was lost forever. I’ve never been without a book to read
since, though my past living conditions made it tough to keep them
after I’d read them.

Belle had an extensive collection of books
on hand, and I’d had to force myself not to start browsing as I’d
resolved them from their tumbles to the floor. Amazingly enough,
none of them had been damaged in their short falls. There was her
own complete set of Agatha Christie books present, though hers were
hardcovers instead of the paperbacks she’d given me. Judging from
the number and variety of titles on the shelves, she’d kept her
interest in mysteries through the years, with books from the latest
bestseller lists mingling with classics from the Golden Age of
mystery. I chose one of the Agatha Christies at random, curled up
on the couch, and quickly found myself revisiting a world full of
English villages, vicars and tea.

It nearly jarred me off the couch when the
telephone rang.


Hello,” I said, marking my
place with one finger, unwilling to put the book down.


So it’s true,” I heard a
familiar feminine voice say on the other end of the line. “You’ve
moved out of your apartment after all.”


Hi, Becka. I’m surprised
to hear from you. How’d you find me?” Becka Lane and I had dated
off and on for the past few years, but three months ago she’d
decided we were finished for good. She had declared with more
frustration than regret that I’d never amount to anything, and she
was tired of waiting for me to make something of my life. I’d been
more relieved than heartbroken with her declaration, a sign that
told me we were probably both just waiting for the other one to
give up first.

She said, “It was the oddest thing,
Harrison. I was out running around today and I went by your place.
I don’t know what hit me, but I suddenly wanted to see you again. I
can’t tell you how stunned I was to find you’d moved.”

I knew without a doubt how she’d gotten my
new number. I was sure Mrs. Harper had been delighted to share the
information. She’d always wanted the two of us to get together.
“There was nothing there for me anymore,” I said.

There was a pause, then Becka said, “Aren’t
you going to invite me over to your new place? I’m dying to see it,
and my schedule’s completely open.”


Sorry, but I’m not in any
shape for company tonight,” I said.

Most likely it was a first for Becka, being
turned down like that. “Come on, Harrison, I won’t stay long. I’d
just really like to see you tonight.”


You’re welcome to come by
the shop sometime,” I said, knowing that Mrs. Harper had no doubt
shared that particular news with her as well.


Absolutely, I have every
intention of coming by, but I thought we could get together
tonight. I’ve got some of your favorite wine,” she added, ignoring
my refusal completely.

It was time to be blunt. “Listen, I’m beat.
I’m going to bed.” I didn’t even give her a chance to protest as I
hung up the telephone. It appeared that Becka had forgotten how
nasty she’d been while breaking up with me, but the “I never want
to see you again” still rang in my ears.

In another minute, I was back in Dame
Agatha’s world, happy to leave mine far behind.

 

A pounding on the apartment door brought me
fully awake. I’d dozed off on the couch reading, and looked at the
nearest clock through blurred vision.

It was 2:00 am.

Whoever wanted to get in was quite adamant
about it.

I picked up an old baseball bat I’d found
cleaning out Belle’s closet, something she’d probably kept for
self-defense herself.


Who is it,” I called out
through the door, studying the man on the other side through the
peephole. He was huge, with shoulders that would barely fit through
the doorway. His hair was the color of midnight, untamed and
wild.


It’s Markum. I got your
note.”

I opened the door, the bat still firmly
clutched in one hand. “It’s two o’clock in the morning,” I
protested. Close up, the man had the greenest eyes I’d ever seen,
as if they had been cut from the coldest emeralds on earth.

Markum shrugged. “Sorry, I was on the
telephone when you came by earlier. Long distance, different time
zones, that sort of thing. What can I do for you?”

I dropped the bat on the couch as I walked
deeper into the apartment, Markum close behind me. “I just thought
it would be nice to meet you, since I’ve just inherited the
building.”

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