At Wick's End - Tim Myers [36]
I said, “I’ll wash this mess and bring it back tomorrow.”
She took the box from me and said, “You’re not going to ruin your washer. I’ll stop off at the Laundromat on the way home. I’ve got a load of my own to do, so it’s no problem.”
“Are you sure?” I said. “I hate to ask you to do it.”
“You didn’t ask. I volunteered. Good night, Harrison. What can I say? It’s been interesting.”
“I can’t argue with that. Thanks again. For everything.”
After Heather was gone, I wrote a note explaining what had happened and taped it to the front door of the locker room. At least that way no one would get a shock going in unprepared.
Back in Belle’s apartment, finally settling in for the night, I double-bolted the new locks on the door. The place still didn’t feel all that safe to me until I lit Belle’s candle. There was something about watching that flickering flame that soothed my nerves and eased my spirit. It was almost as if I could feel Belle’s very real presence there with me. The cinnamon in the air made me long for one more batch of Snickerdoodles and a quiet afternoon with my great-aunt. By the time the candle had burned its allotted hour, I was no closer to solving the mystery of the most recent break-in than I had been when I started.
But I did feel more at peace than I had in a very long time. After I snuffed out the wick, I couldn’t keep myself from wondering why someone had so methodically sheared the locks off every locker, and then make such a horrible mess of the contents. Was it out of frustration, much as Belle’s break-in had been? The two incidents certainly looked like they were committed by the same vandal. But was the carnage a true reaction from the perpetrator, or was it just a clever cover-up to hide a more calculated search? Either way, I couldn’t help wondering if the thief had found what was being so diligently sought, or if we were going to have more robberies at River’s Edge.
As a general rule, I always slept in on Sundays; it was a bit of a ritual for me. So I was stunned to find that it was barely past seven the next morning when I rolled out of bed, fully and completely awake. I knew myself well enough to realize that it wouldn’t do me a bit of good to try to go back to sleep. We didn’t open At Wick’s End until two on Sunday afternoons, so that gave me a lot of time on my hands. I thought about all the things I might do, from renting a movie, playing tennis with my friend Wayne, or curling up on the couch leisurely going through the Sunday paper.
What I did was get dressed, grab a quick bowl of cereal, and head down to the shop so I could get an early jump on things at the candle shop. Running a business was quite a bit different from working for one. Sure, it was great being my own boss, but in many ways, I was turning out to be harder on myself than any of my previous employers ever had been.
And I was determined to make up for my mistake yesterday, even if it meant working every minute I was awake until I found a way to repay the store the cost of my carelessness.
“Don’t you ever take any time off,” Eve asked when she walked in later that day. I held up one of the books I’d been studying most of the morning and into the afternoon. “It’s the only way I’m going to be able to pitch in and do my share of the work around here. There’s a lot to learn, but I can’t keep running the cash register forever.”
Eve nodded. “I must say, I’m impressed with your diligence in learning about candles.”
I swallowed, then said, “Don’t be too impressed yet. There’s something I have to confess to you. I did something really stupid yesterday, Eve.” I proceeded to tell her what had happened with the deposits, and her lips pursed into a pair of grim lines.
“The checks were lost as well,” she asked.
“No, they were still in the truck, scattered all over the floor, but they were fine. I made out a new deposit slip and dropped off what was left at the bank. Eve, it was a mistake that won’t happen again.”
She nodded. “Sometimes