At Wick's End - Tim Myers [59]
“I heard steel hitting the pavement, like some kind of heavy tool was dropped. I don’t know, I’ve just got a bad feeling about this.”
Wayne said abruptly, “Don’t do anything till I get there. Don’t even go near it, okay?”
“What do you think, somebody put a bomb under it?”
Wayne ignored my question and asked, “What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into where you’re worried about bombs? Come clean, Harrison.”
I tried to laugh it off. “You know what? Forget about it. I’m probably just being paranoid.”
“Hey, don’t hang up,” he said. “Tell me where you’re at. I want to check it out before you go near it.”
“I’m at a place called River’s Edge. Do you know where it is?”
“Are you kidding me, I’m a huge fan of Millie’s pumpkin doughnuts at The Crocked Pot. I remember seeing a candle shop over there too. Is that where you’re at?”
“The name of the shop is At Wick’s End.”
“No, that doesn’t sound right.”
I said, “Believe me, that’s the name. I’ve been working there every day for over a week.”
He said, “Okay, okay. Listen, I want you to do what I ask, all joking aside. Go stand near your truck and wait for me, but don’t touch it. Don’t even breathe on it, Harrison, promise?”
“I think you’re crazier than I am, but I won’t do anything until you get here.”
After we hung up, there was nothing I could do but go down by the truck and wait. Wayne showed up ten minutes later in his tow truck. As he got out, he studied the back of River’s Edge and said, “Nice place. Is it all yours, or just the candle shop?”
It was pretty obvious he was kidding. “It’s all mine, down to the last brick.”
Wayne studied me for a second, then said, “So your ship finally came in. Sorry it had to happen that way.”
I said, “You want to know the truth? The bank owns it, I don’t. I’ve never been more in debt in my life.”
Wayne said, “Welcome to my world.” He looked at the Dodge, started to flick off a piece of peeling paint and then changed his mind. “I can’t believe you’re still driving this thing.”
I pointed to the Ford. “I’m not. My great-aunt left me that. But not everybody knows that. In fact, the guy who’s handling the will forgot to tell me about it.”
“Okay, enough guessing about what’s really going on here. Let’s see what we’ve got.” Wayne got down on the ground and wiggled under the truck. He spent less than two minutes under it before he crawled back out again.
I felt like an idiot. “Okay, I admit it. I’ve got an overactive imagination. Sorry to drag you over here like this for nothing.”
There was no smile on Wayne’s face. “It’s a good thing you did. Somebody nicked your brake line, buddy. I’d say you’ve got yourself a real enemy after all.”
So somebody really was after me. I suddenly realized that if I hadn’t been out on the roof last night, I never would have known about the sabotage. Granted I didn’t plan on driving the Dodge much, but the first time I did, I would have been in serious trouble.
Wayne said, “You want me to call the cops?”
“Yes. Maybe. No.”
“Okay, you’ve given me a handful of possible answers. Now which one are we going with?”
I said, “Keep this to yourself, okay? I don’t want to involve the police. They think I’m paranoid as it is.”
“At least let me tow it in,” Wayne said. “I can have it fixed in an hour.”
I grabbed his arm and said, “If whoever did this thinks their little plan is still going to work, they won’t try anything else, will they? Let’s leave it alone for now.”
“Harrison, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but it doesn’t sound like it’s got many rules.”
I said, “I think we’re making them up as we go along. Listen, I’ll buy you a beer when this is all over and let you know what happened.”
“I’d rather have a can of tennis balls, with you on the other end of the court.”
“I promise, just as soon as things slow down. Thanks again for coming out, Wayne.”
He patted my shoulder. “Listen, if you need backup, day or night, call me, do you hear me?”
“I’ll do it.”
He got into his truck and drove away.
And I was left knowing that someone, for whatever reason, was trying to get rid of me.