At Wick's End - Tim Myers [73]
“Harrison? Is that you?”
From the shadows of one of the storefronts, Heather Bane appeared. In her mid-twenties, Heather ran The New Age, a shop full of crystals and tomes on spiritual healing, situated next door to At Wick’s End. Heather’s long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was wearing a tie-dyed smock over her blue jeans and T-shirt. Esmeralda, her store cat and my one-time roommate, flicked her tail at me as they approached.
“Guilty as charged,” I said. “You’re working late tonight.”
She grumbled, “My register totals don’t match again. I must be losing it, Harrison, this is the third time it’s happened this week. I was trying to figure out how I’d goofed up this time when the lights went off. What’s going on with the power?”
I knew the grapevine at River’s Edge would spread the news of Aaron’s demise soon enough, but I didn’t want to be the one to start the story. Still, Heather had a right to know what was happening in one of the shops around us.
“It’s Aaron,” I said.
Heather’s gaze shot to the door behind me. “What about him?”
“I don’t know how to tell you this. He’s dead.”
“Dead?” I wasn’t sure what reaction I was expecting, but her trying to fight past me to get into The Pot Shot was not one I’d have considered.
“You can’t go in there,” I said, holding her arms gently in restraint. “There’s nothing we can do. I’ve already called the sheriff. He’s on his way.”
“He can’t be dead,” she started to sob. “He can’t be.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She let out a wail that startled Esmeralda, then before I could stop her, Heather shoved her cat into my arms and raced for her car. Oddly, her lime-green Volkswagen Beetle was out in front instead of in its usual spot in back of the building with the rest of the tenants.
I called out, “Hey, where are you going? What about your cat?”
Esme tried to twist out of my arms, but I held fast. If that cat managed to slip out of my grasp, I’d have a nightmare of a time trying to find her. Heather was taking the potter’s death much harder than I’d expected. Granted, Aaron’s death was a shock, but Heather had instantly fallen apart. I knew that everybody reacted to trauma differently, though. It was just starting to sink in with me that one of my tenants was dead. I was still numb, and that was the only thing that was keeping me going. When it hit me later, as I knew it would, I’d have my own shock to deal with.
Heather didn’t reply to my questions as she got into her car and drove off, but I could see the tears streaming down her cheeks as she turned toward me for an instant.
After the sheriff drove up and joined me in front of The Pot Shot, Morton gestured to the cat. “Got an eyewitness there, or is that the culprit?”
“She belongs to Heather.”
“So where is she?” the sheriff asked.
“She had to run an errand,” I said, not wanting to go into Heather’s reaction until I’d had a chance to talk to her about it some more.
“So you’re stuck cat-sitting.”
I stroked Esme’s head. “Let’s just say we’re hanging out together.”
Morton raised one eyebrow, then said, “Whatever. Okay, let’s see the body. Can you turn some lights on around here? I know times are tough, but you can afford a little electricity, can’t you?”
“The power shorted out and blew a fuse. That’s how I found him. Pearly and I were both looking for the cause. As far as I know, he’s still upstairs. Do you have a flashlight in your car?”
“Absolutely. Give me one second.” As I waited for Morton to grab his flashlight, I was glad to be able to put this in the sheriff’s hands, whether it was an accident,