Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [18]
The ringing telephone pulled me back into the shop, and my hand shook as I answered it.
“At Wick’s End,” I said.
“Harrison Black, I was worried something had happened to you. I’ve been calling since ten thirty.”
“Hi, Eve. I’m here.”
I could hear her take a deep breath, then she said, “Harrison, I realize I’m not scheduled to work today, but I don’t think you should be alone. Are you crushed with people today?”
I looked around the empty shop. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
“Don’t put up a brave front for me, I know how overwhelming it was yesterday. I’m coming in.”
It was time to come clean. “Eve, there’s not a soul in sight. It looks like we’re already yesterday’s news.”
She hesitated, then said, “Oh dear, I was afraid of that, too. I gather you haven’t read The Gunpowder Gazette yet.”
“I forgot all about it. How bad is it?”
“They didn’t overtly name you as the killer, but they did everything else. I’m afraid it’s quite nasty in its quiet little way.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Well, at least that explains why I’m by myself. I’m going to go over to Millie’s and buy a newspaper.”
“I wouldn’t if I were you.”
I shrugged. “If they are going to be lying about me, I want to know what they’re saying.”
“Would you like me to come in, if nothing else, for moral support?”
“No, but thanks for asking. I’ll need you tomorrow for a full day, at least if Mrs. Jorgenson keeps her lesson. Enjoy today off. I know I would.”
“Harrison, ordinarily I’d never suggest this, but you could just close the candleshop for a few days until things calm down.”
“Eve, this isn’t going to blow over, and I’m not going to hide or run away. I didn’t do anything. I’m going to be right here at the candleshop, where I belong.”
“Suit yourself,” she said. “If you change your mind, call me and I’ll be right in.”
“Don’t wait by the phone. As it is, it looks like I’ll be getting a lot of dusting done.”
After we hung up, I changed my mind about grabbing a newspaper. Did I really want to put myself through that? I decided I could sit around and mope all afternoon or I could actually be productive, so I grabbed a duster and started in on the shelves. Two hours later the place was as clean as it ever had been since I’d taken over, and not a single person had darkened my doorway. I was about to give up entirely when I heard the bell over the front door ring. At that point, I was willing to answer a reporter’s questions if it meant a sale for the store.
It was Sanora, the potter from River’s Edge.
“Did you come by for the wake?” I asked her.
“Surely they’re not having it here,” she said.
“I’m talking about the one for the candleshop,” I said. “Hey, who’s watching The Pot Shot?”
“I never opened. I’m going to start closing the shop on Sundays and Mondays during the winter. I figure I work so hard during the summer months, I deserve a break now and then. You should do it.”
I gestured around the empty shop. “I’m afraid if I did that, nobody would notice.”
“That bad, is it? Things will get better, Harrison, you have to rely on that.”
I shrugged. Given the evidence, I couldn’t make myself believe anything of the sort. “So what brings you here?”
“I came by to see if you wanted to play hooky with me.”
“I’m not in the mood for playing,” I said, “but thanks for offering.”
“Are you sure? I’m heading up to the Blue Ridge Parkway. It’s a beautiful day for a drive.”
“I really can’t. Besides, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very good company today.”
She frowned, then said, “Tell you what, I’ll give you a rain check, and we’ll do it some other time.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that,” I said.
Over the next few hours, Heather, Millie and Suzanne Gladstone from the new antique shop all popped in to try to cheer me up, and though I appreciated their efforts, it was all wasted on me. When I closed up at six, it was a first for me, and hopefully a last, too.
I hadn’t sold a single thing all day.
As I locked the front door, I realized the only two people associated with River’s Edge who hadn’t checked on me were Gary Cragg and