Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [36]
The Jorgenson property was surrounded by a high stucco wall, taking up three expensive lots facing the river side by side by side. The imposing structure greeted me as I drove up, and I felt more than a little conspicuous in my Ford truck. At least I’d had sense enough not to show up in my battered old Dodge. Still, I felt like I was wearing bibbed overalls to the prom as I parked in front of Mrs. Jorgenson’s house.
I couldn’t believe it when an actual butler answered the door just as I rang the bell. He studied me with a glance and blocked my way before I could step a foot inside.
“Yes?” he said in a voice that hinted of a British accent.
“I’m here to see Mrs. Jorgenson,” I said, holding the basket of goodies in front of me like a shield.
“I’m sorry, sir, but she’s unavailable at the moment.” Not much of an apology, no offer to check with her first, just a flat and final refusal.
“Listen, tell her I need to speak with her. My name’s Harrison Black. I run At Wick’s End.”
“I’m afraid her instructions were most specific,” he said.
This was getting me nowhere. It was obvious I wasn’t going to be able to brush past her guardian.
“Fine. Give this to her and tell her I’m sorry,” I said as I thrust the basket into his hands. He accepted the offering with gentle distaste, then shut the door on me before I had a chance to say another word.
I got back into the truck and was just starting to drive away when he suddenly reappeared, waving me down. I rolled down the window, and he said, “Please take this back, sir. Mrs. Jorgenson isn’t interested in your gift.”
“Tough,” I said. “I won’t take it. Tell her I’m just as stubborn as she is. I can’t make her accept my apology, but I’ll be dipped in candle wax if she thinks I’m going to let her insult me by refusing my gift.”
I drove off, half-expecting the man to throw the basket into the back of my truck. When I glanced back in my rearview mirror, I saw him shaking his head and staring at the basket as if it were diseased.
I’d done all I could. If Mrs. Jorgenson declined my offering and my apology, there was nothing else I could do about it. I refused to beat myself up about it anymore. It was time to move on, forget about my star student and get back to running my candleshop.
At least I wouldn’t have to face Eve until morning. I had some free time on my hands, and I suddenly had no desire to go back to River’s Edge. I was finding that with the lessening of daylight hours in the winter, I was spending more and more time in the evening burrowing into my apartment, and though I enjoyed my time alone, it was getting to be a habit I was going to have to break.
Though my checking account was anemic, I decided to treat myself to a pizza and some of April May’s company at A Slice of Heaven.
The place was crowded, and I worried about finding a table, when Heather Bane from River’s Edge called out to me, “Harrison. Over here.”
She’d been the one to introduce me to April and her pizzeria, and I joined her gratefully. I noticed that Heather was dressed much nicer than was normal for her, and I said, “Are you here by yourself?”
Heather nodded. “I had a date, actually, but it appears that he stood me up.”
“What a jerk,” I said.
“I don’t really mind, to be honest with you. My girlfriend’s cousin set it up, and I was dreading the whole ordeal.”
“Then we’ll drink a toast to the dumb cluck and have fun in spite of him.”
April made her way through the crowd and studied me before speaking. “Please tell me you’re not him.”
“I’m not him,” I said simply.
April smiled. “That’s a relief. Heather, are you going to let this riffraff sit at your table, or should I put him back in the kitchen?”
She pretended to consider the offer, then said, “He might as well stay. That way I won’t look like a pig when I eat an entire pizza by myself. Bring us a medium special, unless you want to join us.”
April looked tempted, then studied the room. “I’d better not. Things are hopping tonight. One special, coming up.”
She started to leave, then said, “Harrison, have you picked