At Wick's End (Book 1 in the Candlemaking Mysteries)

AT WICK’S END

By Tim Myers

Book 1 in the Candlemaking
Mysteries

Praise for the Candlemaking
Mystery series by Tim Myers

“
Excellent storytelling that
makes for a good reading experience…(Myers) is a talented writer
who deserves to hit the bestseller lists.”

 
---The Best
Reviews

“
A sure winner.”

---Carolyn Hart, author of the Death on
Demand series

“
An interesting mystery, a
large cast of characters, and an engaging amateur sleuth  make
this series a winner.”

---The Romance Reader’s Connection (four
daggers)

“
A smashing, successful
debut.”

---Midwest Book Review

“
I greatly enjoyed this
terrific mystery.  The main character…will make you
laugh.  Don’t miss this thrilling read.”

---Rendezvous

Praise for the Lighthouse
Mystery series by Tim Myers

“
Entertaining ... authentic
... fun ... a wonderful regional mystery that will have readers
rebooking for future stays at the Hatteras West Inn and
Lighthouse.”

—
BookBrowser

“
Tim Myers proves that he is
no one-book wonder... A shrewdly crafted puzzle.”

—
Midwest Book
Review

“
Colorful... picturesque ...
light and entertaining.”

—
The Best Reviews

The Lighthouse Inn
Mysteries by Tim Myers

Innkeeping With Murder

Reservations For Murder

Murder Checks Inn

Room For Murder

Booked For Murder

The Candlemaking Mysteries
by Tim Myers

At Wick’s End

Snuffed Out

Death Waxed Over

A Flicker Of Doubt

The Soapmaking Mysteries by
Tim Myers

Dead Men Don’t Lye

A Pour Way To Dye

A Mold For Murder

The Cardmaking Mysteries by Tim Myers written
as Elizabeth Bright

Invitation To Murder

Deadly Greetings

Murder And Salutations

At Wick’s End

by Tim Myers.

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2003 Tim Myers

All rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance
to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events,
or locales is entirely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced,
scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without
permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of
copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. This is
a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either
are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or
dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely
coincidental.

Dedication

For my editor, Kim Lionetti, and my agent,
John Talbot; my partners in crime.

Prologue

Belle Black realized she had to be careful
when she confronted the murderer about to visit her candle shop, At
Wick’s End. To think that someone she knew was a killer made her
blood freeze, and Belle was beginning to have second thoughts about
her plan. Should she have asked for help, secured a witness to what
she was about to do, or should she have done the sensible thing and
called the sheriff’s department so they could deal with this
themselves? No, they never would’ve believed her anyway. And what
if she was wrong? The whole town would hear about it and think she
was going senile. She’d just handle this like she’d handled every
other problem at her building complex, River’s Edge, perched on the
banks of the Gunpowder River in the North Carolina Mountains. Belle
felt the burning of her righteous indignation flare up at the
thought of what had happened almost under her nose. She’d call the
sheriff once she had the satisfaction of hearing the killer admit
to the litany of sins she was about to unveil. There would be time
enough for a formal confession to the police after that.

As the front door of her shop opened, the
telltale chime announced that her visitor had finally arrived.

“
So I was right,” she said
as her suspect stepped out of the shadows to face her. “You
murdered that poor man and then stole from him.” The calm tone of
her voice did nothing to reveal the hammering in her
chest.

“
I was under the distinct
impression that you had more than a guess when you asked me to come
here. You don’t have proof of anything, do you?” There was no heat
in the words, an absence of any emotion at all. Surprisingly, that
chilled Belle’s heart more than a stormy confrontation.

With firm resolve, Belle said, “I’m not
guessing. I’ve got evidence.”

“
I can’t imagine what you
think you have.”

Belle said, “How about one of the diamonds
from the robbery?”

That earned a startled look from the
accused. She continued, “You must have dropped it before you could
hide them all, because you missed one. Aren’t you worried about
fingerprints?” She saw the killer’s gaze dart around the candle
shop, so she hastily added, “You’ll never find where I’ve hidden
it. It’s safe right where it is.” Was it, though? Had she been too
clever, setting this confrontation up without any backup support?
It was time to end this before something bad happened.

Belle said sternly, “Turn yourself in.
Please. They’ll go easier on you if you take responsibility for
what you’ve done. It’s the only way out for you.”

“
I can think of another,”
the voice said, spoken again with no emotion at all. “I’ll find the
diamond without your help.”

As the killer stepped forward, Belle
realized too late that she’d put too much faith in her belief that
all of mankind was basically good, that there was no inherent evil,
and that anyone would do the right thing, given the chance.

It was the last mistake she ever made.

After the meddling old lady was dead, the
scene was easily set in the storeroom to look like an accident.
There were, after all, many ways a neck could be broken.

Most likely Belle wouldn’t have kept the
errant diamond in her shop; there were too many people in and out
of At Wick’s End every day. No, the evidence had to in her
apartment upstairs. There was a key to her place behind the door in
the candle shop office; it was the worst kept secret at River’s
Edge. And now it was time to recover the only thing that could link
the crime with the killer.

Chapter 1

“
I’m sorry to say that I
have some bad news for you.”

I choked the telephone in my hand and tried
to hide my impatience. “What other kind of news do lawyers ever
have? And I told you before, my name’s Harrison.”

After we’d gone through the introductions
and pleasantries, I’d waited for the real reason this man was
calling me. I had a few leads to follow up in my sales territory,
and times were lean at the moment. Okay, who was I trying to kid? I
was broke because I was not entirely enamored with the prospect of
peddling computers that weren’t nearly as efficient or modern as
our brochures proclaimed. I just couldn’t bring myself to sell an
inferior product to an unsuspecting public. It was time to try my
hand at something else, a fact I’d realized some time ago. No job
ever seemed to capture my interest long enough for me to get
comfortable with it, and sales was turning out to be no different
from hardware store clerk, copier repairman, dance instructor or
house sitter.

And now I had a lawyer on the line. This
just wasn’t turning out to be my decade.

“
Err, Harrison, I’m sorry
to say that your aunt Belle Black has passed on.”

“
Great-aunt,” I corrected
automatically as I felt a sudden twist in my gut. That’s exactly
what Belle had been to me as I’d grown up, the greatest great-aunt
a kid could wish for. She was the one who slipped me candy bars and
folded fives on the side, the one who stood up for me when no one
else would. It was always Belle’s place I retreated to when I ran
away from home.

And now she was gone.

I asked, “What happened? Was it her heart?”
It suddenly hit me that I had no idea how old Belle really was.
She’d seemed ancient to me as a kid, but it was a funny fact that
middle age kept getting later and later in my mind as I approached
it. I was on the left side of thirty, though just barely. Belle had
to be creeping up on eighty, if she wasn’t already there.

The attorney said, “No, I’m afraid it was an
accident.”

“
Just don’t tell me it
happened in a car,” I said. I’d lost both my parents on my
twenty-first birthday to a drunk driver, the last birthday I ever
celebrated or acknowledged.

“
No, she fell off a ladder
at her candlemaking shop.”

I couldn’t believe it. “What was she doing
on a ladder at her age? No, never mind that, nobody has to tell me
how stubborn she was.” Though we’d lived just a few hours apart, I
hadn’t made any real effort to keep up with Belle since I’d been on
my own. Even when I’d moved to Red Creek six months ago, a bustling
little town just twenty minutes away, it hadn’t increased the time
we spent together. Belle and I stuck to our old habits. Once or
twice a year we’d have lunch together, but otherwise we both led
our own lives.

And now I regretted every opportunity I’d
passed up over the years to see her.

“
Mr. Black, there are
important matters that need to be discussed immediately. Can you
come by my office in an hour?”

Suddenly following up those sales leads
wasn’t all that important. “Just tell me where you are and I’ll be
there.”

After I hung up the telephone, I stared at a
photograph on the small desk tucked into one corner of my cramped
apartment. It was of Belle and me together taken twenty years
before, my hand firmly in hers as we walked across a footbridge at
the park.

And I felt the lightness of her touch all
over again.

I decided to take a shower before keeping
the appointment. Even as the spray washed away my tears as I
mourned for her, I wished it could do something about scouring the
heavy sadness in my heart.

The attorney, Lucas Young, turned out to be
nothing like his voice. I’d imagined a tall lanky fellow with
ruffled black hair when we’d talked on the telephone. Instead, what
I found was a portly little man with a hairline receding faster
than a snowman melting in the spring. At least the wisps of
remaining hair still had a dark hue, so I hadn’t been completely
wrong.

“
Harrison, again, please
accepts my condolences.”

“
Thanks,” I said as I took
a seat across from his desk. I’d managed to pull myself together
after an extended shower that had drained the last of the hot water
from my tank. Drops took care of the redness in my eyes, but there
was nothing that could disguise the sudden weariness that had
overcome me. “What’s so urgent? Do I need to make the arrangements
for the funeral?”

“
No, no,” he waved a hand
in the air as he studied the papers in front of him. “Your aunt,
great-aunt,” he corrected himself immediately, “took care of all
that herself. She didn’t want a fuss. The cremation’s already taken
place, and there will be no service of any kind, per her orders.
I’m afraid she was most emphatic about that point”

“
When did she die?” I
asked.

“
Sometime late Sunday
evening. I’m afraid she wasn’t discovered until Monday
morning.”

“
And it took you a full day
to call me?”

He said, “Please understand, this was your
great-aunt’s wish, not my whim. She was quite matter-of-fact making
her arrangements. There was to be absolutely no fuss at all.”

I had to smile, a reaction I was sure would
make Young think I was some kind of ghoul, but I’d heard Belle
expound on the pointlessness of funerals all my life, and I was
glad she’d stuck to her guns to the end.