Knock on Wood (16 page)

“That's the speculation,” Carolyn agreed. “Those of us who don't exactly buy into all we hear about superstitions aren't so sure, but that's at least an explanation to believers.”

“So for Lou to be knocking on wood that much, he should have been more reserved about the power he believed he had as one of this town's leaders? And he shouldn't have been so quick to give orders, like he was trying to do about the book shop?” And had apparently done before, in other situations. But skeptical me shook my head. “A pigeon flew into the Clinking Glass Saloon when we were there, but even if it indicated someone would die it wouldn't have been the cause of death. I guess that interpretation of knocking on wood lets those who want an explanation besides finding out who the murderer is to think Lou brought his death on himself.”

She didn't deny it. “Which brings me to the other point. People have been trying to find more superstitions regarding books and libraries. As you know, both deaths appeared to have some connection with the Broken Mirror Bookstore.”

“Libraries? And librarians?” Gemma's voice was sharp. “Are there any superstitions about them?”

“I don't know. The stuff about books seems to have been made up to get kids who are students interested in superstitions, like you should sleep with a book under your pillow opened to the right chapter so you can be sure of learning your lesson.”

I took another sip of my latte, then placed my glass carefully on the table, watching it instead of Carolyn. “So what's the point of all this?” I asked. “You said you wanted to talk to us about town chatter, right? So far all I've heard is that gossip says Lou might have brought this on himself.”

“People are also speculating on who might have killed him,” Carolyn said softly. Her gaze seemed to take in the space around our table to make sure no one was close enough to listen in.

“We're all doing that,” I retorted, not reminding her about how I helped to resolve what had happened to Tarzal. I was sure I didn't have to. And I didn't particularly want to do it this time, but I felt myself being drawn in.

“Okay, Rory. Here's the scoop, sort of. For one thing, they're speculating that you're bad luck, and that things happen in threes. You and Pluckie have found two dead bodies. Maybe you should leave town before there's a third.”

I stared at her. My heart rate had escalated. Anger? Fear? Both? I took a deep breath. “You can tell anyone who mentions it that Pluckie has already found three bodies. The first one, Martha, fortunately still happened to be alive.”

“You're right. I'm championing you, by the way, and letting people know you're good luck, if anything. Just ask Martha.”

“Thanks,” I told her.

“Besides that,” she continued, “I've seen some responses to claims that the Destiny Welcome is now cursed since both murders occurred the night after one of the Welcomes. But the majority of people in town love the Welcomes and don't want to accept that, so they're not giving it much credence.”

“Good,” I said. “I assume whoever is supporting the Welcomes is also reminding everyone about the ones that were held in between, with no ill effects.”

“Exactly. The thing is … well, they're also talking about you, Gemma. Apparently your friend Frank—your boyfriend? He's going around telling people how much bad luck your relationship has brought him and suggesting that you also imposed it on Lou Landorf. Frank is here, he says, to research superstitions and learn about how to draw lots of good luck to himself, but he's intimating that in some ways—maybe the worst ways—you're the one who brought death to Lou.”

nineteen

I now had an
explanation for Detective Choye's nasty inquiries. But I needed more information. Like, what was the DPD thinking?

Was Frank actually accusing Gemma, or was he just playing a game in retribution for her dumping him?

Had he been the one who'd murdered Lou?

Step one seemed to be that I should talk to Justin again. I knew he wouldn't, couldn't, say much, but I still wanted to let him know what had been happening and my perspective on it—and see what his reaction was.

All of that passed through my mind as Carolyn and Gemma continued talking, Gemma nearly in tears as Carolyn acknowledged that there were those in Destiny who believed what Frank said and consequently thought that his ex had become a killer. Bad luck to think otherwise, maybe. At least that was apparently what Frank was trying to get everyone to believe.

“You know,” Carolyn eventually said, “I'd better get back to my shop—and I imagine both of you should do the same.”

I nodded and, taking a final swig of my latte, I stood. So did Pluckie.

Carolyn's store was the opposite direction from Gemma's and mine so we split up right there. “Do you have any lucky buttons you'd like for us to ‘lose' on the sidewalk on our way?” I asked Carolyn.

“I sure do.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a zipped plastic bag containing buttons about three-quarters of an inch in diameter that just happened to say Buttons-of-Fortune—Destiny. They were too small to have the Destiny Boulevard address on them, but the tourists who found them and picked them up for luck would undoubtedly locate the button shop if they were interested. And, hopefully, a lot would be.

I, on the other hand, didn't want to run into Carolyn for a while. Not till I'd processed all she'd said and made up my mind how to deal with it. I wanted to use my local friend as a resource for communicating reality, at least the way I saw it, to her Destiny contacts, but I wasn't sure what that ongoing reality would be.

I had some planning to do.

I nevertheless hugged Carolyn goodbye and smiled as she hugged Gemma and bent to pat Pluckie.

“Take care of yourselves. Both of you.” Standing again, Carolyn moved her gaze from Gemma to me. She reached up then and I saw her fingers were crossed. “I'm just hoping that, whatever happened to Lou and whoever it was who killed him, the local authorities figure it out soon.” Her stare lingered for a few seconds on Gemma as if attempting to read her mind and learn there whether the new bookstore manager was guilty. Then she turned, her hand in the air in a wave, and entered the crowd walking toward her store.

“Does she think it was me?” Gemma's voice was low but squeaking as we started off in the other direction.

“I think she's just not sure it wasn't you.” While holding the bag Carolyn had given us, I raised my chin and began looking around as if oblivious as the buttons began spilling from my fingers to the sidewalk. This was a lot easier than seeding the area with pennies, since the coins had to be left heads-up or they wouldn't be as lucky.

“But—” The conversations around us now were louder as the crowd grew thicker, but I still heard the indignation in Gemma's voice.

“We just have to make sure the real culprit is found soon,” I said.

I just hoped I was right—and that real culprit actually wasn't Gemma.

Pluckie and I walked with Gemma past the Lucky Dog to the Broken Mirror. She didn't ask why I continued with her, but if she did I'd merely tell her I'd had enough fun not to want our brief outing to end.

That was true. But it wasn't the only reason.

I wanted to see if Frank happened to be in the bookstore.

If he was, I didn't know what I'd say to him, but I'd figure something out—now, or when I next saw him.

Which wasn't to be this afternoon. At least not now. Stuart was there, and I fortunately didn't see either set of owners. The editor grinned as he talked to what looked like a large group of tourists. A copy of
The Destiny of Superstitions
was in his hands, open to a page in the middle. He looked busy and happy, both good things. And now Gemma was back to help him.

I quickly said my goodbyes to her at the door. “Let's talk at the B&B this evening,” I told her, then Pluckie and I left.

On the short walk back to the pet boutique I pulled my phone from my pocket and called Justin. It went directly into his voicemail, which told me he was probably in some kind of meeting and had shut his phone off. Otherwise, he usually left it on vibrate if he was unable to speak. I left a short message asking him to call me.

The Lucky Dog was delightfully crowded. Martha looked a little overwhelmed, but the two assistants seemed to have things under control. My presence, and Pluckie's, would make things even better. We wended our way through the visitors and I hooked my dog up to the counter as usual to make sure she didn't follow anyone out the door. Then, standing not far from her, I got to work.

I'd learned a lot since first arriving here, which was a good thing. Many of our visitors wanted to find out the significance of each of the stuffed toys for dogs and cats. Some meanings were fairly obvious, like the black cats, although I did point out to these customers as I did with many others that the superstition is that it's bad luck for a black cat to cross your path. Otherwise, black cats don't have a bad reputation. In fact, they're considered lucky in some countries.

Some of the toys were big red apples, well-sewn stems included. Why? Well an apple a day keeps the doctor away, quite possibly the vet too.

Stuffed horseshoes and rabbits' feet were obvious, but frogs were less so. I told them that if a frog entered your home, it was considered good luck. Some members of my audience grimaced at that, though.

“Is it true you give a talk on animals and superstitions?” asked a pretty woman who appeared college age. She stood with a guy who held a stuffed black and white dog that vaguely resembled Pluckie. I'd already mentioned that my pup, and those who looked like her, were definitely good luck.

“Yes, I do.” I grinned and gave the particulars of the one scheduled for the upcoming week.

Before I started on another batch of plush toys my cell phone rang. I glanced at it and excused myself.

It was Justin. “Hi, Rory. Everything okay?”

Strange questions, which could mean he knew the reason I might consider things less than okay. I didn't respond directly. “Thanks for returning my call. I was just hoping we could get together again soon. I've got some things I want to run by you.”

“This afternoon might work. I'm at the park meeting with some of my guys near the crime scene, but I don't have to stay in the thick of things. If you're too busy to come, though—”

I glanced around. Our crowd had thinned a bit, and most people I'd been talking to were now in the checkout line, staffed by Martha, to buy some of the stuffed toys.

“Pluckie and I will be there soon,” I said.

The last time I'd taken this walk beyond my B&B had been with Justin. Had that helped him learn anything about the case? I doubted it. Fate Street was a little busier than it had been that night, but now it was still daytime, even if it was nearly evening.

Pluckie seemed fine with her usual strolling and sniffs, even without Killer as company. And me?

Well, I was thinking about Justin, but not romantically—at least not much.

Instead, I thought about who he really was, the Chief of Police of Destiny. He'd been the chief for a while now. He was in charge. He surely knew about how Choye had questioned me. And about Frank Shoreston's apparent attitude against Gemma, real or assumed for reasons of his own.

Who did he think was the murderer? Surely not the person Frank was pointing to.

We soon reached the park. It was late enough in the day that kids were out of school and parents were there observing them play on swings and seesaws. That was on the nearest part, in an area where the ground was sand.

Farther away, I could see the members of the PD who were here grouped together, but I wasn't able to tell if they were conducting any further crime scene investigation or just having a party. I doubted the latter, though. They might only be having a meeting to discuss the status of their investigation.

Pluckie pulled on her leash toward where kids were shrieking and laughing and apparently having a good time in the play area. That wasn't where I wanted to go, but I doubted I'd be welcome in the other location. I let Pluckie lead me into the park and I stopped in between the two areas, ostensibly to let my dog sniff. I kept my attention directed toward the police group.

Justin must have been watching for me since I saw him emerge from the middle of his gang. Dressed in his standard blue shirt and dark pants, he walked toward me. I wondered if he was sliding at all on the grass with his black slip-on shoes, but I figured by now that they must have good, thick tread since I'd never seen Justin's stride falter.

As I observed him approach, I glanced past him. The group was thick and not particularly close but I saw Alice Numa and Choye among them.

Justin raised one strong hand as he got near me—to say hi, or to tell me to back off? I didn't move except to copy his wave. Pluckie, on the other hand, recognized him and pulled on her leash, wagging her black and white tail eagerly.

When he was close enough, Pluckie stood up and leaned on his legs. He greeted her with enthusiastic pats, then drew closer to me.

“Hi, Rory,” he said. “Are you okay?” He studied me with his incisive blue eyes. “You sounded a bit upset on the phone.”

Upset? I'd thought I'd kept my tone quite level and pleasant. Maybe he was reading into it the mood he figured I'd be in.

“I'm fine, but curious about how things are going. I also have some scenarios I'd like to run by you.” Like your detectives are taking much too seriously a suspect who's trying to level suspicion on someone else. “Any possibility of getting together later for a chat? Maybe we could grab a drink.”

“Tell you what,” he said. “We'll be wrapping up here within the next hour. I was planning to bring dinner home from the Shamrock Steakhouse. I could make it for two. It'd be more private there for us to talk.”

Without anyone eavesdropping was what I heard by implication, not words. Which was fine with me.

I'd also get to see where Justin lived. I actually knew what area it was in but hadn't been there before.

“Sounds good,” I said. He gave me his address, and we decided that Pluckie and I would arrive around seven thirty.

Were there any superstitions about going to a prospective guy friend's house? There were supposed omens that someone was about to visit you, but how about that you were going to visit someone else?

I'd heard that if you walked into a person's home with your left foot first, you could bring evil onto the homeowner, although you could reverse that by walking out once more, then reentering with your right foot.

I would pay attention to that and enter Justin's house using my right foot first. But would protecting him that way theoretically be good for me too?

Pluckie and I drove there since it was getting late, and it would be quite a walk back to the B&B from Justin's home. We crossed California Street, where doctors' offices and the local hospital were located—not places where tourists were likely to go, fortunately. Farther down were apartment buildings for residents of Destiny. Beyond California Street, south of Destiny Boulevard, was a very nice residential area containing homes where locals lived. Justin's was among them.

I parked on Quail Street in front of his house. This area had been built up long after Gold Rush days, and the homes appeared more like typical modern structures of Southern California.

Justin's was a single-story home on a nice, wide lot. It was built of white stucco with a red Spanish tile roof. “Here we are,” I told Pluckie.

As I held her leash, I let her climb over my lap to get out of the car. When we were both on the sidewalk, I took my time so she could decide whether to relieve herself. While she did, I looked at the other residences. This was an eclectic area, with some structures of brick or siding, some multiple stories and others also single story. All had driveways and garages, and there was plenty of street parking.

I suspected that, if the chief of police lived here, any houses that came on the market would be out of my price range—assuming I decided to purchase a home in Destiny. Surely there were more affordable condos somewhere. I'd check that out if I decided to say.

I couldn't tell if Justin was home since presumably he'd parked in his garage. I felt sure, though, that if he was going to be late, or changed his mind, he'd have called me.

Just in case I hadn't heard him, I pulled my phone from my pocket. No missed texts or calls.

I gave Pluckie a gentle tug on her leash and we went up the front path.

I noticed a neighbor doing some yard work a few houses down. Did she see me too? If so, would Destiny gossip channels begin to describe how the police chief had a visitor that night?

Not my problem. And I was sure Justin could deal with it.

I reached the wide wooden door and pushed the doorbell button. I heard a chime inside. In moments, the door opened.

Justin looked more casual than usual, in a gray Ojai T-shirt and jeans. They looked good on him, especially since the shirt hugged his upper body and emphasized his muscular physique. No five o'clock shadow on his handsome, angular face—or going-on eight o'clock shadow, considering the actual time. Had he shaved in anticipation of me joining him?

“Hi, Rory. Come in.” He stepped back, although our entrance was partially blocked by Killer, who stood wiggling his behind and wagging his tail.

“Hi, boy.” I hugged the Dobie to my legs while patting his head.