Knock on Wood (21 page)

Frank Shoreston was present, too, standing among a bunch of people I assumed were tourists. Not to mention the owners of the Broken Mirror Bookstore, the Brownlings and Nancy Tarzal.

Arlen Jallopia, Martha's nephew, joined us and stood behind his aunt. So did my pal Carolyn Innes, and she acknowledged having closed her button shop for the occasion.

“Now, as many of you know,” Bevin continued, “I often sent Lou away from Destiny on a very special mission. Of the visitors who are here, how many of you met Director Lou Landorf in your hometowns or elsewhere, or saw him in theaters or being interviewed on local TV stations about our wonderful venue of superstitions?”

Quite a few people in the large audience raised their hands, roses held in some of them. Lou had clearly been successful at his assignment.

“That doesn't surprise me. And how many of you were actually given orders by our Lou to show up here?”

Nearly everyone kept their hands raised.

Bevin's laugh was almost a tearful choke. “That was Lou for you. He was okay about following orders some of the time, but he much preferred giving them, then making sure whoever received them followed through—even those he was supposed to report to, like me.”

Was that a complaint against the dead man? Maybe. I'd certainly heard of Lou's telling Bevin what to do, as well as other people. The mayor obviously liked to be in charge. Could that have been a motive for murder?

Was Mayor Bevin the guilty party?

Like everyone else who'd known Lou Landorf, he'd been under my consideration, and he would remain there.

I shot a quick glance toward Justin. Damned if he wasn't also looking at me.

He must have been on the same wavelength as I was, thinking the mayor was a viable suspect.

Or maybe he just knew me well enough by now to realize that I'd glom onto the possibility as I attempted to clear my good friend.

“But we all loved Lou,” Mayor Bevin was saying, “notwithstanding our sometimes clashing with him. Right now, I'm looking forward to the time that our Destiny Police Department finally determines who harmed our dear public affairs director and achieves justice.”

When he paused, someone started to applaud, and it grew. Now when I again looked at Justin, his expression was grave, and he nodded as if in full agreement. Which probably was the case.

But he could also be considering what the mayor had said as a criticism of his department—and him.

“And now,” Bevin said, “let's pay our dear Lou, who knocked on wood about nearly everything, the honor of remembering him as one of Destiny's greatest advocates of superstitions. First, please pass the flowers you brought forward. Did you know that flowers have a lot of superstitions associated with them, both good and bad?” He didn't wait for any response but said, “The red, violet, yellow, and orange ones that our flower shop in town sold to you should be just fine, though. Red ones in particular symbolize life blood.”

I hadn't known that. On the other hand, I'd figured the people at the Bouquet of Roses flower shop would have been aware of omens related to flowers they sold and would have acted accordingly.

Bevin had some of his aides collect the flowers and lay them on the ground where Lou had lain. “Now,” he continued, “I'd like you each to line up and speak into this microphone as you relate a superstition relating to death.”

I wasn't really sure this was a good idea—although it couldn't harm Lou Landorf, since he was already dead. And the one superstition he had believed in, or at least acted on all the time, hadn't saved his life.

Even so, since this was Destiny, I wasn't surprised about the number of people who participated.

The superstitions and omens mentioned ranged from how pointing at people can supposedly kill them, to how it is theoretically a good idea to provide illumination to people who have died, including on the anniversary of their death to show them the way home.

One person mentioned how covering your mouth while you yawn is an excellent idea since it prevents your spirit from slipping out and keeps the devil from entering.

There were superstitions I was aware of regarding how ominous it supposedly was to have birds fly into your home—and of course recalled the one that Lou had seen inside before his death. And opening an umbrella while inside a house can lead to a death.

To my surprise—or maybe not, since she was becoming the town's expert on superstitions, or at least superstition books—Gemma made her way through the crowd to recite a superstition.

Bad idea, probably, since she remained a suspect. But maybe by putting herself out there, in everyone's view here at the memorial, it would show that she had no fear of being arrested. That she didn't do anything to harm Lou.

Today she had dressed in a charcoal blouse and black skirt, appropriate attire for mourning at a ceremony like this one. “I've heard,” she said after taking the microphone from Bevin and looking into Celia Vardox's camera, “that we may be expecting rain later this week. We can keep our fingers crossed that it happens, since one superstition I'm aware of is that it's supposed to be lucky for a dead person's soul if it rains during his funeral. This is Lou's public memorial, but I understand he'll have a private interment later this week, and that's more like a funeral.” She turned to look at the spot where Lou's body had been found. “All my best wishes for you and your soul, Director Lou.” Her voice cracked as she finished. I supposed people could think she was acting, but I knew better.

When I glanced at Justin, he appeared somber but his gaze was far from accusatory. Good.

I wondered if Gemma's participation would force Stuart to go in front of the crowd, but despite the editor of the premier book on superstitions being present, he stayed near where I remained with Martha and Millie.

I chose not to speak, but had I gone up to the microphone, the omen I'd mention was that a howling dog portended death. I'd heard dogs howling on multiple occasions since arriving in Destiny, and several times people actually had died. Did I believe in this one?

I'd be foolish not to.

More superstitions. Were all the people here remembering each of them? I wasn't. There were so many I started tuning them out.

But of course the topics of death and dying were optimum ones for coming up with superstitions—since people tried to control things around them by engaging in superstitious actions.

There's no controlling death and dying, though. Unless one happens to be a murderer.

Was Lou's murderer here? Whether or not he or she had been present the other day in the Broken Mirror Bookshop, when we'd discussed that possibility, I'd little doubt that the person was at this memorial.

Sure, it could have been a tourist Lou had lured to town by tales of the amazing nature of Destiny but who'd had an unlucky time. That tourist could still be here, trying to find a way to stay away from the cops' attention.

More likely, in my estimation, was that the killer actually knew Lou better than that.

Yet as time had continued since his death, I hadn't yet zeroed in on who it was. Suspects, yes. Evidence or even feeling convinced, not.

As fewer people headed toward Mayor Bevin and his microphone, I looked around. No expressions on anyone's faces said
It was me!

But when I again looked at Justin, I read both amusement and frustration, as if he knew, once more, what I was up to.

Soon, the ascension to the microphone ended. The memorial was drawing to an end.

And as the mayor thanked everyone for coming and wished us all good luck, I found myself again preventing a smile as Justin maneuvered his way through the crowd in this direction.

twenty-five

But it wasn't me
who Justin greeted first. “Hi, Martha,” he said, bending to kiss her wizened cheek. “Are you okay?”

Grinning up at him with her off-white teeth showing, she assured him she was. “Millie's taking me back to the shop right now, and I'd really appreciate it if you'd accompany Rory there in a few minutes.”

She shot a sharp gaze first at him, then at me, as if communicating to both of us that we should stay together and talk.

Sweet lady, and I knew she sensed the attraction between us. But this wasn't the time.

Justin apparently wasn't going to argue with her. “Sure,” he said. “I've got a couple of people I need to touch base with here before I go, but I'd be happy to walk to the store with you, Rory.”

“That's okay,” I said. “I'll head there with Gemma and Stuart.” They stood nearby, and I glanced at them. Not that I really needed company, but I didn't mind being with friends. “No need for you to go out of your way, Justin.”

“Oh, but we're about to dash off right away. With all these people talking superstitions, some will probably want to buy books.” The gleam in Gemma's eyes told me that she also was attempting to leave me with Justin, like it or not.

But he was the man who might wind up having her arrested. Why would she wish him on me?

Unless she was more convinced than I was that I could protect her …

I doubted it. But if there was any possibility, I had to grab at it. And that meant hanging out for a while with Justin. Any attraction between us had been put on indefinite hiatus anyway.

“Okay,” I said, looking at him almost defiantly. “I've got some things to talk to you about. So, yes, let's walk back that way together.”

That meant I watched as the others I'd been with headed as quickly as they could down Fate Street, considering the crowd around them. I then observed Justin hold a brief meeting with those who reported to him who'd been at the memorial. At least it was fairly quick.

He joined me again near one of the picnic tables where I'd sat down to wait. “You ready?” he asked.

He looked somewhat harried, so I said, “Sure, but you really don't have to—”

“Your store's on my way back to the department anyway.” Cutting me off that way didn't bode well for a pleasant and friendly conversation. Maybe for the sake of our non-relationship I should insist on going alone.

But before I could say anything else, Mayor Bevin joined us.

Despite his usual leprechaun outfit, consisting of a green suit jacket over darker pants, he looked anything but like the cute, friendly, lucky creatures that leprechauns were supposed to be. Definitely not like the one depicted on the pin on his lapel.

“Justin? Glad I caught up with you. I was afraid you'd get away before we had a chance to talk.”

I glanced toward Justin's face. He didn't look excited about talking with the mayor, but the politician was his boss of sorts.

“I—” I began.

“We'll only be a minute, Rory.” Justin obviously didn't want me to go running off without him. But did he want me to hear their conversation?

Apparently neither man minded. The mayor sat down beside me on a bench, looked up at Justin, and said, “This was a difficult day for all of us, Justin. Especially because I wasn't able to tell all those in mourning that, despite the terrible tragedy of Lou's death, we had learned who had killed him and justice would be immediately served.”

“I understand, sir.” Still standing, Justin shifted uncomfortably, resembling a child whose teacher scolded him for bad behavior in class. “I can assure you that the investigation has taken priority at the Destiny Police Department. We will have an answer soon, I promise you.”

“Not good enough. We need it right away.” Bevin stood, shaking his head forcefully enough that both his silvery hair and beard rippled. “Now,” he emphasized loudly. “And we need some success on that other investigation, about what happened to that tourist who apparently fell off a mountainside. Is your department near closing that one?”

I hadn't heard of any final determination there, either. I recalled how upset Lou had seemed about that situation, too, before he'd been killed.

It was definitely a problem for Destiny and its potential for attracting visitors. And it was also definitely a problem for Justin. Couldn't they just officially conclude it had been an accident? From all that had been made public, it didn't look like a murder.

Lou's death, though …

The mayor brought his short, plump body closer to Justin, facing him. “You know I went out on a limb a couple of years ago when I hired you, but I found myself listening to Lou and his insistence on getting his own way. I liked you, too, of course, but he pushed me to choose you from out of town rather than promoting anyone here. Bad enough that you don't have anything definitive about that tourist's death, but it would be really ironic if you don't solve Lou's murder fast and well.” Bevin's full lips pursed. “I'd found a way both he and I liked that kept him from being around giving me orders. He enjoyed traveling and being Destiny's tourist emissary. He should just have stayed away. He might still be alive.”

I'd seen moisture in the mayor's eyes before, and now it returned. Maybe he hadn't liked following his subordinate Lou Landorf's orders, but it appeared he would miss them, and Lou, from now on.

“We'll talk again about this soon, Justin. Real soon.” The mayor rose and strode off.

“Now are you ready to go?” Justin's tone and expression as he addressed me were both unreadable, but I knew he couldn't be feeling great.

“Yes,” I said. “I think it would be a good thing for both of us to get out of here.”

The crowd had thinned so we had no problem negotiating the Fate Street sidewalk south toward Destiny Boulevard. Neither one of us spoke at first. But the silence grew uncomfortable. I was dying to know what Justin was thinking.

Bad choice of words, though. I wasn't dying, but Lou remained on my mind.

“Are you going to miss Lou as a friend?” I finally ventured.

Justin glanced down at me, then again stared straight ahead. “Not really. I certainly knew he'd been involved in the decision to hire me. Since I moved here we got along fine—mostly, at least, until this tourist death fiasco. But I'd owe him, and the town, closure in his murder even if that hadn't been true.”

I didn't disagree. But I was definitely concerned that, since Gemma had gotten the DPD's greatest attention in the matter, she would become even more of a target now.

“Look,” I said. “I know I'm not a cop or anything official. But I know Gemma's not guilty of anything other than coming to town to help me and staying to help those bookstore owners. I'll do anything to help prove that.”

“Including finding the murderer yourself?” Irony dripped from Justin's tone, but when I looked up at him this time his handsome face looked more amused than stoic or angry.

“Done it before,” I said with a smile. And then I grew more serious. “I'd be glad to act just as your sounding board if you want to bounce ideas off me. Do you have any real evidence against anyone?” Not Gemma, of course.

“No,” he shot back. Then more gently, “It hasn't been long since Lou was found, and I've got a number of people in the department still researching the kind of lawn decoration that was used as the murder weapon. Several stores in town sell them.”

“The Heads-Up Penny?” I'd seen some there at the gift shop owned by Jeri's family. “Where else?”

The Bouquet of Roses flower shop and the Knock-On-Wood Furniture shop, he told me. Neither was surprising.

“And before you ask,” he said, “my guys have checked who the fist-shaped knock-on-wood stakes were sold to recently. Most were tourists, and those who were locals still had the ones they bought, mostly stuck into the ground to decorate their lawns at home. We don't know yet where the murder weapon came from or who might have bought it.”

“What about the store owners themselves?” I cringed to think that Jeri's family might be involved, but it was a possibility.

“We're still looking into that, too, but none seem likely.”

Justin was at least talking to me now, out of frustration or friendship or hope—or concern for his job. But the fact he'd told me very little before didn't mean that he had withheld anything helpful.

At this point, it sounded as if his department based their suspicions more on who'd said what to whom and when, rather than having anything concrete to base an arrest on.

Which was good for Gemma … maybe. But I couldn't count on it.

Justin gave me a goodbye kiss when we reached the Lucky Dog. “Thanks for letting me vent a bit, Rory,” he said. “And though I can't really take you up on it, I appreciate your offer to help.”

I forbore from snorting in frustration at him. Instead, I smiled. “At least I feel somewhat more confident that Gemma's not about to be arrested for something she didn't do,” I said.

“I made no promises,” he responded, and then he left.

I checked that all was well at the pet boutique before jumping in to wait on a couple of customers. A short time later, making sure that Millie and Martha were okay with being in charge again, I took Pluckie out, then visited Gemma at the Broken Mirror to tell her about my walk.

“So you did get from Justin that he's not about to arrest me?” She sounded relieved.

“As I said, he made no promises. But he also didn't point to anything that made it sound as if they had a bunch of evidence against you.”

“That part's good, at least.” She pivoted away from me. It was getting late, and at the moment there weren't any customers in her shop. She had already told me that Stuart had gone off with the Brownlings and Nancy Tarzal to talk about strategies in marketing
The Destiny of Superstitions
in places beyond Destiny, so we were alone in the Broken Mirror. “You want to try something superstitious, Rory?” When she turned back to me, the smile on her face looked too mischievous for words.

“I don't know—”

“Come on. It'll be fun. Although …”

“Although?”

“Unless you're willing to stretch a bit in what you believe, nothing'll come of it.”

I might not admit it to her, but she had me intrigued. “I'll try,” I said. “Now, tell me what this is about.”

She motioned for me to follow her while she wended her way around some of the tall bookshelves in the store.

We wound up standing in front of one of the mirrors hung on the wall near the back, one with painted zigzags representing a break in the mirror's surface.

A mirror hanging here had actually been broken a while back, but that was one of those things we weren't really supposed to think about, let alone talk about.

I looked into the mirror and saw myself, with the backs of the tall shelving units behind me.

“Okay,” I said. “What now?”

“Now, I'm going to get you an apple, then leave you alone here.”

I knew suddenly where this was heading. I'd read parts of
The Destiny of Superstitions
too. “And you believe I'll then see the reflection of my true love over my shoulder? Gemma, my true love is dead, so even if I see him—”

“What if it's Justin, Rory? I've seen the way you two look and act around each other. You're fighting it, and maybe he is, too, but I really think the two of you have something.”

“What if I don't see him or I see someone else? Or what if the mirror breaks?”

“Not going to happen.”

But I felt relieved when I heard some noise and turned to see a bunch of giggling college-age girls enter the bookstore. “None of it's going to happen today, Gemma, but thanks. I guess. And as far as in the future, I'll only do it if you do it too. Maybe no one will appear to me, but Stuart will appear to you.” But not Frank Shorester, I hoped.

“Spoilsport,” Gemma grumbled, but she was smiling. “Okay. We'll both do it one of these days. Maybe that's the kind of superstition destined to come true.”