Unlucky Charms (13 page)

Actually, I needed to find the restaurant offices, which I did, down the hall from the restrooms.

I didn't pretend to be lost. I just kept going till I reached the closed door marked
Private
. I knocked, then opened the door without waiting for a response.

Fortunately, it was Padraic's office. He sat there behind a large desk, working on a computer. The place was small and a bit messy, mostly occupied by that desk.

Padraic, however, was tall and well groomed. In a green suit, sure, but his gray hair was short and nicely styled.

He rose immediately as I came in. “Rory! What are you doing here?”

I continued to approach him. “I really need to talk to you, Padraic,” I said. “About Flora Curtival and what happened to her. The police keep harassing me, and the Vardoxes are pestering me as well. It's terrible!”

“Tell me about it,” he said, still glaring at me. “Those damned reporters are now on my case.”

“You too, then,” I said with a sigh. “I'd wondered about that. I would really like to talk to you about it, so maybe we can figure out a way to make them all back off.”

“Good idea,” he said. “At least for me.” Then he drew closer, until we were close enough for him to touch me. Or punch me. “Why the hell don't you just confess, Rory?” he yelled. “So they'll leave me alone?”

Twenty

I just stood there,
blinking at him. I wasn't surprised at his reaction, and all I needed was to get him talking.

I was, however, a bit surprised, and somewhat pleased, when my eyes actually teared up. Yes, he'd hurt my feelings. And being confronted by a regular citizen who thought I might be guilty was painful.

The point, though, was that this could just be an act on his part. I'd play my role, real tears and all, and see his reaction.

“I didn't do it,” I said in a throaty whisper. “I assume from your reaction that you didn't, either. What have the police said to you? And did the Vardoxes also ask you questions?”

I'd previously considered Padraic a little young-looking to have such a gray head of hair, but the sad and almost scared expression on his face aged him. His skin was soft-looking and there were lines beside his mouth and eyes. He blinked at me from behind glasses that he must just wear in his office, since I hadn't seen them on him before. Not that we were good buddies, but as with many of the shopowners in Destiny, even those I didn't know well, I'd met him and seen him in various venues in addition to his place of business.

“Okay, maybe it was a bit much for me to accuse you like that.” He truly did look regretful. “But I think I convinced the cops it wasn't me. Yes, the b—er, witch—heck, I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, especially in Destiny. The poor deceased woman included my restaurant on her hit list of thievery and vandalism, and I don't understand why, except that maybe this was one of the places she came to with her ex-husband, on that trip she mentioned. I don't know. There are so many tourists who come here, which is a good thing, and I didn't recognize her.”

I nodded encouragingly as he spoke, attempting to look empathetic, which I actually was—as long as he truly wasn't the killer.

“Anyway, even though the cops just questioned me and left and that seemed to be it, Celia Vardox barged in yesterday and started demanding answers for an article in her damned
Star
. Unlike the cops, she seemed to think I was really guilty, at least judging by her pushiness.”

“She treated me that way, too,” I said. I didn't mention that the cops still had me high on their list. He undoubtedly knew it anyway, as did everyone in Destiny. And I certainly didn't mention that I was now colluding with Celia.

“I told her I didn't do it. That, yes, I'd been upset when someone came into my steakhouse in the middle of the night and not only trashed it but left some bad luck symbols, too, like salt on the floor and pieces of broken mirror.”

Flora apparently hadn't had much imagination about what bad luck symbols to leave in the places she vandalized—although I couldn't think offhand of something else that was both an ill omen and easily transported.

“She did that at the Lucky Dog, too,” I said. “Plus she stole some of our merchandise.”

“If she took steaks or any other food or drinks I wasn't aware of it,” Padraic said. “But she did overturn tables and chairs and left the place a mess. I'll tell you, I wanted to choke whoever did that … but I didn't.” His eyes widened as he looked at me. “Damn. I shouldn't have even said that. Yeah, I was damned angry. But when she made her speech at the end of the Welcome and I finally knew who'd done it, some time had passed. If I could have had her arrested or whatever, sure. And I honestly can't say I'm peeved with whoever offed her. But whether or not you believe me, it wasn't me.”

I did believe him. And even though I hadn't found my answer, I'd achieved part of my purpose. Padraic had been “peeved” enough to talk to me after being irritated by the
Destiny Star
. So I thought I had my answer about Padraic Hassler, even if it didn't solve the murder.

“Same goes here,” I told him as I stood to leave. “I appreciate your talking to me. I feel a little better speaking with someone in a similar position.” I paused at the door. “And whether or not you believe me, too, I didn't kill Flora.”

I returned then to my table with Gemma and Stuart. They were finishing their main courses—steak for Stuart and chicken for Gemma. There was no plate at my setting, and Gemma told me she'd requested that our server keep it warming in the kitchen.

“I told the wait staff you had a phone call you needed to deal with,” she said as I sat down again. “I didn't want them to think you'd become ill from the salad.”

We soon motioned for the server to bring my steak. When it arrived, I ate a few bites, but I wasn't particularly hungry. Nor did I want Gemma and Stuart to feel obligated to continue to sit there and watch me eat. I decided to take the leftovers home.

In the meantime, I could tell that Gemma was just itching to ask me how things had gone with Padraic. I wanted to let her know, but not here in this semi-crowded room, and most importantly not in front of Stuart. He was a nice enough guy, but what I intended to tell Gemma was likely too much information to share with him.

I realized I might not be able to tell her what happened until the next day. So I just said, “All went well, kind of as I anticipated. We'll talk later.”

“When I'm not around,” Stuart said, raising his thick, light eyebrows that almost met over his prominent nose. He'd worn a suit that night as he often did, a deep brown one this time. He was astute, as always.

“I'm sure you understand the sensitivity of the situation,” I said. I figured that Gemma had filled him in, at least generally, on the reason for this dinner, even though I'd asked her not to give details about what I was doing.

“I do,” he acknowledged, and then started a conversation about whether someone should be researching a sequel to
The Destiny of Superstitions
.

“I thought Tarzal's book was pretty comprehensive on the subject,” I said. “Are there many more superstitions that can be described?”

“There are always more superstitions,” Stuart said.

I laughed and nodded. “I've been learning that nearly every day in Destiny.”

The server soon returned with my steak in a foam container. We paid the bill, split three ways—which kind of surprised me, since I'd figured Gemma and Stuart were on a date. But I wasn't about to ask. They might have such things arranged between them.

We walked briskly back to the B&B. The evening had grown quite nippy, plus I'd left Pluckie alone in my room long enough. She'd need her last walk of the night—and so did I, with just her as company so I could mull over my conversation with Padraic in private, as well as plan my next conversation.

According to our agreement, either Celia or Derek was to have spoken with—no, pushed and prodded—two more shopowners on our list today, including Kiara Mardeer, Jeri's mother and the key person in charge of the Heads-Up Penny Gift Shop. I hated the idea of being nasty to Kiara. I liked her, and liked her daughter even more. But this procedure was designed as much to knock people off the suspect list as to come up with who'd actually done it—although that, of course, was the ultimate goal.

We soon turned the corner from Destiny Boulevard onto Fate Street and reached the parking lot in front of the B&B.

Noticing one particular car in the lot, I stopped briefly. It was a black sedan and looked a lot like Justin's official means of transportation.

But there were surely other black sedans in the area. I wasn't close enough to check the license plate—or to see if there was a red light mounted inside on the dashboard.

Besides, what would Justin be doing here?

As if I couldn't guess.

I hung back just a fraction of a second as Gemma and Stuart approached the door first. I geared up for a conversation I didn't want to have, but resolved not to let it turn into a confrontation.

Maybe I was wrong, though. Maybe it wasn't Justin's car.

Or if it was, maybe there was a good reason for him to be here—not that I wished any problems on anyone that would require a cop's presence, let alone the chief's.

A few moments later, I passed under the Rainbow B&B's now-perfectly hung horseshoe—a good thing. I just might need a bit of good luck.

“Hi, Gemma, Stuart,” said a familiar masculine voice as my friends preceded me into the lobby. “Hi, Rory,” he added as I followed them in.

Sure enough, Justin was here. Serina was with him, in an old-fashioned dress as usual.

“Hi and bye, all,” Serina said. “Time for me to head to bed so I can get up in time for breakfast tomorrow.” She waved as she headed up the stairs.

“Me too,” Gemma said, following Serina.

“G'night,” Stuart said, following both of them.

Leaving me alone in the lobby with Justin. He was dressed casually in a sweatshirt and jeans, so, official sedan or not, he was off duty.

“I'm tired, too,” I told him. I turned my back on him and hurried into the breakfast room, then beyond it so I could put my steak into the kitchen's refrigerator after writing my name on the container.

When I came out, Justin was still there. “I bet you have to walk Pluckie.” The expression on his much-too-good-looking face was pleasant, but I nevertheless had an urge to do or say something to annoy him and make it go away.

“Yeah, I do. And I imagine you want to come.”

“You got it.”

“And later you'll tell all your friends and associates that you were once again just encouraging me to spill more beans about what I know about Flora's death, especially if I killed her.” I tried to keep my tone and expression light, but I didn't really feel that way and figured my irritation showed.

“You got that, too,” he said. But now he sent me a teasing grin, which made me sigh and, almost unwillingly, grin back—for a few seconds, at least.

He said he'd wait right there. If I hadn't loved my dog and appreciated the B&B as much as I did, I might have just stayed upstairs and allowed Pluckie to do what she had to on the floor, or maybe try to find a newspaper for her to do it on.

But, hey, why allow this man to annoy and disrupt me like that—and Pluckie, too? I hurried up to our room, opened the door, and knelt to hug my lucky black-and-white pup. “You're more important than he is,” I told her. I got her leash and we headed downstairs.

Without turning toward Justin, even when Pluckie hurried over to say hi, I headed for the lobby door and unlocked it to go outside. Justin followed.

I let Pluckie lead me to where she wanted to go, past the cars in the parking lot and into the grassy area beyond. She stopped there, and so I stopped, too.

So did Justin. “I assume you're not wondering why I'm here tonight,” he said.

I turned to look up at him. Here, where the light was dim and false, his face appeared even more angular than usual. But I still liked the way he looked. Maybe too much.

“No,” I said. “I figure you just want to continue to give me a hard time.”

“In a way,” he agreed. “Like I told you before, no matter how I have to play this with my staff and the city politicos on my case, I'm concerned about you. Were you off somewhere tonight conducting your murder investigation?”

I could simply lie, or not tell the whole truth and just say I'd been having dinner with friends.

But in fact, I actually felt a bit warm and gooey inside thanks to his obvious concern.
Plus I wanted to goad him a bit more, as he continued to goad me.

“I was having dinner, a strange thing to do during the evening, no?” But I didn't give him time to respond. “But yes, you're right. I was doing more than that—I was investigating. In my way. But have you solved the murder in the meantime so I don't have to?”

“That's still a work in progress,” he said.

“Well then, so's my amateur investigation. And unlike you, I'll probably even tell you when I can prove who actually did it.”

“I wish I could tell you that now, Rory. That way, maybe you'd give up your chase and stay safe.” His tone was serious, and he looked straight into my eyes even as Pluckie started pulling a bit on her leash.

The gooeyness inside me thickened, but I turned away. I had to, thanks to my dog's machinations. She now seemed to be following a scent track along the grass, and I followed her.

“I'm being careful,” I told him when Justin reached my side again.

For the next few minutes we both followed Pluckie. And when she seemed to be done, Justin accompanied us back to the B&B door, which I opened again with my key.

Before I went inside, though, he took me into his arms—and I liked the feeling. “Please, Rory. At least tell me what you're really doing so I can be sure someone's around as your backup.”

If I did, he might stop me from doing anything at all.

“Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate it. But I'm not putting myself in danger.” At least not yet, not by conducting follow-ups to newspaper interviews in public places.

“Okay.” But he sounded dubious and frustrated and even sad.

I couldn't help it. I reached up and pulled his head down toward mine.

We shared a long, sexy kiss that gave me the urge to invite him inside and up to my room. But that would be a bad idea for both of us. Especially for him, and his already too-obvious conflict of interest that he was hiding in plain sight, literally.

When I finally pulled away, I tried to catch my breath. “Good night,” I said. “I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again soon.” I hoped. And I crossed my fingers it wouldn't be because he felt compelled to arrest me.

“Count on it,” he said, bending down once more to kiss me.

I took a few steps into the B&B lobby. “Good night,” I repeated more loudly, pulling slightly on Pluckie's leash to get her to leave Justin and come with me. “Be sure to give Killer a good night hug from us, too.” And then I hurriedly slipped farther inside and shut the door.