Unlucky Charms (9 page)

Thirteen

Unable to catch my
breath for a few seconds, I just stared at Celia.

“Ah, then you didn't know about it?” She smiled at me calculatingly, as if trying to read my mind.

I shook my head. “What happened to her?” My voice shook.

This explained the howl, at least. This was the fourth time a death had occurred after I'd heard a howl in the middle of the night. If I didn't watch out, I'd start really believing in Destiny's superstitions, or at least those that were supposed to be omens.

“Right now I'm just gathering information, not giving any out. But actually, I haven't heard any details,” Celia said.

“What's going on?” Martha came over to us, followed by Jeri, who'd just arrived. Martha's face was scrunched in a frown of concern as she looked at me.

I figured my angst was visible in my expression. “That howl—” I began slowly.

“I heard it, too,” Jeri broke in. She looked horrified. “Are you two just discussing the superstition, or did someone die?”

“The latter,” I managed.

“Who?” Martha croaked.

“That real estate agent, Flora.” Not only a real estate agent, I thought. The vandal. The woman who'd mocked Destiny and said she'd continue to exact revenge on the town and its inhabitants for not being lucky enough to save her marriage.

The woman who'd mentioned me in particular.

Oh, no. I wouldn't become a major suspect, would I? Heck, there were a lot of shop and bar owners and managers in town who had just as much motive as I had.

Almost.

“Tell us what happened,” Martha said. But even if Celia had decided to change her mind and reveal she knew more, some new groups of customers came through our door.

“I'm still checking things out,” Celia said. “You'll be able to read about whatever I learn in the next
Star
and on our website. I imagine you'll see something on the local TV stations about it too, even though I won't be their source.” And then she left.

Trying not to sigh—or panic—I asked a couple of teenagers, who'd come in with their mother and a Yorkie, what I could show them. I was glad to focus on something else for a while—or at least stay as focused as I was able.

Had Celia wanted me to just nod my head and smile and admit to knowing Flora was dead? Or maybe even confess to having murdered her?

We weren't the best buddies, Celia and I, but she surely knew me well enough to realize I'd never do that. Any of it. I wouldn't kill anyone, even someone goading me. And confess to a murder? No way, even if I had done it. Which I hadn't.

While I helped the customers, I managed to walk near Pluckie a couple of times. She seemed to sense my awful mood and stood up, pulling at the end of her leash that was tied to the counter. I patted her and said some soothing words, even though what I wanted to do was pick her up, unfasten her, and hug her tightly to me as consolation for all the torment in my mind.

This latest group bought a substantial amount of merchandise, all apparently to give their little dog the best of luck via her toys, which included four-leaf clover and horseshoe chews. My stolen toys might have worked out well for them, but the few we'd had left had been sold, and this family was only in town for another day.

As I packed up the things they'd bought, I stroked each of the toys. I had a feeling I might need all the good luck I could get.

But maybe I was wrong. Maybe, despite Celia's insinuations, there was no mystery about how Flora had died. Did the police have her killer in custody?

Or maybe, even if she was dead, Celia had gotten it wrong and Flora had died of natural causes.

Or …

I was driving myself even more nuts. Since Martha and Jeri seemed to have our current cache of customers in hand, I slipped into the storeroom by myself. I wished I'd brought Pluckie for company, but I didn't want it to look too obvious that I planned to be out of the store more than momentarily.

Mostly, I just wanted to talk to Justin. But if there had been a suspicious death last night, he would be unlikely to answer my call.

I could leave him a message, though. And we'd already talked about getting together for dinner that night. Hopefully he'd still be available.

I pushed his number and was delighted that he answered on the second ring.

“Hello, Rory.”

Uh-oh. He sounded almost formal. But he could be with some of his subordinates or others at the station, discussing what had happened.

“Hi,” I said. “Justin, I just heard—”

“Are you at the Lucky Dog?” His tone hadn't changed.

“Yes,” I said tentatively, suddenly wondering if I should admit even that. What was on his mind?

“Good. I'll be there in a short while. Detective Choye will be with me. He has a few questions for you.”

He
has a few questions for you. Not:
I
have a few questions for you. Or, much better: gee, Rory, I'm still so glad you're okay, especially since there really was a homicide here last night.

That brief phone call with Justin really hurt. And worried me.

I helped a few more customers as I waited, rejecting the urge to flee the store, flee Destiny. Flee Justin. After all, I had nothing to feel guilty about.

But Detective Choye was coming, and he had a few questions for me.

I was ringing up another sale behind the counter when Justin and Richard Choye came in. I hadn't told Martha or Jeri that I was expecting visitors, but now I motioned for the cops to join me as I unhooked Pluckie from the counter. At least my dog should be able to get a walk out of this.

I didn't want anyone from the store eavesdropping on my upcoming interrogation.
Nor did I really want to talk as we walked. Tourists probably wouldn't hang out in the vicinity and listen in, but just in case …

“Is it okay with you if we just take Pluckie for a short walk, then go into the storeroom through the back door and talk there?” That way, Martha and Jeri were less likely to know when we were there, so we'd have some privacy. I hoped.

“Fine,” Justin said, looking at Choye as if giving him an order. The detective nodded.

The walk outside was, indeed, short, and all we did then was exchange pleasantries about the November weather here in Destiny. I glanced toward the Broken Mirror and was glad not to see Gemma. I didn't want to have to explain what was going on. I wasn't even sure myself what was happening—although I had a sinking feeling that I could figure it out.

We walked through the parking lot at the rear of the Lucky Dog and I used a key to open the back door. I went inside first, scanning the stockroom from the perspective of conducting a conversation there, not grabbing products. It still looked much as it had months ago, when Pluckie had discovered an ailing Martha on the floor—lots of shelves and boxes, plus a card table in the center where Martha, and now I, often sat to conduct financial calculations and plans. There were now two chairs pushed under it, and another folding chair against the wall.

Soon we were all seated around the table, with Pluckie sitting alertly at my feet on the concrete floor. My poor, sensitive pup undoubtedly felt the tension among the humans.

Justin was clad in a button-down blue shirt and dark slacks, his usual while on duty. Although he didn't always wear it, today his chief's badge was pinned to the pocket on his chest. He had his acorn-shaped hematite amulet around his neck.

His subordinate Choye wore a dark suit and a snide smile.

And both of them stared at me across the table.

“Let me begin, Rory,” Justin said, “by telling you that Flora Curtival is an apparent homicide victim.” His blue eyes stared intensely into mine, as if attempting to read my internal reaction.

I nodded. “Celia Vardox was here before. She told me.” Was she supposed to know? Was she allowed to talk about it? Heck, she was a journalist, so yes on both counts. “Can you—I mean, what happened? Do you know?”

“The matter is under investigation. And since you and I are … friends, Detective Choye will be the one to question you, as is being done with the principals at all the businesses that were apparently vandalized by Ms. Curtival, according to her confession at the theater last night.”

Good. The way he phrased it indicated I wasn't being singled out as the main suspect.

Or was I? What he'd said might be the truth, but it might not be the whole truth.

“I will be here only to listen. Do you understand that? And would you like to have an attorney present?” Justin's expression had turned blank, as if he wanted no emotion to show up on his face.

I swallowed hard. Maybe I
was
being singled out. “Are you reading me my Miranda rights?”

“No,” Choye said. “Not now, at least. You're not under arrest.” I heard what he'd left unsaid:
yet
.

I thought about offering to brew a pot of coffee. But I wasn't sure getting caffeine in me would be helpful. And what if the bubbles in the cup I served myself suggested bad luck? Besides, I'd have preferred a glass of wine or something even harder. But we didn't keep any of that here.

Choye kept his head bent slightly in my direction, his dark eyes regarding me with an intensity so sharp that I had a sense he wanted to slice me open and insert a confession that would blare out of my mouth. He'd asked first if talking to me was okay, as if I had a choice, and was both recording and taking notes on our conversation.

He started by asking me what I'd done after the Destiny Welcome last night. I told him I'd gone back to the B&B with Gemma and Stuart.

“Okay. Then what did you do?”

“I went to bed.” Oh, heavens. That was true, but of course I hadn't stayed there. I'd driven my car around town. And I couldn't keep that to myself in case someone had seen me. “But—” I began.

At the same time, Choye asked, “And did you go to sleep immediately?”

“No,” I replied. “I was just about to say that I couldn't fall asleep right away after the—after Ms. Curtival's tirade at the theater. I was concerned about the Lucky Dog and other shops, so I got up again, and Pluckie and I drove around town checking to see if there were any lights on in shops where there shouldn't be any.”

I risked a glance toward Justin, expecting him to aim a chastising expression at me for daring to put myself in harm's way, but his face remained blank.

Which made my heart sink. Did he think me guilty? Was that why he didn't seem to care if I'd done something foolish?

“Right. And did you see anything … suspicious?”

“No.”

“And did you go anywhere else?”

I'd folded my hands on the table, and now I looked down at them. In retrospect, under the circumstances, what I'd done was definitely stupid. “I … I drove through a residential area, including California Street, around where I thought Flora had rented an apartment.”

“I see. And did you notice anything wrong there?”

“No,” I said, realizing I sounded a little curt. “No,” I repeated more softly. “Sorry. I didn't see anything anywhere that would give the impression that Flora was doing as she'd promised and causing more harm to people of Destiny. And so Pluckie and I drove back to the B&B, and I went back to bed.”

“And that was all?”

“Not quite,” I said, looking from Choye's suddenly interested expression to Justin's frown, then back again. “I heard that dog howl in the middle of the night, which suggested someone had died in Destiny. But I only learned this morning that was true.” I drew my lips into a grimace of sorrow and closed my eyes, but only for a second. “Look, Detective Choye—and Chief Halbertson. I'd been a little irritated with Flora prior to last night, for being such a pushy real estate agent. But I had no idea until then that she'd been stealing from our shopkeepers and vandalizing our shops—shops that included the Lucky Dog. Even when she pulled that stunt at the theater and confessed and threatened—well, I worried about what else she'd be up to. But, heck. I think I have a relatively good relationship with the Destiny PD.”

I looked again at Justin, whose dark eyebrows lifted. Was that amusement or irritation on his face? In either case, he still said nothing.

I continued talking. “If I'd seen anything, I'd have said something—to the cops. Isn't that what concerned citizens are supposed to do? ‘If you see something, say something.' But I wouldn't have endangered myself if I'd noticed a problem. And I certainly wouldn't have endangered Pluckie, who was with me.” Then I drew myself up, shoulders back, as determined and truthful an expression on my face as I could produce. “And I definitely would not have killed Flora Curtival.”

“Well, I think we're done here,” Choye said, without acknowledging whether he believed me or thought I was a bald-faced liar. “I'll be in touch if we have any further questions.”

He didn't bother to thank me. Justin did, though, as they both stood and headed toward the back storeroom door.

Pluckie got up, too, and began following them. So did I, half with the intent of making sure they left and half just to lock the rear door behind them.

I was relieved they were leaving without arresting me.

I was also furious with Justin for letting me be interrogated that way.

Okay, that was his job, but—

I was about to shut the door behind him when he stuck his head back inside.

“Are we still on for dinner tonight?” he asked.

Shocked, I just looked at him for a second before saying, “I … I guess so.”

“Good.” And then he was gone.

Fourteen

I closed the shop,
as always, at seven. Martha, a bit tired, had headed up to her apartment an hour before that. I'd let Jeri leave early, too, since she wanted to go to the Heads-Up Penny to make sure her family had heard of the apparent murder of the person who'd ransacked their shop.

I didn't think Jeri was the killer, and although I didn't know her mother very well, I doubted Kiara would have murdered Flora, either.

But like everyone else in town who now had reason to dislike Flora, the Mardeers could become suspects.

Pluckie stood beside me on the wooden floor, looking up expectantly. “Do you need to go out right away?” I asked. I'd taken her for a brief outing just before Martha had left, so she was probably okay. “We'll be going for a walk any minute now.” When Justin arrived, I meant. I wasn't sure what we were doing for dinner, but even if we were driving there, I could walk Pluckie for a few minutes beforehand. He'd called me only long enough to let me know he'd come by the shop at closing time to get me.

My dog and I didn't have to wait, though. Only about a minute after I'd locked the door to customers, I heard a knock. I looked outside and saw Justin standing there. I opened the door immediately.

And saw he wasn't alone. That new detective with the DPD, Lura Fidelio, stood near him, off to one side—maybe so I wouldn't see her the instant I pulled the door open.

Why was she there?

Was I about to be arrested? Was Justin the one to knock to soften the situation a little—or to make sure I didn't just keep the door locked?

“Hello, Justin,” I said coolly, looking up at his blue eyes instead of over his shoulder at the tall, grinning woman behind him. Heck, I didn't really need to be polite. I took a step to one side, without inviting either of them in, and glared at the detective. I talked to Justin, not her, though. “What's she doing here?”

In the meantime, Pluckie had made her way through the door and was standing on her hind legs pawing at Justin for attention, which he provided in the form of several pats on the head. I was holding the end of her leash, so I wasn't concerned about whether my dog would try to say hi to the other person standing there.

“Let's walk toward the Shamrock Steakhouse, Rory,” Justin said, “and I'll explain a little more about what's going on.”

That caused my curiosity to rise at least a degree or two above my irritation. “Okay.”

As was often the case in Destiny, the sidewalk was still crowded with tourists. Justin walked on my left side, and I wasn't pleased when Lura took her place on my right. Today her suit was charcoal and her blouse a lighter gray. Even though my height was average, I felt awfully small between these two tall people. My uneasiness caused me to stroke my hematite necklace, although I tried to hide it a bit by fluffing my straight hair, which was much longer than Lura's—and if she took it as a criticism of her very short light brown hair, then too bad.

“Here's the thing, Rory.” Justin's voice was as serious as it was loud. Apparently he wanted Lura to hear and didn't care if the strangers around us did, too. “People I work with know that you and I have been seeing each other.”

No surprise there. We hadn't been keeping it secret, even though we weren't sure how serious it was. At least I wasn't, although sometimes I hoped …

“And now, well—” As he hesitated, I looked up into his blue eyes. They looked both serious and sad. “You're a suspect in the murder of Flora Curtival.”

“What!” My voice was even louder than his.

“That doesn't mean you're in imminent danger of being arrested, Rory. Although if you want to call off this dinner, I'll understand.”

“Or get my lawyer to join us.”

He stopped short, then caught up immediately. His tone now was ominous. “So you did lawyer up?”

If I had, would he take that as a sign of my guilt? “No,” I responded curtly. “But maybe I should.”

We continued onward. We must have looked somewhat grim—or at least business-like—since people moved aside to make room for us as we walked. We took our time, though, since Pluckie was checking out the ground.

I wished Killer was with us, since Justin seemed to act softer with his dog around, but he'd most likely hired one of his neighbor's kids to drop in on Killer.

“Have you looked at the
Destiny Star
website today, Rory?” That was Lura.

“No, although Celia Vardox came to the shop early to try to interview me. I didn't tell her much. I didn't have much to say, anyway.”

“I was going to show you the article when we got to the restaurant, Rory, before we started talking,” Justin said. “What's there is public, whether or not it's true. And that means I can mention it—but I can't talk about the official investigation or give any opinion about the accuracy of what's in the article or otherwise, or … ” His voice tapered off, and I looked up into his face again. He looked sad now. “The thing is, Rory, I have to be very careful here, as I indicated when Detective Choye interviewed you. Because of our relationship, I'm staying away from pretty much everything official to do with the case, and I also want to make sure no one thinks a conflict of interest is leading me to do anything to compromise the investigation.”

A conflict of interest. I assumed that meant that the world—or at least his associates—recognized that there was some sort of relationship between us.

Under other circumstances, I'd like hearing this. But I nevertheless couldn't help making one of my regular silent apologies to my deceased fiancé, Warren.

“That's why I'm joining you this evening,” Lura broke in. “I'm your chaperone. I'll be able to report back to the mayor and city council and everyone that your friendship didn't lead to any inappropriate revelations.”

I slowed my walk, and, looking down at the sidewalk, shook my head. “I. Don't. Know. Anything. To. Reveal.” I looked up again, from Lura to Justin and back again.

“I'm sure that's what Chief Halbertson hopes,” Lura said with a smile.

I didn't say much more till we arrived at the Shamrock Steakhouse. It was only a couple of blocks down Destiny Boulevard, on the other side of the street from the Lucky Dog. It was another Gold Rush–looking building, a couple of stories high and pseudo-Victorian. Thanks to Pluckie, we were shown to the back patio, where heat lamps were already fired up even though it was a relatively warm evening.

Servers in green suits that made them resemble leprechauns—even more than Mayor Bevin did—hovered around us, showing us to one of the round tables and bringing menus. I ordered a glass of wine. I needed it. And of course a bowl of water for my dog. Both Justin and Lura ordered beers. “We're officially off duty,” Lura explained, “even though I'm fulfilling an assignment.”

By then I was ready. I retrieved my cell phone from my pocket and pulled up the
Destiny Star
website. There, on the front page, was an article about Destiny's latest bad luck: another murder.

It included a photo—and I gasped when I saw it.

I assumed it had been edited, at least somewhat, since although it depicted the back of a woman apparently lying on the floor, the angle was such that not much was visible—not her outfit or her face, or blood if she'd been killed violently. Just a relatively benign photo of a body.

But it wasn't benign to me.

For one of the things that kept the details of her body from being visible was the array of items on the floor surrounding her.

They looked much too familiar.

They were all stuffed toys, lucky characters such as a rabbit with large feet, smiling black dogs and black cats, ladybugs, and woodpeckers.

The toys that I had designed and manufactured, that Flora had stolen from the Lucky Dog.

They had turned up again.

With Flora's dead body.

I waited until after our drinks had been served to make any comments. Until then, I continued reading the
Destiny Star
story on the apparent murder.

Some of the article was clearly conjecture, but either Celia or her brother Derek had apparently spoken with Flora's boss, Brie Timons.

Brie had found Flora's body.

She'd gone to a condo she'd listed for leasing to meet with Flora, who was supposed to have inspected it after a cleaning. Flora was slated to show the unit to some people who were seeking a new place to live in Destiny.

Could that have been Gemma and me?

If so, that might give the authorities additional reason to consider me a suspect. Theoretically, Flora could have told me about it, including its address. What if I'd happened to show up unannounced when just Flora was there and wanted some kind of retribution for what she'd admitted to doing at the Lucky Dog—and for singling me out in her tirade?

That was what circulated through my mind, but I didn't mention it.

“I'm not sure what you can and can't talk about,” I said, first to Justin, then to Lura.

Our drinks finally arrived, and I waited until the green-clad server, complete with leprechaun-like hat, had left again before continuing.

Justin beat me to it. “We can talk about the existence of that article. Since it's public, we can also confirm that Ms. Curtival is deceased and her body was found by her employer, Ms. Timons, at a condo unit she had listed for rental. But don't ask anything about how she died or anything else that could become evidence.”

“I get it,” I said, mostly meaning it.

“And by the way, Ms. Chasen,” Lura said, “Detective Choye said you admitted driving around last night.”

“Well, yes, but that doesn't mean I—”

“I'm only mentioning it because it was a good thing you brought it up. You see, there were a number of police vehicles out cruising then. Your car was photographed on several dashcams and its license number was jotted down by some officers, too.”

“If you'd attempted to hide it, you would have appeared guilty,” Justin explained unnecessarily.

The article didn't give the address of the condo, but I had little doubt, especially after this part of the conversation, that it was located on or near one of the streets where I'd driven last night.

Our server came back. I ordered only a salad. I wasn't especially hungry, not with all that was going on.

For the rest of the meal, we mostly talked about other things, not Flora Curtival or what had happened to her. It actually was quite pleasant. Maybe that was because I crossed my fingers often beneath the table in hopes that we could continue to be civil toward one another—and that I would be allowed to return to the B&B later rather than get arrested.

And that, maybe, I'd get an opportunity to talk to Justin alone, even briefly.

That moment came when Lura excused herself to head for the restroom. “Feel free to give your little dog a few pieces of the steak still on my plate,” she said as she stood and began finagling her way through the crowded patio.

I obediently picked up a couple small pieces of sirloin. As if she'd understood, Pluckie had sat up and was now regarding me with expectant dark eyes.

After I'd given her the steak, I looked at Justin.

“I didn't do it,” I told him.

“Of course you didn't. I didn't need to be there at your questioning by Detective Choye, or to see your reaction to that
Star
article, to be certain of that.”

I felt a huge wave of relief. “But … well, to protect yourself and the integrity of your job, does that mean we won't be able to see one another till the real killer is caught?”

“No,” he said. “Having Lura along tonight was just a precaution, since I wanted to go on record as having been seen with you, having a pleasant get-together, where someone neutral could testify that yes, we discussed what happened, but it was all aboveboard and I clearly know better than to discuss any part of the ongoing investigation, even with you.”

“Even with—”

“Heck, Rory. As I've said, people know we're seeing each other. I'm really happy we are. But at the moment, we—especially I—need to be particularly careful. Know what, though?”

“What?” I asked hesitantly, even as my eyes were captivated by a look from his that looked downright lusty.

“I'd love for Pluckie and you to join Killer and me for dinner again tomorrow. At our house.”