1 Lost Under a Ladder (14 page)

sixteen

Pluckie and I soon
headed upstairs to our room, but I could hear
the crowd below for a long time.

I didn’t sleep well that night, and it wasn’t only because of Serina’s noisy supporters trying to help her grieve into the wee hours. Even when those hours were no longer so wee, I lay with my eyes open in the dark, for a while at least.

When the sun shone through the window, though, I found myself waking up, so I must eventually have fallen asleep.

Heck, considering how my mind roiled, why had I slept at all? With the help of my lucky dog Pluckie I’d discovered a dead body—had it really been only yesterday? So much had happened since then.

I’d spoken with a number of people, any one of whom could have been guilty of Tarzal’s murder. Others who’d been mentioned could be, too. I’d been questioned myself by the cops.

And I’d unofficially taken on the job of trying to clear the one person I just couldn’t make myself believe had been the killer—even if Martha had one of the most credible motives.

And not to mention diving further into my current actual job of managing the Lucky Dog Boutique, even as I continued attempting to learn more about superstitions, whether or not I ultimately believed in them. Sure, people wanted to control their worlds. Their luck. But could they? For now, at least, I remained a skeptic.

Tarzal’s murder had nothing to do with the broken mirror in the Broken Mirror Bookstore, except as a convenient weapon for his killer … right?

Or would the killer now suffer bad luck, assuming he or she
hadn’t
followed the ritual of the five-dollar bill to counter what could
happen after breaking a mirror?

Heck, were there any superstitions about being unable to sleep after learning of a murder? I grabbed the book written by the murder victim and looked in the index.

My movement stirred Pluckie, who’d been sleeping at the foot of my bed. I didn’t think she’d lost any rest last night.

But she wasn’t worried about all that had gone on yesterday, and maybe she knew she passed along good luck to those crazy humans around her.

I sat on the edge of the bed looking up the pages containing sleep superstitions. But none seemed to apply. They mostly seemed to be about the direction in which a bed faces—and I had no idea of the direction of the one I’d been sleeping in. Or whether moonlight beamed directly on a sleeper’s face, which causes nightmares. Or if a mirror reflects on you while you’re in bed, your soul will be stolen.

Balderdash!

I didn’t try to read the supposed origins of those superstitions but slammed the book closed, which disturbed Pluckie yet again. This time, she jumped off the bed and stood on the floor looking at me expectantly, tail wagging slowly. She knew I was awake—and that meant it was time to take her outside for a walk.

I dressed quickly, figuring I’d shower later, after she was comfortable. For now, we went downstairs.

I heard nothing in the room where food had previously been served at this hour. Apparently, after the horrible night Serina had had, this day the inn was for bed only, and not breakfast.

Pluckie soon finished with her morning necessities. We went
upstairs so I could feed her, then get ready to leave. I hurried so we could get to the Lucky Dog long before it was supposed to open. I intended to take a tour of Destiny that day. But before I left, I wanted to make sure all was going well at the shop I now managed.

_____

“This is sweet of you, Rory,” Martha said a while later as she bit into a biscuit filled with egg, cheese, and bacon.

I’d called to see if she wanted me to pick up anything for her breakfast. There was a 7-Eleven convenience store sort of on my way—the only chain store I’d seen so far in Destiny, but I could understand why an operation with that kind of name would be welcomed here. I’d stopped on my walk to the Lucky Dog with Pluckie and picked up coffee and breakfast sandwiches to go.

“No problem.” Sitting at Martha’s small kitchen table, I reached down to give Pluckie a little taste of muffin, then looked back at my human table companion. “How are you feeling today?”

Martha didn’t look as well as yesterday. I had a feeling that I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t gotten much sleep.

“Just fine,” she said though, smiling so brightly that the lines on her face turned into tighter pleats. “You’re here awfully early. What do you plan to do before the shop opens?”

“I’ll just check the inventory on the computer to see if we need to order anything.”

“I’m impressed.” Martha raised eyebrows darker than her gray hair. “You know how to run our system already?”

“In the rare times when customers aren’t around, Jeri and Millie have shown me what they know.” Jeri had been the most helpful. Not only was she the older of the two assistants but she’d also gotten a degree in business administration. Plus, she’d worked at the Lucky Dog for a couple of years and had helped at her family’s retail shop since she was a kid.

I wondered why Martha hadn’t chosen her to run the place in her absence. Jeri seemed a much better bet than Arlen, who admitted to knowing nothing about the store, and at least somewhat better than Millie.

Why me, instead?

But Jeri only worked at the Lucky Dog part time. I’d gathered
from what she’d said that her relatives swallowed up a lot of her time
in helping out at the Heads-Up Penny Gift Shop.

Martha confirmed it. “She’s a good girl. I’d have asked her to help out more while I was healing if I thought she could, but I’ve asked that even before and she’s said no. Her family really needs her some of the time at their shop, too.”

That answered my question about Jeri … but not about Arlen.

“I also wanted to get everything I could done early, before Millie or Jeri gets here. Guess what I’m doing today.” I grinned at her.

She looked puzzled. “I haven’t a clue. Tell me.”

“Well, it looks like I’ll be in Destiny for a while, and the more I know about the town and its superstitions the better, so I’m taking a tour. Now, guess who my guide will be.”

Her eyes opened wide but I couldn’t interpret her expression. “Arlen?”

“That’s right. I’ve heard really good things about him as a tour guide.”

I hoped that opened the door enough for her to jump through and tell me what she thought of her nephew—and why she hadn’t taken him on to train as a part-time employee.

“I’ve heard that, too, dear. I’ve never taken his tour, so you’ll have
to tell me all about it.”

“I will,” I promised. “He seems like a nice enough guy, and I gather he cares a lot about his aunt.” I waited, but Martha didn’t comment.

Taking a last bite of my sandwich while saving a bite more of the biscuit for Pluckie, I stood, grabbed my coffee, and said, “I’d better get downstairs.”

“Okay, but first—just so you know, Millie came up here and got the three other wishbones from yesterday, but I want to break the fourth one with you to see which of us will have good luck today.”

“Oh.” Not a good idea. I certainly didn’t want the larger part to
be mine since Martha believed in such things. On the other hand—
did I want to tempt fate?

She reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out a substantial-sized wishbone. “Okay, make a wish.” She closed her eyes, and when she opened them she held out the wishbone.

Had I made a wish? Well, yes, in a way. I wished that we would both have good luck today and forever, no matter what the results of this little activity.

Just in case, I tried to manipulate the wishbone as we both pulled
on it to ensure that Martha got the big end.

She didn’t.

That upset me a bit, though not much. She was the one who believed
. But she would also be sitting upstairs here today, unlikely to get into more trouble … I hoped.

And me? Well, I didn’t intend to get into any difficult situations, either. And since my wish should theoretically benefit both of us, I should feel fine about this.

I almost convinced myself.

Standing, I looked at Martha. “I can’t tell you my wish since that might cause problems, but you have no need to worry. Just in case, though, call if you need anything.” I didn’t make it a question.

“But you won’t be here.” Her wan smile said that was supposed to be a joke.

“No, but if you call the store’s number, you’ll get one of your assistants, and everyone’s ready to help you. You know that.”

“Yes,” she said, her smile real this time. “I know that.” But then her
expression morphed to sorrow. “Everyone but the police.”

That made me want to contact Justin and relay Martha’s state of
mind to him. Surely he couldn’t really consider her guilty. Especially
since he’d seemed to care for her so much. But I realized he had a job to do, procedures to follow, no matter what his emotions might have told him.

With Pluckie at my side, I went back down the stairs to the store—careful not to trip. Not that I believed in the bad luck superstition Martha thought had jinxed her enough to make her a murder suspect. But I could really hurt myself, and maybe Pluckie, too, if I happened to fall down those steps.

It was just a little past nine o’clock, so I was a bit surprised to see Jeri inside the store. “Good morning,” I said as Pluckie dashed over to greet her, tail wagging.

“Hi. I can’t stay long right now, but Millie will be here soon. I’ll return late this afternoon to help out, though. I hope that’s okay.”

I considered pressing her a bit for what her family’s ongoing expectations were in her other part-time job but didn’t think this was the best time. Instead, I motioned for her to join me at the computer after pulling it out from its locked home beneath the counter, and we went over my latest inventory questions. I was delighted that she had a lot of the answers, and we ordered some more pet foods and decorative collars and leashes since we were starting to run short.

I was also glad when Millie came in a short while later. I’d still be around for about an hour, but I wanted overlap in who was there. When I told her about my upcoming tour, she laughed and clapped her hands. “You’ll love it. And guess who’ll be the next expert on superstitions around here.”

“Not I,” I said, but was glad that she clearly had no qualms about being left alone today to mind the store.

She also promised to take good care of Pluckie, since I didn’t think
it would be appropriate to take her on the tour.

When I was ready to leave, I let Millie know. Then I fitted the loop
of Pluckie’s leash around the hook near the back counter once more,
just so I’d feel more at ease that she wouldn’t follow anyone out the door. Like me.

I was somewhat surprised as I strode back to the front of the store to see Millie moving some of our products for sale around. “Just want to call people’s attention to them some more,” she said.

But wouldn’t most patrons think it bad luck to have a clowder—yes, that’s the name for a group of felines—of stuffed black cat toys in their paths as they entered the store?

I didn’t say anything, though. That would at least get our customers’ attention—and I hoped it would be in a good, superstitious way.

_____

The offices of Destiny’s Best Tours were on the other side of town, but I walked there anyway. I might have been able to arrange to be picked up nearer the Lucky Dog, but it was a nice morning, and I also wanted to get another personal view of the town before I heard about it from Arlen’s perspective.

As always, the sidewalks were crowded. One of these days I’d have to stop in City Hall and see if there was any printed literature or website that kept track of numbers of people who came here. Maybe even that guy Derek’s weekly paper, the
Star,
collected statistics. I’d need to check.

I enjoyed my walk—although I was more in a hurry than most of the pedestrians so I had to squeeze around them, even as I tried to avoid stepping on cracks as I noticed others did, too.

Why were so many people interested in finding out about superstitions? Was it only curiosity about this little town that made tourists flock here?

How many others came as I did, hoping for answers in situations where it looked as if some superstition came true?

Maybe I’d learn that on my tour.

I walked until I reached Luck Street. I used a crosswalk to get to the opposite side of Destiny Boulevard. Did people ever cross their fingers for luck when they got into crosswalks?

I smiled at my own silliness as I proceeded up Luck Street to a building with a large parking lot where several tour vans were parked, all labeled, “Destiny’s Luckiest Tours.”

I glanced at my watch. My tour wouldn’t leave until ten, and I still had about twenty minutes. I decided to wait in the building.

As I pulled open the glass door at the front of the smooth concrete building, I saw Evonne Albing, the owner of the tour company whom I’d met at Wishbones-to-Go, behind the front counter. A lot of people were in line, presumably signing up for tours or checking in like me.

Evonne, in another smooth and attractive business dress, seemed somehow to sense my presence. Ignoring the people in front of her she stood, smiled, and called out, “Hi, Rory. Welcome. Are you ready to experience some of Destiny’s greatest luck? Get ready for your tour!”

seventeen

“Thanks, Evonne.” I hurried
to the front of the line and shook the hand she held out. She grasped mine warmly for an extra second before letting go.

I smiled at her, all the while wondering how she knew who I was. Sure, she’d recognized me, but how did she know my name?

When I’d met Evonne in the Wishbones-to-Go line, she’d introduced herself, but when she told me to give her my name and a time
I wanted to take a tour, I’d demurred. She’d left before Carolyn Innes
from the button shop indicated she recognized me for assisting Martha after the Destiny Welcome show.

Well, this was a small town, and I was now more than a tourist. Besides, Arlen knew who I was. But even if he’d described me to Evonne, that didn’t mean she would recognize me.

Heck, why did I care? This was Destiny, home of superstitions. Maybe there was more woo-woo stuff here, too—like inherent psychic abilities.

I considered asking her how she knew my name, but Arlen stepped
through one of the doors behind the long counter. “Hi, Rory,” he called, then joined Evonne.

She was looking at a computer screen in front of her. I noticed that Arlen had an earbud in. I couldn’t tell whether Evonne did, too, but they both had similar electronic gizmos clipped to their shirts that could be microphones.

Was there a camera here somewhere? Probably. This could have been as simple as his seeing me on a screen in a back room and telling Evonne, via the electronics, who I was.

Impressive to superstitious tourists, maybe, if they pulled the same act on them. I wasn’t impressed.

“Hi, Arlen,” I finally responded. “I was just over at your aunt’s—upstairs. We had breakfast together.” I considered telling him about the wishbone but decided against it. He was supposed to be the expert on superstitions around here, not me.

Besides, depending on what happened today on our tour, if neither Martha nor I had any particular good luck, that might prove to me that superstitions had no merit.

“How is she?” he asked. His red shirt with the Destiny’s Luckiest Tours logo on the pocket hugged surprisingly buff arm muscles.

“Improving, I think.”

“Great,” he said. “Now excuse me while I gather our tour group together.”

Arlen meandered around the crowd for a little while. I saw a display
of tour brochures and others for Destiny shops, plus a stack of
Destiny Star
newspapers.

I picked up a paper as well as information on some of the shops and restaurants that I recognized, noticing that the Broken Mirror Bookstore was represented here, but the Lucky Dog Boutique was not. I’d already started considering ways to increase the shop’s business. If such a thing didn’t exist, I’d have to do something about it.

Arlen made an announcement requesting that everyone on the ten o’clock Meet Our Destiny tour get together outside at the van in the parking lot nearest the door. “I’m your guide,” he told us. “Follow me.”

The van seated a dozen passengers. Arlen directed me to the driver’s side, right behind him. “You should be able to see fine from
there as we drive, and you can get in and out quickly at our stops. Oh, and feel free to ask me any questions. I might even have answers.”

The other seats filled quickly. Considering the number of kids and couples and the Destiny totebags carried in, I figured that everyone else was a tourist.

Arlen ran through a list of people who’d reserved seats. Then he further introduced himself. “Hi, everyone. Welcome. I’m Arlen Jallopia, and for the next couple of hours I’m going to give you Destiny’s Luckiest Tour.”

He quickly explained that he had roots here thanks to a family member who’d moved to town years ago—Martha, I was sure, but he didn’t identify her. He’d only been here a comparatively short while but had been enthralled by Destiny’s origin and history and all the superstitions personified by stores and people’s beliefs.

“We’ll mostly drive past points of interest, although we’ll get out and look around at a few sites. Feel free to ask questions anytime … although if the place and timing could bring any of us bad luck, I reserve the right to let you know that and refuse to answer.”

He gave a big wink and a wave, then said, “Everyone have your seat belts on? Good. It’s bad luck around here not to wear one while riding in a car or driving. So … let’s go!”

He got behind the steering wheel, put on his own seat belts, and started the engine.

As he drove out of the parking lot, he tested his elongated van’s public address system. Everyone could hear him.

Sitting beside me was a guy who appeared to be in his twenties, with longish blond hair and a short beard. “Is this your first time in Destiny?” he asked, his smile wide.

“Yes,” I said. “Yours?”

He nodded. “I’ve wanted to come here ever since I was a kid and first learned to cross my fingers for luck. I’m here with some other guys majoring in sociology at Cal State Fremont. We’re all doing papers on offbeat things people believe, and coming here is part of our research. My name is Barry.”

He held out his hand expectantly, and I shook it. “I’m Rory.”

Our van was about to turn onto Destiny Boulevard in the area of town I assumed was its civic center. I’d been there at the nearby Break-a-Leg Theater for the Destiny Welcome, and next door was City Hall. Beyond that was a matching, though smaller, building I assumed was the police station. A bunch of official-looking cars were parked in front of it.

That must be where Chief Justin Halbertson hung out when he wasn’t harassing old ladies or chatting with—or interrogating— younger ones.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t fair. He was just doing his job. And I had an urge to talk to him and ask how their investigation into Tarzal’s death was progressing.

Instead of turning toward town, Arlen turned right. “We’ll come back this way,” he said into his microphone. “But first thing I want to show you is Destiny’s most hysterical—er, historical—area.”

I knew Arlen was supposed to keep his tour light and even act as a comedian, so maybe there actually would be hysterical humor in what he first showed us.

For now, he started telling the story I’d heard previously about the origin of Destiny: Its founding by two California Gold Rush Forty-Niners who’d found gold after dashing to the end of a rainbow and had fallen in love with superstitions.

“Now, you may have heard that story before, including that where
those panners found gold wasn’t around here. But did you know that they chose the location for Destiny after chasing the end of another rainbow?”

That part I hadn’t heard, and I gathered that most, if not all, others on the tour weren’t aware of it, either.

“Where I’m taking you now,” Arlen said, “was where they ended
up—way up in the surrounding mountains. Settling there and planning a town would have been difficult, if not impossible, so they
looked around and found a much more suitable locale, which is where Destiny is now. But I’m going to show you a place beloved by those of us who are true superstition freaks, where Destiny could have been located.”

I assumed the miners hadn’t suffered bad luck by choosing a slightly different location or Arlen would have mentioned it. We went up winding roads that sometimes made me hold my breath in fear that we would tip over and roll down some pretty steep mountains even with guard rails at the edges. But eventually we reached a flat and paved area that was also surrounded by cliffs. A few other tour vans were parked there, too.

“Let’s all get out and breathe deeply,” Arlen said. “And close our eyes and think of how superstitions can come true.”

We exited the van, and, along with a crunch of the tourists here from our group and others, I looked at a large sign posted at the end of the parking lot, near a path up the side of a mountain. It described the Forty-Niners, their luck in finding gold thanks to rainbow number one and their decision to found Destiny near the end of rainbow number two—which they happened to claim was right here.

Interesting. I closed my eyes, breathed in the light, fresh mountain air, and tried to open myself to the possibility that superstitions really were real.

But when I opened them again, I still—unsurprisingly—had my
doubts.

Arlen came over to me. “What do you think, new resident of Destiny?
Are you convinced?”

“Convinced enough to tell customers at the Lucky Dog Boutique how lucky they’ll be if they buy stuff for their pets there.”

He laughed. “Fair enough. And now I can tell why Aunt Martha picked you to manage the place. I guess.” His smiled appeared to
turn momentarily bitter but he looked away quickly. “Okay, my gang,”
he called out. “Let’s get back into the van and continue our tour.”

The rest of the tour was pretty much what I expected. On the way back to town, Arlen spouted tales of other superstitions that had supposedly come true for residents over the years, indicating that carrying a rabbit’s foot, or wearing the traditional something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue at a wedding brought good luck. Black cats crossing the paths of some people had supposedly caused things to go terribly wrong in their lives—and the worst wrong of all was that several people had had to move away from Destiny thanks to the evil caused by nasty, road-crossing black cats.

Including the one I’d seen?

All very interesting, and I could understand why people who believed in superstitions could assume that their good or bad luck resulted from some occurrence they’d been warned about.

But I still didn’t hear anything that made me certain at last that Warren’s ladder incident had definitely led to his death. Or that it hadn’t.

If he’d believed in that superstition, then maybe so—since
he’d
be expecting something to go wrong. But that would also mean
he’d have been more careful and would not have walked under that ladder in the first place.

I sighed as I often did while thinking about my loss. My confusion. My Warren.

At least this time I didn’t cry.

Before heading into the heart of town, Arlen drove by some land
marks in the civic center that I hadn’t seen before, including the local library. I promised myself to tell my friend Gemma about it. Better yet, I’d visit it first.

There were also schools near there, from elementary through middle school and high school.

“Do the schools here teach superstitions?” asked my seatmate. I imagined that would be important to his research for his sociology paper.

Arlen responded that each grade level did, in fact, teach something about superstitions appropriate to the age of the children. “I have to admit,” he said, “that from what I’ve heard the students are told that even though Destiny is built around superstitions, they may not be real, so the kids are advised to think for themselves.”

“I’ll bet they believe in superstitions anyway,” called a female voice
from behind us.

“I’ll bet they do, too,” Arlen said with a laugh.

Soon, Arlen reached the beginning of Destiny Boulevard again. Once more, everyone got out. This time, we received a brief tour of the Break-a-Leg Theater where the Destiny Welcome had been. Arlen recounted tales of performers over the city’s history who had or
hadn’t given the standard exhortation set forth in the theater’s nam
e to one another. Some shows had done well—but the actors or musicians in others had met mysterious fates that the locals of the time had chalked up to someone instead wishing them good luck and thereby bringing on just the opposite to those in that highly superstitious profession.

Back in the van, Arlen drove slowly down the street, pointing out
various stores that I had already noticed or visited, describing their wares, their owners, the superstitions behind their names—and encouraging the tourists to visit them and spend money. All good for the town’s economy, I was certain.

We reached the area where the Lucky Dog Boutique was, followed by the Broken Mirror Bookstore. Arlen immediately launched into a description in a deep, mournful tone about the town’s foremost superstition expert Kenneth Tarzal, who’d written the most famous book ever on superstitions. And how, somewhere in the middle of the night only a short while ago, he had gone into his store and actually broken a mirror.

And how a shard from that mirror had given him the bad luck he then expected—when someone used it to kill him.

There were gasps and nods and murmurs from the time Arlen began his sad, if exaggerated and partially made-up, spiel. Of course everyone there must have heard the story. But what I heard in this group of strangers wasn’t going to help me figure out the truth behind Tarzal’s murder … was it?

I listened as people speculated. Asked questions, like who had the most to gain by using that piece of mirror to kill Tarzal. Was he married? No. Did he have a girlfriend? Not then. How about his business partner? Yes, he had one but the town’s speculation was that the man had had more to gain by keeping his superstition-expert partner alive. Were there other people who’d fought with him? Well … that was still being investigated.

I was glad that Arlen didn’t get into that any further. Maybe that was because one of the primary people who’d quarreled with Tarzal was, of course, Arlen’s aunt.

Then … how about someone no one would suspect, someone who
had
been harmed by a superstition that, if he’d known about it, or hadn’t known about it, could have protected himself ? Someone who might blame the world’s superstition expert and decide to avenge him or herself on the book’s author.

Now, that was an interesting angle that I hadn’t previously thought about. But if it was the actual situation, how would I ever learn who had that kind of grudge and acted on it?

Still … well, it was a different approach. It gave me a reason to go, after this tour, to the police station we had passed a second time a while ago and check in with Justin, mostly to say hi.