1 Lost Under a Ladder (24 page)

twenty-eight

Celia suggested that we head for the Clinking Glass Saloon. I’d noticed the place when I’d visited the
Star
, since the bar was nearly across Destiny Boulevard from the newspaper’s offices.

“Sounds fine to me,” I said. “As long as they don’t mind that I’ve got my dog with me.” I’d enjoy a drink or two, but for now—and undoubtedly for a very long time—I didn’t want to let Pluckie out of my sight.

“They’ve got an outside patio like a lot of dog-friendly places in town,” Celia assured me. “It’ll be fine.”

A slight breeze was blowing and it ruffled my companion’s wavy
brown hair as well as my own longer blond locks. I’d mostly seen Celia
before in sweaters and nice slacks, but tonight she had on a short black skirt and lacy gray blouse. One thing that was still the same about her attire was its accessories. She had a large
Destiny Star
tote bag over her shoulder, and I figured it must contain her tablet computer, notepad, pen, and whatever else she needed to take notes. Which had seemed a bit strange to me before.

I wondered if I’d feel a little underdressed in my Lucky Dog T-shirt and slacks, although I’d never been to the bar and didn’t know how dressy its patrons got.

On the way, rather than talk about her article or what she wanted to include in it, I asked if she knew what superstition was related to clinking glasses.

“The touching of glasses and the sound that it makes is supposed to ward off evil spirits that a person might swallow along with her drink,” she said authoritatively.

Then I would definitely clink glasses with my companion this night. No sense tempting demons or fate, just in case that superstition happened to be true. And, yes, I still hadn’t made up my mind about any of them.

Especially the one about walking under a ladder, now that I’d done it myself but with differences from how Warren had. Were they
like the differences between tripping while walking downstairs versus upstairs?

The outside of the saloon was unobtrusive, except for its neon sign that showed two large wine glasses touching one another, with
stems crossed. The windows were darkened, and even outside I could
hear loud music. I didn’t see a patio from here but followed Celia to the door with Pluckie still leashed beside me.

“Hello, ladies,” said a tall man dressed all in black. “You can come through here with your dog, and I’ll show you the way to our outside area.”

The bar, nearly as dark inside as our host’s clothes, was crowded and noisy, with conversation even louder than the music blaring in the background. That was another reason to be on the patio, even if Pluckie weren’t with us—assuming it was quieter.

The air here seemed warmer than on our walk. Maybe it was because of the number of people who also occupied the patio. There weren’t any heaters around, which was good.

We were shown to a table for two near the outside rail. The table was of polished wood, and the chairs matched it. Menus stood up from a stand in the table’s middle, and the guy seating us grabbed them and handed us each one.

Pluckie sat on the concrete floor beside me, looking up as if she wanted me to order her a drink, too. Which of course I would—one appropriate for her.

“Happy drinking,” our host wished us. “And don’t forget to do what our name says and clink glasses for good luck.”

We examined the selections, and when our female server, also dressed in black, took our orders, we each asked for a glass of wine—mine Cabernet and Celia’s Chablis. And, for Pluckie, a bowl of water.

Celia reached into the tote bag whose strap she had hung over the back of her chair and pulled out her tablet computer.

“Okay,” she said, loud enough to be heard over nearby conversations, “this’ll both record you and let me write my own comments. I don’t want you to speak too loud so you’ll be overheard by other people, but I’ll still need to be able to understand you when I download this.”

That made me nervous. Yes, this was my choice, yet the idea of my every word being recorded and analyzed and, perhaps, quoted, nearly caused me to shudder. But, gamely, I said, “Okay.”

Our wine was served before we began. We both grinned as we clinked glasses. “To learning truths,” Celia said.

“And staying safe doing it,” I added while scratching gently behind Pluckie’s long black ears.

Then, knowing I was on camera and being recorded, I responded to Celia’s questions. I described, while trying not to shudder, how I’d realized that Pluckie was missing, looked for her, and found instead that terrible correspondence on the computer. How I’d followed the instructions to visit the area at the end of the town fathers’ second rainbow, way up in the mountains. Saw Pluckie beyond the ladder I’d have to walk under to get to her. The falling rocks that hit the police chief. My brazen move beneath the ladder, getting hit with rocks myself, then, at last, rescuing my dog.

And then I scowled so harshly that I knew my face would be filled
with creases on camera, but I didn’t give a damn. “Whoever did this should know I won’t forget—and I will find them.”

I almost smiled at Celia’s horrified expression. She reached over and turned off the equipment. “You realize that you might only be angering whoever it is even more. Or at least presenting enough of a challenge that they might come after you again.”

“They have to pay,” I said simply—although I did reach into the neck of my T-shirt and pull out my amulet, which was now part of my standard wardrobe no matter what I was wearing. I stroked it with my fingers for luck. Could it also have ramped up my luck in saving Pluckie? “And if I just act scared—which I am, of course—they may just come after us again.”

“Maybe not, if you stop chasing Tarzal’s murderer,” Celia reminded
me. Her words and apparent concern made me cross her off my mental suspect list—even though she could just be a good actor like others I’d considered. And were her words a warning instead of an observation?

“Whoever it is probably wouldn’t believe it even if you start filming me again and I act all scared and contrite and promise not to do it. So … maybe I’m tempting fate and luck and doing all the stuff you’re supposed to not do, especially in Destiny, but go ahead with your interview.”

Which she did. I admitted I was the person featured in the
Star
’s op-ed piece, and that although I recognized it wasn’t my business I was trying to help a new friend, Martha, by figuring out what legitimate suspects there were besides her for the killing of her business neighbor Kenneth Tarzal.

“My intent is to let the authorities know whatever I find,” I said. “Especially if I learn who endangered my dog.” I bent down and hugged Pluckie on camera. Then I sat up again. “I don’t like doing this. Not at all. I’d prefer just putting it all behind me. But I don’t see that happening till the killer—and dognapper—is caught. So, please, whoever you are, why don’t you just turn yourself in—for your own sake, not just mine. I’m a small cog in all this, but the police are after you. You’re going to get caught, probably not by me but by the authorities.”

Yet I knew the damage had been done, and I’d remain in danger. Would whoever it was come after Pluckie or me again? I would remain vigilant.

And I’d also talk to Justin about it as soon as I could.

_____

Which turned out to be faster than I’d imagined. No, Celia didn’t
post my interview on the
Destiny Star
website as we spoke, but I knew
she would soon.

She insisted on paying for our drinks, which was okay with me since we nursed those couple of glasses of wine—and the bill amounted to thirteen dollars plus a few cents. The number thirteen and I had always gotten along well before, but I knew it had unlucky connotations so I was just as glad not to mess with it that night.

Celia was nice enough to walk me back to the Rainbow B&B so
Pluckie and I wouldn’t be alone even now, before my challenge went
public. And I wouldn’t have to take Pluckie outside again that night, not after our pleasant walk back. Celia left as I unlocked the front door.

Serina was in the lobby. Even though I didn’t completely trust her, since she’d been Tarzal’s girlfriend, I did give her a quick recap of what I’d done. I watched her reaction: horrified. “Are you asking for more trouble for both you and Pluckie?” she demanded.

I picked up my dog and hugged her. “No, what I want is for all this ugliness to be over.”

“It will if both of you get killed,” she reminded me, but then she came over and joined our hug-fest. “I’ll double check that all the outside doors are locked tonight, but I don’t know if all the guests are in. Just make sure your own room is locked, okay? And I still have no idea who stole Pluckie from your room or how they did it, so we have to be careful.”

Another person I now believed to be innocent. Not that I’d let down my guard around Celia or her.

I did double check to make sure my room door was locked behind
Pluckie and me. I even moved a small chair from the desk area in front of it so I’d at least get some warning noise if someone entered.

“I know you’ll bark, too, Pluckie,” I said, patting my dog.

I’d keep my cell phone close in case I had to call for help. And was startled when, a little later, that phone rang as I got ready for bed. I checked the number. Justin’s.

“Hi,” I said. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, but I was going to ask you the same thing. Getting slugged by rocks tired me out, so I just went home early. I slept all this time so I just got your message. I know it’s late and I apologize, but after all that went on today …”

“I’m glad you did.” I planted my butt, now clad in pajama bottoms, on the coverlet on top of the bed. “You’re not going to like what I just did, but I couldn’t just sit back and wait to see if Pluckie was stolen again, or I was attacked, or whatever.”

The friendliness in his tone turned cop-professional icy. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I just issued a challenge to the killer and dognapper. And I think they’ve got to be the same person.”

“What did you do, Rory?”

I told him.

“Damn it!” His words were punctuated with a crash that sugg
este
d he’d punched something that fell over. “Don’t you realize that
someone who killed at least once won’t have any compunction about doing it again to save himself—or herself ?”

“Of course I realize it,” I said. “That’s one reason I called you. I don’t really have a lot of money to spare but I want to know of a good security company around here that I could hire for a short while
till we see what happens.”

“The hell with a security company. The Destiny police force is going to be sitting on your back, Rory. Especially me.”

I didn’t argue, even though a part of me sizzled with resentment. I didn’t like being watched or told what to do.

But I did like the idea of being protected. By the cops. And, yes, by the chief of police in particular.

Sure, I’d considered him a possible suspect—but not seriously. And certainly not after what he’d suffered to help save Pluckie.

Justin said he would pick me up after breakfast the next morning. He’d be sending extra patrols to the area even tonight, before the
Star
interview was likely to be made public. I was to be careful. I was to call him as soon as I woke up. I had the sense that he didn’t
want me to be alone except for bathroom visits—but fortunately that
wasn’t among his edicts.

“Isn’t all of this bad luck?” I demanded.

“You’ve made your own bad luck,” he said, then amended more softly, “or at least you’re adding to whatever the killer may already have sent your way.”

“Yes, but it’s good luck for me that you now know about it. I’ll play by the rules somewhat now, Justin, and at least keep you informed if I hear or learn anything, okay?”

“Of course that’s okay,” he exploded again. Then, “of course,” he repeated
more softly. “What’s not okay is that you’ve upped the ante and made yourself more vulnerable. But now we’ll just deal with it. And keep you, despite yourself, out of harm’s way.”

“Thank you, Justin,” I said.

I only hoped he was right.

I hoped so even more later. In the middle of the night.

Pluckie woke me by stirring beside me—similarly to the way she had on the night Tarzal was murdered.

“What’s wrong, girl?” I asked, feeling myself start to shake. Had Celia posted the interview already?

Was someone about to burst into the room and kill me? Did my dog hear or smell someone approaching?

And then I heard it—as I had before.

A dog howled in the distance.

This time, did it also mean death?

twenty-nine

Like last time, many
of the guests at the B&B mentioned hearing the dog’s howl the next morning downstairs in the crowded breakfast room. They spoke largely in hushed tones, asking Serina, who was in charge as always, if it truly meant someone was going to die, as the superstition said.

I half expected her to make light of it. After all, she was the front gate to Destiny for a lot of these tourists and the ones before and after them. She could scare them all away if she said yes and informed any of them who didn’t know that the last time howling like that had occurred in town, a citizen had been found murdered the next day.

Was it real? A projected noise? Where had it come from?

Hey, I thought as I took Pluckie outside. That part of it could be a good thing for me, at least. Tarzal might already have been dead by the time everyone heard the howling then, and here I was, still alive and walking my dog.

Deep inside, I attempted to shrug the whole thing off—but I recognized that I was scared. Even shaking. A real howl or not, it could
presage harm to someone … maybe me.

I saw a marked police car across the street and silently thanked Justin. No, I hadn’t called him when I woke up. I hadn’t considered it necessary. I intended to be cautious.

But I had exited the B&B warily, recognizing that it was absolutely necessary for Pluckie to come out first thing like this to relieve herself.

She wasn’t self-conscious at all, and having an officer of the law observing her—and, for safety, me—was definitely a good thing. As soon as she was finished and I’d cleaned up after her, I hurried back inside the B&B. Time to get ready to head to the store.

It was still pretty early, though, so I decided to take my time. No sense walking on the streets until they became crowded with tourists. Safety in numbers? As long as I remained wary and aware of who was near me.

I grabbed some food to take upstairs with us, then fed both Pluckie
and myself in our room. Then I looked on my smartphone to check the
Destiny Star
website.

Yes, the interview was already there. The posted time said it had been there since one o’clock that morning.

I listened to part of it. I sounded like … well, me. But an angry me. A determined me.

A scared me? For those who know me, that might have been obvious, too.

Word had already gotten out. Apparently, a lot of Destiny’s citizens didn’t sleep, or got up early, and had listened to the interview. Maybe they informed each other by phone or superstitious mind games, who knew?

One way or another, there were a lot of comments already on the website. Even Mayor Bevin Dermot weighed in, scolding a visi
tor to his town who dared fate and superstitions to harm her. He claimed
he wished me well, and I had a sense he also wished me gone from Destiny.

Or was that just a ruse? Was he guilty of killing Tarzal to stop him from criticizing superstitions and the people who believed in them? I didn’t recall seeing him at the end of the Destiny Welcome. He’d
also have had enough contacts to set up what had happened to Plucki
e yesterday, even if he decided not to do it himself.

I was beginning to like Carolyn Innes of Buttons of Fortune a lot. Yes, she scolded me a bit online, too, but in a way that made it clear she worried that I was jeopardizing my safety even more by going public.

Her concern was echoed by Preston Kunningham, whose comments incorporated the sorrow of what had happened to his business partner. He didn’t want to see that occur in Destiny again.

Evonne Albing of Destiny’s Luckiest Tours had weighed in, too. She made it clear that the area to which Pluckie had been taken was on their tour route, as was the Broken Mirror Bookstore and more, for anyone who wanted to see where some of what I mentioned had taken place.

Could she have set it up? Murdered Tarzal?

Her manager Mike Eberhart, whom I’d also met at Wishbones-to-Go, commented on Evonne’s comment, as if to second it—and also mentioned that their tours might not feature the Lucky Dog Boutique that I managed, but it was right next door to one of their featured places, the Broken Mirror Bookstore. He was in essence telling people who might not know where I could be found in case they wanted to harm me. That didn’t really matter, since whoever had stolen Pluckie knew at least where I was staying—right here. I didn’t know Mike very well—but who said I had to know the person who’d killed Tarzal and set up Pluckie for him to be guilty?

And what about their tour-guide employee and more, Arlen Jalopia?

Enough. It was time for me to stop reading this and head to the Lucky Dog.

Maybe it would be a lucky place for me that day. I certainly hoped so.

_____

I’d only gotten out to the sidewalk in front of the Rainbow B&B when a black car nearly screeched to a halt beside me, at the curb. I startled, nearly dropping Pluckie’s leash—but I’d have thrown myself carefully on my dog to protect her if that had been necessary.

It wasn’t. The car was Justin’s.

His window rolled down and he leaned toward me from the driver’s seat. “You didn’t call me. But if you think you’re walking to the store this morning, after the challenge you issued to our suspect, you’re wrong. Get in, Rory.”

I’ve mentioned before that I don’t particularly like to obey orders.
But as a sales associate, and then an assistant manager at a MegaPets, I’d learned to adapt.

This order I realized was for my own protection. That part I liked.

But the fact that it was snapped at me, as if I had no choice but to do as Justin demanded? That earned him an angry stare through the window and my not reaching for the door handle.

“If you’d care to walk with us today, that would be okay as long as Pluckie doesn’t object.” I bent, and Pluckie wriggled her furry little body in my direction. “What do you think, girl? I guess you don’t mind taking orders from me, or at least you’ve pretty much always listened. This man told us what to do. Would you mind his company?”

By then, Justin had parked his car and gotten out. Today he wore his standard blue oxford shirt and dark slacks. “Oh, come on, Rory. What do you think you’re doing?”

Pluckie hurried over to Justin and jumped up, her paws on his legs, her tail wagging eagerly.

“I guess it’s okay for you to join us,” I told Justin coolly. “At least Pluckie doesn’t mind.”

His glare might have intimidated me if I wasn’t already so irritated. As it was, I just nodded at him and began walking down Fate Street toward Destiny Boulevard.

My spine was straight, my brow frowning, my mouth pursed. I thought about Warren then, and whether he would ever have issued me edicts the way Justin did.

No, my sweet, lost geek wouldn’t have. But I also realized that I was equating the authoritative policeman with the love I’d lost.

Would I ever be ready to care for another man? Maybe. Someday.

But someone as officious as Justin?

Well, that I didn’t know—but I admitted very briefly to myself that I did appreciate the fact that, irritating as Justin was, I liked that he was concerned for my safety, and Pluckie’s. Especially the day after he had been injured while trying to come to my dog’s aid.

We reached the shop. It was still only eight o’clock, a couple of hours before I’d open. Jeri was to be my first helper of the day, and she wouldn’t arrive until around nine thirty.

I could possibly wake Martha, but no sense worrying her, at least
not
before the day officially began.

And I felt sure that Justin wasn’t going to stay here.

He waited while I unlocked the shop’s front door, then walked inside ahead of me. I expected him to do the cop thing I saw all the time on TV: whip his gun from his pocket, hold it straight out in front of him with both hands at eye level, and start yelling “Police” as he checked to make sure no one was there. He didn’t—but he did look around in the shop, the back room, the alley behind it, and up the stairway toward Martha’s.

“There’ll be a lot of patrols go by today,” he said, “so if you need anything, or something bothers you, be sure to check outside or call.” He looked down at me, and this time there was concern and warmth in his blue eyes. “I’m worried about you, Rory. I know you’re trying to help Martha and also help me, but I can’t agree with how you’re doing it. There are other ways besides putting yourself in danger.”

“I was already—” I began, but then his lips lowered toward mine.

Did I want this? Well, yes. For luck and reassurance and—well, I just wanted it.

Our kiss was brief but warm.

“I have to get to the station now,” he said somewhat breathlessly as he pulled away. “But I’ll be back to check on you later. I’ll call you now and then, so please don’t turn off the ringer on your phone. And call me any time you feel even a little concerned. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said, standing on my toes to give him a quick farewell kiss.

And then it was just Pluckie and me in the shop.

Or so I thought. But when I turned, I saw a black cat dart from near the counter into the back room.