Knock on Wood (17 page)

Justin pushed Killer gently and the larger dog moved, giving Pluckie room to enter and trade nose sniffs. I laughed and followed my dog.

“Ready for dinner?” Justin asked. “I picked it up on the way home and have everything set up in my kitchen.”

I followed him down a wide, bright hallway, peering into a neat living room with sparse furnishing. The kitchen was large and inviting, with a butcher block table in the middle. Not surprisingly, the table was set. The flatware was simple, and the plates were red pottery. An aroma of cooked meat permeated the room.

“Go ahead and sit down,” Justin said. “Is red wine okay with you? I have a cabernet I'm told is pretty good stuff.”

I smiled. “Sounds fine. Can I help with anything?”

“No, it's all ready.”

I did help him put the wine glasses on the table, followed by the side dishes for the steak dinner. Then we sat down to eat.

We started out talking about how I'd made it a point of using my right foot to enter his home and graduated into a few other superstitions that neither of us really believed in.

The dogs sat at our feet begging pieces of steak. We both obliged, at least a little. It was delicious, after all.

So was the company.

But I'd wanted to see Justin not to simply enjoy myself. I wanted to ask him why Choye had been sent to interview me—and what was going on with their investigation into Lou Landorf's murder. What would he tell me? Anything?

I took a long sip of wine, looking him straight in his eyes before I began.

But he intercepted the moment. He was the one to speak first.

“I figure you want to know what's going on in our attempt to determine what happened to Lou, right?”

I nodded. “Yes, but I realize you can't tell me everything. Just let me know what you can.” I figured that was good and rational and designed to get him to say at least something.

“I will in a moment,” he said, nodding. That made me smile. Until he spoke again. “First, I want to know exactly what you're hiding to protect Gemma.”

twenty

“Nothing,” I responded, trying
to keep anger out of my voice. I didn't stand but leaned back in my chair to get farther away from him, not attempting to hide my scowl. Pluckie, at my side, must have read my change in mood since she sat up and looked at me, head cocked. “I'm not hiding anything. And I don't like your accusation. Why would you ask me something like that?”

Even as I said it, my mind scrambled. Was there something I knew that would lead to evidence against my good friend? Not that I could think of.

The fact that she happened to have walked toward the park where Lou was found dead a while later didn't mean Gemma had killed him.

And surely Justin didn't know about Gemma's walk—or my knowledge of it.

So where had his allegation come from?

“To see your reaction,” he responded a bit too mildly. I didn't believe him.

“Did your colleague Detective Choye point a finger at me? I answered his questions. They were strange, anyway. He mostly asked me whether I believed anything Frank Shoreston said.”

Which might be the answer. I was somewhat equivocal in my response but it had mostly been negative.

“No. He gave me his report on your conversation and it sounded reasonable. But I'll admit I'm getting frustrated. I know Gemma is your good friend. I also know Lou and she had talked to one another a lot in the short time since she'd gotten here. Maybe there was even mutual attraction there.” When I opened my mouth to comment, Justin held up his hand. “Or not. In any event, there was apparently some ill will between them when he was killed.”

“Arguing with someone isn't proof of murdering them,” I said.

“No, but it could be a factor. A motive. Now, can we change the subject?”

“You brought it up,” I retorted. “And since you did, I'd like to know more about what Detective Choye said. Has he spoken with Frank?”

“This isn't something I want you to repeat, but a lot of people are aware of it anyway.” Justin leaned back, too, his arms folded. “Frank has come to our department several times. He claims he is worried since the p.a. director had expressed an interest in Gemma, and then he was killed. Everyone knows, Frank says, that he and Gemma had been an item. He's worried that something will happen to him, too.”

“That's bull pucky,” I said. “Who does he suspect? Stuart Chanick? Gemma herself? I'd be more likely to bet on Frank being the killer.”

“Don't worry, we're considering that possibility, too.” Justin shifted again, this time leaning toward me. His expression now appeared softer. Apologetic? If so, he didn't say it aloud—not exactly. “Like I said, Rory, I wanted to see your reaction. You've known both Gemma and Frank for a while, longer than any of us around here. It isn't evidence, of course, but I'll keep in mind that you're more inclined to believe Frank could have killed Lou Landorf than Gemma.”

“You're damned right.” Now my arms were crossed.

But Justin stood. “Have you finished eating? If so, I'd like to give you a tour of my house.”

Talk about changing the subject quickly. I considered just telling him no, saying that Pluckie and I had to get back to the B&B right away since we had to get up early the next morning, whatever.

Instead I rose without saying anything. He gestured for me to head toward the kitchen doorway, and I complied. Then he led me down the hall, followed by both dogs.

Justin's home was larger than it had appeared from the outside since it extended farther back on its lot than had been evident. It had three bedrooms, one clearly used as an office and another containing a large bed and other furnishings delineating it as the master bedroom. Its decor was plain and masculine, with a dark comforter and matching pillow shams on the bed and a huge TV hung on the wall. The third was apparently a guest room.

I wouldn't say that Justin was a great decorator, nor had he appeared to have hired a designer. But the place was pleasant and relatively neat … and I wondered why he had wanted to show it to me.

To end our sort-of disagreement?

Or because he was hoping, as we got to his room, I'd grab his hand and lead him to the bed?

Were there superstitions relating to that—a guest seducing a homeowner? A woman versus a man? I didn't know offhand, but the thought of crossing my fingers to try to make sure I didn't somehow invoke bad luck passed through my mind.

Plus, I did consider quickly what it might be like to make love with this man. But it wasn't going to happen this night, if ever. Not after the somewhat adversarial exchange we'd just had.

And so, I didn't have to apologize mentally to Warren—other than for having the thought cross my mind. Even at that, I'd already somewhat acknowledged to myself that I was approaching some degree of closure in my loss of him.

“What do you think?” Justin asked as he led me through a back door into a garden. It mostly contained a lawn surrounded by low bushes, all wrapped behind a tall, natural wooden fence—again, nice and masculine and not particularly decorative.

“I like it,” I said, meaning it.

Night had pretty well fallen, and there was just a dim light projected from some lamps attached to the house. The air was cool, and I caught a faint floral scent from somewhere nearby without seeing any flowers.

Pluckie and Killer explored the yard, perhaps with a goal of elimination in mind. Justin and I stood on a small paved patio near the door, watching them. At first.

I turned to my host. “How long have you lived here?” I asked.

“Around two years, since about a month after I moved to Destiny to become the police chief. I was lucky to find this place not long after I arrived.”

“That's for sure.”

“Why? Are you starting to look for a place to live?”

I felt my face redden a little. “You know I haven't decided how long I'll be staying.”

“No, but I've got a feeling you're putting down some roots. I know Martha's hopeful you'll be around for a long time. I've talked to her about it.”

I already knew Justin was like a son to her. His enthusiasm and perseverance were definitely factors in my agreeing to stay here to help her out after Pluckie discovered her when she was ill.

Sure, I had been considering finding someplace to live other than the B&B. But I wasn't ready to admit that to anyone else except maybe Gemma, but especially not Justin.

“I've got a lot to consider,” I equivocated.

“Like the superstitions involved about moving? I was fed a lot of them around here when I found this house, but the ones I learned are more about what to do as you move in to make sure you stay lucky. None involved whether or not to move from another place. I'd already made my decision about that.”

Maybe I should ask my new superstition guru Gemma about the pros and cons of me deciding to stay here. I felt sure she'd try to convince me it was lucky, as long as she, too, chose to move to Destiny for good.

On the other hand, maybe she was ready to flee by now, considering everything that had happened. If she could. She was, after all, a possible murder suspect.

“I do like your home,” I said. “But even if I decide to stay here and find a place to live, I doubt I'd be able to afford this neighborhood. An apartment that accepts dogs should be fine, right, Pluckie?” I bent to pat my little friend, who'd returned to stand at my feet. Her wagging tail suggested she agreed. Or maybe she was just reacting to the fact I was talking to her.

Killer, too, had returned to be with the humans. He stood beside Justin but was watching Pluckie.

“This isn't that expensive of an area,” Justin said. “An apartment, condo, or house—it's your choice, of course. But you'll make someone very happy when you make that decision and settle in here.”

“Martha's a very sweet person,” I said, turning to smile up at Justin under the patio light.

“She is,” he replied. “But I wasn't talking about her.”

He reached over and took me into his arms before I could react—positively or negatively. It clearly was the former, though, as I put my arms around him, too.

At first our kiss was inquisitive, as if we were trying to decide whether it was a good idea here and now. But the longer I stayed in his arms, his lips on mine, and mine reciprocating, I didn't have any questions about appropriateness any longer.

It felt good. And right.

And unnerving. But even recognizing that didn't make me pull away.

His body was strong and hard against mine. I tossed out of my brain any comparisons with Warren's physique. He was gone. I was here. And I was very glad to be here.

After a very pleasant while, I pulled away. Smiling up at Justin, I said, “You do have an excellent way of trying to convince someone to stay in your adoptive town.”

He laughed. “Yeah, it's how I work on all women I think will be an asset to this place—not.” He didn't release me entirely but led me back into the house. “Now, if you've any interest in me trying even more to convince you, this wouldn't be a bad time.” He aimed a very sexy and suggestive look in my direction.

“Rain check,” I said, “even though the weather in Destiny seems quite nice.” That way, I wasn't saying no exactly, but despite my interest and definite enjoyment, sharing a kiss was a lot easier to justify in my mind than anything more.

For now.

I insisted on helping him clear the table, although he said he'd be glad to take care of putting our plates into the dishwasher. He soon walked Pluckie and me out to my car, leaving Killer in the house.

“Thanks for dinner,” I told him. “The best way I can reciprocate is to invite you out one of these days. Or to bring in food when the Lucky Dog is closed.”

“Until you decide on that apartment, condo, or house.” He grinned.

I smiled back. “Yes, until I decide.”

Once again, he seemed inclined to help with that decision. After I unlocked my car door and got Pluckie to jump inside, I prepared to sit down too.

But before I did, I was once more in Justin's arms. Right here, in his own neighborhood without a fence shielding us from prying eyes, he kissed me. Again.

“Give me a call when you get to the B&B,” he said. “So I can feel okay that I didn't accompany you home.”

This hadn't exactly been a date, and I appreciated that he was a gentleman.

That wasn't all I appreciated about him.

“I will,” I told him.

“We can also talk then about when and where we'll meet tomorrow.”

I felt my eyes widen. Yes, I was interested in getting to know him better, but I didn't want him to take over my life here in Destiny.

“To talk more about how we can try to clear Gemma,” he continued.

Surprised, I smiled.

“Assuming,” he went on, “that she really is innocent.”

“Good assumption,” I said, planting one more quick kiss on his mouth and sliding into my car.

twenty-one

I talked to Pluckie
a lot on the way to our B&B. I intended to keep my mind away from Justin and the murder investigation … and those kisses. As it turned out, I did discuss them a bit with my alert dog, who sat in her harness in the seat beside me staring and panting a little, as if she was eager to contribute to the conversation.

All I got from her, though, was her concern for my increasingly bad mood, which I definitely would not take out on her.

Were there superstitions about how things you didn't want to think about took up every square centimeter of your brain? If so, were there any cures—touching a steering wheel or talking to your dog or whatever?

Guess I was tired as well as frustrated. Otherwise, I wouldn't be having such weird thoughts.

I parked in the lot beside the B&B and let Pluckie take her time as we headed toward the building. This would be her last outing for the night and I didn't want to rush her.

She soon took care of business, and I led her around to the front so we could enter under the horseshoe. Would that insert some good luck into my life? Who knew?

I used the key I'd been given to enter the building. Inside, the lobby was still lit although more dimly than if it had been earlier in the evening. I headed for the stairway.

“Rory? Are you okay?”

Startled, I turned right, toward the sound of the voice, and saw Gemma standing at the open door to the room where the inn's owner Serina often relaxed and watched TV. Gemma wore a comfortable-looking print shirt dress and a large frown.

“I'm fine—or at least I was. What are you doing down here?”

“Waiting for you. I tried knocking on your door and you didn't answer, and you didn't respond to your phone, either. I was worried.” She came into the lobby, followed by Stuart. That was interesting. On the other hand, he was staying here, too, so maybe it would be natural for her to ask a friend to keep her company while she fretted about something.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. It wasn't turned on, which was unusual for me, but when I pushed the button I realized it was out of power. I mustn't have gotten it fully charged last night. Not a wise move. What if I'd really needed to call someone?

Like I did now, in fact. I promised Justin I'd let him know when I got here.

The charger was in my room so I could call him when I plugged the phone in. I considered asking Gemma to join me so I could have her say good night to Justin, too—and reassure him he was right to try to clear her from suspicion and assume she was innocent. But that could wait for another time.

Preferably when Stuart wasn't standing beside her, an arm comfortingly over her shoulders. He was clad in a yellow knit shirt and long khaki shorts. Maybe he, too, would be proven innocent. Maybe not.

But whichever, it wasn't going to happen that night. I approached and gave Gemma a hug of my own. “It's sweet of you to be concerned,” I said. I whispered into her ear, “I had my car along so I wasn't … walking.” As she had been on that fateful night.

She pulled back and smiled at me. “That's a good thing. Anyhow, I'm glad you're okay. Did you hear, by the way, that the town is going to hold a memorial for Lou?”

“No, I didn't.” Did Justin know? If so, had he purposely avoided telling me? Or had he simply not thought I'd be interested in attending? “When and where?” I asked.

“They're still deciding,” Stuart said. “Probably this weekend, though.”

“Sounds like a nice gesture,” I said without really stating an opinion. I wasn't sure I had one at that moment. I was too exhausted to decide if I liked the idea. “I'm going to bed.”

“Me too,” Gemma said.

“That's all of us,” Stuart added. The editor did look tired. His light brown eyes drooped beneath his thick blond brows.

Of course, I'd no doubt he'd perk up if Gemma suggested that they not go to bed alone. Maybe she already had, but I wasn't about to ask.

“Including Pluckie,” I said, bending to pick up my dog. “Good night, all.” Hearing the others behind us, we headed up to our room.

I plugged my phone in and called Justin immediately. I noted from numbers on the screen that he'd apparently tried calling me before.

He answered quickly. “Rory, are you okay?”

I explained that my phone had been out of juice, and I was fine.

“Good.”

I asked if he'd heard about the probable upcoming memorial for the deputy mayor. “I just learned about it,” he said. “I checked my email after you left. I assume I can't talk you out of going.”

“Good assumption.” I didn't try to hide the smile from my tone. He was learning that I didn't take orders well, even if they were meant to be helpful.

“I'll see you in the morning at the Lucky Dog,” Justin said after a few seconds. “I'll be checking out some things in town and can stop in. Okay?”

“Fine.” I had a feeling that the things he was going to check out in town involved mostly me. Was he getting overly interested, overly protective?

Maybe so, but I still had a smile on my face when Pluckie and I settled into bed twenty minutes later.

Justin did, in fact, show up at the Lucky Dog Boutique fairly early the next morning. Jeri and I had just opened and already had a few customers checking out decorative collars and superstition-related amulets when I happened to look toward the entrance.

There he was, Destiny's police chief, his posture perfect, his wide shoulders filling the doorway.

Pluckie saw him too. She started to pull at her leash, which was attached to one of the counters. When I glanced at her, she seemed to be smiling.

I knew Justin left Killer at home while he went to work, but he also had a dog walker stop in mid-afternoon to take his dog for a walk and to play with him.

My customers, a senior couple, were engaged in a debate about which collar to buy the little Yorkie they'd brought along who sat in the woman's purse, so I excused myself and went over to greet Justin.

“All okay here?” he asked.

“All's fine here. And far as I know it's fine next door at the Broken Mirror too. Gemma, Stuart, and I walked here together after breakfast and I waited a few minutes while they opened up.”

We'd talked about the pending memorial for Lou. We'd also discussed that Stuart needed to return to New York within the next week or so to check in with his publishing house. He seemed inclined to return here as soon as he could, but that remained uncertain.

I didn't mention any of that to Justin, though. I was much too glad that he'd done as promised and stopped in.

He didn't stay long, though, which wasn't a surprise.

“Hope you catch Lou's killer today,” I whispered to him with a smile as I saw him on his way.

“I could always stop next door to do that,” he said, but since he, too, was smiling I felt somewhat relieved to think that was meant to be a joke.

He looked over my shoulder and bent down to kiss me quickly on the lips. And then he was gone.

Which I found myself regretting sorely about an hour later.

It had been a while since I'd had Pluckie out for a walk, and Millie had just arrived at the store. She and Jeri planned to go out for one of their coffee outings, an event I encouraged to keep them happy.

Martha hadn't come downstairs yet that day, but I'd gone up briefly to see her and she was doing well.

I told my assistants that Pluckie and I would be back in a few minutes, and they could leave on our return. I unhooked my sweet dog's leash from the counter, greeted some customers whom I left to Jeri and Millie to help, and headed out with Pluckie.

The sidewalk, as always, was filled with tourists on this Friday morning. I joined them, telling a few randomly the town's edict that they had to be careful as they walked. “Step on a crack, break your mother's back.” That old saying was taken seriously here in Destiny, even though I'd never heard of any mother's back being injured. My own mom had passed away a long time ago, so at least I didn't have to worry about her.

Most of the strangers I mentioned it to smiled and made a point of saying how fun it was to visit Destiny. A couple appeared shocked, and I wondered how they ultimately would enjoy their trip here if they really believed in this superstition.

Someone, probably one of the shop owners, had apparently seeded the sidewalk with a few heads-up pennies that morning, so I had the fun of describing the good luck that would bring to those who found them: “Find a penny, pick it up, and all the day you'll have good luck.” I saw no buttons, though, so I didn't have the opportunity to mention that finding one also portended good luck.

I didn't spend much time on greeting the tourists, though. I started walking with Pluckie toward the Broken Mirror Bookstore.

And saw Frank Shorester stride through the front door.

Some of the nearby visitors started asking me questions about shops and superstitions, since I'd already made myself appear to be knowledgeable. I answered a couple briefly, but started gently bulldozing my way with Pluckie toward the neighboring shop.

What was Frank doing there? Was he going to be nice or nasty to Gemma?

Was he going to accuse her directly of murder, as he apparently was now suggesting to the cops?

I doubted he had gone in there to admit he was the killer—but could I somehow get him to admit it anyway?

Maybe I was worrying too much since he'd already been there so often. That was before his most recent conversation with Detective Choye, though. Was he going to do something to make Gemma appear more dangerous—like a murderer—now that he'd made his allegations to the cops? Was he going to attack her now and allege self-defense?

Just in case, I pulled my phone from my pocket and called Justin, who'd only left this area an hour or so ago.

“Something wrong, Rory?” he asked after saying hello.

I'd stopped right outside the door into the bookstore and peered in. “Probably not, but—”

“But? What's up?”

I told him. “There are customers in there, but I don't see Frank or Gemma through the window. Or even Stuart. Everything is probably fine, but—” There was that word again.

“You're most likely right,” Justin said. “But just in case, wait outside for now. I'll get someone over there to check things out in just a few minutes.”

“Don't bother,” I said. “I'm sure I'm overreacting. I'm still looking through the window and don't even see anyone frowning.”

“That's what I'm figuring, but wait out there anyway.”

We hung up, and then I stared for a second at my phone.

Everything was fine. And I still wasn't overly excited about following Justin's orders.

“Let's go in,” I told Pluckie. And then I opened the door.