Knock on Wood (20 page)

“There you are, Rory,” Justin said when he reached us. “And Gemma. I had to track you down by asking at both stores where you were.” His voice was raised since the crowd around us was shouting and diving toward the sidewalk. They had just spotted an empty tour van in the street and the driver—not Arlen Jallopia—was tossing buttons out the window. Carolyn's doing, I felt sure. It was good for her business and lucky for the tourists. Or so they would believe.

“Why were you looking?” I demanded coolly. “I assume you're not about to arrest either of us, since Detective Numa didn't do it despite her insinuations that something like that is inevitable.”

The concern and warmth in Justin's gaze transformed into something chillier, too. I felt sad for an instant that I'd provoked the change. But I remained irritated about how Gemma had been treated before. And Justin had been the one to send Alice Numa to the bookstore rather than coming himself.

That wasn't fair. I knew it. He was the Chief of Police and couldn't necessarily afford the time to appear at disturbances that were most likely minor.

“I did speak with Detective Numa about her visit to the bookstore to ensure that Mr. Shoreston did nothing to harm anyone. She told me that he instead seemed in fear of being harmed himself.”

“Then why show up there all the time?” That was Gemma, and her tone reflected her exasperation. When Justin looked at her, she lifted her hands as if to deflect what he was going to say. “I know, I know. He says he wants to learn all about superstitions from the books we sell so he can be sure the guilty party—me—neither gets him arrested nor murders him.” My friend Gemma had always held herself up in a confident and pretty manner back in L.A., but she seemed, here in Destiny, to sag often, as if accepting the inevitable upcoming blows.

“That's what Alice told me,” Justin said. “Were you two on your way back to your stores? Let me walk with you, okay?”

Sure it was okay. The Lucky Dog Boutique was less than a block away, and the Broken Mirror Bookstore was on its other side. When Gemma looked at me for confirmation, I nodded.

“Let's go,” I said.

Justin planted himself between us, his pace slow but determined. He was definitely a good-looking man, even when I was peeved with him.

“Gemma,” he said, “since you're friends, I'm sure Rory filled you in on how frustrating it is to be involved in a murder investigation and not believe the person most implicated is likely to be the killer.” He looked at Gemma, not at me.

“Yes, and I get that. I know how hard she worked to clear Martha. But when I came to visit her, I never, ever imagined I'd be in Martha's shoes.”

“I know you're also aware that we can't discuss that investigation and the results in any detail,” Justin continued. “But there were a couple of things that came out of it that I want you both to remember.”

Now, as we made our way forward in the midst of the crowd going the same direction as we were, Justin did look at me. I saw the message in his gaze, which didn't exactly make me feel all cheerful and relieved.

“You want me to stay out of it,” I all but snapped at him. “For my own safety, as well as the good of the DPD. But I'm sure you're aware of why I won't. And can't. Not when all fingers in your department seem to be pointing the wrong way, toward my friend who's clearly innocent.”

“Not so clearly,” Justin said softly. “Although I hope what you're saying is true.” He lifted his right hand and I saw him cross his fingers—which in itself said a lot since he was as much of a superstition agnostic as I.

I fought it but couldn't help smiling. “I know it is,” I said softly, possibly too softly for him to hear among the crowd.

We had reached the outside of the Lucky Dog but I gestured with my head. “I want to see Gemma back to her place, make sure everything there is okay.” Like, that Frank wasn't there. If he was, he'd better be in his corner reading, and Stuart had better be around too.

“Okay. I'll go with you.” Justin's look didn't invite me to protest, nor did I want to. He continued to walk with us.

All seemed fine in the Broken Mirror. Stuart was there talking to several guys who looked like scholars or librarians. He had a copy of
The Destiny of Superstitions
in his arms and was talking about how it was organized.

I figured he'd sell a bunch. Especially with Gemma's help.

I took her off to the side before I left. “Keep in touch,” I said. “I think things have simmered down for the rest of today, but you never know.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head sadly, “you don't.”

I walked out the shop door with Justin behind me. As he'd said, he accompanied me to the Lucky Dog next door. On the way, I'd come up with a bunch of excuses why I couldn't have dinner with him that night—I'd promised Martha I'd bring something in for her. I had some important bookkeeping to do.

I didn't want to say the truth—that things involving the murder investigation were tightening inside my mind. I didn't blame Justin, at least not exactly. But I needed some space to reflect on it all. And to figure out the best approach I could take to help find the killer … and protect Gemma.

I was therefore surprised at how much it hurt when Justin spoke first and said, “I'd love to invite you to join me for dinner tonight, Rory, but I can't. Too much going on in the investigation and otherwise with the department. But we'll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure,” I said, trying to sound all perky.

But inside I wondered what superstition there was that was causing us to become opponents instead of allies in this especially difficult situation.

twenty-four

We did talk the
next day, but that was all. One phone call late in the afternoon, from Justin to me. He was checking in, probably because he said he would. Nothing new to report—or, if there was anything new, he wouldn't admit it to me, let alone tell me what it was.

I was in the Lucky Dog when he called, as I was most of that day. I stood behind the glass case containing amulets and charms in supposedly lucky shapes, straightening out the shelves. At the moment there was a slight lull in which we had no customers in the shop, which was unusual, and each time it happened the emptiness was brief.

It was a good time for him to call. An omen of some kind? Neither he nor I believed in such things.

“Sorry I haven't more to tell you,” he said as our short conversation wound down. “I expect I'll see you tomorrow, though, at Lou Landorf's memorial.”

I had heard, of course, about the memorial to be held for Public Affairs Director Lou, but because this was Destiny the ideas for when, where, and how were all interwoven with which superstitions would bode best for all those choices.

Since he'd been a believer—even if knocking on wood had turned out not to work for him—the idea was to do something different, but in keeping with this town's foundation.

From what I'd eventually gleaned, the decision was to celebrate his life in the place he'd died—the park on Fate Street. Carolyn Innes confirmed it when she stopped in at the Lucky Dog a short while after Justin's call. She had her two long-haired dachshunds Helga and Liebling with her. Both immediately scrambled over to exchange sniffs with Pluckie, who appeared delighted to see them.

Today Carolyn was wearing jeans and one of her black T-shirts on which a black cat was depicted as outlined in gold, decorated with button eyes. Her non-button, real blue eyes looked as inquisitive and amused as usual.

“I thought I'd come in and see you first, Rory,” she said as she reached me at the cash register counter, “but I'm going to visit Gemma too. Have you been told about Lou's memorial?”

“Only that it's likely to occur this weekend. But specifics? No.”

“I figured,” she said. “I've been talking up how Gemma and you are now members of our community and some locals seem quite happy to accept that, but not everyone. Especially since you seem to have an affinity of some kind to the killings that have occurred. People consider that to be bad luck, so even with your success here at the shop and your great talks on animal superstitions there are still some reservations about how to act around you. Not from everyone, of course, but a few of our citizens.” She leaned closer and whispered, “I shouldn't mention it, and don't let it go any farther, but that includes our cat lady.” She backed away and continued, “Same goes for Gemma, too, considering the shop she's managing, and the fact that she's a murder suspect.”

I'd been opening my mouth to protest from the moment Carolyn started to talk, but she didn't let me butt in. And now I especially, despite her warning, wanted to ask about the mysterious cat lady I'd heard rumors about before—but apparently everyone considered it bad luck to talk about her. This was the most anyone had said to me about her, and Carolyn seemed unwilling to say more.

Instead, she kept speaking. “Now you're going to tell me how wrong everyone is, aren't you? You can be sure I'm not among those who're less than pleased to see you still here. I'm delighted that you're now a Destiny resident. And I don't blame you at all for being so involved in the only two murders this town has seen in … well, forever. No matter what some of them say, you're not a bad luck omen.”

The expression on her face appeared sincere—all except for the smile on her lips.

I couldn't help it. I giggled a little at the absurdity of what she said. And the fact that some of it was all too true.

“Don't tell your skeptical buddies that I still don't much believe in luck being governed by superstitions,” I said. “I'm willing to change my mind, of course, if I see irrefutable proof. So why don't you let them all know that I'd love for them to tell me what to do to bring good luck to myself and everyone here, including Gemma. And you. And them.” I paused. “And if their suggestion is to knock on wood, maybe we should remind them of poor Lou Landorf.”

“Speaking of whom, here's the deal. His memorial will be held at
1
:
00
p.m. tomorrow in the park where his body was found.”

I nodded. “I'll be there.”

“And here's the Destiny part of it. We're all to bring a flower to place on the site where he died. Every one of us is also to get up and recite a superstition dealing with death. No one will be wished bad luck if the idea they bring is spoken first by someone else, but the Vardoxes are going to record it all and put it up on their website, as well as listing all the spoken superstitions in the next edition of the
Destiny Star
. Can we count on you to be there?”

“Of course,” I said. I'd have to go talk to Gemma, too. Between us, we should be able to come up with the perfect superstitions to proclaim in memory of Lou.

In gratitude to Carolyn, and because I love dogs, I gave Helga and Liebling some special dog treats. Pluckie, too, since I couldn't leave her out. I also gave a couple of balls decorated with black cat profiles to Carolyn's dogs. Pluckie had her own. In fact, she was spoiled by the number of toys she had. But how surprising was that, with her human mom running a pet store? I paid for them but still couldn't resist.

And then I managed to work it in. “Carolyn, you and some other folks around town have mentioned a cat lady, but no one will say more. Please tell me who she is, and what does she have to do with cats?”

Carolyn's eyes widened, and she drew closer to me. “It's supposed to be bad luck to talk about her. But because it's you—and you know I don't necessarily buy into superstitions—well, I'll risk a little. All you need to know is that she keeps track of our black cats, and only she knows how many there are. She makes sure they're fed and have someplace to stay at night if they're not otherwise owned by Destiny residents.”

“Then the one I saw a while ago up on the mountain, when Pluckie was in danger, is okay?” That had been a scary experience all around, and I'd been so worried about my dog that I hadn't tried to make sure the cat got down safely too—although I felt concern about it afterwards.

“Yes. She doesn't tell us stuff like that, but word gets out if a cat is hurt or disappears.”

“Good,” I said, forbearing from shaking my head. Apparently cat superstitions had a champion here, and so did the feral black cat—or cats. But I still didn't know much more than I had before.

Surely the pet boutique manager could be let in on that secret someday, right?

Carolyn and her gang soon left. A short while afterward, I got a text from Gemma. She, too, was attending the memorial. Would I go with her?

I texted her back: Yes.

The next day, Sunday, Gemma and I both elected to close our stores for a while, not surprising considering that our helpers also wanted to be at Lou's memorial.

Would tourists feel upset that Destiny's citizens weren't around to sell them stuff or take them on tours or whatever? Maybe, but the word was put out there that it would be bad luck for anyone who'd known Lou, even a little, not to come to his ceremony. Even tourists, as long as they knew what Destiny was all about, would understand that no one, in town or otherwise, dared to risk it.

Although dogs were usually welcome at the park, I chose not to bring Pluckie because of the large number of people likely to be present. I left her leashed to her usual counter at the shop and made sure she had plenty of water and toys of her own within reach.

Once I'd spoken with Carolyn yesterday, I'd also gone upstairs to Martha's apartment to tell her what was going on. Unsurprisingly, she already knew. Despite the suspicions leveled on her previously when Tarzal was murdered she was a true member of the community, and now that she had been exonerated she was treated accordingly. She told me quite a few people had called to tell her and even ask if she needed help to get there. I promised her she wouldn't. Either I'd bring her, or Millie would. And, as previously promised, we talked a bit more about my concerns for Gemma.

Now, she was downstairs and I helped her get settled into her wheelchair near the Lucky Dog's door. I then went to the few customers who happened to be around and explained the situation. One couple hurriedly purchased the toys they'd been examining. A group of visiting college kids was nice—or superstitious—enough to express sympathy and promise to return later.

Millie, who was joining us, pushed Martha outside, and I locked the door behind us. Jeri had told me she would also be there, but she was attending with her family.

While Millie continued to handle Martha's chair, I hurried next door to get Gemma. The bookstore was empty of customers. Presumably she had also shooed away any who had been there. Stuart was with her, though, and said he was joining us. She, too, locked the door as they left.

Unsurprisingly, the sidewalk on Destiny Boulevard for the short distance we had to traverse it was busy, since both locals and tourists were there. When we turned onto Fate Street there were still a lot of pedestrians and I didn't recognize all of them. Presumably the tourists here were heading for the park too. To mourn? Maybe, but I suspected they mostly wanted to see and hear the aspects of superstition that would go on at Lou's memorial.

As we'd heard, a couple of people who worked at the Bouquet of Roses flower shop stood at the corner of Destiny and Fate selling individual roses. Nearly everyone stopped to buy one for a dollar each—possibly a bargain, but I figured the Bouquet owners and staff would have been informed that to gouge more for this would bring them bad luck. Maybe that would even have been true, if those of us needing to bring a flower leveled a curse on them had they made it difficult to secure one.

Martha, now holding two pink roses for Millie and her, sat patiently in her chair while our assistant paid for them. Gemma, Stuart, and I had already bought our own.

“Do you have a superstition about death picked out to recite?” Martha looked from Gemma to me.

“We talked about several possibilities,” I assured her. “How about you?”

“Oh, you know me. I've got a bunch. And you, Stuart?”

“Since I edited
The Destiny of Superstitions
, I've got several in mind too,” he assured her.

We were soon on our way again—or as much on our way as we could get in this crowd.

The park was as busy, when we arrived, as I'd anticipated. Of everyone there other than the cops, I probably had the best knowledge of where Lou had been found, but I didn't have to mention it or point out the area. The crowd already formed a semicircle around it, standing on the grass beneath the sparse trees facing the ficus bushes, surrounding Mayor Bevin Dermot. The density even obscured the picnic tables at the park's edges.

Speaking of cops, they were everywhere at the fringes of the crowd. I saw Officer Sweelen and her cohorts in uniform, including Officer Bledsoe, whom I'd met before, spread out as if told to form a fence around the area. The detectives were there, too, although not as precisely spaced at the perimeter. I recognized Alice Numa and Richard Choye, and figured that the other two people standing there facing the assembly and wearing suits and scrutinizing frowns were probably detectives as well.

Justin was also present. In his typical blue shirt and black trousers, he stood off to the side of where the mayor paced at the front of the throng holding a microphone in his hand and checking his watch often. Justin didn't seem to pay a lot of attention to the mayor, though. Instead, he watched the assembly intensely, as if he expected someone there to step forward with a weapon—maybe even a stake carved into the shape of a curved fist, like the one that had been used to stab Lou.

As if he sensed me watching him, he turned to where I stood near the crowd I'd come with, off to the left of the multitude and toward its back. Our eyes met as if we'd planned it. Maybe, in some manner, we had.

This was a solemn occasion, but I found my lips curving in a small, discreet smile. Which was ridiculous, considering the tone of our most recent conversations.

At the sound of Bevin clearing his throat into the microphone, I looked away, somewhat relieved by the distraction.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the mayor screamed. No, he had simply turned up the volume in the public address system too high. He fiddled with it. “Sorry,” he continued. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Destiny's remembrance of one of our most outstanding citizens, Public Affairs Director Lou Landorf.” He paused, then cleared his throat. It sounded moister this time, and I wondered if the mayor was tearing up as he talked about his deceased subordinate.

He said he hoped everyone was aware of how superstitious Lou had been, and consequently how well he had fit into the Destiny culture. “I hope you all have come with a superstition or two about death and dying that you can recite as we say our farewells to this extraordinary man.”

He looked off to his right side. That was when I noticed that both Celia and Derek Vardox were there, each with a camera aimed at the mayor. I'd heard that they would record sound as well as pictures and had no doubt that some of what went on here today would soon be up on the
Destiny Star
website—and in articles printed in the paper.

Also among the crowd I saw Jeri there with her family. They must also have closed Heads-Up Penny Gifts. Other store owners I knew were also there. And Serina, my hostess from the Rainbow B&B, stood off to one side talking to a number of people I recognized to be guests at the inn.