Knock on Wood (22 page)

twenty-six

I didn't see Justin
in any mirrors for the rest of that Sunday. Not that I expected to.

Gemma and I had dinner together that evening, though. Pluckie was with us, so we grabbed sandwiches and drinks from Wishbones-to-Go, then ate in the B&B's otherwise empty dining room. Just us, which turned out to be a good thing. I wasn't sure where our hostess Serina was, but I was glad she wasn't there to eavesdrop.

At first we discussed Lou's memorial and how touching it had been—and compared notes on whom we'd seen there and how they had acted.

Neither of us could say that anyone's reactions or lack thereof showed with certainty who the killer was. We both had suspicions, though. We also both agreed that the murderer had most likely attended. The DPD had taken that position, too, so we weren't alone.

Then our discussion turned to the future. Not who would see what man in the mirror when we looked for the right reflection, but what would happen if we both decided to remain in Destiny to see how our own destinies progressed.

That meant not staying forever in this B&B—and that was why I was glad Serina wasn't listening. I told Gemma what little I knew about local residential communities, such as where Justin lived, and the few apartment complexes I knew of.

She ended that conversation with a deep sigh. “As much as I'd like to make plans, it's too soon for me to think about such things. I want to be sure first that I'll be staying in Destiny to run the store.”

“Is there any question that the owners want you to?” I felt somewhat blindsided. I thought that was a given.

“No,” she responded. “But if I'm arrested for murder—”

“You won't be,” I vowed.

I only hoped that was a promise I could keep.

I thought about Gemma a lot while walking Pluckie for the last time that evening, then going upstairs to bed.

Seeing one's true love in a mirror? Hah!

But I did check over my shoulder after washing my face for the last time and looking into the mirror over the sink in my bathroom. I could see into part of the bedroom.

No Warren. No Justin.

When I looked far enough into the reflection, I did notice Pluckie lying on an area rug near the far wall. I smiled at my sleeping lucky dog in the mirror, then turned to join her to give her a good night hug.

I didn't dream of either Justin or Warren that night. A good thing. Justin had once told me that dreams were harbingers, and I didn't need to guess the meaning of any such thing right now.

Monday was usually a busy time at the Lucky Dog Boutique despite the fact the weekend had ended. The next day was no exception. Good thing Pluckie and I had joined Gemma for breakfast at the B&B and walked to the stores early, since I wasn't sure if I'd have an opportunity to stop in at the bookstore and say hi, although I hoped to.

Martha stayed upstairs most of that day, but Jeri came in early. I didn't ask, or even hint, about the possibility members of her family had taken one of the decorative superstition stakes they sold at their gift store and used it on Lou. Why would they?

I wasn't about to inquire about possible motives, either. At least not without having even an off-beat reason to suspect her family, which I didn't.

Except for their access to those stakes.

Pluckie was busy that day, too, since a lot of our customers brought their canines in. It was my lucky black and white pup's responsibility to greet them and make them feel at home with nose and butt sniffs. Or so I told any customers who remarked on how friendly Pluckie seemed.

Things at the Broken Mirror must have been a bit less frenetic that day since Gemma called and offered to bring lunch in to me and whoever was working at my store. I accepted. But it turned out she was busy, too, and couldn't stay to eat with us. She had left Stuart in charge.

“Is he staying here much longer?” I asked Gemma as I reached into the paper bag she'd brought and pulled out an egg salad sandwich for me and a ham-and-cheese for Jeri that she had picked up at the
7
-Eleven. We stood by the door since she'd made it clear she had to leave immediately.

She shook her head, and her pretty features sagged sadly for a moment. “He tells me he'll need to head back to his New York offices within the next week, and he's not sure if and when he'll be able to return.”

I thought he had an interest in buying the bookstore, but maybe not. Or maybe he'd tried and hadn't been able to reach any agreement with the owners. “I know he's been helpful to you,” I said, knowing she was itching to leave the Lucky Dog but wanting to keep talking for now. “But will you miss him in other ways too?”

She nodded. “Yes, I think so. But if you're asking whether I anticipated seeing him reflected in the mirror, the answer's no.” She stuck out her tongue, grinned, and left.

If Stuart was leaving soon, that meant I—and oh, yes, the DPD—would need to determine quickly if he was a viable suspect in Lou's murder. The only motive I could attribute to him was that he, too, was interested in Gemma. But if knocking off prospective romantic rivals was his game, why was Frank Shorester still alive?

Same went for considering Frank a suspect. On the other hand, as to both of them, maybe not enough time had passed for them to feel comfortable offing another opponent …?

I supposed Stuart could have shared one of the motives that was attached to Gemma: anger that a government employee had dared to give orders as to how to run the bookstore. Even if Stuart had expressed some interest in buying the store before, and even if he hadn't liked Lou's edicts, it would be much easier to negotiate, or just walk away, than to murder him. And those orders certainly hadn't motivated Gemma to kill.

Nevertheless, I was pondering this as I watched Gemma hurry through the nearest bunch of tourists to return to her shop.

I found myself pondering it again several hours later while taking Pluckie out for a walk to clear my own head, too, after the constant throng at the pet boutique that day. Jeri was leaving soon, but Martha had come downstairs and Millie had called and promised to spend an hour or two there before we closed.

That allowed me time to breathe a bit. But as I inhaled deeply when Pluckie and I came from the side of our shop onto the sidewalk, I saw Frank entering the bookstore. Again.

I recalled the last time I'd seen him go in there and how concerned I'd been. This time, I didn't anticipate anything in particular to go wrong. I hoped.

Was he still researching superstitions on how to stay safe from a murderous former girlfriend like he'd claimed before—even as he put himself in that former girlfriend's presence in this store?

Or maybe he was seeking superstitions on love to toss at Gemma and try to win her back. Or to get retribution against her and the remaining guy she still had some interest in if he couldn't get her back—like proving, perhaps, that Stuart, and not he, was murderous.

Something else, such as trying harder to find, or manufacture, proof that Gemma was guilty?

Pluckie and I returned to the pet shop. There were enough people at the Broken Mirror that I doubted Frank would try anything nasty today any more than he had on other visits.

But about ten minutes later my phone rang. “Rory?” Gemma said. “Could you come over here?”

I didn't know her reason for inviting me. I simply told my assistants I'd be back soon and headed over there, sans Pluckie.

When I arrived, Detective Choye was there too. Dressed in a short-sleeved white shirt and black slacks, he stood near the corner where Frank was now seated, and the two of them were engaged in an intense discussion.

“What's going on?” I asked Gemma, who met me at the door. The bookstore had several sets of customers in it but they didn't seem to be looking for help—not now, at least. Stuart was talking to a couple of senior men, though, at the far side from where the other discussion was taking place.

“I hope you don't mind. I just need a little emotional support right now.” She glanced toward where Frank and Choye were talking, then shook her head. “Let's pretend that I asked you for some help with a question I had about managing this place.” She waved me toward the small office in the far corner and I followed.

“What's up?” I asked once she'd shut the door behind us.

“That's just it. I don't know. But every time I approach them they shut up or start talking about how wonderful
The Destiny of Superstitions
is. Maybe I'm just paranoid, but I have a feeling they're both talking each other into certainty that I'm the one who killed Lou. Or maybe the detective is pushing Frank to tell him specifics about why he's so peeved with me, and trying to figure out what evidence he can collect about it.”

“Just because you're paranoid—” I began.

“—It doesn't mean someone isn't out to get me,” she finished. “Yes, yes. I'm a librarian. I know the ending to that quotation, more or less. I'm hoping the world isn't out to get me.” She sighed. “But I'm pretty sure those guys are.”

“Let me see if I can find out,” I said.

“How?”

“I'll wing it,” I told her. We left the office, which turned out to be a good thing since Frank was chatting with Stuart, but the detective was leaving. I sized up the possibilities quickly, then gave a low wave to Gemma that only she'd be able to see and followed Choye out the door.

He was already in front of the Lucky Dog when I caught up with him, apparently on his way back to the police station. The sidewalk crowd wasn't too heavy so moving forward wasn't difficult. Nor were those around us speaking loudly, although they did seem to be dodging cracks in the sidewalk.

“Hi,” I said. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure, you can talk. That doesn't mean I'll listen. Or answer.” He looked down at me briefly with a half smile, as if he'd cracked a joke. He didn't slow his pace, though.

Good thing I enjoyed walking; I had no trouble keeping up with him.

“Can you tell me why you were just at the bookstore?”

“Sure. I'm keeping a close watch on your buddy Gemma. We're still collecting evidence before we arrest her.”

Shocked, I nearly stopped walking. Choye slowed for a second, too, and began to laugh. “Had you there, didn't I? That's true, by the way, but I was actually there because that guy Frank called and said Ms. Grayfield had been threatening him again as he sat there deciding whether to buy a book.”

“Doesn't that sound rather familiar?” I asked. “Frank's been saying nasty things about Gemma since they both got to town and he learned she isn't continuing their romantic relationship. We talked about that before.” We were walking again. I couldn't help glancing at some of the people going in our direction and against our flow, not as many tourists as there were sometimes but quite a few dogs were on leashes beside them. Fortunately, a lot of them appeared headed the opposite direction from us, in the direction of my pet boutique.

“Yes, we did.” He paused, then continued. “I know you speak a lot with Chief Halbertson. I do too. He must like you.”

“We're friendly enough,” I responded, rolling my eyes. “But—”

“Just so you know—and I shouldn't be mentioning it—there's talk going around at the department that he shouldn't be so friendly, especially not to you. That's going to get him in big trouble if he doesn't let us zero in on the primary suspect in the Landorf murder and arrest her, just because he's giving her the benefit of the doubt because of you.”

How odd that this man, this detective, was talking to me about such things. And if they were true, it was terrible, for both Justin and Gemma.

“Look,” I said. “Gemma didn't do anything, and that's undoubtedly the reason your boss hasn't authorized her arrest.”

“There are those who think otherwise,” he said, “both in and out of our department. They believe that our chief sometimes makes decisions for reasons other than reality.”

We stopped because a crowd filled the sidewalk at the Break-a-Leg Theater, standing in a ticket line. I didn't know what was playing. I didn't care.

“Like you?” I asked.

“I've said enough,” Choye said in a low voice, bending to talk right into my ear. “And if you ever mention it I'll deny it and say you're making it up to protect your friend. Thing is, I actually like our chief. I'm hoping you'll pass enough of this along to get him to do the right thing.”

And arrest Gemma? I'd have to think about the wisdom of saying anything to Justin. But if what Choye said was true, I didn't want Justin to be doing anything to help me, or my dear friend, that would ultimately wind up harming him.

Feeling a little desperate, I asked, “Who is making those claims?” Or was just Choye doing it, trying to use me to get Justin to authorize Gemma's arrest? Was he attempting to protect another suspect? If so, who? And why?

If it wasn't him pushing for an arrest, then who? Detective Alice Numa? She was the only other one I'd much interaction with, but there could be others with the same opinions Choye had expressed.

Still, Alice undoubtedly had an interest in getting this case resolved quickly, especially since I'd heard Lou blame her for not finding answers to the other puzzle still rocking the DPD.

But would she be willing to do anything to get a result here—even have someone innocent arrested just to get a supposed suspect in custody?

Why wouldn't she run this by Justin? He'd been blamed at the same time by Lou for not concluding the investigation into that tourist's death more quickly. Maybe she had and he had refused to listen, not because of any feelings he might have for me but because he in fact had doubts of Gemma's guilt.

Did I dare talk to him about any of this? I didn't really care if I got the two detectives in hot water, but could my doing so harm Justin—and Gemma?