Knock on Wood (23 page)

“Go back to your store,” Choye said as a slight opening appeared in the crowd and he started to move forward. “I've said all I'm going to.”

twenty-seven

I forced myself to
concentrate on business after returning to the Lucky Dog. That was never hard to do since I loved my work, dealing with people interested in our products and even learning all about the superstition angles and pretending I knew them.

I'd been here long enough that I really did know quite a few, especially relating to our merchandise.

Plus, I had the help of Millie and Pluckie late that afternoon. I exchanged banter with both of them as well as with our customers, talking up superstitions and dog toys and paraphernalia.

Pluckie didn't talk back, but she did seem to have fun modeling collars and leashes, and showing how the toys should be played with. We sold a bunch of things that afternoon, which made me happy.

Even so, in the back of my mind—and maybe too much in the front of it—I kept returning to my conversation with Detective Choye.

I hadn't known him before, when suspicion was leveled on Martha after Tarzal's murder. He apparently hadn't been assigned to interrogate either Martha or me. She and I had both talked mostly to Detective Alice Numa. And to Justin, who'd acted professional but had done what he could to protect Martha, who was almost like his mother.

Alice hadn't been protective of Martha then. She certainly wasn't protective of Gemma now. Just the opposite. Was she one of those claiming that Justin was acting improperly by not taking Gemma into custody? If so, what evidence did she think would justify an arrest?

Then there was Choye himself. I now thought Gemma and I had been somewhat wrong about his conversations with Frank. They might not have been discussing why all fingers pointed toward Gemma, even if that was Frank's vengeful goal.

Instead, Choye had acted as if he was pushing to find real answers in a way that benefited Justin so his boss wouldn't be harmed by failure, never mind Lou's prior accusations against the police department and Mayor Bevin's current ones.

Failure that might be caused, or exacerbated, by what the detective saw as the police chief's possible interest in me.

Or was that just the way Choye wanted things to look?

Interest or not, I genuinely wanted to help Justin succeed and find the real killer, who wasn't Gemma. Consequently, Choye and I had something in common—if I understood his motives correctly—even if he didn't think so.

But Justin wanted me to stay out of the whole thing and not get involved.

Did he know about the possible controversy within his department? He definitely knew Mayor Bevin's opinion of him.

All right. I needed to talk to him now, preferably in person. But not anyplace we'd be seen by residents of Destiny. That, definitely, would be bad luck.

So how? And where?

I was getting hungry. The shop's closing hour approached, and dinnertime would arrive soon. But even if Justin was available, I couldn't meet him anywhere in Destiny, not even his home. He had neighbors, and citizens of Destiny watched out for each other—in good ways and bad.

We weren't far from Ojai, and both Justin and I had cars. It would be more efficient if we rode together, should we decide on dinner in another town. But efficiency and saving gasoline weren't the point.

We had dined together once at an intimate cafe called Randie's along the highway from Destiny but on the far side of Ojai. Its food was okay but not gourmet, and its prices were on the high side, which meant its clientele wasn't huge—which for now was a good thing. The likelihood of us being recognized was a lot less there than around here.

I went into my store's backroom to call Justin, since I didn't even want my staff to hear. I reached him right away.

“Rory? I was going to call you. There are some things I want to talk to you about. Are you free for dinner?”

“Sure,” I said in a pleased tone, as if the idea was new to me. Even so, I told him where I wanted to meet—and that I really hoped for privacy. I didn't explain why. I probably didn't have to.

He agreed that Killer and he would meet Pluckie and me there in an hour.

Since we'd eaten there before, we knew the dogs were welcome. We sat on the dimly lighted back patio with hardly any other diners around. The inside rooms had a reasonable crowd, but not here. Which was good.

Justin had offered to drive us all, but I'd declined without saying why. We ordered our drinks—merlot for me, amber beer for him, and water for the dogs. I studied the menu without meeting his gaze.

“Know what you want?” he asked in a minute. I nodded. A small Caesar salad looked good to me. I didn't have a big appetite after all. It had been smashed down by what was in my mind.

We soon ordered our meals. Justin was going with a veal dish, which also sounded good. I figured I'd get a taste, which would be enough.

A taste. As if we really were in a relationship and shared meals.

I wondered if any superstitions applied to sharing food. I'd heard it was supposedly good luck to have seven people at a table, but if there were thirteen at least one would suffer bad luck. Tasting each other's food, even splitting a meal? I hadn't a clue.

When our server, a college-age guy in a brown knit shirt and matching slacks, left to place our orders, Justin looked across the table toward me, leaning on his arms. The top buttons of his blue shirt were undone and his sleeves were rolled up. A hint of beard darkened his cheeks and a hint of irritation darkened his blue eyes. In all, he didn't look happy, almost as if he knew why I'd wanted to get together—to ask questions and possibly scold him.

But I also wanted to warn him.

“So,” he began. “What's up?” Why hadn't he started with what he wanted to talk to me about?

Or maybe they were the same thing and he knew it.

I prepared a smart retort, then let my shoulders slump. “Concern,” I replied in a low, gloomy voice. “And not just about Gemma.”

“About what, then? Or who?” His tone suggested he didn't really want to know. That irritated me.

“You,” I snapped. “If you're not doing your job right because you're trying to look good to me, you'd better stop. Although—”

“Although what?”

“Although you'd still better not arrest Gemma.”

I wasn't surprised to hear a short bark of laughter.

“Were you talking to Choye?” he asked.

“Well … yes, but—”

“He's a nice guy. Dedicated to the department and to making it run smoothly. Even dedicated to me. But that sometimes leads him to off-beat conclusions, and not only about cases but about what's going on around us too.”

“He sounds like he may be your champion,” I shot back, wanting to see Justin's reaction.

“Yes, in a way. I know he's trying to protect me. Or at least that's what he thinks he's doing.”

Maybe, but I didn't mention my doubts.

Our server brought dinner rolls over. They looked delicious, but the delay frustrated me.

Justin handed the basket to me first, and I took one of the small and crusty breads. After pulling off a couple of pieces I'd give to Pluckie later—and possibly Killer, too—I put a touch of margarine on what was left and watched Justin do the same.

“The thing is,” I began, after taking and chewing a bite, “I want you to realize that Gemma's innocent, and to avoid arresting her because of that, not because … because … you believe I—”

“Choye's assuming I'm trying to impress you by leaving your friend alone, even though she's guilty,” Justin asserted.

“That's what I gathered. And he says he's not the only one who thinks that. Others in your department are getting unhappy with you, he says. We already know the mayor is frustrated that there hasn't been an arrest yet.” I was saying too much, but I was concerned for him.

“Did Choye tell you who else in the department is unhappy?”

“No, but if I had to guess, one would be Detective Numa.” I reminded him of the talk the detective had with my friend, and what Gemma had subsequently told me. “I assume she hasn't changed her belief that Gemma did it.”

“Not that I'm aware of.”

The rest of our meals were served then. I felt almost as if I'd related everything I needed to say. Except …

“You're really not doing anything to jeopardize yourself or your career because of me, are you?” I blurted the question almost without thinking.

“Not at all.”

“Then do you have any evidence against anyone, let alone Gemma? Do you know who killed Lou?”

Justin had carved a small piece of veal scaloppini off and reached to put it onto my plate. His movement stirred Killer, who all but put his nose on the table.

Justin, like me, had saved some roll for the dogs. He gave each of them a piece.

The delay was understandable but frustrating. I wanted to hear his answer.

When it came, I didn't like it. “No,” he said. “Like I've been telling the mayor and everyone else, we have suspicions but no answers yet.”

The meal was tasty, the company excellent. The conversation? Enjoyable on some level, since it was with Justin. But after our initial salvo we just skirted over anything conceivably important relating to the murder. Maybe he couldn't say more. I understood that.

I also didn't like it.

I really wanted to know, to understand, what the atmosphere was like for him at his department. Was he ultimately going to feel he had to give in to pressure and arrest someone just for the sake of having a person in custody?

And would he have to make it Gemma so it wouldn't look like he was so smitten with me that he'd protect someone guilty to impress me?

But discussing his job further was apparently off limits for the rest of that night. And whatever attraction there was between us seemed to be lurking where I barely sensed it.

As a result, I talked to Pluckie and Killer a lot, too, mostly about food and another dog who came out on the patio.

It dawned on me finally that Justin hadn't started talking to me about whatever it was he'd indicated earlier that he wanted to discuss. I asked him.

“We did mention it before, kind of.” He had finished his entree and was eating another roll, watching it rather than me.

“What was it?” I asked, looking directly at him. Darn, I liked the guy. But I didn't like how this evening was turning out. We seemed both to be working hard at friendliness rather than it being a natural reaction between us.

He did look toward me now. And smiled. “I figured it would be fruitless for me to tell you again to butt out.”

I laughed. “That's true. My response? I'll butt out if and when I'm sure Gemma's safe. And when you're safe, too—or at least your job is. If that means I have to skirt around you and find the killer myself—”

“Just be damned careful,” he interrupted. “Part of my job is protecting the public, and I'll do that even for a member of the public who's purposely endangering herself for a mission she shouldn't have anything to do with.”

That pretty much ended our dinner. He allowed me to pay my share, which I figured was as much to make it look to me like this wasn't a date as to ensure that if someone happened to recognize him they, too, would consider this to be just a meeting between friends. Fortunately I saw no one I recognized so I didn't believe that would be an issue anyway.

We walked Pluckie and Killer together outside the restaurant, then Justin accompanied us to my car, which was in the same lot as his.

Would he kiss me good night, or were we estranged enough that he wouldn't even give me a peck of friendship?

“Just be careful, Rory,” he said. “Don't do anything foolish. And keep in close touch with me, especially if you decide to put yourself in danger.”

“But I—”

He did shut up my response with a kiss, warm but not aflame with romantic interest, which made me feel sad. I nevertheless unlocked my car door and opened it.

Pluckie jumped in, with Killer watching.

Just for fun, I pivoted, planted a much hotter kiss on Justin's lips—holding him close so he couldn't flee it—and then turned again to slide into the driver's seat.

“I don't suppose I could tell you the same thing,” I said, “but if you put yourself in danger, please be careful.”

twenty-eight

With Pluckie snoring softly
on the floor beside me, I lay in bed that night thinking. That turned out not to be a good idea. Or maybe it was a great idea.

I kept rehashing not only my dinner with Justin, but also all that had been going on recently, who'd been saying what about Lou Landorf's murder, who all the suspects were, or at least those I knew about, and what evidence there was to point fingers at anyone … like the stake that had been used to kill him.

To my surprise—or maybe not—those thoughts started coming back to a central theme.

No, a central person.

I knew I was reaching for a conclusion far from Gemma, but was I going too far? Was I making things up in my mind?

Not entirely. But the motive made sense—if one could consider anger a motive.

People had killed for less than that. And Mayor Bevin Dermot had been angry with Public Affairs Director Lou Landorf recently.

He'd been angry with him before too. Or maybe it had just been irritation then. Had it built up over the years?

Or was I just stretching the possibilities?

After all, this wasn't the first time I'd considered the mayor a potential murder suspect, or even a suspect in this case.

Detective Choye had mentioned that people both in and out of the department were talking about Justin, suggesting that he not act so friendly toward me. Did that include the mayor?

For now, I needed more information, possibly on the somewhat historical stuff.

Could I learn, without asking too many questions, more about what I suspected?

I wasn't sure, but there was a source I could try.

Thinking about that finally let me get some sleep.

I stayed quiet about my thoughts the next morning when I met Gemma and Stuart downstairs at the busy breakfast room of the B&B. After a delightful day-awakening meal thanks to our hostess Serina, Pluckie and I did our usual thing these days of walking with Gemma and Stuart to our shops.

Inside, my nerves were grinding, ready to go. But I needed to do a little preparation first anyway.

Fortunately, as usual, too, I arrived at the Lucky Dog around nine o'clock and we didn't open till ten. On most days, I spent that time reorganizing shelves, checking and ordering inventory, and looking into the online records I kept of our sales.

Today, I got online first thing. I visited the
Destiny Star
website. I knew the Vardoxes updated it often but hadn't paid a lot of attention to whether they maintained archives on it.

Fortunately, they did. Unfortunately, those archives only covered the past few months. I needed to search longer ago than that.

I did some other checking online but found nothing particularly helpful. Older newspaper articles might be useful, though, so I decided to go to the
Star'
s
offices later and see if they had any on their computers or microfiche, or whatever, that they'd make available to me.

Meanwhile, I'd continue to fret and stew and wonder if I was simply going nuts out of worry for my friend. Or friends.

Or if my mind actually had glommed onto a real solution.

That day turned out to be a difficult one for breaking away from the store.

First, Jeri called and said her mother had a stomach virus. As a result, Jeri wasn't going to be able to come in to the Lucky Dog to help out. She'd never been anything but clear that her family's store, Heads-Up Penny Gifts, came first, so I couldn't argue or even cajole her.

“I hope your mom feels better fast,” I said, meaning it not only because it was polite to say so.

Martha wasn't coming downstairs to help out, either. She didn't feel ill, just tired, and with all the health issues she'd had not long ago I was the one to insist that she take a break.

Millie, fortunately, was there. But this Tuesday, when she arrived mid-morning, she came up to me at the cash register when we had a lull in customers. She appeared a bit uneasy, like a youngster who'd broken something and was scared to admit it.

“Everything okay?” I asked, when what I wanted to say was that I was leaving her in charge for a while.

She looked down toward the floor, where Pluckie sat. Her youthful skin turned pink as she blushed. “I wanted to ask, Rory … I mean, I kind of have a lunch date. I hope that's okay. I won't be longer than an hour, I promise.”

What could I say to that? She was a wonderful shop assistant and was completely reliable most of the time. Plus, she helped out with Martha and was generally ready at an hour's notice if I needed her to come in on days off to help with a big crowd.

One longer lunchtime than usual?

“That sounds great, Millie. Of course you can take the time off. I'll be eager to hear how your date goes, and even more so who it's with.”

Her flush grew even redder. “Maybe, if it goes okay.”

I considered calling Martha's nephew Arlen to ask his schedule that day. If he had no tours pending, maybe he could run the shop. I'd already confirmed that his skills were adequate to do so, even though Martha had made it clear she wanted me in charge and not him. But when I called Destiny's Luckiest Tours and asked for him, the owner, Evonne Albing, let me know that Arlen was completely booked till evening.

I was beginning to think I was fated not to go to the
Star's
office that day. Was I cursed somehow? Or was it instead good luck not to be able to get away and do the research I craved?

Had I been in Destiny too long already? A normal person wouldn't assume that every possible good or bad thing in her life was caused by some form of luck.

Still, the more time that passed when I couldn't do the research I wanted, the more obsessed with it I became.

Besides, maybe I was obsessing over nothing. Just reaching, as I had done before. The sources of information I wanted might not even exist any longer. When the next lull in customers occurred, even though Millie had left for her lunch date—or maybe because she'd left, since she wouldn't overhear what I did—I called Celia Vardox to find out.

“Oh, sure, Rory,” the newspaper co-owner told me as I watched out the front window and spoke into my phone. “We figure it takes too much memory and all to keep versions of our paper on the website for very long. But we do maintain copies, both physical and on the computer. Fortunately, the room where we keep them wasn't affected by the fire.” She paused. “Plus, you'd have to check, but I think the Destiny Library keeps copies on microfiche.”

The library. Of course. If I'd asked Gemma for her opinion of what to do, that would have been her first suggestion.

When Celia told me that Derek and she would close their office around seven that night, which was also when I closed the Lucky Dog, I knew what I'd do. It might even be better for keeping my search secret to go to the library. Assuming it stayed open longer.

It did, although not much longer. The library website indicated it closed at eight on Tuesday nights. That should be long enough for me to get started, although I'd need to leave Pluckie at the Lucky Dog.

Millie returned after lunch with apparent stars in her eyes. Stars she could wish upon? I didn't know, but she wasn't ready to talk about her date. We were so busy that I didn't feel comfortable leaving her there alone to watch the shop. I sold several lucky amulets that afternoon, along with the usual and fun superstition dog and cat toys in a greater quantity than usual. Lots of pet food and doggy accessories too.

Martha did come downstairs for a short while, although she noted that my orders to her to rest were good ones. With my help, she headed back up the stairs a short while later—not tripping, fortunately, even if tripping on the way upstairs heralded an impending wedding in the family. I wasn't aware of any romantic interest Arlen had anyway, and he was Martha's closest family. And though I now was sort of a member of the family, that certainly wouldn't have suggested a future wedding on my part. No guys in my life that might fit that superstition anyway, with Warren gone and Justin and I not getting along especially well now.

And with what I was about to look into … well, if I was right about the mayor, his boss, Justin would probably not want anything personal between us. That gave me a pang of sorrow—but it didn't change anything.

Before I closed the Lucky Dog for the evening, I walked Pluckie briefly, then gave her some of our lucky dog food kibble, laced with canned food, too, the remainder of which I put into the refrigerator in our storeroom. “You be a good watchdog and take care of this place for me, Pluckie,” I said, smiling as I watched her scarf down her meal. I left her loose in the shop after carefully checking to make sure all doors and windows were locked.

I hurried down Destiny Avenue toward the Civic Center. At this hour, I actually could hurry since the crowd was a bit sparser than during the day.

I reached the delightful antique library building within five minutes and went inside. I immediately went to the help desk and asked the librarian there, who appeared to be nearly as old as the facility, where I could find copies of the
Destiny Star
from a couple of years back.

Amazingly, they had them not only on microfiche but also scanned into their computer system. The Vardoxes might have made them available, or this senior facility had even more modern ideas than I'd have given them credit for.

The librarian, whose name was Maude, showed me where to sit and how to get into the records.

They were easy to use. I'd already determined that the
Destiny Star
, although it called itself a local weekly newspaper, didn't contain much news in the general objective journalistic sense. It promoted Destiny and its superstitions and its citizens.

I wasn't surprised, therefore, when several articles from a couple of years ago described the loss of Destiny's prior police chief, who'd been hired away by Sacramento.

More coverage was given, then, to the search for a replacement, including within the then-members of the Destiny Police Department. That included Detective Richard Choye and Detective Alice Numa.

Both were interviewed in the paper. Both had been professional in what they'd said and how they'd reacted to the opening.

Both had expressed an interest in getting the job—most especially Alice.

More articles had been written about Mayor Bevin Dermot and his staff, including Director Lou Landorf, and what they looked for in a replacement. Apparently Bevin had been all set to hire one of the town's own.

Lou, not so much.

I knew now how much Lou pressed and gave orders and insisted on getting his own way. That was probably one of the contributing factors to his death.

The mayor's dislike of his attitude then, even though he'd buckled under it, could have stayed with him all this time, exacerbated recently by Lou's pushiness on his return to town and irritation that his work to attract tourists was being jeopardized by a recent tourist death. He'd pushed everyone with any potential of resolving it. Including the mayor?

I continued reading about all that had gone on back then, when Justin had gotten his job, thanks to Lou, but he was not necessarily the mayor's first choice.

Interestingly, the Vardoxes had also gone into who else, who local, had wanted to be promoted into that position.

Someone else had been angry then.

Someone else had been angry now.

I'd wondered whether the mayor could have remained angry and resentful that long. He'd found a way to deal with Lou, though—getting him out of town often.

What if others who hadn't been in charge hadn't gotten over it? One other.

The other who had been publicly chastised by Lou Landorf before his death.

Could Detective Alice Numa have harbored a deep resentment against Lou that long?

Had she harbored a greater one against Justin that she could be using now to make him look bad … and potentially lose his job for not having someone she considered a genuine suspect arrested?

Surely she hadn't been Lou's murderer, though. Not for something so long ago. Or was she?

I had a feeling now that she was at least somehow involved.

Or was I just reaching for someone, anyone, to point at to throw suspicion off Gemma?

I at least needed to look into this new angle, and hope I found answers, one way or the other.