Knock on Wood (25 page)

“No!” I screamed, as Pluckie barked and tried to bite her. She reached out and knocked my dog to the floor. Pluckie yelped.

Furious, I took the leash and tried to wrap it around Alice's throat, but she not only stopped me, she yanked the leash away.

“This'll do fine.” She laughed as she started to wind it around my throat instead, even as I kicked at her and tried to stick my thumbs in her eyes.

But she was right. She had training. I didn't.

Justin was right too. I'd put myself into danger, thinking I could protect myself—and I was apparently wrong.

“No!” I tried to shout, but gagged.

“No!” shouted another female voice, startling me. It apparently startled Alice too. The leash didn't tighten further. We both turned, and I saw Martha, in pink pajamas, rush in from the door to the stairway to her apartment. She held an umbrella in her hand—one decorated with smiling doggy faces and with a very pointed end—and she aimed it toward Alice's middle as she continued to run.

“No, you old bitch!” Alice shouted, stretching to grab the umbrella before it could reach her. She wrested it from Martha's hands, and my dear old friend gasped as she was pushed to the floor.

Alice now held the umbrella. She pulled it up and started to slice it downward to stab Martha.

I rushed at her. So did Pluckie. And in the ensuing tangle, the umbrella, still in Alice's hand, opened.

An umbrella inside a building. Open. A bad omen for the one who'd done it. I felt a tiny bit better as my shoulder slung against Alice's left breast, knocking her sideways, away from Martha.

“Bad luck to you, bitch!” I yelled at her, even as she regained some balance and tried to launch herself at me this time.

“Freeze, Numa!” came another shout. This time male. This time recognizable as belonging to the chief of police.

Justin was here. He'd burst in the back door to this storeroom, as I'd hoped. Holding his service weapon up to his face to ensure perfect aim, he pointed it toward the detective who was his subordinate … as well as his number-one murder suspect and more.

thirty

“Of course I was
listening to you,” Justin said a while later.

Detective Choye and some uniformed officers had been right behind him when he'd stormed into the back of the Lucky Dog. They'd quickly arrested Alice and taken her away.

I wasn't thinking of her as Detective Numa now. But the likelihood that her days on the DPD had ended was the least of her
problems.

“Me too,” said Martha. We had all gone upstairs to her apartment once the excitement in the shop had ended. It was getting late, and Justin and I had wanted to make sure she was okay.

Not only was she okay, but she invited us for tea—herbal, she promised, so it wouldn't keep us awake when we finally went to bed.

Pluckie now lay at my feet beside the plush sofa where I'd settled myself by habit, facing the matching antique-looking chairs where Martha and Justin now sat. Martha looked right at home here with the teacup and saucer on her pink pajama-clad lap. Surprisingly, the atmosphere suited muscular, masculine Justin as well.

The edges of Martha's hazel eyes drooped a bit with fatigue, but otherwise she looked hyped and happy. As well she should. She'd saved me—and wound up utilizing a superstition to boot! Once word could get out about this night, Destiny residents would be jazzed.

“So you came downstairs because you heard voices?” Justin addressed his pseudo mom. “I've warned you before to be careful and not just—”

“I'm okay,” she cut in. “Rory's okay. And I didn't see you there to save her, not when she needed you.”

Those were kind of my thoughts too.

“If I could have gotten there any faster, I'd have helped her,” he said. “Although not as colorfully as you, and not as appropriately for Destiny.”

“Then don't scold me. I'm good luck.” Martha grinned.

I grinned too. But when her grin turned into a yawn I said, “I want to hear all about what other lucky superstitions are on your mind, Martha, but not tonight. I have a feeling that when our adrenaline starts winding down, we'll all be exhausted. Although Justin may still have some work to do, right?”

“Right,” he said.

A few minutes later he accompanied Pluckie and me back downstairs after making sure Martha locked her apartment door behind us. No, he assured me, he didn't think Alice had any accomplices, but Martha's well-being and safety were a priority of his.

I knew that. His cajoling was a major reason I'd stayed here in Destiny to help Martha with the Lucky Dog.

The store was still full of his guys now investigating what had turned into a crime scene. I let Justin lead Pluckie and me around the minor chaos till we got outside.

There, near the front of the Lucky Dog Boutique, was the black cat I'd seen before. Or at least I assumed it was the same one. It was standing still now, looking around at the small crowd of tourists and a few townsfolk staring and pointing toward the store.

“I knew something was going to happen tonight,” I told Justin. “I saw that kitty outside before Alice arrived.”

“Did he cross your path?” Justin's tone sounded amused.

“Not really.”

“Then—”

Before I could finish, a figure came around the side of the store, a person who appeared dressed entirely in black. I assumed it was a woman, because she seemed short and … well, I just did.

Whoever it was, she scooped up the cat, then turned to look in my direction. I couldn't really make out any facial features, but I did see her nod in her hoodie, then she and the cat disappeared around the corner.

“Is that the woman I heard about?” I asked, turning to look at Justin. “The one who supposedly keeps track of Destiny's black cats and sometimes takes care of the feral ones?”

“I assume so,” he said.

“Who is she?”

“All I know so far is rumors—and that she calls herself, unsurprisingly, Catrice.”

“I never saw her before, or at least I don't think so,” I said, then couldn't help asking, “Is she real? Are the cats?”

“Add that to your lists of unknowns about Destiny and superstitions,” he replied with a wry smile. “And don't forget that it's supposed to be bad luck to talk about her.”

I wasn't surprised when Justin insisted on driving Pluckie and me to the B&B. He'd driven here because it was a lot faster than walking, he said.

Our conversation in the car was cool, relaxed, and completely off the subject that was on our mind. I was glad but suspicious. He surely wasn't going to let me get off that easy, was he?

He waited outside our lodgings while Pluckie took care of her last business for the night, then he walked us to the door and waited till I used my key to open it.

“Rory?” he said, looking down at me as I turned to say good night.

“Yes?” I checked the expression in his eyes to determine if this was it, and he was about to chew me out. I'd disobeyed him, after all. I'd put myself into danger, somewhat intentionally.

“We'll talk,” he said. Then he bent toward me and his mouth got busy on something a lot more fun than talking, and so did mine.

“Good night, Justin,” I breathed a long minute later, then hurried inside and shut the door.

The next morning, Destiny was on fire—figuratively, fortunately, and not literally. I didn't need to look up superstitions relating to blazes.

Instead, rumors flew. Residents did all they could to encourage good luck superstitions to come true for everyone there, including tourists.

That was what Serina told me at the B&B as soon as Pluckie and I came downstairs for our short morning walk. Destiny was in turmoil.

“It'll be okay,” Serina assured me. Then she scrutinized me with an intense gaze. “You know something, don't you?”

“Who, me?” I asked innocently. But I figured the truth would come out if it hadn't already—unless, of course, talking about this situation was labeled bad luck.

As I walked Pluckie down Fate Street in the direction of the park, I saw a lot more tourists than usual at this hour heading that way too.

My phone chimed to let me know I'd received a text message. I pulled it from my pocket.

From City Hall? It said, “Town meeting at Break-a-Leg tonight at
7
:
30
.” Oh.

All store owners and managers had to register with Destiny's administration, so I wasn't surprised they had my phone number. I felt sure that, whatever would be said this evening, the spin Destiny intended to give on what had happened last night and otherwise would be provided.

Far be it from me to do anything but follow the rules, because doing so would provide good luck, or so I figured we'd be told.

Unless, of course, the approved story was full of lies that would hurt Gemma or me. Or Justin, of course. If so, I'd defy rumors and tell the truth.

By the time Pluckie and I returned, Gemma and Stuart were downstairs in the breakfast room. My friend nearly elbowed her way through the crowd of guests to get to me. “Is what I've heard true?” she demanded, looking at me with wide, hopeful eyes. Today, she wore a black T-shirt with the outline of an open book that said “Read More” over a black skirt, and she looked pretty, as usual.

Now I felt certain she'd never have to wear prison garb, so I smiled. “Depends on what you heard.”

She leaned closer. “There's been an arrest in Lou's murder, right?”

“Could be.”

“And you had something to do with it, you louse. Why didn't you let me help you?”

“Because,” I replied, gazing wryly into her face. I'd no intention of saying any more than that. I didn't need to explain to her or anyone else what I'd done or why I'd done it, not even Justin. Well, maybe Justin …

Unsurprisingly, I did see Justin a little later that day, after the four of us—Gemma, Stuart, Pluckie, and I—conducted our usual walk to the shops. The only thing surprising about it was the timing, since an exhausted-looking police chief appeared in the shop the moment it opened at ten.

“Can I have a few minutes, Rory?” he asked.

I glanced toward Jeri and Millie. Only Jeri had been scheduled to come in but both arrived early, asking for information. The only dirt I passed their way was that they should come to the town meeting later.

“Sure,” I told Justin. Rather than going into the backroom where eavesdropping was likely, we went out the rear door into the empty alley. I brought Pluckie, who immediately began to sniff the air, then the ground.

“I just wanted to give you an update,” Justin said. “Here's what we're gathering so far, although Alice has lawyered up and hasn't confirmed or denied much.”

But the word “much” was the key. She had talked a while before deciding to shut up.

I recalled one day in the Broken Mirror Bookstore when Alice had agreed with the speculation that Lou's killer was there. Now I knew how true that was.

The story now believed correct by the DPD was that Alice had resented Justin from the first, since she had wanted to be promoted to police chief. She had even been secretly dating Lou Landorf back then to butter him up and get him to support the idea of promoting her.

She'd been resentful when he hadn't, but he'd told her he was waiting for a much better position for her. And lately, the idea was being bounced around to start the new, official security team within the department that Lou had mentioned, one that would deal directly with tourists and their issues. Lou had suggested it, in fact, and Alice was being considered to head it. She liked the idea, since to visitors to Destiny she would become the go-to cop, the person they'd all love and revere because she would help straighten out their problems.

“The death of the tourist threw a monkey wrench into that idea,” Justin said, shaking his head. “Alice might actually have been good at that position. But Lou was furious about the death of the tourist up on a popular mountain lookout and the bad publicity it gave Destiny—especially since his current assignment was to attract lots of tourists to town. Lou lashed out, like he always did. He blamed me for not finding the reason right away. He blamed the whole department. And that included Alice. He made it clear he wouldn't recommend her for that exciting new position thanks to her failure.”

“But it wasn't her fault,” I said. “Was it?”

“No, but Lou was never the most understanding person, especially when riled. Alice and he had still been dating secretly when he was in town, meeting infrequently late at night mostly outside Destiny, but when they were short on time they met in the park. They apparently had quite a torrid affair going that had started a couple of years ago, but they'd been surprisingly discreet, considering who Lou was. No one knew about it, although that's still under investigation. It ended, though, when the tourist died and Lou got angry. To make matters even worse in Alice's estimation, he started flirting with newcomer Gemma. His murder? It was premeditated by Alice.”

Alice hadn't admitted this part, he said, but apparently she had seen the kind of stake used to kill Lou in Heads-Up Penny Gifts and had intended to buy one for Lou as a peace offering. It was his kind of thing, after all, with the carved fist on the top representing knocking on wood. But anger caused her to steal one instead so nobody would know she had it. Then she'd convinced Lou to meet her one more time in the park—and used it on him.

“She was apparently hopeful that Pluckie would be the one to find him, since she knew you sometimes went to the park on your morning walks,” Justin said.

“Lucky us,” I replied.

“Alice is one of those Destiny residents who tries to pretend she doesn't fully embrace superstitions, but now she's sure bad luck is raining down on her—not because she's a murderer, but because she accidentally opened that umbrella indoors when trying to protect herself by hurting you. Oh, and she also saw that black cat cross in front of the Lucky Dog when she was on her way inside to get you. She'd considered entering another way but knew that would be bad luck too.”

There was a superstition about needing to enter and leave through the same door to prevent bad luck, although why she couldn't have sneaked in and out the alley door I didn't know. Maybe because sneaking would look bad for a cop supposedly trying to investigate a crime, if anyone saw her.

And that cat. Was it wholly coincidence it had happened to be there that night, or was the cat, and perhaps the cat lady, somehow psychic? I wondered if I could find out. Without talking about her.

“Alice also considered you bad luck, by the way. You came to town at a time she was trying to find a subtle way to curse me. Instead, you helped me solve the first murder in years here. You apparently brought me good luck.” He smiled at me.

I smiled back.

“Okay, then,” he continued. “In case you were wondering, I was listening to your conversation with her the whole time over the phone. I wanted to be there and shove you out of the way and shake you. But … well, I was also upset.”

“Because I was the one to figure out it was Alice?”

“Some of that, yeah. But mostly because you'd put yourself in danger.”

We shared a brief, though hot, kiss.

“I've got to run, Rory,” he said sadly as he broke it off. “See you at the town meeting tonight?”

“Absolutely.”

I talked to Gemma later that morning at the Broken Mirror, whispering what had happened and swearing her to secrecy.

“Thank you, thank you, Rory,” she exclaimed, hugging me beside the cash register as Stuart waited on a group of customers.

Then Gemma let her own bomb drop. “You know, Rory, I've been aware since I arrived here about all the controversy relating to that tourist's death. I wondered if it could be superstition related—what around here isn't?—and did some research.” She quietly told me what she'd found and her suspicions about it.