Knock on Wood (9 page)

I had a hard time falling asleep that night. Pluckie, as usual, did just fine, snoring gently beside me as I lay there thinking.

The party at the Clinking Glass Saloon, such as it was, had turned weird. It had started off fine, but then there'd been Frank's appearance. And the strife between Gemma and Lou. Lou's miserable attitude toward others, too.

And then the appearance of that pigeon. Yes, I'd checked
The Destiny of Superstitions
when I'd gotten into my room, and pigeons—and other kinds of birds—flying inside could be an omen of death.

I pondered that. Would the statements made and knocking on wood somehow turn that around?

Heck, it was just a superstition. And I still didn't completely believe in superstitions.

Or at least I kept telling myself that.

So, I lay there in the near-complete darkness, with only a sliver of light coming through the draperies at the nearby window, thanks to the streetlights that stayed on all night.

I must have eventually fallen asleep since suddenly I startled awake. Pluckie was standing beside me on the bed, staring at that closed window. She gave a few muted woofs but didn't bark.

And then I knew what had awakened me and Pluckie.

I heard the sound of a howling dog somewhere in the distance outside.

The same kind of howl I'd heard a few times before.

And some of those times it had complied with the related superstition, as anticipated in the town of Destiny.

It had heralded a death.

This time too?

I found out the answer the next morning.

ten

I woke up before
the alarm programmed into my phone went off—a good thing, since it indicated I'd fallen asleep. Somehow. Sometime, during that long night.

I realized right away what, besides my own uneasy mind, had awakened me. Pluckie was off the bed, standing with her back feet on the floor and her front ones on the mattress beside me, her nose pressing into my arm.

“What do you think, girl?” I asked a little groggily as I patted her. “Did that howl mean anything?”

She sat down and cocked her sweet black head, regarding me earnestly. If she'd known the answer and been able to communicate it to me, I was sure she would.

I sighed. “It's time to go find out.”

I dressed quickly and snapped Pluckie's leash onto her collar. At the door to my unit I grasped the knob and took a deep breath. Just in case, I said, “I hope someone was just playing games, or we imagined it, or—whatever.” I crossed my fingers hopefully.

I wasn't sure why some superstitions might trump others, and why some even seemed to be the entire opposite of others.

That only added to my many questions.

And no matter what I did that morning, if that howl had been a harbinger of death as the others had been, what I might try to do now to counter it wouldn't matter at all.

“Okay, girl,” I said resignedly to Pluckie and opened the door.

There was no one in the hallway, so we headed downstairs. I'd take Pluckie out for a quick walk first, then go into the breakfast room, as usual.

I heard a lot of noise coming from the area where many of the B&B's roomers were undoubtedly eating. More than usual? Probably not. But I would be interested in finding out, when I joined them, if any others had heard that howl.

I didn't see Serina and figured she was in the room serving her guests, so I'd have to wait till later to ask her too. I opened the front door and walked beneath the horseshoe to the front yard of the B&B.

As I often did, I let Pluckie lead me in the direction she wanted to go. After all, she was the one with something to accomplish out here. She began sniffing the ground, heading along Fate Street in the opposite direction from downtown Destiny.

Some cars were parked along the street on both sides. It didn't matter since we stayed on the sidewalk. Pluckie squatted for the first time, then continued on as a compact white sedan drove by, followed by a green SUV.

Not a lot of traffic, but then, this wasn't Destiny Boulevard.

It was a pleasant day in September, with a clear sky and the air warm but not baking. I had no problem with Pluckie taking her time. I'd learn who heard the howl last night after we returned to the B&B, and get the rundown of people's opinions about what it meant later. For now, we would just enjoy our walk.

As we reached the next street corner I saw a man and woman walking a Sheltie on the opposite side of the street. They didn't look familiar, so I assumed they were tourists.

It wouldn't hurt to be friendly to them—and maybe work into any conversation that they might enjoy bringing their pup to the Lucky Dog Boutique while they were in town.

“Come on, girl,” I told Pluckie. But she had something to accomplish first, and this time, when she squatted, I had to clean up after her.

When I was finished, I checked and still saw the people and dog, a little farther down the street. They were walking in the opposite direction from Destiny Boulevard, which was fine since it was a lot quieter here where the street was lined with a few compact office buildings before the residential area started. In fact, I had the sense that the couple was headed toward the small park at the next street corner, a good place to walk dogs.

I checked to make sure no cars were coming then Pluckie and I crossed the street. “Let's hurry,” I told her so we could catch up.

The dog was taking her time sniffing the sidewalk, and her people weren't hurrying her. We soon reached them.

“Hi,” I said as Pluckie approached the dog. I held my breath for an instant, in case that dog didn't like others, but after they traded nose sniffs they seemed to become good buddies.

“Cute dog,” the woman said. She was short and a little stout and smiling broadly. She wore a red knit shirt with buttons over beige Capri pants.

“Yours too.”

We chatted for a minute, with the man joining in. They were the Plangers, Sue and Bill, from Tucson. Their dog was Pippin. And, yes, they'd heard of the Lucky Dog Boutique and planned to visit there today or tomorrow. They'd just arrived in town yesterday and had attended the Welcome last night.

They seemed pleased to have company on their walk. As we strolled with the dogs, I gave them a sketchy version of my background, only saying that I was fascinated by superstitions and that was what had drawn me here. Thanks to my lucky dog Pluckie, we'd found the ailing owner of the Lucky Dog and got help for her, then couldn't resist her request that we stay here and assist her with running the shop.

By the time I'd finished, we were at the park. A few more cars had passed by, but I saw no traffic, no more people walking dogs. This was a pleasant area, but it really didn't give a good sense of what busy Destiny was all about.

“You know,” I said, “you might want to take a tour of Destiny. I did, and I found it fun and helpful for learning more about the place.” I even mentioned Destiny's Luckiest Tours, the company that gave the tour I'd taken—where Martha's nephew Arlen was a guide.

“Good idea,” Bill said.

The park was about a block and a half long, and it was surrounded on two sides by high ficus bushes that shielded it from the nearest houses. A small children's area with swings and a seesaw sat near the road.

The dogs stayed together as they sniffed and meandered and—

Pluckie suddenly stopped, her nose in the air. Then she barked—and began running. I was startled enough that I dropped her leash. And, in fact, when Pippin also barked and ran, Sue dropped the end
of her leash too. Both dogs sprinted farther into the park area and toward the bushes, Pluckie in the lead.

“Pippin, no!” shouted Bill. “Wait.”

“No, Pluckie,” I also yelled.

My dog did stop when she reached the ficus, her face pressed into the bushes as if she was sniffing something. Some creature? I wasn't sure what kinds of small animals might frequent the park, but—

“Oh, my God,” cried Bill, who'd caught up with both dogs. Pippin had already joined Pluckie. “Oh, no.”

“What is it?” Sue called. She was behind us.

I quickly joined Bill and gasped too. A man's body lay on the ground beneath the bushes.

It was a man I recognized: Lou Landorf.

There was blood all around him, and no wonder. A large piece of wood, a stake of some sort, was protruding from his chest.

A sense of déjà vu hit me. I'd found another body like this, Kenneth Tarzal's, not long ago. He'd been dead, killed by a piece of broken mirror.

Was Lou dead? His face was white, and he wasn't moving. “I'm calling
911
,” Bill rasped, stepping back and drawing a phone from his pocket. “Sue, take Pippin and stay back.”

I pushed Pluckie gently away and knelt in the dirt near Lou, touching his neck, checking for a pulse. I felt none.

My eyes focused on the stake that pierced him. It had a fist carved into the top. I'd seen similar ones at souvenir shops in town, encouraging people to knock on wood.

As Lou had always done. But I had a terrible feeling that it hadn't brought him good luck after all—and Lou would probably never knock on wood again.

eleven

I stood up, feeling
tears run down my face. For Lou? For myself? For all of us?

No matter. Bill stood a few feet away, bent forward and turned partly away from where Lou's body lay, clearly not looking at him. He held his phone to his ear.

I didn't wait to eavesdrop on his conversation with the
911
operator, although I did notice the pallor and fear on his middle-aged face as he held the side of his head while he talked.

I pulled my own phone from my pocket and pressed in Justin's number while holding much more tightly to Pluckie's leash. My little dog had sat down on the grass beside my feet, leaning against my leg. She obviously sensed my traumatized state of mind.

I'd no doubt Justin was awake already, maybe even heading for work. But it wouldn't have mattered if I'd awakened him. This was something he'd want to know about, and, even though he was bound to receive official notification via appropriate channels, I wanted to be the one to inform him of my own involvement.

No, not really involvement. I had nothing to do with what had happened to Lou. But my good luck dog Pluckie had led us both once more into a really bad luck situation.

Finding another murder victim.

“I want to report a dead body.” Bill's voice was cracking in the background as I called Justin.

“Hi, Rory,” he said. “Good morning. It's early, so … what's wrong?”

I'd have laughed if I wasn't so upset. My voice shook as I said, “Why does there have to be something wrong for me to … never mind. You're right. It's so horrible. Pluckie has led me to another body.” I swallowed hard.

Silence for a second while Bill's voice continued in the background, describing where we were.

“One like Martha?” Justin finally asked. “Or like—”

“Like Tarzal,” I blurted. Thanks to Pluckie, Martha had been found alive, but it had been too late for Tarzal. “In case you're wondering, a couple of tourists and their dog were with us. The man's called
911
.”

“And I'm getting another call now too. I'll take it, then call you right back.”

“Fine. But Justin, you should know that the victim is Lou Landorf.”

Justin did call me back within a couple of minutes. “I'm on my way,” he said, “but others will get there first. I hate to say it, but I'm sure you know the drill.”

I nodded even though he couldn't see it. “Stay here. Touch nothing. Make sure any other witnesses hang around, too, and also don't disturb any possible evidence.”

“Close enough. See you shortly. And … Rory?”

“Yes.” The word came out shrill enough for Pluckie to look up at me. “Yes,” I repeated.

“I'm sorry you had to see something like that again.”

“Me too.”

When I hung up, I knelt to hug Pluckie. Needing even more reassurance, I picked her up. When I looked around to start doing as Justin wanted me to, I didn't immediately see Bill and my heart rate sped up in panic. At least I knew his name and his wife's and dog's if I needed to give the information to the cops to go find them. Would their fleeing be an indication of their involvement with the killing?

But they'd seemed so calm till we found the body. And, as it turned out, Bill hadn't gone far. Sue had walked a distance away with Pippin and just stood there near the street, her back toward us. Her shoulders were hunched beneath her red shirt. Bill was striding toward her, and I heard sirens in the distance.

Putting Pluckie down again and holding onto her leash, I hurried to join them. “Thanks for calling the authorities,” I told Bill. “I just spoke with Destiny's police chief. He said we need to stay here to give our statements.” And answer whatever questions might be leveled against us—like, did any of us decide to stab Lou last night after the Destiny Welcome?

The Destiny Welcome. Had it turned unlucky? Pluckie and I had also found Tarzal's body after a Welcome … although there'd been other presentations in the weeks between them. Not all of them resulted in a murder, thank heavens.

Surely the killings couldn't be related to the Welcome. Yet, in Destiny, some superstition mavens were likely to recall the same thing as I had—and start spouting how unlucky those events had become.

That would be horrible for Destiny. The Welcomes were part of the town's culture, designed to introduce tourists to what Destiny was all about.

I'd have to think about how to turn it around. What about these two particular Welcomes could be described differently—and avoided forevermore in the future?

It wouldn't really be up to me, even if I could come up with something—and I was far from a superstition expert. But maybe Gemma, the librarian and knowledgeable researcher, could find something …

Gemma. She had been flirting with Lou, or at least not reacting unfavorably to his apparent interest.

Until last night.

She'd argued with him then. Surely the situation wouldn't turn into another battle on my part to save a friend from suspicion of being a murderer.

Surely Justin and the other cops would have a much better suspect to glom onto.

Though preferably not me.

“Are you okay?” That was Bill, yelling over the approaching siren. He stood with one arm around his wife, staring at me. I must have looked spaced out or confused or, worse, anxious and nervous. I felt all of those things but didn't really want anyone else to know.

The couple were both on a path close to the road that abutted the park, with Pippin at their feet. I didn't have time to respond and reassure them I was fine before a police car slammed on its brakes beside us.

A couple of uniformed officers jumped out. “Did one of you call to report finding an injured person?”

“I did, officer,” Bill said. “And I think he's more than just injured.”

I definitely agreed, although, for now, I kept silent, kneeling to hold Pluckie close.

Another car screeched to a halt behind the first one. Two other cops got out and hurried toward us, while the first two accompanied Bill back toward Lou's body. I rose, holding Pluckie in my arms, and started to follow them.

“
Wait here, please, ma'am,” said a young female cop from the second car. She looked vaguely familiar, but I didn't recall talking with her before. I might just have seen her at the police station when I'd been there visiting Justin, or at a Welcome, or who knew?

“Okay,” I said. “But I wanted to tell them who the victim is before—” I heard a shout emanate from back near where the trees began. “I suspect they know now.” I sucked in my lips, shaking my head both in sorrow and in wry amusement at the reaction.

“Who is it?” That was Sue. She was now, like I'd been, kneeling on the ground beside her dog. The Sheltie was probably too large for her to pick up easily, the way I still held Pluckie.

“Please don't say anything, ma'am,” the lady cop said to me. Her nametag identified her as Officer Sweelen. I suspected she had started her law enforcement career recently considering how young she looked, with absolutely smooth facial skin and pale, glossed lips beneath golden hair pulled back into a clip.

Her partner, who'd joined her, looked even more familiar. He had been one of those who'd first appeared at the Lucky Dog Boutique when I'd called for help after Pluckie discovered Martha in the backroom in distress. I couldn't check the officer's nametag because of the angle at which he stood in the now-increasing sunlight. “We'll need for you to answer a few questions,” he said.

I nodded. I knew the drill. “How long do you think it will be
before—”

I didn't need to finish since I saw Justin striding down the path beside the police cars, dressed as usual while on duty. He must have parked his vehicle behind the second one.

I restrained myself from running to him and into his arms for a comforting hug. I already had Pluckie with me for comfort. And as much as I'd begun to appreciate Justin, we were still not really in that kind of relationship—if any relationship at all.

This wasn't a time to think of my poor lost Warren, but of course I did.

There weren't any ladders leaning against trees here, so that hadn't contributed to Lou's death. Those trees looked mostly like conifers—pines, maybe.

What superstitions were affiliated with them, if any? I'd no doubt there were some. In fact, I'd seen some reference to them in
The Destiny of Superstitions
but they hadn't registered in my mind as being of any importance so I couldn't recall them now. Or maybe I wouldn't be able to remember anything at the moment.

But now maybe tree superstitions were important. I'd have to check them out.

I recalled then that a pigeon had flown into the Clinking Glass Saloon last night. Had it presaged Lou's death? He'd knocked on wood then. But he had still died.

I realized that my mind was going off on all kinds of tangents now, possibly to avoid thinking of the reality of what had happened here.

I didn't recall getting this upset after finding Tarzal. Maybe I was more in shock then.

Or maybe the reality that Pluckie might be less than lucky when it came to discovering ill, or dead, people was sinking in. Not that I'd love her any less. But I hoped that, if this kind of thing ever happened again, it would be more along the Martha situation than the other ones.

Suddenly I did find myself in Justin's arms, even though I still held my dog. “Rory, are you okay?” he asked softly. Pluckie squirmed and tried to lick Justin's face.

“I … guess so.” But it was all I could do to keep myself from breaking down. Instead, I made myself smile a little and squash Pluckie against Justin so I could stretch up and kiss his cheek. Then I pulled away. Speaking quietly, I said, “I suspect superstitions are involved—surprise, surprise—but the murder weapon appears to be a stylized carved fist on a stake that represents knocking on wood.”

Justin's expression also turned wry. “As you said, surprise, surprise—especially with it being that particular superstition and Lou. But of course we'll have to see what our forensics experts come back with.”

“Justin?” That was a familiar voice from over his shoulder. Detective Alice Numa stood there looking grim. Despite the deep tone to her skin, she almost appeared pale. “I heard on our radio. Is it— Is Director Landorf the victim?”

I nodded. Justin hadn't gone to see the body yet, but I'd no doubts at all.

“I believe so,” was what he said. “Are you okay to conduct some of the witness interviews, Alice? Richard's on his way too.” He glanced toward me. “That's Detective Richard Choye. I don't know if you've met him yet, but he might be the one who'll question you.”

“No, I haven't,” I said, voicing no preference even assuming I had a choice of whom. The idea of being questioned either by Alice, or by a stranger—well, I knew it was coming but would have preferred not to answer anything, no matter who asked.

“I can handle it,” Alice said. “All or a few of them, whatever.” She seemed to straighten herself within her dark pantsuit and reassume her professional demeanor as she looked at me. “I take it that you're a witness again, Rory?” Her tone sounded cool, and yet her expressionless stare seemed to accuse me. Of what? Finding another body?

Murdering him?

I made myself relax and not take umbrage. At least not yet. “Pluckie and I were walking here, then joined up with the tourists who are still around, too, the Plangers. Pluckie and their dog scented … the body.”

“Then I guess you are, in fact, a witness again. I'll check out the others and we'll work out the details for an interview of each of you.” She looked me over as though checking to see if I had any blood stains on me. My fingerprints were already on record after last time. Yes, I did know the drill—at least somewhat.

Then Alice turned and strode toward where a couple of uniforms stood near the Plangers and their Pippin.

I saw that two men in what looked like hazmat outfits had arrived. They carried a gurney in the direction of where Lou lay, followed by a guy in a suit.

I hadn't seen anything exactly like this when we'd discovered Tarzal's body, but that had been indoors, in his shop, and Pluckie and I had been ushered into the other room while this kind of thing was being done.

“That's our medical examiner,” Justin said. “I'd better go talk to him. Are you okay waiting here?”

“Sure,” I said, not positive that I meant it. But as long as I didn't go far I'd be able to walk Pluckie around a little.

We strode down the path along the road, away from the rest of the park and closer to where the buildings began. Pluckie seemed quite interested in sniffing, which slowed me down—a good thing, since I had an urge to run away.

Not that I wouldn't be found later when Alice, or whoever, was ready to bombard me with questions.

But the only answer they'd really be looking for were those I wanted to know too.

Who had killed Lou Landorf, and why?

I hadn't noticed the picnic tables inside the park area before. Maybe because they were near where the trees began, yet also adjacent to the rear yards of the closest buildings.

I saw them now, though. That was where Alice directed the Plangers to go. She sat now at one of the tables with Bill, while a man in a gray suit sat at another table with Sue and Pippin—Detective Choye, I presumed.

I'd probably be next, but I couldn't tell which detective would take my statement.

Too bad I couldn't just give it to Justin, but I felt sure he would have concerns about it being a conflict of interest. Or at least looking that way. We hadn't attempted to keep it secret in Destiny that we sometimes shared meals or went out for drinks. People could interpret that as if we were in a relationship.