Knock on Wood

by Linda O. Johnston

  What was she driving at?

  Could she have killed Lou?

  But why?

  We were walking slowly among the crowd and had reached the front of the Heads-Up Penny gift shop. A narrow alleyway beside it led to California Street, where some apartments, doctors’ offices, and a hospital were located.

  Fewer people would be hanging out there, so I led Gemma down the alley.

  “Okay,” I told her when we reached the nearly empty sidewalk on that side. “Tell me what’s on your mind.” I led her in the opposite direction from how we’d been walking, since if we continued that way we would eventually reach the town’s civic center—which included not only the Break-a-Leg Theater and City Hall, but also the police station.

  Not that Justin or anyone else would care that I was taking a walk with my friend Gemma. But if seeing me with her now somehow triggered questions … not a good idea.

  She stopped walking and looked at me, tears shimmering in her brown eyes—another reason that it would be better not to be seen by someone who knew me.

  “Lou called me after I got back to the B&B with Stuart and you,” Gemma began. “He said he wanted to apologize and invited me to go for a ride with him. I told him we could talk again, but not that night. He—well, you heard how he was earlier. He kept his tone softer over the phone, and not as commanding. But he still tried to convince me that he would be the best one to help me learn to run the Broken Mirror so it would make money and I’d be invited to stay permanently in Destiny. I didn’t want to talk about it, not then, so I just told him good night, that we’d discuss it soon, although my intention was to keep putting him off forever. He seemed a nice enough guy when he wasn’t telling me what to do, but …”

  Her voice trailed off, and the look she leveled on me seemed to be asking for my reaction.

  “I understand,” was all I said. I smiled at her. I knew it wasn’t the brightest, friendliest, most understanding smile. But I couldn’t help thinking there was more she wasn’t telling me.

  “No, I don’t think you do.” Her tone sounded dejected and she turned away. When she pivoted back toward me, she said, “The police will probably learn about that conversation if they check Lou’s phone, or mine, or both. Not that they’ll know what we talked about. And … Rory?”

  She stopped and looked down at the ordinary, well-paved sidewalk along this less-traveled street.

  “What?” I prompted.

  She sighed deeply as she raised her gaze back to my face. “This they won’t know at all unless I tell them—or you do.”

  “Know what?” And did I really want to hear it?

  “I was all keyed up after that call. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep, or at least not right away.”

  I was afraid I knew what she was about to tell me. “So what did you do?”

  “I decided to take a walk. I didn’t see anyone in the B&B as I left, or on Fate Street while I was outside. But I did walk a block or two north, then back again. Not as far as the park, but—”

  “But you might have been outside near there at the same time as someone stabbed Lou Landorf to death,” I finished.

  I held Gemma for a while after that as she cried and whispered over and over, “I didn’t do it. Honest, Rory. I didn’t.”

  But did my friend protest too much? She didn’t really have a motive, at least not one she had told me about, but had their argument led to more?

  Maybe I didn’t want to know.

  When she settled down a bit, I suggested that we start walking back toward our respective stores.

  “I need to stop somewhere to freshen up,” she said. She was a pretty enough lady that she didn’t look too bad despite her crying, but I could understand her need to check that out herself. Rather than trying to find someplace private on Destiny Boulevard, we walked into a building containing some doctors’ offices. Fortunately, there were no security guards visible, and we found a ladies room at the end of the downstairs hallway.

  We didn’t stay long, since it didn’t take Gemma much time to put water on her face and smooth her makeup a bit. Soon we were back on Destiny Boulevard among all the tourists.

  “I assume the news about what happened to Lou will be everywhere soon,” Gemma said so softly that I could hardly hear her.

  “Probably.” I told her about having seen one of the owners of the Destiny Star by the murder site earlier. “I reminded Celia Vardox about what bad luck it can be to talk about some situations, but she’s a media person, and she’s not the only one. And as far as I know so far, no one has proclaimed that talking about Lou’s death will bring bad luck.” I’d informed Gemma about everyone had been instructed not to talk about how, due to superstition, Tarzal’s murder had resulted in his partner’s death, or how that situation had been solved.

  I’d also told her how the media-oriented Vardoxes had violated that ban—and about the fire in their offices that had resulted from it. Maybe. At least if one happened to be a believer.

  “Well, I’m not going to talk about it,” Gemma proclaimed as we passed the Lucky Dog and I walked her to the Broken Mirror Bookstore next door.

  “Good idea,” I said, but I didn’t say that I wouldn’t, either.

  In fact, I wondered what Justin would think if he knew Gemma had been out and about possibly at the same time Lou had been stabbed. I wouldn’t tell him—unless something came up where I felt I had to.

  I really didn’t think Gemma was the murderer, any more than I’d believed Martha had been Tarzal’s killer.

  I’d had to fight to prove Martha innocent.

  Was I going to have to do that for my bff Gemma too?

  fifteen

  Under the circumstances, I decided it would be most prudent not to contact Justin again that day, at least not while I pondered how best to deal with what Gemma had told me—and what kind of involvement I might need to undertake.

  Even so, I kept my phone in my pocket when I returned to the store and kept checking it to make sure I hadn’t missed hearing any calls or texts.

  I thought Gemma might call to remind me to stay quiet—and to describe her own feelings more. To cry on my shoulder via electronics rather than in person. But she didn’t, and I hoped that was an indication that, having told me what she had, she’d been able to shelve it in her mind as nothing to worry about. At least not much.

  But what about Justin? Not that I had any urge to tell him what I now knew about where Gemma had been yesterday evening. Still, I’d have enjoyed hearing from him, letting him vent about what was going on—at least as much as he could talk about it.

  The Lucky Dog remained busy that day, so I waited on a lot of customers seeking a variety of superstition-related paraphernalia for their pets. Martha had gone back upstairs and Jeri came in for a while to help Millie and me, but even the three of us seemed always to be talking to, or waiting on, tourists with questions and credit cards.

  That was all a good thing. It helped me focus on something other than what Bill Planger, Pluckie, Pippin, and I had nearly tripped over this morning—and how Gemma might have tripped over it, or worse, last night.

  No. I needed to remind myself that, since we didn’t know who had murdered Lou or why, I should be even more concerned that Gemma might have been very lucky last night. She’d possibly been in the neighborhood where a murder was committed, and yet she wasn’t harmed.

  What superstitions could have been involved in that?

  As I helped a tourist pick out a few hematite charms to put on his dog’s collar, as well as to bring back as gifts for his dog-owning friends, I wondered if Gemma had any hematite jewelry. I knew my own dog-faced pendant might bring me good luck. But what about my friend?

  I doubted she’d found any heads-up pennies on the walk she’d taken to settle her nerves last night, so they were an unlikely source of good luck. A rainbow? But she had walked out of the Rainbow B&B. A horseshoe or wishbone? Maybe.

  Had she crossed her fingers? Just knocking on woo
d probably wouldn’t have protected her.

  It hadn’t protected Lou …

  At lunchtime, I decided to leave Pluckie at the shop and head for the Wishbones-to-Go eatery down Destiny Boulevard. There, I ordered several sandwiches that I intended to distribute among Martha and my employees—and Gemma. I also got the requisite number of wishbones that they passed out at this place, depending on the size of one’s order.

  This was a restaurant frequented more by townsfolk than visitors, but I didn’t see my usual contingent here—not Evonne Albing, the owner of Destiny’s Luckiest Tours, where Martha’s nephew Arlen Jallopia worked, nor her manager Mike Eberhart, nor my friend Carolyn Innes. I did see each of them often in this place.

  I’d also run into one or the other of the Vardoxes here now and then, and I was just as glad not to see one of the town’s media experts right now.

  Bringing lunch back in a couple of large plastic bags gave me a good excuse to stop into the Broken Mirror to hand a sandwich to Gemma. I supposed I could also have brought one for Stuart, at least, although not necessarily for the store owners.

  As it turned out, I was both glad and sorry when I got to the Broken Mirror. Gemma was there. So, fortunately, was Stuart. He was the one waiting on customers.

  Less fortunately, Frank Shorester was there too. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that read UCLA—nothing to do with Destiny, I noted—he stood in a corner leafing through a book and glancing up now and then. The expression he aimed on Stuart was less than cordial.

  Had he disposed of one of the men who’d been flirting with Gemma? Was he waiting now for a good time to deal with the second?

  I didn’t see Gemma at first but heard murmuring from the tiny office that jutted into the rear of the showroom. Stuart, dressed a lot more nattily than Frank in a beige button-down shirt and light brown slacks, nodded a greeting at me before returning his attention to his customers.

  I decided I could just poke my nose through the office door to say hi to whoever was there, and leave a sandwich if it happened to be Gemma.

  It was, and unsurprisingly, considering I’d heard voices, she wasn’t alone. But I’d anticipated seeing Nancy Tarzal or the Brownlings with her.

  Instead, it was Detective Alice Numa, dressed in the same dark suit I’d seen her in hours earlier at the park.

  Her presence here couldn’t be good news for Gemma. Were Alice and that other detective simply interviewing everyone who’d been in contact at all with Lou yesterday? Or was there more to it than that?

  Good thing I was carrying lunch. It gave me a good excuse to intrude and find out.

  “Hi,” I said with a large smile as I pushed open the door. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Detective. I brought lunch from Wishbones-to-Go for my buddy Gemma.” I lifted the bags in my hands and approached Gemma, who sat at the chair behind the small desk. “I know you’re in the mood for smoked turkey with provolone.”

  She nodded, and her smile was about as fragile as I’d ever seen it. The pallor I’d seen on her cheeks before was rosy compared with how white she looked now.

  I put the bags on the antique wooden desk and rifled through them. “Ah, here we are.” I pulled out a wrapped sandwich and a wishbone. “I’ll bet this would be a good time to make a wish, wouldn’t it?”

  She nodded. “But I doubt I’d get the bigger half anyway.” So she believed her luck at the moment to be bad. Not surprising.

  “I assume you’re here because of the investigation into what happened to poor Lou Landorf,” I said, turning to face Alice, who sat on the compact chair facing the desk on which she’d placed her phone, undoubtedly for recording her interrogation of Gemma. “But you surely don’t think the small disagreement he had with Gemma yesterday makes her a suspect.”

  “You know I can’t discuss particulars of an investigation with you, Ms. Chasen.”

  Alice’s tone was bland, her glance solemn. Plus, I was “Ms. Chasen” and not Rory. This was official and, apparently, serious.

  She surely didn’t know about Gemma’s walk, did she? Had someone seen Gemma? She wouldn’t have mentioned it herself … would she?

  No, the more likely scenario was that the cops had found Gemma’s number on Lou’s phone. But I didn’t want to bring that up. No need for Alice to know that Gemma and I had discussed any of what had happened.

  “Yes, I know that, Alice,” I agreed. “And I also know you’re just doing your job. But in case you need any kind of character reference for Gemma, you should know we’ve been friends for a long time. She’d never hurt anyone or anything—although I do admit I’ve seen her swat mosquitoes off a couple of kids visiting her library this summer.”

  Alice’s eyes rolled briefly toward the ceiling in apparent disgust, but she didn’t say anything.

  “Hey, you know, Gemma’s been researching a lot of superstitions. She started for me before I came here, and that’s also the reason she’s been hired to run the Broken Mirror. Maybe she can help you. Just let her know who some of the persons of interest are in Lou’s murder and why, and maybe she can help you come up with superstitions that might help prove or disprove their guilt.”

  “I think it would be better if you just left Ms. Grayfield’s lunch here and went back to your shop,” Alice said.

  “Let’s see,” I continued. “Are there any people who got irritated by how often Lou knocked on wood?”

  “Besides me, you mean?” Hey, did Alice Numa have a sense of humor after all? She didn’t smile, but was that a little twinkle in her deep brown eyes?

  “Aha! Is someone interrogating you about whether you killed the p.a. director?” I demanded, keeping my tone light.

  A look I couldn’t interpret shot across her face that time. Irritation? Anger? A different hint of amusement? Whatever it was, it ended quickly and she once again projected her usual impassive and unreadable expression.

  “I’m the interrogator around here,” she said, “and I think it’s about time you left so I can complete this session.” When she aimed her eyes at me this time, impassivity had given way to command.

  I glanced at Gemma’s face. She looked both accepting and frightened.

  “I understand you need to do your job, Detective,” I said. “But Gemma doesn’t really need to answer your questions. In fact, I could give her the information about a lawyer I’ve met here in Destiny.” Emily Rasmuten had been the attorney Martha used to draw up her will—and she’d also advised Martha when she was a suspect in Tarzal’s murder.

  “No need, at least not now. But we will be looking deeper into that matter I asked you about before, Ms. Grayfield.” Alice rose. “And I’m sure I’ll be back with more questions.”

  She picked up a notebook and phone she’d rested on the desk, then left the room.

  I looked at Gemma. “Care to talk about it?”

  “She meant my phone call with Lou,” Gemma whispered. Since she said nothing else, I assumed the detective didn’t know about Gemma’s late-night walk after that call. “I was honest about it, that Lou and I weren’t getting along very well before that conversation and didn’t really resolve anything as we talked.”

  “But you weren’t getting along badly enough for you to kill him.” I didn’t keep my voice as low as hers. If someone heard that, it might be a good thing—especially if it was Alice Numa. Then, very quietly, I asked, “I assume you know Frank’s here. Have you talked to him? Do you know where he was last night?” Since he’d wanted Gemma back, I’d already considered that he might have done something to Lou to keep him from flirting with her any more.

  But that seemed to me like a pretty flimsy motive for murder, too.

  Gemma shook her head no. “I said hi to him but not much more. That was when the detective got here, so he said he’d hang around, see me later.”

  We were both silent for a moment, just looking at each other. “Anyhow,” I finally said, “I hope you enjoy your sandwich. And—well, you might want to break that wishbone, but I don’t think I w
ant to be the one to work with you on it.”

  “Because you think I’ll win the good luck, larger half?” she asked, smiling slightly.

  “That’s right,” I said. But it was more because I was worried she wouldn’t.

  All continued to go well at the Lucky Dog after I returned. Pluckie was glad to see me, and so were my assistants and Martha, for whom I’d brought lunch.

  I did break a wishbone with Martha, who was upstairs in her apartment for the rest of that day. I always tried to let her win the larger half, and if she didn’t I made sure to wish something favorable to her as well as to me.

  Today she won, which was fine. I’d considered wishing something more beneficial to Gemma than Martha for this day only but didn’t get that opportunity. I hoped I wouldn’t need it.

  But I did dig up attorney Emily Rasmuten’s information, just in case …

  Time went quickly, as usual, after I returned downstairs and waited on customers, talking about our products relating to pets and superstitions. I was learning more about them all the time, plus, when our visitors were few and Jeri and Millie could work with them to help them find what they wanted, I pulled out the laptop computer from under the cash register and looked for more items I could order.

  It was surprising how many dog toys there were, for example, that were shaped like horseshoes and other lucky forms.

  And, as with any other day, our closing time of seven o’clock eventually approached.

  During all that time, I’d tried not to think—much—about Lou Landorf’s death. I didn’t check out any media for news, not even when I was on the computer.

  Not that it ever completely left my mind. I also sort of wondered, since Detective Alice Numa had been in this neighborhood asking questions, where the other detective who’d been at the crime scene—Choye—was, and who he was interrogating. Were other detectives on this case, too? What persons of interest were they digging up?

  I also wondered where Justin was, and whether he, too, was attempting to find answers.

  Whatever he was up to, it didn’t include me. That meant I couldn’t cry on his shoulder any longer about having been one of those who’d found poor Lou.