But that wouldn’t necessarily tell me whether pursuing a relationship with him was supposedly good for me.
I pondered doing some research the next day. Gemma might be gaining the reputation of being the person around here who knew the most about all superstitions, with her librarian and now Broken Mirror Bookstore manager background. But there were a lot of reasons I didn’t want to bring this up to her.
One was that she knew me so well. She already was aware of my interest in Justin and his possible interest in me. But I didn’t want her to know I was considering ramping up the situation.
She’d also known Warren and my relationship with him.
So who …? Then it came to me. Before Gemma had arrived, I’d been developing more of a friendship with Carolyn Innes, the button shop lady. She’d lived in Destiny a long time, maybe her entire life. She knew superstitions.
She might be curious about my research into additional ones involving relationships, but she wasn’t likely to judge me, at least not like Gemma might. Although I’d need to be discreet. She would probably guess who was the subject of my superstitious inquiries, but I’d try not to admit it.
Gemma had major issues of her own to deal with—but why not ask her along, if I was careful? This kind of diversion might be exactly what she needed.
Maybe tomorrow I’d meet with both of my best friends in this town and see what came of it—but be cautious what I asked in front of Gemma.
That must have been the key. I realized, when I awoke the next morning, that I must have fallen asleep soon after making that decision.
But things didn’t turn out that easy.
Gemma and Stuart joined me for breakfast in the busy dining room at the B&B after I’d taken Pluckie for her first outing of the day. We soon walked together along Fate Street, then Destiny Boulevard, toward our shops.
On the way, after chatting with Gemma without giving her particulars of what I hoped to gain from a conversation, I called Carolyn. She, too, was in her shop early. She loved the idea of getting together later that day with both of us. Tea time sounded best for her—mid-afternoon, even though there were no tea shops in Destiny.
What—no superstitions about tea? There had to be. And if so, that might be a great theme for an enterprising entrepreneur to use for a new shop here someday.
We decided to meet at the Beware-of-Bubbles Coffee Shop. They served tea there too.
And rude as it might have been, I didn’t invite Stuart. After all, he’d need to stay at the Broken Mirror and run the bookshop.
I said goodbye to Gemma and Stuart outside the door to the bookstore, and Pluckie and I continued to the Lucky Dog. As I arrived, I got a call from Martha. She asked us to stop upstairs before I opened the shop.
Everything was pretty much in order in the store and on the shelves, so I complied right away. As always when I went up to visit her, I considered yet again the superstitions she’d told me about slipping while going upstairs versus going downstairs. Downstairs was bad luck, and so was turning on the stairway, but tripping while going upstairs would mean there’d be a wedding in the family.
I was very cautious on my way up. I had no intention of tripping, let alone thinking about weddings, even if I wanted to see if any superstitions could advise me on how to deal with Justin.
Far as I could tell, Martha was just a little lonesome and hadn’t wanted to go downstairs too early, before the shop was open. But fortunately she seemed to be feeling well.
I sat in her quaint and small living room on one of her plush, ornate chairs that matched the sofa, where she positioned herself. We chatted for ten minutes or so with Pluckie lying protectively on the floor near her feet. Martha’s questions revolved around her shop, but I also discerned some subtle references to the Broken Mirror Bookstore and how it was doing post-Tarzal. I assured her that so far all seemed to be going well there, and that my friend Gemma was a good choice for managing it.
I didn’t attempt to refer to the men who’d been flirting with her
—and especially not the public affairs director.
Soon, I looked at my watch. “I think I’d better head back so we can open on time. Will you be coming downstairs today?”
“Of course.”
I suggested that she try to make it mid-afternoon since I’d made some plans then. She could supervise Millie and Jeri, and maybe even run the place if she was feeling up to it.
We both rose at the same time, and so did Pluckie. Impulsively, I crossed to where Martha stood and gave her a hug. “See you later,” I told her with a smile. “But don’t ever hesitate to call if you need anything.”
She gave me a second hug. “Thank you, Rory.”
I didn’t trip going downstairs, and neither did Pluckie. It was about nine fifty-five, which meant I’d unlock the doors in five minutes.
I bustled around, making sure everything was ready for a hopefully huge crowd to visit the store. Lucky plush dog toys arranged on shelves beamed down on us. I tethered Pluckie to the counter, not that she was the kind of pup who’d hurl herself out the door when it opened, but I felt better knowing where she was.
I checked the time on my phone and did the countdown so that, at exactly ten a.m., I went to the front of the shop and unlocked the glass door.
There was, in fact, a crowd on the sidewalk outside. Not a huge crowd, but respectable. None of the people looked familiar, so I assumed they were tourists, and a few had leashed dogs at their sides—everything from a jumping, golden Yorkie to a sleek and well-behaved Weimaraner.
We were open for business!
I had fun answering customers’ questions, including letting those who asked know that I’d be presenting another of my pet superstition discussions next week at the Break-a-Leg Theater. Apparently word was getting around, and my talks might actually be achieving what I’d hoped they would: drawing tourists into the Lucky Dog to check out our superstition-related animal products. Being included in Arlen’s tour, too, didn’t hurt.
Jeri arrived around ten thirty, as scheduled. The shirt she wore today was another from her family’s store, the Heads-Up Penny gift shop, which was fine. I didn’t mind her promoting them too. And I knew she sometimes wore Lucky Dog Boutique shirts when she headed there. Her black hair was getting a little long and swung around her shoulders. She looked very pretty.
Her presence took a lot of pressure off me handling our visitors, but I still managed to keep busy with them, not only answering questions but also making a substantial amount of sales.
I was delighted. It felt good.
Good enough for me to do something about my idea of settling in Destiny? I’d initially planned to go home to the job in the MegaPets store where I’d worked as assistant manager before coming to Destiny to learn about superstitions. This visit was supposed to have been temporary.
But now I was leaning toward staying. I was putting down roots of sorts.
Despite running into multiple murders. Ugh.
But whatever I learned about Justin and whether any superstitions leaned toward my staying to see how that progressed—well, I’d have to decide if I’d become enough of a believer to pay attention.
I was leaning over the glass counter containing lucky amulets when I noticed a man in a suit come through our door. It was Detective Richard Choye, whom I’d seen at the crime scene.
I pretended not to see him, although I did manage to peek around the shoulders of the young couple I was waiting on. Choye was of moderate height with wide shoulders and an otherwise slim build. He was good looking with thick but short black hair. His gaze moved from one part of the shop to another, as if he was seeing its contents for the first time, which was possible. I didn’t recall seeing him here before.
I wished he weren’t here now. If he was a local resident who hadn’t been here previously, he might not have come because he had a pet for whom he wanted to buy a cute, superstition surprise today.
But surely, if the authorities had any further quest
ions for me, they’d have sent Alice Numa, who’d talked with me before.
Better yet, Justin.
The customers I’d been helping decided on amulets in the shapes of four-leaf clovers and a horseshoe. I removed them from the display case, and placed them into small boxes. We then moved over to the cash counter where I swiped their credit card.
When I’d given them their bag and receipt, they took their time leaving, heading toward the display of collars and leashes decorated with pictures or rhinestones depicting symbols of superstitions. I smiled, ready to go after them if they had further questions—like, which of the collars would go best with their new amulets.
“Ms. Chasen?” The voice from off to one side was a strong tenor. I looked that way and wasn’t surprised to see Detective Choye standing there.
“I’m Rory,” I said with a smile. “What kind of superstition items involving pets are you interested in today?”
“I’m interested in totally different kinds of superstitions,” he replied. He pulled open his jacket to reveal a badge fastened on the pocket of his white shirt. “I’ve got some questions to ask you regarding the investigation into the death of Public Affairs Director Landorf.”
I didn’t want to play games any more. “I’ve already given my statement to Detective Numa and answered her questions. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go help those customers.” I nodded toward the couple I’d sold the items to previously. Did they need my help now? I doubted it, but Jeri was waiting on the only other customers, an apparent family with two dogs, and I really had no interest in answering any further questions.
Unless, of course, Justin wanted me to.
“I understand that,” Choye said. “Detective Numa would have come here herself to follow up but she was assigned questioning someone else today. The Plangers, in fact—the people you were with. They intend to go home today, so we needed to ask them a few more questions first. And this shouldn’t take long. I need to know whatever information you have on Frank Shorester.”
Frank? Were they now zeroing in on him as a major suspect? That could be good. If he was it, then Gemma wasn’t, and I wouldn’t have to worry about her any more, late-night walk or not.
Obviously the Plangers weren’t on their suspect list or they probably wouldn’t be permitted to leave so quickly. I hadn’t seen them here at my pet shop with Pippin. I suspected they just wanted to leave Destiny as soon as possible.
“All right.” I knew I sounded more reluctant than I suddenly felt. Glancing around, I said, “Let’s go into the backroom where we can have some privacy.”
“Great.”
He followed me through the door behind the mesh drapery into the storeroom, and I motioned for him to sit on one of the chairs at the card table in the center.
I considered offering him a refreshment, even just a bottle of water, but decided against it. I didn’t want him to feel welcome. Nor did I want him to stay an instant over however long it took for him to ask his questions—and for me to decide whether or not to answer.
“Okay, Rory.” He apparently decided to accept my former friendliness, although I might prefer retracting it now. He pulled out his phone and pressed some buttons. “I’m going to record our conversation.” Not a question but a statement. I didn’t object, though. “Here’s what you might be able to help us with.”
Did that half smile mean he knew I might have a reason to want to help them—like, the fact I knew Justin?
“What’s that?” I kept my tone noncommittal.
“Have you known Frank Shorester long?”
“A while.” If he was going to ask for something more specific, the best I’d be able to do was that it had most likely been for about a year. I thought that was how long Gemma had been dating him.
Choye did ask, and I told him, although since he was a cop and what I said might not be entirely accurate, I let him know that the year was only a guesstimate.
“How well do you know him?”
This was getting slow and boring. “Not well at all.”
“Then how do you know him?”
I’d considered volunteering that before but didn’t really want to volunteer anything now. Even so, I responded with more than a short sentence. “You may be aware that Gemma Grayfield, who’s currently running the bookstore next door, is a good friend of mine. We all lived in L.A. when I met Frank, and he still does live there, as far as I know. He and Gemma were dating then, but she’s broken up with him.”
“So you didn’t know him independently of her?”
“No, not at all.”
He pursed his lips as if that wasn’t the answer he’d hoped for. “Let me ask this, then,” he finally continued. “Do you know him well enough to either trust, or mistrust, something he says?”
What was he driving at? Had Frank admitted to something involving Lou’s death, enough so the cops were trying to determine if his statement could be trusted, that he might, in fact, be guilty?
It struck me, though, that the opposite was more likely to be true. Maybe, in anger against Gemma—or because Frank had, in fact, murdered Lou—Frank was pointing toward his ex-girlfriend as the guilty party.
That would unfortunately make sense from his perspective.
But this was sheer speculation on my part. What Choye was asking could be for an entirely different reason. And I doubted he would answer my questions, even though he wanted me to answer his.
Just in case, I tried to cover my own butt and Gemma’s too.
“Detective, all I can tell you is that, whether or not I’d have trusted what Frank said before, I’m not sure I would now. It would depend on what it was, for one thing. He came here supposedly trying to win Gemma back, and he’s been unsuccessful. To me, he’s seemed pretty angry since he’s arrived. Maybe that would lead him to tell the truth if he felt he could get revenge on Gemma or someone else he considered a rival for her affection. Or maybe he’d feel he could get a better result by producing lies. But all you can get from me is speculation, and I know that kind of thing isn’t evidence, which I assume is what you’re after, right?”
He didn’t exactly respond. Instead, he leveled a really nice, wide smile at me that suggested I’d said exactly what he’d hoped for.
How odd, I thought.
“Thanks for your help, Rory,” he finally said. “I’m sure we’ll have more questions for you, and I hope it’s me who gets to ask them.”
And then he left, leaving me even more puzzled than I’d been about his questions.
eighteen
I considered hurrying next door to talk to Gemma to get her take on what this was about.
To ask if she knew where Frank was—and what he’d been saying about Lou’s murder. And to whom.
And whether she had heard anyone claim superstitions were
involved.
But I’d be seeing her this afternoon and could ask those same questions more subtly.
Still standing near the trinket counter, I glanced at Pluckie, who was tethered nearby. She hadn’t barked or jumped at the detective but had sat there observing him, as if trying to figure out what he really wanted.
I knew I was projecting my own feelings onto my dog, but sometimes Pluckie seemed so attuned to the people around her I figured she had some kind of psychic connections with humans, or at least with me.
And if I could potentially accept that, why couldn’t I accept superstitions as real?
Were there any superstitions about psychic animals?
Another party of tourists walked in, which served to emphasize that I’d made the right decision about staying here, at least for now. I got busy helping them.
When Millie arrived a while later, she brought in lunch for all of us, including Martha, so I didn’t have to worry about taking a break before I had to leave. I repaid her for everyone’s meals, as I did often with my helpers, despite not committing to do so all the time.
Soon, it was near the time Gemma and Carolyn had chosen for tea. Mar
tha had come downstairs by then so there were three people eagerly waiting on customers when Pluckie and I departed for our afternoon get-together.
We made our way through the usual noisy and excited crowd and stopped first at the Broken Mirror next door to get Gemma, even though that shop was slightly in the other direction from where we were going.
Then, walking west on the sidewalk along Destiny Boulevard, the three of us headed toward the Buttons of Fortune shop, about halfway between the Lucky Dog and Destiny’s Civic Center. We actually passed the Beware-of-Bubbles Coffee Shop on the way, but I’d arranged with Carolyn for us to drop by at her Buttons of Fortune shop so I could show it off to Gemma. Then we’d return to get our refreshments.
On the way, I asked Gemma about Frank. Was he still hanging around the bookstore?
“More than I like,” she said. We exchanged glances, and she continued. “He usually stays for an hour or so at a time, thumbing through books and not buying any. But he’s mostly quiet so I don’t really want to start a nasty conversation by telling him to leave.”
“Then he isn’t talking much?” Like telling lies, as Detective Choye intimated? Or telling truths that perhaps Gemma didn’t want to hear?
But her answer was, “Mostly, if he finds a superstition he particularly likes he’ll tell me about it. Or if he eavesdrops on a conversation with some customers, he’ll sometimes point them to a place in Tarzal’s book, or a different book, where they might find answers. It’s strange, but when he does that he actually seems to be helping me—and contributing toward my staying here. Why do you ask?”
Choye hadn’t told me to avoid talking to Gemma. Even if he had, I wasn’t under any official obligation, and the detective certainly wasn’t a friend of mine. Gemma was. So was Justin, but he hadn’t been part of this except as Choye’s superior. I related to Gemma my odd conversation where Choye seemed to want to know how much I trusted Frank.
“I let him know that, at the moment, I don’t have a good reason to trust him, but he’d seemed okay to me before, when we all were in L.A. together.”
“Good answer. I guess. But do you know what the cop wanted that information for?”
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