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 w
ell 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.
twenty-nine
I couldn’t exactly ask Justin what his relationship with Alice was, although I’d seen them together enough to have the impression it was professional and mostly cordial.
I realized I probably was just grasping at proverbial straws, trying to find something to point fingers away from Gemma.
And the mayor? Was I giving up on him simply because it would be terribly difficult to point fingers at him?
I didn’t think so. Pointing at a cop wouldn’t be much easier.
I needed some proof.
I left the library soon afterward. I decided that obtaining printouts or even just mailing links of the helpful articles to myself might cause questions about why I’d looked them up, so I decided not to, at least for now.
But what should I do next?
I pondered that on my way back to the Lucky Dog to get Pluckie. The sidewalks were nearly empty now, although I saw fairly large crowds in the Shamrock Steakhouse and the Black Cat Inn’s restaurant across the street, and a lesser one as I passed the Apple-A-Day Café. The Beware-of-Bubbles Coffee Shop was closed at this hour.
The answer, of course, was obvious, but I fought it internally. That was partially because I knew I should heed Justin’s warnings about staying safe.
But logically? The only way I could get the information I sought was to talk to Alice Numa.
Then I figured out how.
Was I being foolish? Sure. But it was about time that we got some answers around here.
I still wasn’t actually certain how Alice was involved, if at all, but I had my suspicions and hoped to learn the truth tonight.
And hopefully stay alive doing it.
“We’ll be fine, Pluckie,” I told my little dog as I stood behind the counter at the Lucky Dog. And crossed my fingers, just in case that kind of thing worked.
Pluckie was loose, and she came over and stood on her hind legs, her front paws on my thighs as if she wanted to comfort me.
I appreciated it, and her. And hoped I wasn’t lying.
I looked out the front window and saw that the usual Destiny old-fashioned streetlights were on, the sidewalks were nearly empty, and there were no cars cruising Destiny Boulevard that I saw. Then my eyes opened wide.
Barely visible in the dim light, a black cat walked along the sidewalk, crossing right in front of the store.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I turned away, ready to call Alice and tell her we’d talk some other time. But that was when a knock sounded on the glass, startling me—and it shouldn’t have.
She was here. I didn’t believe in ill omens anyway.
I drew in my breath, then gathered all the strength I needed to greet the detective. With Pluckie right beside me, I walked forward and opened the front door.
I glanced out again. I didn’t see the cat any longer. I knew that Gemma and Stuart had headed back to the B&B without me. I’d told Gemma hours ago that I was going to the library at closing time and she shouldn’t wait.
I hadn’t checked, but Martha was probably upstairs asleep, or at least in bed watching TV. Although she helped often during the day at the store and also attended some Destiny events as long as someone was helping her, she never came downstairs at night.
Pluckie and I were virtually alone here with Alice.
And the black cat outside.
“Hello, Ms. Chasen,” the detective said, striding in. It may have been off-hours for her, but she wore her typical pantsuit, in charcoal this evening. Also typically, she wore a scowl. “So what do you want to talk about tonight?”
I smiled grimly. “I’m sure you can guess.” I thought about how, more than a week ago now, a door to the shop had opened unexpectedly, which Justin had said
could be a harbinger of an unwelcome guest. Well, I’d invited Alice, yet I couldn’t say she was exactly welcome.
“Your buddy Gemma and how she murdered Lou Landorf?” Her return grin looked much too amused.
Holding back the negative retort that sprang to my lips, I said, “How about if we sit down?”
She agreed, and I led her through the shop and its rows and shelves of pet superstition paraphernalia, through the mesh drapery decorated with decorative dog bone shapes, and into the back storeroom. There, I waved her toward one of the chairs at the card table in the center.
She complied without saying a word. She merely stared at me as I joined her. Our hips met as I moved too closely around her to get to the other side of the table. “Sorry,” I said.
Pluckie sat at my feet, and I bent to pet her while assuring myself I could handle this.
“Would you like a bottle of water?” I asked Alice next, delaying the inevitable.
“No thanks. And I can’t stay all night.”
I didn’t want her to. And in fact, there was good reason to get this party started. I needed to get it over with.
“Okay,” I finally said, my voice low and my eyes on hers, then down again toward Pluckie, who looked at me uncertainly and wagged her tail. “Here’s what’s been on my mind, and I wasn’t sure who to talk to about it.” I paused, then said, “You might know that I’ve become friends with Chief Halbertson.”
“Just friends?” Alice’s tone was scornful.
“Pretty much. I won’t go into detail, but although I sometimes feel attracted to him I won’t let it go any further.”
“Because of the guy whose death got you to come here?”
She knew about Warren walking under a ladder. Thanks to circumstances a while back, everyone who lived here probably did.
“That’s right.” It wasn’t entirely true, but I wasn’t about to admit that. “Anyway, you probably also know I’ve been trying to figure out what really happened to Lou Landorf.”
“Right. Sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong. Again.” She shifted back in her chair and started to look bored.
I figured I’d better kick it up a notch. I needed her full attention for what I was going to say.
Knock on Wood Page 23