“Some people might think that, but what I’m trying to do is protect my friend Gemma. I know she didn’t kill Lou.”
“Right. You know that.” She shook her head disdainfully.
“Yes, I do. Especially now … because my snooping has given me suspicions of something else. Someone else.”
“Let me guess. Frank Shoreston. He’s on everyone’s list.” She again leaned toward me. “But I’ve talked to him probably more than anyone else after the director’s murder. Yes, he’s got a lot of resentment toward your friend Gemma and maybe thinks he can exact some revenge by keeping her in our radar. But what he’s said makes a lot of sense.”
“Maybe. I assume it’s because Gemma and Lou were arguing about how to run the Broken Mirror Bookstore. That argument would also work to indict Stuart Chanick or the owners, Nancy Tarzal or the Brownlings. Or all of them together. Or even Mayor Bevin since Lou and he argued a lot. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Then what, Ms. Chasen, are you talking about?”
I bit my lower lip. “Not what, actually. Who.”
“Then—”
“Police Chief Halbertson,” I cut in.
That stopped her. Her deep brown eyes opened wide. “What, exactly, are you suggesting?” she demanded.
I hesitated. “I’m not completely sure. I guess … well, you know Justin better than I. Could he have been … upset when Lou started pushing harder to get answers about how that poor tourist died here a few weeks ago?”
“Lou wasn’t only taking that out on Justin,” Alice reminded me. That was true. I’d heard him berate her too.
“I know. But, well, once again you know more than I do. I can tell you what I heard, though. A couple of years ago, Lou supposedly pushed Mayor Bevin to bring in someone from out of town to become police chief, stuck his neck out a bit when he insisted that Justin be hired. Employing someone who didn’t absolutely believe in superstitions for an important job like that might have been bad luck for Destiny, but Lou ignored those warnings. Maybe he came to regret it and was angry and accusatory and all that.”
Alice looked a lot more interested now. “Then you think Justin’s a good candidate for having murdered Lou Landorf?”
Murdered was a strong word, but it fit—although Justin didn’t. Not in my genuine estimation, at least.
I knew that at least a few people had considered him a potential suspect in Tarzal’s murder, but that had made even less sense than this situation.
I crossed my fingers under the card table, not only for luck but because I was lying. I hoped.
“Yes. I’ve been thinking about it a lot and believe Justin’s a good candidate for having been the killer.”
Alice made a noise deep in her throat. “Interesting possibility.”
“I’m sure you’ve considered it,” I said, although I doubted it. Unless she had been thinking about a way to frame Justin for it if anyone suggested her as a likely suspect.
“Perhaps,” she acknowledged.
“If so, maybe he’s been giving hints or pointing you and Detective Choye toward Gemma, maybe even planting ideas or evidence to frame her.”
She didn’t say anything but appeared to be considering my idea.
“The thing is,” I continued. “Well, like I said, you know Justin a lot better than I do. And for a lot longer. You met him before, when he came to town for the job, maybe even earlier, when he interviewed. What did you think of him then?”
“Honestly? I thought there were others who were more qualified.”
Like you, I thought. “Did you tell Mayor Bevin or P. A. Director Lou that?”
“Oh, yeah.” No hesitation there.
I hesitated now, since I was considering getting into an area that could turn into a dangerous quagmire if I weren’t cautious. “I gather they didn’t believe you, or at least didn’t agree. Which is a shame. I had the impression, from the time he returned to town from his mission to attract tourists, that Lou and you were … good friends.” I was making some assumptions here and expected her to deny it. But I did recall some glances she’d leveled on the public affairs director.
She looked at me, and I shook a little inside, unsure what would happen next. “You could say that,” she finally responded, no inflection in her voice at all.
“So … well, how angry were you when he started berating not only Justin but you, too, for not finalizing the investigation into that tourist’s death, blaming you for it?”
Okay. I’d done it. Said what was really on my mind, not just tiptoeing around the possibility of Justin being a viable suspect but making my real suspicions more apparent. Would she realize it right away? Or would she just consider it part of the conversation?
She was too smart for that. Her dark eyes flashed, and she stood immediately behind the table. The abrupt movement caused Pluckie to bark. I noticed again Alice’s substantial build. At least I didn’t believe she had a gun hidden beneath her suit jacket, unless it was well hidden. That was the reason I’d “accidentally” gotten too close to her before and bumped hips, but hadn’t felt anything. She wasn’t wearing her utility belt.
“Are you accusing me now, Ms. Chasen? Is that your plan—to point fingers at anyone and everyone to try to get eyes off your buddy Gemma?”
“Not just anyone,” I responded softly, touching Pluckie to comfort her—and to try to keep her near me and as safe as possible. “Only you.”
I froze, watching her reaction. She didn’t laugh. She didn’t yell. She just looked at me.
“Who have you told about your ridiculous suspicions?” she
demanded.
Only one person, actually, and I wondered if Justin, who’d acted as my hero before, might be on his way here to ensure that I got out of this situation all right.
Because, as soon as Alice had arrived, I’d prepared for my conversation with her by pushing the button on the phone in my pocket to call him and let him listen in.
What I’d have liked at that moment would be to hear him come through the door at the front of the store, which I hadn’t locked behind Alice. Better yet, right here, from the alley and through the door into the storeroom where I sat.
I heard neither.
Had I assumed too much? Had my phone even worked?
Maybe it didn’t matter. Alice might be mad at me, but she hadn’t admitted anything.
She did take a step toward me, though, and I recalled her pending question. “I haven’t told anyone,” I lied, again hiding my crossed fingers. Although, unfortunately, I might not be lying. I couldn’t confirm whether Justin had heard anything.
“That’s good.” Alice’s hard tone matched the livid expression on her face. “You know, I’d considered carrying a weapon here tonight, even though I’m officially off-duty. Too bad I didn’t. On the other hand, I suspect I’m a bit better than you at hand-to-hand combat. And if I start fearing for my life because you come at me with a box cutter or something else—I’m sure I’ll find something with a sharp point in this room that I can use once you’re unconscious—then I can ‘defend’ myself.”
Pluckie was barking again now, obviously sensing the tension in the room. I couldn’t bend to quiet her and certainly couldn’t pick her up.
“Don’t you know it’s bad luck to find a knife?” I asked, hating how my voice squeaked. “I read that in The Destiny of Superstitions.”
“Oh, I won’t just find it. I’ll consider it a gift from you.”
“I think that’s bad luck, too,” I said. Justin, where are you? But of course I couldn’t count on him.
Yes, I’d been foolish, but not entirely so. It just so happened that I did have a weapon of sorts.
The phone I hoped was blurting all to Justin was in one of my jeans pockets. A strong mesh leash I’d wound into a tight coil—one that had decorative representations of horseshoes stamped onto it—was in my other pocket. I reached in and grasped it.
That was when Alice launched herself toward me, hands o
utstretched as if she was about to grab me.
“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.
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