“Look, Rory. I’d be lying if I said that my interest isn’t because I hope to do a story on this, but I’m really interested in helping Martha, too—assuming she’s not guilty. Charlotte and I come in here a lot, and Martha’s always so nice to us. And she carries such delightful superstition merchandise. But more than that—well, I’m curious and so’s everyone else in Destiny.” She leaned closer, and I resisted the urge to step back toward the well-stocked shelves of pet foods. “In fact,” she continued, her voice now a whisper, “Don’t tell our illustrious police chief—I know you’ve been in touch with Justin—”
Geez, she knew him, too. Of course. But how did she know I knew him?
She’d kept talking. “I’ve been taking an informal poll about who in this town is not really sorry Tarzal is dead.”
I blinked. Okay, she’d done it: roused my curiosity. “And what have you found out?”
“It’s about even. Lots of people seem upset because his book helped to renew interest in Destiny as a tourist destination, even if they weren’t wild about his attitude lately. Others seem to think that, so what if he helped to perk up our economy for a while? He’d become dead set—so to speak—on turning it back the other way. And, since he came up in your conversation, you may be interested in hearing the opinion of our mayor.”
I wanted to throttle her for eavesdropping, even as I ached to hear her answer. “Yes,” I said through gritted teeth, “I’m interested.” Although, after Bevin Dermot’s tirade against Tarzal at the Destiny Welcome, I had a good idea what the opinion would be.
I was right. Celia raised her head to focus her eyes on the ceiling and placed her right hand over her heart. Her left one still held Charlotte’s leash. “Mayor Dermot expressed his deepest, heart-felt sorrow at the loss by this town of one of its finest citizens,” she intoned solemnly. Then she looked at me. “But he did say it was too bad Tarzal hadn’t simply focused on superstitions and how important they were to all of us, the way his book says, instead of starting to make fun of it all. He even suggested that could have been a reason for whoever killed him to have committed the act.”
“Did he admit it was him?” I asked with a grim smile.
“Heavens, no. But—”
“But I think you ladies are butting too much into police business,” said a male voice from off to my side. It emanated from somewhere beyond the nearest tall rack of shelves containing dog and cat treats.
It belonged to Justin Halbertson. I’d gotten so immersed in the conversation that I hadn’t watched to see whether more customers were entering the shop.
Too bad I hadn’t. The town’s police chief now stood beside us while the Doberman whose leash he held traded sniffs with Charlotte and with Pluckie. I assumed that was his dog Killer, whom he’d promised to introduce me to one of these days.
Had he heard Celia’s earlier reference to him, and her request that I not mention to him what she’d been about to say? I didn’t ask.
But Celia glared at me as if I’d seen Justin over her shoulder and chose not to warn her.
Well, I wasn’t about to defend myself. To either of them.
Instead, I maneuvered around Pluckie and Charlotte so I could reach the Doberman. “Is this Killer?” I started to stroke the dog’s smooth head. He apparently liked what I did, since his long nose went up and nuzzled my hand.
“Yes. But—”
“He’s beautiful.” I knelt beside him. That got the other two dogs into a frenzy of attention-stealing, so, laughing, I tried to pat and hug all of them.
That fortunately changed the subject of the conversation. But Justin and Celia clearly knew each other.
“So what are you working on now, Celia?” Justin asked. “I’ve heard that the city is considering a major superstition-filled memorial to Tarzal. Are you going to do a story on it?”
“We always do stories on events of interest to our citizens and visitors,” she said in a tone that sounded huffy. “All kinds of stories—including actual news when it occurs.” She planted her hands on her hips and looked up, glaring at Justin.
“The only problem is,” he said, “real newspapers aren’t supposed to take sides on the issues they report on, except for opinions expressed in op-ed pieces. Not so much with the Destiny Star.”
“You’re just embarrassed because not only did a superstition-related murder occur in our town, but you haven’t figured out yet who did it. Around here, superstitions rule. You should have at least found the killer’s reflection in Tarzal’s eyes.”
That again. The first half of what she said might be true—but not the second—despite the superstition I’d heard about it. I remained on the floor with the dogs.
“This is entirely off the record,” Justin said slowly, as if speaking to a young child who might not understand what he was saying. I looked up to see that he had pasted an emotionless expression on his face. He was looking down toward the dogs and me, as if aiming his gaze at Celia would make him explode. “But here’s what’s going on.” He blinked, then turned so he was facing Celia. “No, I’ll tell you what. If you’re going to put an article in your paper about the murder investigation, you can say that Destiny’s police department is working on it diligently and making progress. We hope to make an arrest soon. And we’re not about to go public with whether … unusual circumstances are involved in determining who the killer is.”
My whole body froze. Did that mean he was about to take Martha into custody? Or was this just some garbage he was feeding to the media to take some of the pressure off ?
I liked his position about the image superstition, at least. He was neither confirming nor denying it to this reporter.
“Good,” said another voice, female this time, and one I recognized. Carolyn emerged from behind the shelves on the other side. “I just got back downstairs from visiting Martha. She’s feeling better but we’re both sure that the pressure from her being considered a suspect in the murder is slowing her recovery. Do you agree, too, Rory?”
“Most likely,” I said, rising finally to my feet.
All three of us women stared at Justin.
“Then is your primary suspect someone other than Martha Jallopia?” Celia asked. I could sense her mind making notes on how the article she was about to write would read.
“No comment,” Justin said, eliciting groans from all of us.
“Then how soon can we expect—”
“I brought Killer with me so he can help pick out which food he’d like me to buy him.” Justin’s gaze was now entirely on me. “Would you care to help us with that momentous decision?”
A smart and tactful way to end this conversation, I thought—even though I’d have liked to hear his answer to Celia.
“I’d be happy to.” I followed him, with Killer trailing on his leash, toward the display of large kibble bags right near us.
As Justin reached the display and knelt to check out the bags, I turned toward the others and gave a one-shoulder shrug, dismissing both Celia and Carolyn.
As far as I was concerned, too, this conversation was over.
twenty-two
Carolyn joined us by the dog food display to say goodbye. “Come over and visit my Buttons of Fortune store any time,” she told me. “I’ll give you even more insight into the glamorous and superstitious mystique of buttons.”
I laughed and said I’d be delighted—although I didn’t suggest a time. I’d just have to see how things progressed at the Lucky Dog—and in my life here in Destiny.
Justin and Killer soon picked out a large bag of some of the healthiest food the Lucky Dog carried—or so I believed since I’d been addicted to researching such things as the assistant manager of my large chain pet store.
My suggestion and explanation seemed to help in Justin’s decision. Especially after Killer agreed—once I gave him a small sample of the food to taste.
>
And since Pluckie and Killer appeared to be getting along fine, I agreed to have dinner yet again with Justin—this time with both dogs present.
By the time I was done helping Justin, Celia and Charlotte had left. Thank heavens. Just being around Celia and knowing that her mind had to be racing to figure out what she’d be writing about next made me nervous.
And I was right to be, I found out three days later when the next edition of the Destiny Star was published.
_____
The time in between was pretty uneventful, even though it was the weekend. I seemed to be settling into an irregular routine.
Pluckie and I did have dinner with Justin and Killer that same night, a first—at least as far as having Killer along. We went again to the Shamrock Steakhouse and had an enjoyable time.
Especially because Tarzal’s murder wasn’t mentioned even once.
On both Saturday and Sunday, the Lucky Dog’s business seemed to double, which was amazing considering how busy it had been during the week. But that was fine with me. I liked to keep busy. And I also loved seeing the success of the store I was now managing, for however long that might be.
I also got to know Millie’s and Jeri’s irregular schedules a little better. I nearly always had one or the other of them around to help at the Lucky Dog, and sometimes both, except when they took their outing together on one of the weekend mornings.
I saw a lot of Martha, bringing her meals upstairs now and then, getting an opportunity to speak with the aides who popped in daily, apparently whenever they felt like it. They all said she was improving, little by little. That was my opinion, too. And I helped Martha come down the stairs for short visits to the shop every day, even though I sensed that she could easily have done it on her own—as she had on the night Tarzal died.
Still, the more time I spent with the sweet senior citizen, the gladder I was that I’d taken time out of my own life to help her. She was amazingly grateful. She adored Pluckie. And her attitude toward all pets was definitely compatible with mine.
One low spot of the weekend was when her nephew Arlen popped in for a visit during one of the times Martha was reigning over the shop while sitting in her wheelchair. I got a first-hand look then at how the family love I actually saw between them was tarnished by each of them gibing at the other about what they really should be doing with their lives right now.
Plus, Arlen kept saying that, even if he couldn’t help out by working here, he’d love to be able to add the Lucky Dog Boutique to his general tour itinerary but even on the specialized tours the shops that were featured always had something really exciting and unique about them.
Of course Martha’s temper exploded. So did mine but I kept my tone much more civil as I pointed out to Arlen some of the superstitions about pets I’d learned about, and how they were symbolized here in items for sale such as stuffed toys, decorated collars and leashes, and all the rest. And, oh yes, people really loved their pets.
He didn’t act impressed and said that it wasn’t his decision anyway, but his bosses’.
Which gave me another goal to accomplish while I remained in town. I’d met at least one of those bosses. I’d find a way to go have a talk with her.
But first, I’d do something to make them take notice of the Lucky Dog.
What? Well, I pondered that for a while after Arlen left, even asked Pluckie her opinion, in between customers. And then I got it—a good idea. It would require me to leave my comfort zone, at least for a short while each week as long as I stayed in Destiny to help with the Lucky Dog.
I decided to give a small seminar one evening a week where I’d talk about pet superstitions and invite tourists and townies alike to come and discuss them.
I’d use all I could find in Tarzal’s book, but there were also other resources about superstitions. I’d do as much research as I had to.
As I came up with that concept, Martha was still downstairs and acting a bit tired, so I helped her back up to her apartment. I followed her to the couch, then sat down with her.
“I have an idea to help put the Lucky Dog on Arlen’s tour,” I told her, hoping it wasn’t premature. After all, we had no control over what Destiny’s Luckiest Tour Company did or didn’t feature. But I thought this could work.
“What’s that?”
I described my concept. “You can come to each one, too, and talk about how Pluckie provided you with good luck when you were ill.” I was really getting into this. “Maybe we can clear out an area in the storeroom and set up chairs—only a few at first. We’ll have to see if this grows.”
“I love it!” Martha tried to push herself up to a stand but I discouraged that. She scowled at me. “I want to give you a hug.”
I helped her onto her feet and we had a short hug-fest. Pluckie joined in, standing on her hind legs and pawing at us. After helping Martha sit back down again, I knelt to hug my dog who had started all this. Kind of.
We brainstormed a little more. I decided to start this Friday, five days away from today, which was Sunday. I’d have flyers printed. I’d even buy a small ad in the next Destiny Star, even though it wasn’t likely to appear this week.
That meant I was committing to stay here at least another couple of weeks, even if Martha’s health improved enough for her to run the store—and she wasn’t arrested.
But that was okay. A bit of planning ahead never hurt. It didn’t commit me to be here forever.
_____
So that was why the next day, on Monday, I headed for the offices of the Destiny Star, a few blocks to the east on Destiny Boulevard.
I brought Pluckie along. She was my good luck symbol as well as my dearest companion. She loved walks, and I think she, too, had gotten used to our having to weave in and out on the sidewalks around tourists, while avoiding stepping on cracks and looking for heads-up pennies.
I figured that, in addition to the ad I intended to buy for their website and next week’s paper, Celia would be able to tell me where the nearest print shop was, where I could get flyers designed and printed. I hadn’t seen one in Destiny, but even if there wasn’t one here there was bound to be one in Ojai or another nearby town.
But Celia wasn’t there. Derek was. I’d told him not to use my name in any articles after he’d interviewed me about finding Tarzal’s body, and when I’d checked out the multiple articles about the murder in the last Destiny Star and its website, I’d been relieved that he had complied.
He seemed less paparazzi-like than his sister. Maybe it would be better to speak with him anyway.
I walked up to the long counter on which several stacks of the Destiny Star were piled. I glanced at them. The front page didn’t look familiar, so I figured these were new editions.
Behind the counter were several desks where computer screens dominated everything else. The reporters and editors presumably worked here. Maybe the reporters were also the editors.
“Hi,” I said. “I’m Rory Chasen. We met before. I’m helping out at the Lucky Dog Boutique.”
“Of course I remember you and our discussion, too, Rory. We never used your name, if that’s why you’re here.”
“No, it’s not.” I told him about my idea to do a few talks on superstitions involving pets. “I know your paper runs feature articles about various superstitions, so if you have any archived that involve animals, please let me know. I’ll definitely give you credit in any talk I give that uses your information. And if you feel like it, I’d love to have you do an article on my first presentation.” Then I proceeded to ask him about ads and print shops.
It all seemed to work out fine. I bought an ad for a price that wasn’t outrageous. Even if I didn’t get reimbursed, I could handle it, but I’d discuss that with Martha. Derek said he would design the ad for me and we discussed what it would say. I gave him my email address for him to send the proof along before I could
get it printed. He also gave a couple of names of printers that weren’t far away.
As we were finishing up, Celia walked in. She looked at me, then at Derek, and back again. Pluckie, who’d been lying on the floor beside me, now stood up at attention. She’d met Celia before. Why did her attitude seem so tense?
Because she sensed tension in Celia? If so, why?
“I was afraid I’d see you here,” Celia finally said. “You’ve read what I wrote. It’s good, and I didn’t name names. Except for Tarzal, of course.”
“What are you talking about?” I looked from Celia to Derek.
Neither met my eyes. In fact, they each glanced at a stack of the latest Destiny Star on the counter, then looked away again.
“Is there something in here I should read?” I reached over to pick up a paper. They were giveaways, so I just took one, then said to Derek, “I’ll look forward to receiving that proof from you,” and, pulling slightly on Pluckie’s leash, I walked out.
I hurried back along the typically busy sidewalk toward the Lucky Dog, not wanting to be near either of them while I scanned the paper for whatever Celia had been talking about.
What had caused their odd attitudes?
Pluckie decided she needed to squat just as we got to the Baby Locks Children’s Hair Salon. Nothing I needed to clean up, but I glanced at the paper while I waited for her to finish.
That was when I discovered the article.
And didn’t move again until I’d read it.
_____
It wasn’t really an article. It was an op-ed piece on the paper’s editorial page. It didn’t name me or necessarily say anything that would identify me—at least not as far as tourists and other strangers were concerned.
But it did laud all of Destiny’s tourists while referring more specifically to a heroic newcomer to town who’d brought her own good luck symbol—a dog—who had helped by a superstition that of course came true, to save a life. And then that newcomer remained in town and continued to try to help the person she’d saved.
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