1 Lost Under a Ladder

by Linda O. Johnston

  “Tell me what?” Martha urged.

  “That at least for now, you seem to have the most to gain from Tarzal’s death. The best motive. And possibly opportunity, since you weren’t stuck here upstairs.”

  I sometimes watched cop shows on TV. What Justin hadn’t mentioned yet was means, so I did. “Do you really think she had the means to kill him? I mean, I know that anyone theoretically could have broken into the Broken Mirror Bookstore last night or this morning with Tarzal there and actually smashed that mirror that had only been symbolically decorated to look broken before. That part includes Martha. But she’s … er, senior.” I suspected she didn’t like to be reminded of that. “More important, she’s been ill. Plus, she’s a lot smaller than Tarzal was. Do you really think she could have stabbed him?”

  “If she took him unawares.” He put his plate back onto the coffee table and stood. I moved it onto one of the end tables since it still had a sandwich on it and Pluckie eyed it with interest.

  “I don’t suppose the autopsy indicated any image of who killed him in Tarzal’s eyes,” I had to add. Maybe things like that actually did occur in Destiny.

  Justin aimed a wry grin at me. “What do you think?” The question was clearly rhetorical since he continued, looking toward Martha, “Is it okay if I go into your bedroom? I’d like to make sure there’s no bloody clothing there.”

  “What! Is this an official investigation?” I was utterly indignant now. “You need a warrant, don’t you? Or—”

  “That depends,” he said. “And … well, okay. My informality could work against both of us.” He moved around to look down at her. “For now, just tell me you’re not hiding any evidence in your closet or bathroom or any other place up here.”

  “Remember what I said about it being bad luck to talk without—”

  “You do realize,” Martha interrupted me in a prim voice, facing Justin, “that, yes, I was found downstairs after poor Tarzal died, but I’d have had one heck of a time taking bloody clothing or whatever up here, then getting back to the store again to wait for people to come in.”

  “I’ve thought of that,” Justin admitted. “And I’ve already had guys checking the outside garbage bins and all. That’s part of the reason I haven’t arrested you. The other, even more important reason, is that I don’t want to because I care about you, Martha. A lot. Even if you had a good motive I’d rather look for other possible suspects, but I have to do my job and report to city officials and even the media. So I can’t lay off you completely or tell my detectives or officers to do so, at least not yet.” He walked over to Martha, bent down and kissed her cheek. “I’d better go. But it’d be a good thing for you to listen to those Miranda rights and what Rory had to say. Get a lawyer on board … just in case. That’s bound to be good luck.”

  He started to leave, then bent to pick up the remainder of his half of my sandwich. He’d already eaten his portion of Martha’s and most of this one, too. “Thanks for lunch.” He took a couple of final bites.

  “You’re welcome,” I lied. As he walked out the door, I said to Martha, “I’ll be right back,” then followed him.

  _____

  Justin knew that Pluckie and I were behind him on the stairs. As soon as I started down behind him, he turned around but said nothing, just continued going down.

  I wondered whether he’d have bad luck if he tripped on the steps because I pushed him.

  No, I wasn’t as angry with him now as I was at first. He was performing a balancing act of sorts.

  He obviously cared about Martha. I’d learned that before, when he’d tried so hard to get me to stay here and help to run her shop until she got better.

  But he was also a peace officer faced with helping to solve the most heinous of crimes: murder of one of the citizens of the town he served.

  Never mind that the town was an especially unique—and strange —one.

  Maybe its theme of superstitions would even stand in Justin’s way somehow.

  Or help him.

  Help him … I could do that, sort of. If I helped to figure out what had really happened in order to help Martha, then that would be to Justin’s benefit, too.

  But I wouldn’t tell him what I had in mind. Weren’t the cops on TV and in mystery novels all bent out of shape when amateurs butted in to try to figure things out?

  He stepped into the shop but didn’t hurry to the door. Instead, he seemed to wait for me.

  “Come outside with me for a minute, will you?” he asked.

  Although both Millie and Jeri appeared to be waiting on customers, I saw their eyes fasten on Justin and me, at least for a moment.

  I didn’t know what he had in mind, but maybe having the potential of being overheard wasn’t a good idea. “Okay,” I said, then hurried to the counter to grab Pluckie’s leash and fastened it onto her collar.

  We were soon on the crowded sidewalk in front of the Lucky Dog’s multi-paned display window. We could be overheard, too, but people here wouldn’t know us.

  But then Justin led Pluckie and me around the corner, to the sparse and empty area between the stores. I gathered that this narrow space was not kept up either by the store owners or the city since the paving was full of cracks I tried to avoid.

  “Please do give Emily Rasmuten a call,” he said, and here, where we were sort of alone, I could hear him despite the nearby din. “That’s her full name, and she’s with Destiny’s largest and most prestigious law firm, Eldred and Rasmuten. Not that there are a lot of firms here, and ‘large’ means more than a couple of attorneys, unlike in L.A. where you’re from. Just tell her what’s been going on. She’ll have heard part of it anyway. Let her know that you’ve been talking to Martha and that Martha’s ready to hire a lawyer regarding the death of Tarzal. That’ll mean Emily’s firm won’t take on any other clients who might be suspects, for one thing. For another, Emily’s a nice person as well as a good lawyer. She’ll know how to approach Martha in a way that will encourage Martha to retain her despite her insistence on her own innocence.”

  “She is innocent,” I retorted, then let my frown soften in the face of Justin’s sad smile. “You know that, but I realize you have to do your job.”

  “I have to follow up regarding all potential suspects,” he said. He seemed to be examining the pavement beneath us, or maybe watching Pluckie, and his lips were pursed as if he was upset. But then he looked up again. “I shouldn’t mention it to you, but it’ll probably be in the news anyway. People heard Martha yelling at Tarzal when he visited her in the hospital. It was so loud that a nurse who’s related to one of our patrol officers even called him to tell him about it. But apparently Preston went back into the room, they quieted down after that, and none of my officers were sent to look into the matter. Even so, that adds to the things that look bad for Martha.”

  “Oh,” I said, choosing not to mention that Martha had told me about that—and that she had cursed Tarzal. “Okay, I’ll call Emily.”

  “Thanks.” He looked up then—right into my face. He still appeared solemn. “I also heard … You’re here in Destiny, aren’t you, Rory, because someone you cared about walked under a ladder and subsequently died?”

  Shock sent a lightning bolt through me. “How did you hear that?” But I realized immediately what must have happened. Since I’d arrived here, the only people I’d mentioned it to were Tarzal and Preston. Tarzal most likely hadn’t said anything about it to Justin before he died, but the police chief might have questioned Preston about Tarzal’s death—and Preston might have brought it up then, although I’d no idea why.

  I hadn’t told the two men to keep it quiet. And even if I had, they might have talked about it anyway. It was, after all, superstition related.

  How did I feel about Justin knowing about it? I wasn’t sure. After my initial shocked reaction, I now felt numbness creeping over me.

 
Justin was still looking at me, his expression sympathetic.

  Trying to appear casual, I forced my tone to lightness. “Did Preston mention that?”

  Justin didn’t acknowledge it verbally. Maybe he couldn’t, if he learned it in an interrogation. But he didn’t deny it, either.

  So I assumed it was true. “That’s actually correct. It made me curious, so I came here to figure out how superstitions work—if they do. I mentioned it to Tarzal and Preston just in case they had the answer. They didn’t.”

  “What’s your conclusion, then?” Justin asked softly.

  “I don’t have one yet. Still looking. If you’ve got any answers for me, I’ll be glad to hear them.”

  “I think you know that, as important as superstitions are around here, I’m still a bit of an agnostic. But if there’s anything I can do to help—”

  “Nope,” I cut in. “But thanks. I think I’d better get back to the shop now.”

  “Sure,” he said, aiming another sympathetic glance my way that almost made me cry.

  Instead, I shrugged. “See you around, Justin.”

  “Right.”

  I had a sudden urge to grab his arm as he turned to leave the small walkway we occupied, but I wasn’t sure what to say to him. Assure him, wrongly, that I was fine?

  There was one thing I could ask. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep what you heard to yourself,” I said. But that probably didn’t matter, if Preston was telling the world—or at least the world of Destiny.

  Justin faced me again. “Of course. And I won’t let anyone jump to conclusions about Martha, either. You can be sure of that. We need more evidence than we’ve found to arrest anyone.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  This time, Pluckie and I were the ones to start walking away. As we did so, I realized that, even in the face of a really difficult situation, Chief Justin Halbertson seemed like a decent guy.

  I just hoped I had the same impression of him later, as I figured out a way to dig further into the murder to find out who really did it and ensure that Martha was cleared.

  And then … would I go home?

  No. I meant, then I would go home. Whether or not I felt convinced that the ladder superstition had anything to do with Warren’s death.

  But even as I thought that, I realized that Destiny was digging into my psyche like a leech. Or maybe starting to hug me close, like a snuggly new fleece jacket.

  Were there superstitions that involved leeches or fleece jackets?

  Gritting my teeth as I grinned at that thought, I turned the corner, reentered the Lucky Dog and patted my own lucky dog on her head.

  The sooner I found a good way to get all the answers I needed for Martha and myself and leave here, the better.

  fourteen

  Inside the Lucky Dog, I realized nearly immediately that I’d left the four intact wishbones upstairs on Martha’s table. Would that constitute good luck or bad? Most likely, forgetting wishbones had no consequences. Breaking them supposedly did.

  I’d use them as an excuse to go back upstairs to talk to Martha in a little while. For now, I had a phone call to make.

  I left the helpers in the store assisting customers while I picked up Martha’s laptop from the drawer under the counter and went back into the storeroom, with Pluckie close at my heels. I could have asked Millie or Jeri for the information I needed, but I didn’t want them to know that I was seeking it.

  I needed attorney Emily Rasmuten’s phone number.

  Doing an online search, I had no trouble finding the website for the local law firm Eldred and Rasmuten. But when I called on my cell, I was told that Ms. Rasmuten was in a meeting and would have to call me back.

  She of course would have no idea who I was, so I explained that I was helping her client Martha Jallopia at her pet boutique and was calling on Martha’s behalf. I hoped that would be enough to get her attention.

  When Pluckie and I returned to the main part of the store, Jeri approached me. Several people were wandering around looking at things, but none seemed particularly ready to buy. Millie was with one couple by the area with cat toys representing superstitions.

  “We both managed to eat our sandwiches,” she told me. “Just let us know how much we owe you.”

  “For today, it’s on me. Not that I’ll feed you lunch every day I’m around, but since I’m temporarily in charge I want to show how much I appreciate your help.” I grinned, and she smiled back.

  But her expression looked a bit worried. “The thing is,” she said, “we suggested Wishbones partly for their food and partly—”

  “—for their wishbones. Sorry. I left them upstairs with Martha. I’ll get them from her in a little while.”

  “Oh, that’s okay.” Jeri looked relieved. Had she thought I’d left the restaurant without them? “I’ll go get them. I can give her a rundown on how sales have been since she went upstairs before. Even when she’s around and running the store, she always likes us to report. Often.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. “She seemed tired, though, so you may want to call first.”

  “Okay.”

  Before she could make the call more people walked in. I immediately headed in their direction, as did Jeri.

  Back in L.A. at the large chain store I ran, I seldom was needed to be one-on-one with our customers. Since I’d started out as a sales associate on the floor I knew what to do, but I was a bit rusty now.

  I was also enjoying it.

  But when the pair of young couples I was helping asked me the meaning of some of the superstitions represented by the stuffed animals and other dog toys, I was a bit stumped. “They all represent good luck, of course,” I said, glancing down at my own lucky black and white pup. Otherwise Martha wouldn’t be selling them. But what aspects of good luck were indicated by a dolphin, a wolf toy, a toy that was a wolf’s tooth, a football, and a doggy necklace with stuffed beads?

  I traded places with Millie, who was talking to her customers about the brands of cat food we carried. Pluckie joined me, her nose in the air as she scented some of that food. I wished I could hear what Millie said to the people I’d just left.

  I also realized I had a lot to learn about superstitions if I was going to stay in Destiny for any length of time—including deciding which amulet that we sold made the most sense for me to buy and wear—the luckiest.

  I decided to dash next door the next moment I had here without customers. I’d read through Tarzal’s book quickly before coming here after taking it out of the library, thanks to the suggestion of my friend Gemma. But now I needed my own copy.

  And maybe I should hurry up and take that tour I’d discussed in line at Wishbones-to-Go earlier. Especially if I could schedule it with Martha’s nephew … and find an opportunity to talk to him about other things, too. Like his aunt. And his opinion of Tarzal’s trying to twist Martha’s arm to sell this place.

  He’d indicated when I first met him that he was prepared to start running the Lucky Dog if Martha needed him. He had even attempted to help customers. Was he prepared to do something intense to keep the store in the family?

  If he’d killed Tarzal, that was a good reason for him to stay away from here … for now. But not forever.

  The people I was now with, a mother with two little girls, seemed pleased to buy a couple of different kinds of canned cat food that had four-leaf clovers on the label.

  Cat food. The black cat outside. Was it feral, or did it belong to someone? And did it really portend—or cause—bad luck?

  When I had finished ringing up my customers’ purchases—and sneaking Pluckie a small part of a treat—I also helped take the money of the people I’d started waiting on before. They’d chosen to buy a stuffed football and a dolphin.

  Jeri then went to help Millie with her customers. Otherwise, the store was fairly empty—unus
ual, but a good, if hopefully temporary, opportunity.

  I went over to Jeri and whispered in her ear that I had to run a brief errand. I asked her to keep an eye on Pluckie, now leashed to the counter, which she agreed to do. And then I left.

  I didn’t go far, just headed to the bookstore next door. It was filled with customers, too—not cops. Apparently its investigation as a crime scene had been completed.

  This shop was crowded, too, and noisy. Since this was Destiny and the shop was all about Tarzal’s book on superstitions, I’d seen it busy before. But it appeared even more nuts today.

  Because people wanted to visit a murder scene? Speculate on why the world’s possibly foremost specialist on superstitions could have somehow triggered such a run of bad luck that it resulted in his killing?

  I gathered that the only salespeople there had been Preston and, formerly, Tarzal. I saw Preston talking with people at the far counter beyond the book displays. He looked pale and stressed.

  Of course he would. His partner was gone.

  Could he have had something to do with that? But why would he?

  To help Martha, I could speculate about Preston’s motive to kill Tarzal. He’d have had the opportunity and the means. He was probably strong enough to stab another man in the heart with a broken piece of glass, especially if the act wasn’t expected.

  But why? I assumed the business partners were also friends despite sometimes bickering. Even so, I’d imagine Preston was on Justin’s list of suspects but the cops didn’t appear to be zeroing in on him. The evidence must not point to him—at least not the way it pointed, circumstantially or otherwise, toward Martha.

  I didn’t know if Tarzal had any relatives nearby. Maybe Preston had been the person closest to him.

  I couldn’t help thinking about my own loss. Again. And I tried to ignore the fact that Justin had some awareness of it.