And if he hadn’t any definite answers yet, what was he doing to investigate people besides Martha?
As always, the sidewalks were crowded, and I overheard snippets of conversations—many about superstitions, none about the murder.
Should I give Justin a rundown of my own thought processes, the people I’d met or thought about as perhaps not getting along great with the murder victim—like his former fiancée Serina?
I didn’t want the killer to be her, either, of course. I liked the owner of the Rainbow B&B.
And I didn’t want it to be Arlen, or Preston, or anyone else I’d met here so far. Therefore, the idea of it being some unknown subject who’d had a grudge thanks to a superstition gone wrong really appealed to me.
The police station appeared to be a mini-version of the lovely, antique-looking City Hall next door, all marble-looking exterior with archways and domes.
I walked up the steps and into the lobby, which was busy but less crowded than the sidewalks. Most people hovering nearby appeared upset, shaking their heads or talking on their phones in angry tones. Had they suffered bad luck in Destiny, in the form of some kind of theft?
I imagined that kind of criminal behavior was especially frowned on in this town where tourists ruled.
A few uniformed cops stood behind a long desk partly behind glass off to the right, probably the station’s greeters. Presumably those in the lobby had already checked in and were waiting to be called to speak to an appropriate officer.
I started walking toward that desk, preparing to ask if the chief might have a few minutes to talk to me, but soon stopped.
Was I starting to believe in superstitions or bad karma? I was wondering if I should have crossed my fingers before coming inside here. Or used my wishbone wish for something more productive than general luck—like, ensuring that I didn’t see Detective Alice Numa here, or at least not before I’d spoken with Justin.
Unfortunately, despite my wish, my luck wasn’t particularly good that day, at least not in that respect. I didn’t even have time to turn and dash out.
Detective Numa looked toward me, and our eyes met. Even as I aimed a polite smile at her, I sighed internally.
She’d been talking to one of the people behind the greeting desk before she’d turned. As before, she wore a professional-looking suit and a chilly frown. Her hair was still pulled severely back from her face which might have been attractive had she allowed herself real smiles now and then.
She made a final comment to the person she’d been speaking with and started walking in my direction.
Damn. Well, all she’d done before was to interview me in Justin’s presence about how Pluckie and I had found Tarzal’s body, and ask what else I knew concerning his death, which was nothing. And to question me about Martha and, presumably, question Martha about me when she had interviewed her, too, as a potential witness … or killer.
Despite whatever emotions were at play in the minds of the people in the waiting area, they all seemed to know better than to stand in Alice’s way. The sea appeared to part as she walked toward me.
I stood my ground—even as my mind churned about what reason to give for my being here.
Heck. I could be honest. I was here to see her boss. She didn’t have to know what I wanted to talk to him about, though she probably could guess.
“Hi, Detective,” I said as she finally got close enough to confront me. “Looks busy around here today.”
“As it is everyday. This situation isn’t our norm, though. Most of the people here were on a tour bus that came in from out of town, and someone apparently slipped into it and stole things while this group was at lunch. Outside of Destiny, I might add.” Her smile looked complacent, as if she knew for a fact that bad things like that didn’t occur in her town.
Murders, however, did. I didn’t remind her of that.
“Anyway, I assume you’re here to discuss something about the Tarzal homicide,” she continued.
Yes, but I didn’t want to explain to her that I had more questions and wanted to run them by the chief. “Actually, I just took a tour of Destiny and was walking back to the Lucky Dog. I started to pass by near here and thought I’d stop in. Is Chief Halbertson available?” If she thought this was a social call and I merely wanted to flirt with Justin, that was fine.
She frowned. “Yes, but I’m sure he’s busy.”
“I’m not surprised, but I’d still like to see if he could say hi. I’ll just go check in at the desk.”
“Don’t bother. He’s—” She stopped talking, and her frown became one deep scowl that pinched her eyes and mouth even more. She was looking over my shoulder, so I turned, fairly certain of what—or who—I’d see.
Sure enough, Justin had just entered the room. He stood at the doorway that appeared to lead into the bowels of the station. “Hey, everyone,” he shouted, loud enough to get the attention of the people in the area. “Please make sure that the officers over there—” he pointed toward the desk, “—have your contact information, a description of what you lost, and how long you’ll be in Destiny.”
Lost? They’d been ripped off, but I supposed that was police-speak, a euphemism for what the jerk stole from you. Or maybe it was phrased that way because they’d have even worse luck recovering their stuff if the theft was described as what it was in this town of superstitions.
“We’re in close touch with the Ojai police, who actually have jurisdiction over this incident,” Justin continued. “We’ll be working with them both to apprehend the suspects and to recover your property. Meantime, thanks for your information and your patience.”
I doubted that any of those grumbling people was patient, but I did appreciate Justin’s good, potentially calming attitude.
Some people started to swarm him, but a few uniformed officers and people in suits came over, apparently to help ease the pressure off him.
As he moved away from one couple, he spotted me. I smiled and nodded, and he started walking toward me.
“Looks like he’s at least going to say hi,” I murmured to Alice.
“Guess so. And I’ve got to go talk to some of these folks.” Her tone sounded more resigned. “I assume you don’t have any more information on the Tarzal homicide, do you?” Her tone was still soft, as if she wanted to convince me to tell her, if I had any, before passing it along to her boss.
I figured I’d be nice. I’d also tell the truth—sort of. “Sorry, no. If I did, I’d let you or Chief Halbertson know right away.”
“Okay.” She walked away with a nod toward her boss as he reached me.
“Hello, Rory.” The expression on his handsome face was slightly contorted, too—not in the irritation I saw on Alice’s face, but with more of a question. “What brings you here? I assume you weren’t on the tour bus with these folks?”
“I did take a tour,” I said, “with Arlen Jallopia and Destiny’s Luckiest Tours. I felt pretty lucky afterward so I figured I’d stop in here and see if you were around. My luck held out, since here you are.”
I was laying it on pretty thick but this was, after all, Destiny, where luck was everything.
“Well, welcome. I don’t have a lot of time right now, unfortunately.” As he continued to look down at me, he began to smile. “How about joining me for dinner again? You can tell me what you like and don’t like about Destiny now that you’ve learned more about us.”
The idea had crossed my mind, too. It would probably be better to interrogate him gently in a social situation than here. “Sounds great.”
We made arrangements for him to stop by for me at the Lucky Dog at around closing time, seven tonight.
_____
We were busy that afternoon, but not overwhelmed. Jeri wasn’t around, but I let Millie wait on most of the customers, although I stepped in frequently when it appeared she needed help.
&nb
sp; Millie assured me she had retrieved the wishbones from Martha’s while Jeri was there, and they had used them appropriately. She didn’t tell me what her wish had been, what size of the bones she’d wound up with, nor whether her wish had come true.
Of course Pluckie stayed at my side. And when I had a few minutes, I sat down behind the rear counter with Tarzal’s superstition book.
I hoped to find a clue in it about whom he might have irritated, but that of course wasn’t the tome’s purpose.
Even more, I sought superstitions that we could incorporate into more products at the Lucky Dog Boutique.
There certainly were a lot of superstitions about dogs. Maybe I could figure out a way to have a black-and-white dog figure resembling Pluckie made into a business card holder, to ensure that the person using it would have upcoming luck in meetings with whoever picked up one of his or her cards from it. Of course that might not work, since the superstition was that it was best to have a black and white dog cross your path on your way to a business meeting.
Or I could add plush toys resembling Dalmatians, since they were thought to be lucky.
Hey, I realized. I was really getting into this. Into the Lucky Dog Boutique, at least. Not necessarily into the underlying superstitions.
I went upstairs to check on Martha, too. She seemed a bit restless, which I took as a good sign of her healing. Also, an aide sent by the hospital had visited her for about an hour.
Eventually, store hours came to a close. As we got ready to lock the doors, Justin showed up.
“See you tomorrow,” I told Millie as she went one direction and Justin, Pluckie, and I went the other.
It turned out that the Black Cat Inn wasn’t only a hotel. It also had a restaurant. That was where Justin suggested we go for dinner. I was glad, since I might as well sample food from as many places as possible while I was still in Destiny. Justin said it had an area where dogs were welcome, so it sounded great.
“But why call it the Black Cat?” I asked him as we walked there. “Isn’t that bad luck?”
“Not unless one crosses your path. I think.” He looked down at me and shrugged. Obviously, despite being a Destiny resident, he didn’t profess to know all its superstitions.
Or believe in them.
I saw no black cat on the way. On our arrival, I noticed that the inn itself took up most of the property, but there was a small building of matching dark stone off to the side—the restaurant, I gathered, since there was a fence around it and lights that indicated that part was an outdoor seating area.
We headed there and were shown immediately to a table in a corner of the outside patio. This place seemed a little less crowded than the rest of the town’s eating facilities, or maybe this was just a slow night. There weren’t any other dogs present besides Pluckie, who lay down on the pavement with a sigh.
After consulting me, Justin ordered a carafe of red wine. I noticed that he still wore his nice-looking white shirt and dark trousers, but no tie or jacket, and his sleeves were rolled up. He looked good.
For someone else, I reminded myself. I was not in the market for another man, and even if I was someday, it wouldn’t be someone in a location where I intended to stay only temporarily.
We both ordered pasta dishes, mine mushroom ravioli and his spaghetti carbonara. I figured that any treats I could give Pluckie would have to consist of small pieces of the Italian bread served while we waited.
I started the conversation I’d hoped to have with Justin, about the investigation into Tarzal’s death.
“It’s progressing all right,” he said.
“Do you have suspects other than Martha?”
“I really can’t talk too much about an ongoing situation,” he said.
“Maybe not,” I responded, “but I can. Look, I’ve been thinking about this. A lot. I realize it’s your business and not so much mine, but I do have an interest in it. So … here are some people I’ve been looking into.”
Before I started listing Arlen and Serina and anyone else, Justin reached across the table and grabbed my arm, startling me.
“Bad idea, Rory,” he said. “Keep out of this. I know your intentions are good, but don’t you know it’s considered bad luck to poke around in something that’s not your concern?”
“It is my concern,” I contradicted, “since I care about Martha, and you apparently do, too, even though you still consider her a major suspect. And you know what? I don’t really believe in superstitions like that.”
But he did know about the superstition I’d come to this town to question …
I didn’t bring that up, but I did mention my thoughts earlier, thanks to my eavesdropping, about the killer being a stranger who’d read Tarzal’s book and had the superstition he—or she—had focused on go wrong. “That may be why you haven’t gotten enough evidence against anyone,” I said, “especially if whoever it was looked like a tourist and has already left town.”
“Interesting idea,” Justin said, not sounding particularly interested at all. Then, after taking a long sip of wine, he leaned toward me. “You know full well that I’m a superstition agnostic, too, Rory. But you’ve got to understand that, if you get in the way of our investigation, you will have bad luck. Ongoing. Because I’ll have to be involved in making certain that you back off. And I can be the source of all kinds of bad luck if you cross me.”
“Well, hell.” I glared at him. “You know, I’ve been doing a lot of research into superstitions since I arrived here. And whether or not you believe in them either, I think I can be the source of your bad luck in this situation, Justin, if you try to scare me off from helping Martha. Getting her well and back at the store is the only way I can be sure I’ll be able to leave here comfortably. If you want to get rid of me, let me do what I need to. I’ll stay out of your way … but until and unless I know you’ve got things wrapped up, and in a way that clears Martha, I’m going to continue to be the black cat crossing your path.”
nineteen
Surprisingly after our sort-of confrontation, the rest of our dinner conversation was fairly congenial. We talked more about Destiny and superstitions and some rather humorous kinds of crimes Justin and his police force had had to investigate.
For example, some believers would steal nearly anything made of wood so they’d have something to knock on for good luck, and often assumed that the good luck would include absolving them of theft charges.
Also, most of the stores that carried tokens of superstition had stopped carrying agate, since it was reputed to cause invisibility and was therefore a prime target of theft—although the cops were nearly always able to find the culprits.
In turn, I regaled him with a couple of my favorite MegaPets scams. No superstitions involved there, but I’d met a number of customers who thought they could get away with anything—such as computer whizzes who manufactured manufacturers’ coupons for free dog food or other products and expected us to honor them. Sure, they looked legitimate, but all staff was under orders to check out any kind of coupon they hadn’t run into before. Genuine ones were nearly always used by a lot of different people and many appeared in our own store ads. It was the one-time wonders that were suspicious.
The food at the Black Cat Inn’s restaurant was great. The company was even better, once we got off the topic of murder. Pluckie seemed to enjoy it, too, since she got an occasional treat from me.
But as we finished—and, yes, this time he allowed me to grab the check, but not without a slight dispute about it first—I had to go back to our earlier topic of conversation since we hadn’t resolved anything.
I took my final sip of wine first and looked him straight in the eye. “I really don’t want to step on anyone’s toes, Justin—especially not yours or any other cops, particularly since I don’t know what superstitions there may be about that—”
“But you’re goin
g to stick your very pretty nose into official business as often as you want to,” he finished for me. “And, no, I’m not sure if there are superstitions that involve noses, either.”
“Sounds as if I’d better check on superstitions involving body parts,” I said as I picked my credit card and receipt out of the tray the server had brought back after I’d paid.
“While you’re figuring out how to do my job as an amateur.” He didn’t phrase that as a question.
“I’m an excellent pet store manager,” I said. “I’ve no intention of becoming a cop, amateur or otherwise. But if things occur to me that might help Martha—and therefore let me feel more comfortable about choosing when I leave here—then I’ll have to look into them.”
“You could just tell me about them. Assuming there’s some sense to them.” Those blue eyes of his bored into me as if he was attempting to figure out my thought processes.
“That’s the big ‘if’ about the whole thing,” I countered. “You undoubtedly look at the murder and potential suspects and everything involved by using officially approved reasoning and protocol. Maybe it won’t be so bad for someone like me to look at things from a less official angle.” I paused. “And if that helps to clear Martha, how bad could it be?”
His rueful smile called more attention to his dark five-o’clock shadow. No, actually, his eight-o’clock shadow. “I’d like her to be cleared as much as anyone, Rory. You know that. Maybe more than anyone else. But it can only be done by our finding an even more compelling suspect, and so far—”
“So far, you’ve got a lot of suspects,” I inserted. “Maybe a whole town full. And beyond.” I stood, and so did Pluckie, who rubbed my right leg with her sweet little body. “We’ll go back to the B&B and get you your real dinner now, sweetheart,” I told her.
“The scope isn’t quite that wide,” Justin told me as I started skirting around other diners and walking out of the patio area.
“Maybe you should let the scope widen in your mind,” I said, turning my head back toward him. “Anyone who was in this town that night could be a suspect.”
1 Lost Under a Ladder Page 16
