1 Lost Under a Ladder

by Linda O. Johnston

  What superstitions might apply?

  I closed the menu and watched Justin as he concentrated on reading his. When he looked up, his expression tightened, as if he could read what I was thinking on my face. Maybe he could.

  “Thanks for—” he began.

  “—Nothing,” I finished. “I mean, I have an idea what you want to say to me, Justin. I read that article in the Destiny Star. I didn’t agree to it, nor did I agree with much in it. Although unfortunately a lot of it was probably true. If what you wanted to talk to me about was to tell me to back off, I get it. But will I do it? Honestly, I don’t know. What if the killer decides to make sure I don’t catch him or her? If I tell you that I’ll stop my own stupid little investigation, are you going to tell the murderer so whoever it is will leave me alone?”

  His eyes widened—and unfortunately that was when our server came over to take our orders.

  At my low-key tirade, Pluckie had sat up at my feet and leaned against my leg, as if to show that she was there for me, no matter what was going on. I snugged her tightly against me, but when Justin and I were alone again—or as alone as we could be on a patio full of diners—I gave her a quick pat and she lay back down.

  “Well,” Justin finally said. “At least I know your position now. And if you thought I was going to bawl you out for snooping more into the murder investigation, believe me, I thought about it. But I also knew it would do neither of us any good.”

  He paused, still looking at me.

  “Really?” I inquired skeptically.

  “No, I won’t scold you. And it sounds as if I don’t really have to warn you. You’re already in a potentially difficult situation. The one thing I want to make sure of here is that you feel free to talk to me. To tell me what’s going on, what’s on your mind. And let me know if you do run into anything that could lead to the killer.” As I opened my mouth to speak—and express my amazement at his attitude—he lifted his hand as if to silence me. “Now, don’t take that as my permission for you to keep butting in or snooping around. If I thought you’d listen, I’d tell you—again—to back off. But as much as I’d like to solve the case and bring the suspect into custody, I want even more for you to stay safe.”

  I felt the hard set to my eyes soften, my head cock slightly as I considered what to say next. “I appreciate that, Justin,” I finally said. “And believe me, I want to stay safe, too. If I thought it was the right thing to do, I’d leave now and forget about Destiny and superstitions and their reality. But I … well, I like it here. I’m beginning to make friends, and I’m having such fun running the Lucky Dog. I’ll try to keep things low key from now on. Although—”

  “Although?” His smile suggested irony, and it drew a smile from me, too.

  “Will you promise you won’t arrest Martha?”

  He laughed. “For now. At least not until we’ve got the evidence we’d need to convict her.”

  “No, it’s someone else,” I said insistently.

  “I really hope you’re right,” he replied.

  twenty-four

  The rest of our meal was all good. The food, sure. The company even better, once we got off the topic of the op-ed piece, and me, and what I was doing to potentially get in Justin’s way.

  And how the story—no, what I was doing that it mentioned—might put me in danger.

  We talked instead about how much I was enjoying Destiny. And how much Justin, too, liked the town, and why. Again. But even repeating some of the topics seemed fine.

  Partly because I was enjoying his company.

  That didn’t mean I was flirting. Or stomping on my memories of Warren.

  I was just getting on with my life as best I could.

  We were there for quite a while. I ordered coffee and a small dessert—a slice of apple pie to share. What better choice could there be at the Apple-a-Day Café? I hoped it would keep the doctor away as the old rhyme foretold, and I didn’t see any bubbles in my coffee.

  Eventually, it was time to leave. I’d noticed the sounds of conversation ebbing as we ate, but being seated with my back toward the crowd, when we got up to leave I was still somewhat surprised to see that the patio had only half as many customers then as when we’d started out.

  Pluckie rose and stretched, then remained at my side as we departed. Justin walked us back to the Rainbow B&B, and it was late enough that it would be Pluckie’s last sojourn outside for the evening.

  I was glad my dog and I were staying in an active B&B, where people would probably notice if anyone else visited our room. Not that I was ready yet for any kind of relationship with a man, but that gave me another excuse for not inviting Justin upstairs despite how well our evening had gone.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he said as I pulled out my key card to open the front door.

  “Good,” I started to say, but my word was halved when Justin put his lips on mine in a short but somewhat sexy good night kiss.

  I didn’t shove him away. In fact, I joined in the kiss.

  But I was relieved to turn and open the door and hurry inside with Pluckie.

  _____

  The next morning, Pluckie and I got up early and followed what had become our usual routine, including a walk first thing, followed by my showering and getting dressed for a day of work at the store, and then, on the way out, a quick breakfast of Serina’s excellent B&B food.

  Usual routine? Heck, we’d only been here for a little over a week.

  And … this was actually a day of note—exactly one week after I’d gone to the Destiny Welcome. That night was when Tarzal had been murdered.

  Before we left, Serina accompanied us to the lobby. “Are you okay after—well, let’s just call it what the Destiny Star didn’t say about you?”

  “Yes, in fact I’m more than okay. I’m not a detective and don’t intend to become one, but at least now the whole world knows that I believe in Martha—or at least everyone who can figure out who the nonperson in that article is. And maybe those who do know will come to shop at the Lucky Dog while I’m still in town.” I didn’t bother to tell her that, yes indeed, I did recognize that I could now be on the killer’s radar, too.

  When Pluckie and I reached the Lucky Dog a little later, we went upstairs to say hi to Martha. “I’ve been getting a lot of calls about your notoriety,” she said, glaring from where she sat on her couch. “I probably should go downstairs today and run the store, get you out of there at least for the day, just in case.”

  “But I’m safe,” I said. “You don’t have any mirrors in the Lucky Dog for someone to break and use to stab me with their own bad luck.”

  That garnered a small smile from her. “Just be careful, Rory,” she said.

  “I sure will. And I’ll stay lucky, too.” I knocked with fervor on one of her antique wooden end tables.

  Things remained busy but calm downstairs for the rest of the day. Lots of customers came in, mostly tourists suitably impressed by the superstition-related pet items that we sold, as usual. A few other townsfolk moseyed in to buy food for their pets and casually ask about whether I happened to have seen that dratted article. And, oh yes, if it was me, was there any validity to it?

  I wished I could collect all the copies and stuff them into the nearest shredder. Then burn all the shreds.

  Unless there was some kind of superstition that doing so would bring the shredding fool bad luck.

  Though I’d been kidding a bit with Martha, I knew I needed all the good luck I could get.

  I also needed to let everyone in town who had a clue about the identity of the person in that darned op-ed piece know that I was just fine about it.

  No one needed to know that I was upset in the slightest—let alone worried about my own longevity.

  And so I checked online. Yes, a Destiny Welcome program would be presented that night.

  Wo
uld I be there? Of course.

  Wearing my new hematite black dog amulet for luck and for courage—and putting on as brash a facade in this small but important Destiny world as I could muster.

  _____

  I hadn’t shopped for clothes since arriving in Destiny—at least nothing much. I decided to wear the same silvery gray skirt and open-toed shoes that I had worn to the last Destiny Welcome that I’d attended. Instead of my nice blouse, though, I donned the one T-shirt I’d acquired, a red one with the logo of the Lucky Dog Boutique on it.

  Serina told me that she, too, was heading for the Welcome. She wouldn’t be available to watch Pluckie for me that night. That was fine. My dog, like me, had gotten used to our pleasant room in the B&B. I would just leave her there.

  I even walked with Serina to the Break-a-Leg Theater. The crowd seemed even denser there that night than it had a week before. This time, I recognized more people in the crowd, although the townsfolk were undoubtedly way outnumbered by tourists, as it should be.

  Serina sat beside me on the aisle, about four rows back. I saw that Carolyn Innes of the button shop and Evonne Albing of Destiny’s Luckiest Tours were there, as were many others I’d spoken with.

  No woman sat in a wheelchair at the front. Martha had stayed home this night. I assumed that coming here would be too much effort or excitement for her. Maybe both.

  In any event, her nephew was present, sitting with his boss, Evonne. Both Jeri and Millie were in attendance, too.

  The old Art Deco theater with the newer seating inside looked just as it had last week. But when the curtain was drawn back on the stage I noticed that the platform that apparently had been designated as Tarzal’s sole domain wasn’t there any more. Interesting.

  Once again, Mayor Bevin Dermot, dressed in his leprechaun-like green sport jacket over plaid pants, strode onto the stage. He greeted everyone and, unsurprisingly, welcomed all visitors to wonderful Destiny, where he hoped they would all have the best of luck and a wonderful time.

  I was curious who would be the town’s featured greeter tonight, with the foremost expert on superstitions no longer available. It wasn’t too surprising when Preston Kunningham took the microphone next and talked up the Broken Mirror Bookstore as well as the prized book still being sold there, of course: The Destiny of Superstitions. He’d carried one on stage and turned immediately to read the origin of the actors’ superstition about telling their fellow cast members to “break a leg” since wishing them good luck would only jinx their performances, especially here, in the Break-a-Leg Theater.

  He read a few more, but then someone in the audience stood and said, “Read the one about breaking a mirror being bad luck.” It was Derek Vardox, and he waved a camera toward the stage. “And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell us about your poor partner and what happened to him.”

  Preston seemed to turn white in his muted plaid suit jacket. “Er … well, all right.” He’d had the other reading marked and had to turn pages in the book to get to why breaking a mirror was deemed to be bad luck, and how it could be countered by touching a five-dollar bill and making the sign of the cross.

  “But Tarzal must not have been able to reach the five-dollar bills,” called Derek’s sister Celia.

  “Or maybe Tarzal wasn’t the one to break the mirror in the first place.” I wasn’t sure who that was, but someone else in the audience was speaking. “The killer may have the bad luck now.”

  I hadn’t seen Justin come in, but he spoke up from somewhere behind me. I recognized his voice before I turned to look at him. “I think it might be better to speak of other superstitions, folks.” He turned to scan the audience. “I doubt our visitors want to hear any gory details about that sad incident.”

  I thought he might be wrong, but I didn’t particularly want to hear more either—not here and now—since it was unlikely the killer would stand up and admit anything even if he or she happened to be present.

  I was still turned, looking toward Justin when I felt eyes on my back and pivoted. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration. Maybe I realized Celia was staring at me as soon as I turned to face the front again. But she smiled as my gaze caught hers, and then she said, “Mayor Dermot, I’d like to read something from our latest Destiny Star. May I come on stage?”

  Oh, no. I knew what it was. But why did she want to call attention to me?

  Sure enough, she got the mayor’s okay and read that damned op-ed piece. I felt my face redden even as my neck grew weak and I stared down at the carpeted floor.

  She finished, “And that very special, luck-driven person who found poor Tarzal’s body but is doing her very best to find answers and help our poor accused citizen is even here tonight.”

  She didn’t name me. She didn’t have to. All the people there who lived in Destiny turned to look at me.

  No need for me to feel embarrassed, I told myself. Instead, I should be basking in the attention like a movie star. No, a superstition star.

  I stood, drawing myself up into a proud stance, and looked around, nodding slowly as if I was royalty acknowledging the fealty of my subjects.

  “This is Destiny,” I orated from my seat. “The home of luck. All will be resolved here and the right person convicted of the killing.” And then I sat back down and melted.

  As if to sweep attention away from me, Carolyn hurried up onto the stage and began a monologue on the superstition of buttons. I just sat there, although I’m not sure I heard anything.

  So now all the tourists, too, would know I was sticking my nose in where it wasn’t wanted by the police—or by the killer. But I would continue to help Martha, if I could—unless I got so freaked out here that I fled Destiny forever.

  Evonne also took the stage a little later and extolled Destiny and its tours. Arlen applauded her even more loudly than the rest of us.

  The Welcome seemed to go on forever. When it was finally over, I slipped out of our row and looked at Serina. “That was an ordeal,” I admitted to her.

  “You handled it well,” she assured me. “But—well, Rory, please be careful.”

  “Of course.”

  She’d already let me know that she’d planned to get together with some friends after the Welcome, so I watched her leave. When I got into the atrium outside, both Carolyn and Evonne joined me.

  “Are you all right?” Carolyn didn’t look at me as she asked, but glared venomously toward Derek and Celia, who stood near the door handing out copies of the Destiny Star to anyone who’d take one—which included a lot of people.

  “Sure,” I lied. Then I added, “But I really appreciated how both of you got the attention off me and onto superstitions where all the attention belonged.”

  We stayed inside the lobby area chatting for a little longer. They asked me to join them for a drink, but I took a rain check.

  I needed some privacy after that.

  Which I didn’t get, since Justin, who’d been speaking with some security people in another area in the lobby and must have been watching me, was suddenly at my side.

  “I’ll walk you back to your place,” he said in a tone that allowed for no argument.

  “Fine,” I said, actually a little relieved. I didn’t really want to walk alone in the dark after I’d been pointed out as attempting to solve Destiny’s brutal crime of the century.

  And I was glad that I would be in the company of the chief of police—who just happened to be the very nice, very good-looking Justin.

  The sidewalks near the theater were crowded but thinned out as we walked down Destiny Boulevard. We talked about this Welcome and who usually spoke at such things—besides the mayor and, before this week, Tarzal. The fact that Evonne and Carolyn did wasn’t that unusual.

  “Maybe I’ll add that to my list of talks as long as I stay in Destiny,” I told him, then explained my intention of giving weekly talks on animal super
stitions at the Lucky Dog.

  Soon, we arrived at my B&B. As before, Justin gave me a quick, sweet kiss on the lips, and I went inside.

  I hurried up the steps to my room, figuring that, at this hour, Pluckie would be very eager for her last walk of the night.

  I used my key to open the door, but she didn’t dash over to me as she always did.

  Frowning, I turned on the lights. I didn’t see her on the floor, on the bed, in the bathroom … anywhere.

  I used all my self-control to keep myself from shrieking out, calling for my dog.

  But Pluckie was gone.

  twenty-five

  Okay. She was smart. She was curious. As careful as I always am, I must somehow have left the door ajar when I went downstairs to leave.

  But I couldn’t buy that. As I said, I was careful. I hadn’t been in a particular hurry. I hadn’t been on my phone, and I hadn’t left Pluckie alone in that room much before, so the normal caution that I exercised in making sure the door was firmly shut and locked had surely been in play.

  Did a member of the cleaning or other support staff come in and let her escape? Serina had been with me, so it couldn’t have been her.

  Didn’t matter. What did matter was finding Pluckie.

  I was already back out in the hallway. A lot of the other B&B guests had gone to the Destiny Welcome but not all. I didn’t want to wake anyone, but more important to me was finding my dog. Surely someone had seen something. I’d already figured that staying in a busy B&B meant that anything different—such as if I’d considered bringing Justin upstairs—would be noticed.

  A roaming dog surely would be, too.

  I started off down the dimmed hallway, heading first to the right, slowly passing the row of doors. I still wore the outfit I’d had on for the Welcome, and I tried not to let my shoes make too much noise on the hardwood floor.

  On the other hand, a little noise might get Pluckie’s attention.

  “Pluckie?” I called in little more than a whisper. She was a smart dog. A young enough dog to have full hearing ability.