1 Lost Under a Ladder

by Linda O. Johnston

  I half expected her to make light of it. After all, she was the front gate to Destiny for a lot of these tourists and the ones before and after them. She could scare them all away if she said yes and informed any of them who didn’t know that the last time howling like that had occurred in town, a citizen had been found murdered the next day.

  Was it real? A projected noise? Where had it come from?

  Hey, I thought as I took Pluckie outside. That part of it could be a good thing for me, at least. Tarzal might already have been dead by the time everyone heard the howling then, and here I was, still alive and walking my dog.

  Deep inside, I attempted to shrug the whole thing off—but I recognized that I was scared. Even shaking. A real howl or not, it could presage harm to someone … maybe me.

  I saw a marked police car across the street and silently thanked Justin. No, I hadn’t called him when I woke up. I hadn’t considered it necessary. I intended to be cautious.

  But I had exited the B&B warily, recognizing that it was absolutely necessary for Pluckie to come out first thing like this to relieve herself.

  She wasn’t self-conscious at all, and having an officer of the law observing her—and, for safety, me—was definitely a good thing. As soon as she was finished and I’d cleaned up after her, I hurried back inside the B&B. Time to get ready to head to the store.

  It was still pretty early, though, so I decided to take my time. No sense walking on the streets until they became crowded with tourists. Safety in numbers? As long as I remained wary and aware of who was near me.

  I grabbed some food to take upstairs with us, then fed both Pluckie and myself in our room. Then I looked on my smartphone to check the Destiny Star website.

  Yes, the interview was already there. The posted time said it had been there since one o’clock that morning.

  I listened to part of it. I sounded like … well, me. But an angry me. A determined me.

  A scared me? For those who know me, that might have been obvious, too.

  Word had already gotten out. Apparently, a lot of Destiny’s citizens didn’t sleep, or got up early, and had listened to the interview. Maybe they informed each other by phone or superstitious mind games, who knew?

  One way or another, there were a lot of comments already on the website. Even Mayor Bevin Dermot weighed in, scolding a visitor to his town who dared fate and superstitions to harm her. He claimed he wished me well, and I had a sense he also wished me gone from Destiny.

  Or was that just a ruse? Was he guilty of killing Tarzal to stop him from criticizing superstitions and the people who believed in them? I didn’t recall seeing him at the end of the Destiny Welcome. He’d also have had enough contacts to set up what had happened to Pluckie yesterday, even if he decided not to do it himself.

  I was beginning to like Carolyn Innes of Buttons of Fortune a lot. Yes, she scolded me a bit online, too, but in a way that made it clear she worried that I was jeopardizing my safety even more by going public.

  Her concern was echoed by Preston Kunningham, whose comments incorporated the sorrow of what had happened to his business partner. He didn’t want to see that occur in Destiny again.

  Evonne Albing of Destiny’s Luckiest Tours had weighed in, too. She made it clear that the area to which Pluckie had been taken was on their tour route, as was the Broken Mirror Bookstore and more, for anyone who wanted to see where some of what I mentioned had taken place.

  Could she have set it up? Murdered Tarzal?

  Her manager Mike Eberhart, whom I’d also met at Wishbones-to-Go, commented on Evonne’s comment, as if to second it—and also mentioned that their tours might not feature the Lucky Dog Boutique that I managed, but it was right next door to one of their featured places, the Broken Mirror Bookstore. He was in essence telling people who might not know where I could be found in case they wanted to harm me. That didn’t really matter, since whoever had stolen Pluckie knew at least where I was staying—right here. I didn’t know Mike very well—but who said I had to know the person who’d killed Tarzal and set up Pluckie for him to be guilty?

  And what about their tour-guide employee and more, Arlen Jalopia?

  Enough. It was time for me to stop reading this and head to the Lucky Dog.

  Maybe it would be a lucky place for me that day. I certainly hoped so.

  _____

  I’d only gotten out to the sidewalk in front of the Rainbow B&B when a black car nearly screeched to a halt beside me, at the curb. I startled, nearly dropping Pluckie’s leash—but I’d have thrown myself carefully on my dog to protect her if that had been necessary.

  It wasn’t. The car was Justin’s.

  His window rolled down and he leaned toward me from the driver’s seat. “You didn’t call me. But if you think you’re walking to the store this morning, after the challenge you issued to our suspect, you’re wrong. Get in, Rory.”

  I’ve mentioned before that I don’t particularly like to obey orders. But as a sales associate, and then an assistant manager at a MegaPets, I’d learned to adapt.

  This order I realized was for my own protection. That part I liked.

  But the fact that it was snapped at me, as if I had no choice but to do as Justin demanded? That earned him an angry stare through the window and my not reaching for the door handle.

  “If you’d care to walk with us today, that would be okay as long as Pluckie doesn’t object.” I bent, and Pluckie wriggled her furry little body in my direction. “What do you think, girl? I guess you don’t mind taking orders from me, or at least you’ve pretty much always listened. This man told us what to do. Would you mind his company?”

  By then, Justin had parked his car and gotten out. Today he wore his standard blue oxford shirt and dark slacks. “Oh, come on, Rory. What do you think you’re doing?”

  Pluckie hurried over to Justin and jumped up, her paws on his legs, her tail wagging eagerly.

  “I guess it’s okay for you to join us,” I told Justin coolly. “At least Pluckie doesn’t mind.”

  His glare might have intimidated me if I wasn’t already so irritated. As it was, I just nodded at him and began walking down Fate Street toward Destiny Boulevard.

  My spine was straight, my brow frowning, my mouth pursed. I thought about Warren then, and whether he would ever have issued me edicts the way Justin did.

  No, my sweet, lost geek wouldn’t have. But I also realized that I was equating the authoritative policeman with the love I’d lost.

  Would I ever be ready to care for another man? Maybe. Someday.

  But someone as officious as Justin?

  Well, that I didn’t know—but I admitted very briefly to myself that I did appreciate the fact that, irritating as Justin was, I liked that he was concerned for my safety, and Pluckie’s. Especially the day after he had been injured while trying to come to my dog’s aid.

  We reached the shop. It was still only eight o’clock, a couple of hours before I’d open. Jeri was to be my first helper of the day, and she wouldn’t arrive until around nine thirty.

  I could possibly wake Martha, but no sense worrying her, at least not before the day officially began.

  And I felt sure that Justin wasn’t going to stay here.

  He waited while I unlocked the shop’s front door, then walked inside ahead of me. I expected him to do the cop thing I saw all the time on TV: whip his gun from his pocket, hold it straight out in front of him with both hands at eye level, and start yelling “Police” as he checked to make sure no one was there. He didn’t—but he did look around in the shop, the back room, the alley behind it, and up the stairway toward Martha’s.

  “There’ll be a lot of patrols go by today,” he said, “so if you need anything, or something bothers you, be sure to check outside or call.” He looked down at me, and this time there was concern and warmth in his blue eyes. “I’m worried ab
out you, Rory. I know you’re trying to help Martha and also help me, but I can’t agree with how you’re doing it. There are other ways besides putting yourself in danger.”

  “I was already—” I began, but then his lips lowered toward mine.

  Did I want this? Well, yes. For luck and reassurance and—well, I just wanted it.

  Our kiss was brief but warm.

  “I have to get to the station now,” he said somewhat breathlessly as he pulled away. “But I’ll be back to check on you later. I’ll call you now and then, so please don’t turn off the ringer on your phone. And call me any time you feel even a little concerned. Okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, standing on my toes to give him a quick farewell kiss.

  And then it was just Pluckie and me in the shop.

  Or so I thought. But when I turned, I saw a black cat dart from near the counter into the back room.

  thirty

  It was no surprise that Pluckie saw it, too. She barked and ran after it. The cat slipped into the back room and disappeared before my dog caught up with it.

  A good thing. The small feline hadn’t exactly crossed my path or Pluckie’s. Surely it didn’t portend bad luck.

  Was it the same one I’d seen after Tarzal’s murder? And/or up on the mountain with Pluckie? Not necessarily. I’d noticed that all cats were welcomed in Destiny, and black cats had a special place in this town’s hierarchy. Of course I’d heard there were caring animal lovers who caught all kinds and colors of strays and had them fixed so there wasn’t an overabundance around—but I felt sure that black cats could get away with a lot more than the rest.

  I picked Pluckie up and we both returned to the store’s showroom. Lowering her to the floor, I pulled my phone from my pocket to check the time.

  Was it only 8:15 in the morning? So much had happened already—including all those responses to the Star’s online interview of me. And here I was, all alone except for Pluckie after seeing a black cat. Maybe it didn’t mean bad luck, but I shivered a little as I tried to shrug off my unease.

  Jeri wouldn’t arrive for another hour. I decided to do a quick check of our displays to see if anything needed to be refilled before we opened for business. That was something that the assistants generally did on their arrival before ten a.m. I needed something to work on that didn’t require a lot of brainpower but would distract me from the rest of my thoughts.

  “Are you okay, girl?” I asked Pluckie. She stood where I’d placed her and sniffed the air. “Do you still smell that cat?” I wished I could ask my dog if she could tell how that cat had gotten into the shop and understand her response. From Martha’s, upstairs? From outside? I supposed it didn’t matter. Having a cat inside a pet store wasn’t unusual or outrageous, even here in Destiny.

  I considered calling Martha but decided to wait till later. She might be up early today, as she was on some days, but in case she wasn’t there was no need to disturb her rest.

  But this was a good time to check our shelves.

  I went first to my favorites—where the stuffed superstition-related toys for dogs and cats were kept. There were quite a few faux black cats there, along with the other items including rabbits’ feet. On lower shelves, the items for cats such as wands to which representations of crossed fingers and horseshoes were attached were not as plentiful, so I started a list of things to check for in the back room.

  The store’s phone rang. A bit early for that, I thought, but hurried to answer. “Hello, Lucky Dog Boutique,” I said into the receiver.

  “Rory? Is that you? Oh, I hope it’s you. Could you come over? I need your help.”

  It was a male voice—a frantic-sounding one. It wasn’t Justin, but it sounded older than Arlen. Rather than guess, I asked, “Who is this?”

  “Preston. Next door. I never thought—not me. But I need help. A demon is after me. I spilled salt, and—please help.”

  I knew the superstition of needing to throw a pinch of spilled salt over one’s shoulder to prevent being attacked by a demon, but that was one I never imagined anyone would think could come true. On the other hand, a lot of people tossed spilled salt over their shoulders even without knowing what might theoretically happen to them if they didn’t, simply by superstitious habit.

  But Preston? Yes, he was a believer—or at least he made his living off the town’s superstitions, especially those memorialized in his dead partner’s book.

  Did this have something to do with Tarzal? His loss? His murder?

  Was the killer now threatening Tarzal’s partner?

  I recalled Preston’s posting to the Star article: worry about me. He probably wasn’t a threat—was he?

  I had to find out if he was okay, without being foolish about it. “I’ll be there in a minute,” I told Preston. I leashed Pluckie, not wanting to leave her alone here. And as we went outside and I locked the shop door behind us, I looked along the street. People were starting to fill the sidewalks again. A few cars were parked at the curb, mostly across the street.

  I didn’t see any obvious cop car either stopped or patrolling, but I knew I was under observation. Someone was probably watching me as I headed toward the closest neighboring shop. I wanted to show them where I was going.

  Also, just in case, I popped a quick text message to Justin. “Going next door to bookstore for a few minutes. Preston needs help with something.” There. He wouldn’t be able to complain that I wasn’t keeping him informed.

  On the sidewalk right in front of the bookstore was a heads-up penny. The few people around us apparently hadn’t seen it. I stooped, picked it up and thrust it into my pocket as Pluckie pranced beside me. “Hey, it won’t hurt to try for a little more good luck,” I told her.

  The door to the Broken Mirror Bookstore was unlocked, so Pluckie and I walked right in.

  The place looked much as it always had to me—a table covered with copies of Tarzal’s The Destiny of Superstitions right in the prime center position, surrounded by an uneven myriad of filled wooden bookcases that formed a maze in the shop.

  But I didn’t see the man who’d called me, or anyone else, for that matter.

  I watched Pluckie to see if she appeared excited or nervous or interested in a scent, but at first she had her nose to the floor. Then she put her head up, pulled on her leash, and barked.

  “Preston,” I called. “It’s Rory. Are you here?”

  I followed Pluckie around some shelves as she kept pulling me forward.

  When we passed the last tall bookshelves near the jutting wall of the interior office, that’s when I saw that the new mirror that had been hung to replace the one involved in Tarzal’s murder had also been broken. Large shards were on the floor. Framed five-dollar bills remained mounted beside where the mirror had been.

  This time, there was no dead body. No odor of death.

  Even so, I picked Pluckie up to protect her paws again and, shaking, I pulled my phone out of my pocket as I turned to leave the shop.

  “Oh, there you are, Rory.” Preston sped toward me through the door that led to his storeroom. As always, he was dressed nattily in a suit, this time a charcoal tweed. His eyes were huge, and his silver hair looked uncombed in a manner I hadn’t seen on him before. “Thank heavens you’ve come. I’m so afraid— It was like this when I came in this morning. I had breakfast in the back room first, and that’s where I spilled the salt. A lot of it. I tossed a pinch over my shoulder but I was so worried anyway, and when I came in here and saw this—it’s horrible!”

  “What happened here?” I asked. “Chief Halbertson is already on the way here, but I’m going to call him again and let him know that another mirror is broken here.”

  “Let me show you something else first.” Preston gestured for me to follow, and I hurried in that direction.

  Which was when he grabbed me, yanked my phone out of my hand, and shoved me
into the back room—after also yanking Pluckie’s leash from me and slamming the door in my dog’s face.

  “What are you doing?” I demanded.

  But I had a bad feeling that I knew: My snooping had, in fact, led me to the person who’d killed Tarzal and dognapped Pluckie.

  Or not. Maybe there was another explanation.

  “I need to show you what else I found this morning,” he said. He was almost crouched at my side, no longer touching me. But he still had my phone.

  “Not till I get my phone back,” I said. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but—”

  “But I know how fond you are of Martha. And she came in here this morning. She’s the one who broke the mirror, who killed my poor partner. I was able to subdue her, but finding her here was what led me to spill that salt.”

  He wasn’t acting consistent with what he’d said before. He also wasn’t making any sense. In fact, he acted as if he’d been drugged.

  Had Martha drugged him? She still was on some pretty heavy-duty meds at times. What if—

  Preston hurried ahead of me and around some large piles of boxes labeled with book titles, including one tall stack of Tarzal’s. And there was, in fact, what appeared to be a whole container of salt spilled on the floor near them.

  “Look,” he said.

  I followed, avoiding the salt, and did as he said.

  Martha was there, lying on the floor on her back at the far side of the boxes. She was unconscious, her hands bound with string in front of her.

  I quickly knelt and touched her neck. She had a pulse, at least. I turned to stand and confront Preston.

  Too late. He’d maneuvered his way behind me and threw his arm around my throat. I saw gloves on his hands. I started to gag. Could I go limp and make him let me go? I tried—but he shoved me onto the floor.

  When I turned back toward him, he was aiming a gun at me.

  “I don’t want to shoot you, Rory. That would lead to all sorts of questions I won’t have answers for. But, you see, Martha will have called you to meet her here—and she’ll stab you with part of the latest broken mirror. Since you were not only still snooping but bragging to the world about it thanks to the Destiny Star, she had to stop you. She figured that killing you the same way she did Tarzal wouldn’t point to her but to me once she got back to her shop and hid out upstairs. But I’ll have come in here, just a little too late. I couldn’t stop her from killing you, but I was able to subdue her. And, poor thing, she spilled salt so she was subject to a lot of bad luck.” He grinned nastily. “She’s such a druggy now that putting this all together wasn’t all that hard.”