Unlucky Charms (12 page)

Eighteen

That conversation occurred in
the late morning, and I was back in the Lucky Dog's storeroom soon after, ostensibly checking inventory. No, actually checking it, since it didn't take all my concentration.
Many of my thoughts were focused on my recent conversation and what was going to happen next. Could I keep myself patient enough to
wait till I heard from one of the Vardoxes?

We had ended our impromptu meeting by discussing which owners and managers of the vandalized and burglarized shops to approach, and in which order. We realized that this list might grow as we got further into our research. But as with everything else we'd talked about, we didn't necessarily agree on the details. The two siblings didn't always see eye to eye, either, and my agenda and needs were quite different from theirs.

In the end, we came to an agreement about the first couple of people they'd approach, not only because each of these business owners apparently had a motive to do Flora in, thanks to what she'd done to their stores, but, equally importantly to the Vardoxes, they might ultimately make the most interesting news stories. The
Star
's owners didn't want to write articles that were just speculations about murder, but they could certainly report on their interviews with Destiny shopowners.

Hopefully that way, the reporters might learn something that not only would trigger the next step in my investigation, but would help make it more effective.

Cryptic? Yes, even to me. I needed to discuss this with someone else. Someone I could trust.

So, a short while after entering the storeroom, I called Gemma and asked her to join me for coffee that afternoon. She might have heard the emotion in my voice, or maybe she was just curious after our last discussion, which of course ended with her acknowledging her expectation that I would try to investigate Flora's murder.

“Okay,” she said immediately, in response to my invitation.

Several hours later, we met outside our shops. I'd wanted to bring Pluckie along, but since we were heading to Beware-of-Bubbles, it was critical for us to find a spot where we wouldn't be overheard by anyone—especially the owners or wait staff—and I thought it would be better if we could choose a table in whichever area seemed least occupied, whether inside or outside.

As it turned out, inside worked best for avoiding a crowd. It was a temperate day for November, and apparently that drew people to the patio. A small corner table farthest from the door and counter seemed our best bet. Even at that, Gemma and I moved our chairs close together, turning them so we could see if anyone approached.

I'd gotten a latte and Gemma a mocha. I particularly kept watch for the shop's owners. Carolyn had said that Beware-of-Bubbles was one of the victims of Flora's tyrannical attempts at revenge, so Marypat and Dan Dresdan appeared to have as much of a motive as the others. Could one or both of them have acted on it?

They weren't the Vardoxes' first target, but it still wouldn't hurt to talk to them.

“So what's going on?” Gemma finally asked in a low, librarian-style voice. Despite running a bookstore now, she still maintained some of her old mannerisms. And as usual, she wore librarian-like garb—a nice skirt and blouse today.

I hesitated for an instant and nearly kicked myself. This was Gemma, the only person in town I trusted to be innocent.

Well, almost the only one. I didn't suspect Martha, for example. Or Justin.

Enough.

I began to explain my idea to Gemma, acknowledging right up front that it sounded odd and hokey.

“But sometimes odd and hokey ideas work,” she said with a small grin.

I told her about my arrangement with the Vardoxes, and my larger plan behind it: how I thought their interviews with the store­owners could help get people I didn't know well to talk to me. “Of course, whoever actually killed Flora could be someone different altogether,” I finished. “Someone who followed her from her hometown, for example.”

“Like her ex-husband?”

I shrugged. “Justin said the authorities are looking into that angle, so I'm laying off it.” That had been among his orders when we did talk about what I—not he—was doing. “Unless, of course, I happen to hear that her ex is visiting Destiny or someplace nearby. But even then, since Justin mentioned it, I'd probably just let him know what I heard.”

“You don't know who in town is being officially investigated, though,” Gemma said shrewdly, taking a sip of her mocha.

“Except for myself.” I attempted to sound more amused than glum but most likely didn't fool my friend.

“Right. Except for you.”

Neither one of us said anything for a moment after that, which most likely was a good thing, since a young couple sat down at a table near ours.

“So, who's up first?” Gemma asked somewhat nebulously, raising her eyebrows and nodding slightly to our new neighbors. She was trying to keep the wording of her question discreet, but I knew what she meant.

“I've got a little craving for a steak,” I answered. I figured she would stretch out that thought and come up with the Shamrock Steakhouse and therefore its owner—Padraic Hassler.

“Me too. Maybe I'll join you.”

That was actually a good idea, since I didn't want to show up there alone to eat a meal and then attempt to start crying on Padraic's shoulder to get him to start crying on mine in return. It would look too odd, for one thing. I'd eaten there before with Justin, among others, but I was definitely not inviting him along this time.

“Good idea,” I told Gemma. “I'll have a better idea tomorrow about if and when I'll need to satisfy that craving.”

“Well, I'll do the Destiny thing and knock on wood that it's tomorrow,” Gemma said, doing just that on the wood-topped table.

“Good idea.” I did the same, smirking at myself. I certainly adhered to superstitions when it seemed they could benefit me, even if I still couldn't really bring myself to believe in them.

Too bad I'd neither picked up nor seeded the sidewalk with lucky heads-up pennies on our short walk over here.

But perhaps triggered by that wood-knocking, I happened to see one of the owners of the coffee shop, Marypat Dresdan, come into the room with a tray full of small paper cups. She stopped at the nearest occupied tables and handed a cup to each of the patrons sitting there. I assumed she was giving out samples. Although I knew who Marypat was, that was about the extent of it, since although I'd seen her sometimes at the coffee shop and occasionally at a Destiny Welcome, we'd hardly spoken except to say hi.

Marypat appeared to be forty-something going on twenty-five. She was chubby and her face was beginning to show age lines, yet she dressed in clothes I thought were a bit young for her—too short, flowing, high heeled, and rather risqué for her size. I was maybe ten years younger than she was and perhaps a little jealous, since the clothes that worked best for my pet store were promotional T-shirts. But I tended to be more conservative than she was even when I did get dressed up.

With her tray, Marypat now stopped by our table and greeted both Gemma and me effusively. “How nice to see you here,” she said. “Would you like to try our cappuccino drink? We're giving out samples to hopefully step up its popularity.”

She handed me one of the cups. I did a double take, since despite the small size, the whipped cream on top had somehow been styled to resemble a cat face—not a black cat, though; a white one.

“Cute,” I said. And then, after taking a sip, I added, “Tasty, too. I'll bet you sell a lot of them.”

“I hope so.” She rested the tray on the table momentarily to cross her fingers, and Gemma picked up a cup, too.

As she walked away, Gemma whispered, “Is she on the list?”

“Yes, and her husband as well.” I kept my voice low. “Which is a shame, since she's apparently an animal lover. But that doesn't mean—”

“Exactly,” Gemma agreed. “She could still—” She looked around, as if trying to see where the vandalism to Beware-of-Bubbles had occurred. Vandalism that might have made the Dresdans angry enough to do something to the perpetrator.

Or not. In any event, I wasn't going to find that out this afternoon.

We'd been here long enough now. I'd already imparted to Gemma what I wanted to tell her about my murder investigation.

Yes, murder investigation, since that's what it was.

We hadn't stood up to leave yet, even though Marypat had moved on to give out her samples at other tables. I started to get my stuff together—cup and purse—when I glanced toward the coffee shop's door.

And drew in my breath. Justin stood there.

He wasn't alone. Detective Choye was with him, and they both started scanning the room.

Until their gazes both stopped on me.

“Uh-oh,” Gemma said softly.

“They're surely not going to interrogate me here, in public,” I said with more confidence than I felt.

They both made their way around the tables toward us.

“Hi, Rory,” Justin said. “Martha said she thought you'd come here. Hi, Gemma.”

Choye said his hellos, too.

“We were just about to leave,” I told them both.

“Let us treat you to another round,” Justin said. He looked straight into my eyes.

What was going on?

I was quivering inside and hated feeling this way. Maybe all was well. Maybe they'd found me to let me know they'd arrested someone else for Flora's murder.

Maybe—

They started talking about the weather, of all things. Rain was predicted for tomorrow.

“'Rain, rain, go away. Come again some other day,'” I chanted. That was a kind of superstition, too: the idea that reciting the short poem would in fact prevent rain from falling.

“So I know Rory didn't kill Flora,” Gemma began, changing the subject. I looked at her, eyes wide, hoping she'd just shut up. “You know it, too. Who's your main suspect?”

“Other than Rory?” Choye asked. “That's still privileged information, and the case is under investigation.” His wide grin nearly made me stand and flee.

“Why are you really here, then?” I demanded.

“My boss wanted to come and say hi now, while he could. Before we arrest you.” Detective Choye's grin grew even wider.

“Oh, cut it out,” Justin said. “We stopped in at the Lucky Dog to see you, and Martha directed us here. That's all. We just wanted to say hi to you.”

And I just wanted to solve the murder—fast—so this nervousness I felt about everything could finally go away.

Nineteen

That wasn't all there
was to it, though. Quietly, and with his characteristically snide manner tuned down just a bit, Choye indicated he was glad that Justin was being up front about things. Yes, he was aware we'd spent some time together last night. He also smiled and shrugged as he said—only somewhat jokingly—that things could go easier on me if I admitted any wrongdoing to the chief of police, and that he would always be around to back his commanding officer.

The good thing was, I figured Justin was handling the situation as well as he could—in a manner that wouldn't keep us totally apart or require us to always have a chaperone along.

The bad thing? Well, there were quite a few, including the fact that Justin's associates wouldn't consider me exonerated based on anything Justin said or did, yet they'd jump on it if he claimed to have wrangled a confession out of me. Or if they found real evidence that they believed pointed conclusively to me, which I certainly hoped wouldn't happen, either.

We all left a short while later, each carrying a paper cup with a sleeve on it as we headed out the door.

I fortunately had no bubbles in my coffee refill, so I didn't have anything I needed to interpret—except for Justin's presence and Choye's sarcastic attitude.

I managed to hang back a little, allowing Gemma to walk near Choye as they headed onto the sidewalk. That gave me a moment to ask, “What are you really up to, Halbertson?”

“That's Chief Halbertson to you,” he said solemnly, but with a twinkle in his blue eyes as he looked down at me. We both tried to get through the door at the same time, which led to our bodies touching, though not suggestively. Even so, it made me think about our growing relationship—or at least, I'd kind of hoped it was growing. As recently as last night. But now … ?

“Okay,
Chief
Halbertson, what are you really doing here?”

He motioned me over to one side of the front of the coffee shop. “Seriously, Rory, I'm here because I'm concerned about you. I brought Richard along for appearances and so I could check out his attitude, which seems appropriate, at least for now. But don't be surprised if I hunt you down at any hour of the day or night to make sure that no matter how you're approaching your foolish investigation, you're not in any danger.”

“
Foolish
investigation?” My tone was suddenly harsh. “You, or at least your department, consider me a prime murder suspect, and I'm just supposed to go on with my normal life and ignore it till I'm arrested? I can hang out with you and let you keep your staff involved and even make fun of it, all so you can minimize your apparent conflict of interest? And then I'm supposed to suck it all up and smile?”

“Well, somewhat, but you can be sure I'm having other potential suspects checked out, and—”

“By those same minions of yours. I get it. But I also understand that if they think it's all for show—to let the chief create an appearance of giving the benefit of the doubt to a friend who's nevertheless probably guilty—they're not going to really investigate the others as they should.”

Scowling, Justin opened his mouth, clearly to object, but I didn't let him get a word in. “Yes, I know you're in charge and you can tell them what to do,” I said. “And you trust them and train them and all that. But they'll do what they think they should, too, and humor you till they decide it's really time to arrest me. Then they'll get you on board … or go above your head to the city government.” My voice had started to turn shrill, so I took a deep breath. “Anyway, you do what you have to, and I'll do what I have to, too.”

I pivoted and started walking through the tourists toward Gemma and Choye, who were waiting for us halfway between the coffee shop and the Lucky Dog.

I looked at Gemma, grimly smiled my thanks that she'd kept Choye away, and headed for my shop.

When Gemma and I got there, we stopped outside the door and I thanked her again. “I'll keep you informed,” I told her.

“Keep me informed, too,” said a no-nonsense voice behind us.

I turned and looked up again at Justin. “Only if you promise to do the same for me.” I waited for an instant, as if I had some hope—which I didn't—that he'd say he would. Then I hurried into my store.

I relaxed on my bed at home, Pluckie at my side. We'd returned to the B&B after closing up shop, eating dinner on the way. Under other circumstances, I would have wanted to invite Justin and Killer to go for a walk with us. Even though it was dark outside except for streetlights, I really had an urge for a nice long dog outing.
The air was a bit cool, but at least it wasn't raining yet. It was a good time to walk, although not with the person I'd previously preferred.

Sure, apparently Justin and I could continue acting like friends in public, and somewhat in private, as long as he could supervise my murder investigation. Well, I could use him similarly, or at least try to. If he continued telling me nothing, though, it might not work.

Still, maybe I could finagle an answer or two out of him now and then. As long as our interactions remained private. I was mad, but I didn't want to get him in trouble.

I considered calling Celia Vardox to ask if she wanted to walk, bringing along her black Lab, Charlotte, but then it occurred to me I'd be a lot better off not appearing to be friends with the Vardoxes, since we were conspiring and working together, sort of, to find the killer.

For now, I invited Carolyn Innes to join us, along with her two dachshunds, Liebling and Helga. I also invited Gemma, but she and Stuart had other plans for the evening. I didn't ask exactly what and she didn't tell.

I hadn't seen a lot of Stuart since he'd arrived, but that was because Gemma was taking advantage of his presence to leave him in charge of the Broken Mirror when she left, and for longer periods of time than she was comfortable doing with her usual assistants, who were young and somewhat inexperienced. I had seen Stuart at the B&B some mornings and evenings, though. I still considered him to be nice, and potentially a good fit for Gemma, but that was up to her. And to whomever it was she'd seen in that mirror … if anyone.

But my own potential relationship, complete with seeing Justin's face in the mirror? That was certainly in jeopardy, if not dying.

Which made me think of my poor Warren yet again. “Let's go,” I told Pluckie firmly, and we headed out the door of the B&B. We were supposed to meet Carolyn and her dogs on the corner of Destiny Boulevard.

I couldn't help turning to look toward the horseshoe hung over the B&B's front door. Its ends remained facing upward now, as they should. Had Flora been the one to turn it over in the first place? Most likely. But if that had caused anyone to suffer bad luck, or if someone walking beneath it had had good luck pour into them, I hadn't heard about it.

Even so, the place had suffered some of Flora's vandalism, so although I didn't truly mistrust Serina, I had to keep her in mind as a possible suspect.

Carolyn, on the other hand, hadn't had any harm done to her button store. If I considered people suspects only because their shops had suffered Flora's wrath, that meant I could remove Carolyn from consideration. But again, I resolved to keep an open mind. At least for now.

The walk with Carolyn and her dogs was fun. And a relief. Her short little dogs scooted along in the low light just as well as Pluckie did. Astute Carolyn let me direct the conversation.

“I figure you're doing something to find out who the real killer is, right, Rory?” she asked as we passed the Broken Mirror and Lucky Dog stores. She wore a Destiny hoodie, which hid all but a few curls of dark hair skimming her cheeks, over jeans and short boots.

I'd thrown on a dark sweatshirt over the regular store outfit I'd worn that day, but added athletic shoes for the walk.

“I'm thinking about it,” I hedged.

“Well, think hard. And well. And if there's anything I can do, be sure to let me know.”

I told her I would. We started talking about other things, including how cute our respective dogs were. Neither of us had recently heard of any superstitions that were new to us to share with one another.

Maybe that was a good thing. As a sort-of accused murderer, with some townsfolk staring at me suspiciously, I'd had an urge to leave town for good. But people like Carolyn and Gemma made me rethink it. Not to mention all the dogs in town, both living here and visiting.

Then there was Justin. He was a big factor in my staying right now—not because of any relationship between us, but because if I left, he would come after me, or have his subordinates do it, since they'd consider my flight some kind of confession.

So here I'd stay, for now, at least.

And in the meantime, I'd investigate. “Okay, you're right,” I eventually admitted to Carolyn.

We'd walked several blocks to the civic center, passing her Buttons of Fortune shop on the way. Then we crossed Destiny Boulevard and headed back toward our starting point. Even at this hour, there were still tourists out and about, apparently window shopping and keeping their eyes open for cracks in the sidewalk and heads-up pennies. And maybe even lucky buttons, although Carolyn only seeded the sidewalks now and then. But there wasn't the kind of crowd these sidewalks attracted during daylight hours.

“I'm trying to figure out who really killed Flora, to get myself off the hook,” I continued. I moved slightly to face Carolyn. “Do you have any ideas?”

“I'm sure you're looking into everyone Flora affected with her vandalizing and thefts, right?”

“Yes, but I can't tell you how.”

“Well, those people would be my main suspects. If I come up with anyone else, I'll be sure to let you know.”

I recalled that in prior conversations, Carolyn had hinted about some strangeness in her own past yet had never responded when I'd tried to get her to talk about it. I decided to stay away from the subject that evening. There was already enough controversy going on around here.

We were nearly back to where we'd part ways, and Pluckie and I would head down Fate Street.

That's when I saw a black cat cross our path.

Was that a sign I'd suffer bad luck? Never learn the truth? Not be able to save myself from being arrested?

“You saw that?” Carolyn asked, underscoring my sudden pang of fear.

“Yes,” I croaked.

“You know,” she said, “I have a theory about those of us who live in Destiny. We can turn any superstition around to our favor, don't you think?”

I didn't really think so—assuming I even believed in superstitions, and at this moment, maybe I did. But I loved her attempt to make me feel better.

“Sure,” I said. “And thanks for joining us on our walk.” I hugged her first, then stooped to hug Liebling and Helga.

“Any time,” Carolyn said. “Now go get 'em, detective.”

When, startled, I looked into her face, she winked at me, turned, and led her two adorable waddling dogs away.

The next day started out a lot better. After breakfast at the B&B, I walked with Pluckie, Gemma, and Stuart to the stores. Business was great, with noisy crowds ready to spend money from the moment I opened the Lucky Dog.

Even luckier, a delivery person brought several boxes. The new supply of the toys I'd created were starting to arrive!

With Millie and Martha working in the store helping customers, I extracted everything from the crates, including several Richy the Rabbits, and then brought them out to put in their appropriate display spots.

Surely, that was a sign that all was looking up for me—assuming I was superstitious enough now to look for signs and omens and such.

And I didn't see any black cats, nor the Destiny cat person, Catrice.

I didn't see Justin that morning, either. Under other circumstances, I might have considered that bad luck. But I didn't feel like verbally sparring with him or any of his detectives that day. If I chose to try to protect myself by conducting some kind of amateur murder investigation, that was my business, not his. At least sort of. He was in charge of the official investigation, of course.

I received an email from Celia that was bland and didn't really say anything, except that she'd conducted an interview yesterday and was I ready for a more in-depth interview from her?

That was kind of the code we'd decided on, in case anyone breached the security of our emails. It meant that she, or perhaps Derek, had pushed the first person on our list and it was my turn to follow up.

I was therefore happy when the busy day at the store ended and Gemma and I got together to head to the Shamrock Steakhouse for dinner. She'd asked if it was all right if Stuart joined us, and I figured it wouldn't hurt.

As a result, we all went back to the B&B to change clothes. I fed Pluckie, took her for a short walk, and left her in our room. Then all the humans headed back to Destiny Boulevard, where the steakhouse was just across the street from Buttons of Fortune.

We were seated right away by the ma
î
tre d' at a table right in the middle of the not-quite-full, dimly lit but noisy dining room. I was used to sitting outside with Pluckie when I came here, so not only the food but the ambiance would be a treat. The aromas in the steakhouse stoked my appetite, so I ordered a delicious-sounding small sirloin with a Cobb salad.

All the while, I talked with Gemma and Stuart about my day and theirs, how many copies of
The Destiny of Superstitions
were still being sold daily, and other interesting stuff that was noncontroversial and good dinner conversation.

I kept watching for Padraic but didn't see him, nor did I recognize any other member of the family that owned this restaurant—although he seemed to be the head of it all. As a result, after we ate our salads, I rose. “Excuse me,” I said. “I need to find the restroom.”