1 Lost Under a Ladder (11 page)

thirteen

The large white plastic
bag that I carried had a logo on it—a wishbone, of course. As I walked back to the Lucky Dog with that bag full of sandwiches and, yes, wishbones, I wondered what Carolyn Innes and I would have to talk about.

Did she know something that would help me to boost the boutique’s business or save Martha? Or would she only push buttons—hers or mine?

I’d probably encourage the conversation, though. She’d seemed pleasant enough. It wouldn’t hurt to have another acquaintance and
potential friend here in Destiny. In fact, the more people I got to know
here, the better, for Martha’s sake and my own.

I didn’t know how long I’d be staying, and a diversity of friends and conversations might ultimately help me find the answers I’d come here seeking.

Or not. The longer I remained here, the more I was questioning whether answers existed.

More to the point, though, it was good for me to become acquainted with as many people as possible who knew Martha and Tarzal. Maybe something I heard would help me to learn the truth about his death. And preferably, that would be something that I could pass along to Justin so he could arrest someone other than the sweet senior lady who’d already gone through so much … so I could plan when to leave here.

It turned out Martha was going through even more that day. When I reached the store, Millie, who’d been waiting on some customers, quickly excused herself. Her expression told me it wasn’t starvation that made her approach me so quickly.

“What’s wrong?” I asked while heading to the counter to soothe Pluckie, who was pulling on her leash.

“Chief Halbertson is upstairs in Martha’s apartment,” Millie said,
the frantic expression on her youthful face aging it quickly. “I told him when he came in that she wasn’t feeling well, but he called her and I guess she said it was okay for him to come upstairs.”

“Drat.” I looked at the bag in my hands, then opened it. Fortu
nately, the girl who’d waited on me at Wishbones-to-Go had wrapped
the sandwiches well and labeled each one. I was easily able to remove Millie’s and Jeri’s, along with some packages of dried apple chips. I hadn’t brought drinks since we kept water bottles here. I handed the sandwiches and chip bags to Millie. “Here. I’ll take Martha’s up to her and do a bit of eavesdropping—or interrupting— whatever seems most appropriate.”

Her smile eased some of the concern on her face, allowing it to look once more as if she was barely out of her teens. “Great. Thanks, Rory. Everything at the shop is fine now, by the way.”

I looked toward Jeri, who was leading a couple of guys with their arms full of dog toys toward the cash register. “Looks that way,” I said. “Good job.” Then I hurried to the stairs with a newly released Pluckie following.

I heard voices before I was near the door to Martha’s apartment. Neither sounded raised nor particularly upset, although the female one was considerably softer than the male. As soon as I reached the door, I knocked on it. “Lunch is served,” I called, thinking Justin might let me in more easily that way than if he thought I was only coming to protect Martha and give him a hard time.

The door opened immediately. Justin stood in front of me though
, so I couldn’t easily slip into the apartment.

A wave of something pleasant surged through me as I saw him. A bad sign. Yes, I knew I’d felt an unwelcome bit of attraction to him, but that could only lead to further complications in many respects.

I didn’t want it, and it certainly couldn’t help Martha.

I reminded myself once again why I was in Destiny, and Warren’s face in my mind turned my mood sad and my smile chilly.

“Well, hi.” I tried to put surprise in my tone, as if I hadn’t expected to see him. “I just picked up some food. Would you care to join us for lunch?” My sandwich was large enough that I could share it, and I suspected that Martha wouldn’t want her entire sandwich, either.

It wouldn’t hurt to act friendly toward Justin, to throw him off guard a bit if nothing else.

“Come in,” he said, not responding to the invitation.

“Thanks.” I might as well act polite, no matter how I felt.

Martha was in her living room, seated at the end of her fluffy yellow sofa. I hurried toward her, and so did my dog. Pluckie immediately rubbed against her, asking for a pat which she gave.

Was Justin giving Martha a hard time? Wearing her down so she’d
confess to something she hadn’t—probably—done?

The expression on her pale, lined face as she looked up toward me appeared more determined than defeated. That surprised me.

“Here’s your sandwich.” I pulled the larger wrapped package with all the works on it out of the bag and held it out toward her.

“Thanks, dear,” she said without reaching for it. “Why don’t you go into the kitchen and get us all some plates? I heard you tell Justin he could join us for lunch, and I’m willing to share mine.”

“Me, too,” I said.

“Oh, and get us some bottles of water while you’re at it.”

I placed her sandwich and the bag on top of the long low coffee table in front of her.

Without looking at Justin, I edged past him and did as Martha
asked. Opening the doors into several ornate wooden cabinets alo
ng the wall above the kitchen counter, I’d no trouble finding her lovely plates that looked almost antique with their floral decorations, yet appeared to be not china but modern and dishwasher safe. I also withdrew three bottles from the refrigerator and headed back to the living room.

“Here we are,” I said.

For the next few minutes, we separated already halved sandwiches
and apple chips onto the three plates, giving Justin portions of both of our meals. I also saved Pluckie a few bites of turkey.

Justin sat down on one of the chairs matching the sofa at the far end of the coffee table. I took a seat beside Martha and set the wishbones aside on the table. Fortunately, Pluckie ignored them. They must have been washed clean.

Then the three of us began to eat. Pluckie just lay down on the floor beside me.

“You know, Rory dear,” Martha said, “Justin came here today to tell me that he already knew Tarzal and I were arguing and that the man had threatened me.”

He did? How?

More important for the moment— “Martha, I don’t think you ought to talk about that,” I said, my voice shrill and my eyes huge and cautioning as I looked over at her.

“Well, it’s true. He knows. So I gather that he thinks even more that I’m the person who killed that nasty man. But Tarzal and I were friends of sorts as well as business associates. Yes, he threatened to make up or emphasize superstitions against dogs and my shop so Lucky Dog would fail anyway if I didn’t sell him the property. And no, even though I was mad at him I didn’t—”

“Martha, stop!” I turned to look at Justin, who had put his plate on his lap and was calmly eating. “Did you threaten to arrest Martha? I know you read her her Miranda rights, but I thought—”

“Yes, he did,” Martha said, now from behind me. “Read me my rights, I mean. He hasn’t arrested me yet—at least I don’t think so.”

“Then don’t talk around him,” I said, again facing Martha. “Not without a lawyer present. Don’t you know that it’s bad luck to keep
talking without a lawyer when you’ve been read your Miranda rights?”
Okay, I was making that up. But around here, I figured a lot of people made up superstitions.

And Martha, being as superstitious as she was, might even buy into this one.

“I didn’t know that,” she said softly.

I didn’t want to see Justin’s expression. Would it be angry? Possibly, but if so that was too bad.

“Do you have a lawyer?” I pressed.

“Yes, of course. I’ve had a will done and all that kind of thing since, as much as I hate to admit it, I am getting a bit older. I was afraid it would bring me bad luck to do something like that, but Emily assured me it was good luck to be prepared for something that would only happen far in the future.”

I assumed that Emily was the lawyer, and I liked her already. “Good,” I said. “Then why don’t you do as Justin suggested and not say anything else until you’ve talked with Emily?” I didn’t know if Emily was the kind of lawyer who only dealt with estate planning but she could at least suggest someone with criminal law experience to Martha if she didn’t handle it.

“That’s actually a good idea,” Justin said from behind me. “No, I haven’t arrested you yet, Martha. And I hope I don’t have to. But you know I’m not just a cop. As chief of police, I have to keep the rights and interests of the people of Destiny at the forefront of everything I do. I hope you really didn’t kill Tarzal, but we’re still collecting evidence and I have to tell you …” He paused. I had already turned back to him yet again, trying to read his blank yet official looking expression.

“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.