ten

I woke up before the alarm programmed into my phone went off—a good thing, since it indicated I’d fallen asleep. Somehow. Sometime, during that long night.

I realized right away what, besides my own uneasy mind, had awakened me. Pluckie was off the bed, standing with her back feet on the floor and her front ones on the mattress beside me, her nose pressing into my arm.

“What do you think, girl?” I asked a little groggily as I patted her. “Did that howl mean anything?”

She sat down and cocked her sweet black head, regarding me earnestly. If she’d known the answer and been able to communicate it to me, I was sure she would.

I sighed. “It’s time to go find out.”

I dressed quickly and snapped Pluckie’s leash onto her collar. At the door to my unit I grasped the knob and took a deep breath. Just in case, I said, “I hope someone was just playing games, or we imagined it, or—whatever.” I crossed my fingers hopefully.

I wasn’t sure why some superstitions might trump others, and why some even seemed to be the entire opposite of others.

That only added to my many questions.

And no matter what I did that morning, if that howl had been a harbinger of death as the others had been, what I might try to do now to counter it wouldn’t matter at all.

“Okay, girl,” I said resignedly to Pluckie and opened the door.

There was no one in the hallway, so we headed downstairs. I’d take Pluckie out for a quick walk first, then go into the breakfast room, as usual.

I heard a lot of noise coming from the area where many of the B&B’s roomers were undoubtedly eating. More than usual? Probably not. But I would be interested in finding out, when I joined them, if any others had heard that howl.

I didn’t see Serina and figured she was in the room serving her guests, so I’d have to wait till later to ask her too. I opened the front door and walked beneath the horseshoe to the front yard of the B&B.

As I often did, I let Pluckie lead me in the direction she wanted to go. After all, she was the one with something to accomplish out here. She began sniffing the ground, heading along Fate Street in the opposite direction from downtown Destiny.

Some cars were parked along the street on both sides. It didn’t matter since we stayed on the sidewalk. Pluckie squatted for the first time, then continued on as a compact white sedan drove by, followed by a green SUV.

Not a lot of traffic, but then, this wasn’t Destiny Boulevard.

It was a pleasant day in September, with a clear sky and the air warm but not baking. I had no problem with Pluckie taking her time. I’d learn who heard the howl last night after we returned to the B&B, and get the rundown of people’s opinions about what it meant later. For now, we would just enjoy our walk.

As we reached the next street corner I saw a man and woman walking a Sheltie on the opposite side of the street. They didn’t look familiar, so I assumed they were tourists.

It wouldn’t hurt to be friendly to them—and maybe work into any conversation that they might enjoy bringing their pup to the Lucky Dog Boutique while they were in town.

“Come on, girl,” I told Pluckie. But she had something to accomplish first, and this time, when she squatted, I had to clean up after her.

When I was finished, I checked and still saw the people and dog, a little farther down the street. They were walking in the opposite direction from Destiny Boulevard, which was fine since it was a lot quieter here where the street was lined with a few compact office buildings before the residential area started. In fact, I had the sense that the couple was headed toward the small park at the next street corner, a good place to walk dogs.

I checked to make sure no cars were coming then Pluckie and I crossed the street. “Let’s hurry,” I told her so we could catch up.

The dog was taking her time sniffing the sidewalk, and her people weren’t hurrying her. We soon reached them.

“Hi,” I said as Pluckie approached the dog. I held my breath for an instant, in case that dog didn’t like others, but after they traded nose sniffs they seemed to become good buddies.

“Cute dog,” the woman said. She was short and a little stout and smiling broadly. She wore a red knit shirt with buttons over beige Capri pants.

“Yours too.”

We chatted for a minute, with the man joining in. They were the Plangers, Sue and Bill, from Tucson. Their dog was Pippin. And, yes, they’d heard of the Lucky Dog Boutique and planned to visit there today or tomorrow. They’d just arrived in town yesterday and had attended the Welcome last night.

They seemed pleased to have company on their walk. As we strolled with the dogs, I gave them a sketchy version of my background, only saying that I was fascinated by superstitions and that was what had drawn me here. Thanks to my lucky dog Pluckie, we’d found the ailing owner of the Lucky Dog and got help for her, then couldn’t resist her request that we stay here and assist her with running the shop.

By the time I’d finished, we were at the park. A few more cars had passed by, but I saw no traffic, no more people walking dogs. This was a pleasant area, but it really didn’t give a good sense of what busy Destiny was all about.

“You know,” I said, “you might want to take a tour of Destiny. I did, and I found it fun and helpful for learning more about the place.” I even mentioned Destiny’s Luckiest Tours, the company that gave the tour I’d taken—where Martha’s nephew Arlen was a guide.

“Good idea,” Bill said.

The park was about a block and a half long, and it was surrounded on two sides by high ficus bushes that shielded it from the nearest houses. A small children’s area with swings and a seesaw sat near the road.

The dogs stayed together as they sniffed and meandered and—

Pluckie suddenly stopped, her nose in the air. Then she barked—and began running. I was startled enough that I dropped her leash. And, in fact, when Pippin also barked and ran, Sue dropped the end of her leash too. Both dogs sprinted farther into the park area and toward the bushes, Pluckie in the lead.

“Pippin, no!” shouted Bill. “Wait.”

“No, Pluckie,” I also yelled.

My dog did stop when she reached the ficus, her face pressed into the bushes as if she was sniffing something. Some creature? I wasn’t sure what kinds of small animals might frequent the park, but—

“Oh, my God,” cried Bill, who’d caught up with both dogs. Pippin had already joined Pluckie. “Oh, no.”

“What is it?” Sue called. She was behind us.

I quickly joined Bill and gasped too. A man’s body lay on the ground beneath the bushes.

It was a man I recognized: Lou Landorf.

There was blood all around him, and no wonder. A large piece of wood, a stake of some sort, was protruding from his chest.

A sense of déjà vu hit me. I’d found another body like this, Kenneth Tarzal’s, not long ago. He’d been dead, killed by a piece of broken mirror.

Was Lou dead? His face was white, and he wasn’t moving. “I’m calling 911,” Bill rasped, stepping back and drawing a phone from his pocket. “Sue, take Pippin and stay back.”

I pushed Pluckie gently away and knelt in the dirt near Lou, touching his neck, checking for a pulse. I felt none.

My eyes focused on the stake that pierced him. It had a fist carved into the top. I’d seen similar ones at souvenir shops in town, encouraging people to knock on wood.

As Lou had always done. But I had a terrible feeling that it hadn’t brought him good luck after all—and Lou would probably never knock on wood again.