Read Knock on Wood for Free Online Page A

me.
    I knew there was a difficult case that she was mostly in charge of. She was investigating the death a few weeks ago of a tourist after an apparent fall from a trailway up in the nearby mountains where town visitors often ventured. It was likely to be deemed an accident from what I’d heard, although the friends who had accompanied Sherman Ambridge to Destiny understandably remained shaken and upset and apparently said they didn’t know what had happened either. They hadn’t been with him at the time.
    The guy had been a frequent tourist here and apparently loved superstitions. He and his friends had even been considering opening a store here.
    Locals were demanding a resolution—including an official explanation. Had it been simple bad luck? If so, why? Or could he have been pushed—and by whom?
    Having a visitor die here with no definitive reason was likely to negatively affect Destiny’s tourism. In fact, it might have already. Some motels and inns had reported cancellations of reservations. Death of a tourist? No explanation?
    No way.
    Sure, there was that other situation relating to Tarzal’s murder. No one could talk about that without incurring bad luck. But that involved locals, not tourists, and it hadn’t seemed to affect the number of visitors here.
    The tourist’s death remained discussable, and apparently a lot of people wanted it finally resolved. The whole Destiny Police Department was under pressure to find answers. And most especially the head detective on the case, Alice.
    Maybe she was heading back to the station to work on it—but that was just speculation. It was late. Maybe she just didn’t want to party.
    The rest of us did, though, or so I believed.
    Because there were only four chairs at each table, I wasn’t surprised when Frank, after staring glumly at the table where Gemma now sat, took a seat near me.
    At the table at the far side of Gemma’s sat the three heirs to the Broken Mirror Bookstore. I was a little surprised that they sat together since the two factions seemed at odds over what to do with the store. But having them share space while drinking might indicate a willingness to find some way to compromise. I hoped. I didn’t just want the Broken Mirror to survive because it was the Lucky Dog’s next door neighbor. I had also grown fond of Destiny and thought it important to have a venue here that focused on selling those special books of Tarzal’s about superstitions—and Destiny’s role in teaching people about them.
    Before ordering, those at my table discussed what we wanted. Both men selected drinks with hard liquor. Justin was off duty now and chose a scotch and soda, which seemed to be one of his favorite drinks. He’d ordered it before when I’d been with him. And I suspected that Frank wouldn’t mind it at all if he got drunk on his Bacardi neat.
    Carolyn and I wanted wine. We chose a cabernet of interesting vintage from the menu and decided to split a carafe.
    â€œWe’ll need to be careful how we pass it to one another, though,” Carolyn said.
    A server approached us. It appeared to be the same guy who’d waited on me here before, thin, in a white button-down shirt and a short white apron over his trousers. He took our orders, then left.
    When he was gone, Carolyn started divulging wine-related superstitions. “We’ve both got to pass the carafe back and forth with our right hands,” she said. “That’s good luck to each of us.”
    â€œJust don’t spill it,” Justin said. “That’s bad luck.”
    â€œNot always,” Carolyn contradicted. “If you spill it while toasting, it’s good luck. And the Greeks apparently think spilling it at any time is good.” She turned her gaze from Justin to me. “One thing, though. If I want to get you drunk on just one glass of wine I’ll need to shave a few slivers off your fingernails