Unlucky Charms

by Linda O. Johnston

  Martha was there now, appearing concerned. “I like how you handled that,” she said softly, “but do we know how that salt got there? I thought we got rid of all of it before.”

  I shook my head. “So did I, but we must have missed some. Anyway, I think we’re all good now.”

  “Me too.” Flora had followed me to the counter. “In fact, this afternoon would be a good and lucky time for me to show you, and Gemma too, some of the houses and condos I’ve been checking out on your behalf. I can examine them for spilled salt before we enter.”

  “Thanks,” I said, “but it’ll have to wait.” Not that I hadn’t told her that before.

  “But—” Flora didn’t finish her objection, since she saw me staring toward the front door and turned to see what I was looking at. No, not what, but whom.

  Mayor Bevin Dermot had just entered the Lucky Dog.

  As far as I was aware, our illustrious mayor wasn’t owned by a dog or any other pet, so he most likely wasn’t here to buy something for a loved one. I hardly ever saw him here.

  Had he heard what had happened, perhaps from Justin?

  Did he come to admonish Martha and me and whoever else was aware of last night’s episode, reminding us to keep it quiet? Especially now, with tourists visiting the shop in throngs, which could dissipate if they knew what was going on in Destiny stores: waves of bad luck.

  I didn’t know Bevin well, but I anticipated more of that from him than sympathy for what we’d been going through. Maybe he’d be kinder, though, to Martha.

  He glanced around, peering at and beyond the display shelves as if surveying whether all was well. Or perhaps preparing to do his welcome thing for our customers. His glance seemed to stop on Jeri, though, and then returned to me, then swung to Martha. “Good to see you, ladies,” his voice boomed. “There are a couple of things I want to talk to you about, so can we go into your back room? You can convey anything appropriate to Ms. Mardeer later.” That meant Jeri, whose family store had of course gone through something as well.

  I decided I wouldn’t necessarily mention to the mayor that she and Brad Nereida and I planned to meet later, and that we’d probably violate his command to keep the thefts quiet, at least as it applied to our own small group. Still, I’d learned that it didn’t usually make sense to deny Mayor Bevin anything—or at the least, I tried to make him believe that I was as much of an obedient townsperson as anyone else.

  “That’s fine.” I nodded at Martha, whose return smile looked pasted on her senior face, but I knew she understood and agreed. She rubbed her hands along the hips of her baggy jeans beneath her Lucky Dog Boutique T-shirt, then motioned for us to follow her.

  I glanced at Pluckie, who looked just fine lying at the end of her leash attached to the counter, and Jeri stood nearby with several customers. Flora was still there, but she appeared to be studying the glass case filled with lucky amulets, mostly hematite.

  I headed in Jeri’s direction, briefly mentioned what Martha and I were up to, then followed Martha and the mayor through the door into the storeroom.

  Once we were there, near the card table and among the metal shelves and boxes, Mayor Bevin herded us together. He may have been dressed in his usual leprechaun-like suit of green jacket and dark trousers, but his expression was anything but cute or scheming or anything else I imagined a leprechaun to look like.

  “Thank you, ladies,” he said solemnly, his hands clasped in front of his chubby middle, his back barely touching one of the depleted metal shelves. He looked again from Martha to me, enough of a quiver in his chin to cause his white beard to tremble. “The police told me what happened here last night.”

  Justin, I wondered? Or someone else?

  “Now, to keep Destiny’s luck moving in the most positive direction, you must not talk about it to anyone. It’s best to not even discuss it among yourselves.”

  “But if no one knows about it,” I said, “what’s to prevent the perpetrator from doing it again?” I didn’t mention my awareness that our invasion hadn’t been the first. Would he mention it?

  “I understand,” he said evasively, “but what’s to prevent tourists from staying away from your shop if they hear about it?”

  “They might be curious enough to come see us anyway,” Martha said. She appeared to be playing along, too. Her expression was bland, at least, as she regarded Bevin. “Maybe it would be a good thing.”

  “Not if they want to derive good luck from Destiny,” Bevin argued. “Why patronize a store that’s suffered bad luck?”

  “And if they enter stores that have suffered bad luck and don’t know about it, maybe their luck will remain good.” I hesitated, then blurted intentionally, “Hasn’t that been the case with other Destiny shops that have been looted?” And restaurants that have been vandalized, I mentally added, but I didn’t mention that.

  “You’ve heard?” Bevin’s tone sounded scandalized. “How did you find out? Which stores do you think … ” His voice tapered off, then he demanded, “Are you just guessing the Lucky Dog isn’t the first, Ms. Chasen?”

  “If I were, your response would have answered my question,” I said. “We’re not the first. And to keep us the last, we really need to let everyone know—at least all the business owners in town.” That, at least, hinted that I knew shops weren’t the only victims.

  “No.” Bevin crossed his arms over his hefty round chest. “You know what happened when the edict not to discuss what happened … next door … was nearly made public by the Destiny Star.” He was hinting about the newspaper’s initial investigation into the superstition-related deaths of the owners of the Broken Mirror Bookstore—and the resulting fire in the Star’s offices.

  “I’m not sure of the origin of that command to keep silent, or of this one,” I said. “But this situation is different, in any case, since we’ve got a crime wave going on that might not end until the perpetrator is caught, or at least outed enough for the store owners to protect their premises better.” I hesitated for only an instant, then said, “If only I’d known, we might not have suffered last night’s break-in.” I glared at Bevin, as if he were part of the problem. And maybe he was, with his insistence on people keeping quiet.

  “Now don’t you start blaming everyone trying to protect you for—”

  “We understand,” Martha interrupted calmly. “We know you have our best interests at heart.” Nice of her to say so, although what I figured was that Bevin had his own best interests at heart. “We’ll not spread the word around town about what happened, Mayor. You can count on that.” She shot me a look that warned me not to contradict her.

  I didn’t. Not now. And besides, I sort of understood what she was doing. She wasn’t promising we wouldn’t talk about it, even if we agreed not to make a public pronouncement about it.

  Not yet, at least.

  “All right, then. Thank you, Martha.” With his arms still crossed and resting on his middle, the mayor turned to glare me into submission, too.

  “That’s fine with me,” I said. “At least for now, during the investigation.” I didn’t mean to dump all the responsibility on Justin and his department, but they were involved. And if they quickly figured out who’d been committing these acts, then the whole thing could go away.

  On the other hand, since we weren’t the first victims and the situation had begun days, if not weeks, earlier, then relying on an official investigation wasn’t particularly wise—not for us, and not for our town.

  For, yes, I considered Destiny my town, at least for now—even if I didn’t want to jump right in and check out available residences that Flora found for Gemma and me.

  “Very well, then,” Bevin said formally. “We will stay in touch.”

  And talk about what, I wondered as Martha and I followed him back to the door and into the shop.

  Jeri was just ringing up a sale at the register—a go
od luck doggy shirt with a four-leaf clover on it. A line had formed behind the customer, so I hurried over to help. The mayor started schmoozing with some of the other customers. Flora was still there, but she must have noticed how busy I was, since she began working her way toward the other side of the shop.

  As she walked in that direction, Martha’s nephew, Arlen Jallopia, entered the store. He was a guide for Destiny’s Luckiest Tours, and I had in fact taken one of his tours and enjoyed it immensely. He seemed to notice Flora, viewed her up and down. Was he flirting with her? She aimed a smile at him, then walked farther into the shop.

  Martha had stayed near me and was helping to pack customers’ purchases into bags as they paid. Arlen soon joined us.

  It would be no surprise to me if Flora had flirted back. Arlen was a nice-looking guy who resembled a sitcom star. As usual, he wore a red knit shirt with the Destiny’s Luckiest Tours logo on the pocket, and his dark hair was combed into spikes.

  But I was used to seeing him wearing a smile. Today his face was curved into a worried frown. “Hi, Auntie,” he belted out in a surprisingly cheerful tone. “Rory. Good to see you both. I see you’re busy now, but can we get together for dinner tonight?”

  Now that was unusual. Or at least it was unusual to include me. I supposed that aunt and nephew got together for dinner now and then.

  “Sure,” I said, then added, “Is everything all right?”

  He looked me straight in the face with his dark, concerned eyes. “That’s exactly what I intend to ask you.”

  Eight

  As Arlen went to talk to his aunt, I saw the mayor leave—a good thing. Some of my tension faded.

  Right after he’d left, Millie came in. That was good, too, since it was nearly the time Jeri and I had agreed to meet with Brad for coffee—and a discussion of stuff we theoretically weren’t supposed to mention, let alone talk about.

  Theoretically? No, if our mayor had anything to say about it—which he thought he did—it was fact, not theory. We weren’t to let word get around about the thefts and vandalism, or probably anything else that might give Destiny a bad name, or give its inhabitants or visitors bad luck.

  But things happen. And as I’d learned, especially since coming here, even well-known superstitions weren’t always consistent with one another in predicting outcomes. So how could superstitions made up by people in power absolutely come true?

  That was our mayor, though, and it wasn’t the first time he’d done something like this—superstition by edict. And although I fretted a bit about our somewhat confrontational conversation, I found myself puzzling even more over Arlen’s comment as I unhooked Pluckie from the counter and, motioning for Jeri to join us, started making my way through the customers surrounding the shelves to get to the door.

  Arlen wanted to talk to us. Why? What had he meant by his comment that he wanted to find out from us if everything was all right?

  He was still talking with Martha, like the good nephew he was, or at least tried to be sometimes. Maybe that conversation would be enough to reassure him that all was well.

  But I suspected that my boss, though she might whitewash how she presented it, would be honest with her nephew. Besides, even if she wanted to reveal to him everything that had happened, she would be reluctant to do so in the shop where they could be overheard.

  As a result, I figured, I could count on dinner with aunt and nephew as he’d suggested. Later.

  But now, we were headed to Beware-of-Bubbles, which was right next door. As we walked, Jeri said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I invited my mother. She knows a lot more than I do about … about what went on at the Heads-Up Penny.” Apparently Jeri didn’t feel entirely comfortable talking about the situation. Thanks, Mr. Mayor.

  “I’m fine with having your mother join us,” I said to my clearly concerned companion. I didn’t know Kiara Mardeer well, but I hoped she’d be unsuperstitious enough to provide some details about the break-in at their gift shop.

  On the other hand, heads-up pennies had lots of superstitious connotations, and the Mardeers did live in Destiny. Maybe Kiara wouldn’t want to tempt bad luck by talking about what had somehow become forbidden.

  On the sidewalk near the coffee shop, I passed the usual vending machine that contained the Destiny Star. I generally picked up a copy, but I hadn’t seen anything about nasty goings-on in Destiny in the last one. Then again, I knew the Vardoxes had apparently suffered consequences after not complying with the superstition edicts around here, so they might not mention any vandalism or theft they’d heard about, just assuming it was forbidden.

  Kiara was standing near the door as we got there, not far from the tables along the sidewalk. She was shorter and rounder than her daughter and pretty, too. Her black hair was decorated with white-streaked highlights, and her deep complexion glowed as she shot us a quick smile. Although Jeri wore a T-shirt that said Heads-Up Penny Gift Shop, Kiara sported a white button-down shirt that was decorated with copper pennies—all heads up, of course.

  “Hi,” she said. “This’ll be an interesting cup of coffee, I’ll bet.”

  “Interesting,” I agreed, nodding. “And it’ll hopefully lead to some good luck, which I think we all need. Have you seen Brad Nereida?”

  “He just got here and said he figured you’d bring your dog. He picked up his coffee and now is saving a table on the patio for us.”

  “Good guy,” I said. The three of us plus Pluckie entered the coffee shop and got in line, which fortunately wasn’t very long.

  “Everything okay at your store now?” Kiara asked. I heard what she wasn’t saying—that she knew it hadn’t been okay earlier.

  “It’s fine now,” I responded. When we sat down, I hoped we’d all tell the truth about what each store had experienced.

  Or not.

  In any event, I noticed that Celia Vardox was here. I’d run into her and her brother, Derek, at the coffee shop before. Apparently the owners of the Destiny Star liked to buy their coffee out a lot rather than just keep a pot going at the newspaper office. Or maybe customers here tended to blab gossip that they could write up in articles. Or perhaps they were keeping an eye on how their newspaper was selling at the nearby vending machine.

  Celia was sitting at one of the round indoor tables, facing someone with his back toward me. I wasn’t sure, but it could have been Padraic Hassler, one of the owners of the Shamrock Steakhouse, judging by the sparseness of his gray hair.

  Was he allowing her to interview him? Carolyn had said that his restaurant had been hit by vandalism.

  Or maybe they were just friends. Or she was pressuring him to talk but he knew better.

  I wasn’t about to ask. I’d had my own run-ins with the Vardoxes, especially when they’d done an op-ed piece on me and how I was looking into one of the murders to help a friend. I would have just as soon stayed off their radar—unless they wanted to talk about my new additions to the Lucky Dog inventory, or if I decided to place another ad to promote the pet boutique or my “Black Dog and Black Cat” presentations, as I’d done before the talks had become popular enough to always attract a crowd.

  The Vardoxes weren’t the only ones I recognized. Beware-of-Bubbles wasn’t very big and nearly all its tables were filled, some by people I didn’t know, of course—most likely tourists. But I did see Brie Timons, Flora’s boss. She was facing toward the coffee line, with someone sitting across from her whose face I couldn’t see. Even so, I thought I recognized the person’s model-like style of dressing. It was most likely Flora.

  I was glad she couldn’t see me, but I figured Brie would let her know I was here.

  Darn it.

  We fortunately reached the front of the line quickly, and I ordered a small mocha plus some water for Pluckie. I stayed by the counter while my mocha was prepared, then slid outside with my pup as soon as I could, the Mardeers close behind me.


  I saw Brad Nereida right away. He sat at a table for four, unsurprisingly, in a corner of the crowded concrete patio.

  He rose as I got there, then pulled out a chair for me. Ah. A gentleman. Lorraine must have taught him well.

  Speaking of whom … when he was sitting down again, after also pulling out chairs for Jeri and Kiara, I asked, “How’s Lorraine, Brad? Is she watching the store today?”

  “No, she and the kids are visiting relatives in San Diego right now. Some of our staff are in charge at Wish-on-a-Star.”

  I’d become fairly friendly with Lorraine, partly because their store was right across the street from the Lucky Dog. She and Brad had twin boys who were in preschool, plus a daughter a couple of years older. I wondered how the parents had dealt with the difficult situation of the break-in at the store, especially with the kids. Or maybe that was really why Lorraine had taken them traveling.

  Now Brad leaned over the table, regarding us one at a time as he held his large coffee cup in one hand. “Speaking of Wish-on-a-Star, I understand you’ve all had some trouble lately too.”

  “You know we’ve been told it’s bad luck to talk about that trouble,” Kiara said.

  “Well, I’m crossing my fingers that the worst is over,” Brad replied.

  We all solemnly held up our hands with fingers crossed. And then we softly began talking about what had happened at our respective stores.

  Pluckie must have sensed my disquiet, since she sat right against my leg as I described what I’d found this morning when I got to the Lucky Dog. The others had each experienced something very similar with their stores.

  “What do you think?” Jeri asked. “Is someone out to bring bad luck down on us by stealing lucky things and leaving ill omens—broken mirrors and salt and things?”

  “Maybe,” Brad said. “I want to know more, though. Around here, someone could be doing that part as a joke while they steal things—and money. I know some was gone from my cash drawer.”