Unlucky Charms (8 page)

Eleven

“All you storeown
ers and
restaurant owners and e
veryone in Destiny,” said the voice, “you all lie. That's why your good luck has
turned bad. Thanks to me. I came here before, trying to turn my
own bad luck around, and you failed me. I was working to save my marriage, and it didn't happen thanks to all of you. I followed what you said, that stupid stuff about pulling a hair from my husband's head to make him love me and burning salt at midnight and throwing it into a fire to bring my unfaithful husband back to me. I even got a sweet, supposedly lucky dog when we got home. Well, my husband is now my ex and he's the one with luck who kept the dog. So now I'm getting my revenge.”

At the far side of the thick and obviously frightened crowd, I saw Justin and his gang trying to break open the doors into the ticket booth, presumably the area where Flora was speaking from. Or maybe they just wanted to find a way to let everyone out of here.

“And don't think this is the end.” The voice had gone up an octave. “Ms. Rory Chasen, I know you weren't around back then, but I'm singling you out now because you've been singling me out. Before you started pushing, everyone knew it was bad luck to talk about what was happening at the stores. But now you've talked to the cops about me and claimed I'm the one who's done it all, that I've broken into places, removed good luck and left bad luck in its place. Well, you're right. I did it! And you can be sure I'm not done—and I have no intention of being arrested. Thanks to you, though, I had to run and hide today. I heard I was being hunted when I listened to the police scanners.” Now how had she done that? “So watch out for your own luck, Rory Chasen. It's crap now. And that goes for anyone else who attempts to stop me.”

A huge noise like a thunderclap reverberated throughout the lobby.

Then there was silence.

Some cops arrived outside the theater soon after that, and the authorities finally managed to get all the doors open. I figured they'd conduct an investigation to learn how the doors had gotten locked in the first place.

Flora surely wasn't some kind of technical genius, was she?

Rumor had it she'd used some really strong super glue, which set immediately, although that wouldn't have kept everyone inside for long. Yet it had kept us all there long enough to hear her tirade, and somehow she had found a way to use the theater's audio system.

And her mention of listening to police scanners? Rumors escalated about that, too, and one was that an empty cop car had been broken into outside a restaurant. Undoubtedly Justin and his department would also be investigating that.

They'd have a lot of questions for Flora when they caught her. But that didn't happen after the Welcome. She'd somehow disappeared.

Anyway, I had no opportunity to talk to Justin about those issues or anything else. Not then. He was clearly busy. But I'd have liked to get his sympathy and more after Flora's rant, especially at me.

We walked back to the B&B quickly—Gemma, Stuart, and I, as well as Serina. Some tourists, too, walked the same direction we did.

At one point, I stopped quickly. Why wasn't I surprised to see a black cat crossing the street in front of us as we turned onto Fate Street?

Also unsurprising was the presence of Catrice, the mysterious woman who seemed to care for the black cat or cats of Destiny—we were never sure how many there were. Catrice wasn't seen often, and she always hid in the shadows next to buildings. Residents of Destiny weren't supposed to talk about her, but this night I could see her eyes shining in the faint light from the street lamps. She was protecting the black cats from people, but who was protecting people from the possible bad luck brought by the black cats?

We arrived at our B&B. I needed to take Pluckie for her last walk of the night, and Gemma and Stuart kindly offered to go along. But we soon returned and separated, heading for our own rooms.

I did try to sleep. I should have been able to, since the authorities were on it. Justin was on it. I had no doubts but that his subordinates were patrolling the streets of Destiny, looking for Flora, making sure she caused no more mischief.

Even so, I was a bit scared, because she had mentioned me in particular. I was angry, too. Since I was highest on her list of people to hate, would she go back to the Lucky Dog tonight to cause more mischief? If so, what kind of mischief?

My mind kept going over all the nasty things she could do beyond what she'd already done. She'd stolen good luck stuff, left bad. But what if she decided to destroy the shop?

Set it on fire? Set off explosives?

With Martha asleep upstairs?

Justin would have considered that, too, and he thought of Martha as a mother. Surely he'd concentrate his patrols there.

Or here? Flora knew I was staying at the B&B.

I suddenly realized I wouldn't sleep at all unless I made sure everything was okay around the B&B and at the shop. I wasn't going to act stupid and try to find Flora. I was simply going to check things out, reassure myself that the cops were actually on it—and that everything appeared okay.

I couldn't leave Pluckie, so after I got dressed again, I fastened her leash on her.

Serina always left a dim light on to illuminate the stairs in case a guest used them at night. I stood in the hallway first, listening for anything unusual, watching to see if my dog, with her much better hearing, reacted as if she'd heard anything. She didn't.

I crept downstairs carefully, Pluckie ahead of me.

I glanced out the lobby windows, again seeing nothing unusual. We went outside and I closed the door behind us, checking to ensure that it locked. We hurried to my car in the front parking lot. I turned on the engine quickly and got it in gear, so the doors locked automatically.

I pulled slowly out of the nearly full B&B parking lot, looking around. I didn't see any cop cars at the moment, but that didn't mean they weren't patrolling. I'd keep watch for them as I continued. And hoped I'd see many. The whole town needed protection this night from the woman who'd already vandalized a bunch of businesses.

I needed protection, too. Maybe this outing was foolish, but I couldn't just lie there in bed and hope that nothing was happening.

And if it was? If I saw something?

Well, I'd at least be able to say something. I checked my cell phone, made sure it was hooked up to my car's Bluetooth, then drove down the street.

I drove around for maybe half an hour, mostly in the downtown business area but also in the vicinity of where I thought the apartment was that Flora had rented. Not that I really knew, but she'd referred to the area during one of our conversations about her plans for relocating Gemma and me.

I wasn't alone on the streets. I wasn't sure whether tourists were checking out the sights at this hour, but I didn't recognize any of the other cars.

One could have been Flora's and I wouldn't have recognized it.

Did I see Flora? No. Did I see any official police vehicles? Yes, maybe half a dozen, which was a lot in this small town at this late hour. Most had lights flashing, and they made themselves obvious on Destiny Boulevard and other important retail streets in town. They might not capture Flora that way, but hopefully they'd deter her from any further vandalism, at least for that night.

I drove slowly by the Lucky Dog Boutique, as well as the Broken Mirror Bookstore next door. I saw no lights inside either one, not official ones or anything resembling a flashlight glow. Those were the two shops I cared most about. Plus, I cocked my head so I could look up toward the upper floors of my shop to see if there was any light on there, any indication that Martha was awake … or that some mischief was going on.

I saw nothing, fortunately.

I also took in the Wish-on-a-Star children's shop across the street, as well as Carolyn's Buttons of Fortune, the Mardeers' Heads-Up Penny Gift Shop, and more.

Nothing seemed unusual, although I admit I almost never came by this area so late at night.

I also realized that my being out here wasn't helping anyone except myself and my own fragile state of mind. Fortunately, none of the cops decided to stop and question me.

Finally I decided it was time. “Let's go back to our room,” I told Pluckie, who lay sleeping on the rear passenger seat, a safety harness holding her there. She woke up at my voice and wagged her tail, which made me smile.

We soon pulled back into our parking spot in front of the B&B. I sat still for a while before turning off the engine, once more scanning my environment for anything amiss, any danger.

Any indication that Flora was nearby.

I didn't see her, or anything else.

“Let's go in, Pluckie,” I said.

Of course I let my dog do some sniffing and squatting before using my key to enter the lobby. Once inside, I shut the door behind us and again checked to ensure that it had locked.

I also checked around but didn't see or hear anyone in the B&B. Probably everyone was already, wisely, in bed.

It was, after all, nearly two o'clock in the morning.

“Let's go to bed,” I whispered, and Pluckie and I walked up the stairs together.

I ushered us quickly into our room and again made sure the door locked behind us.

Only then did I start getting ready for bed again, feeling particularly glad that this B&B had individual bathrooms for each room. They were small, it was true—but at least I didn't have to go back into the hallway.

Yes, I was that nervous. That upset after Flora's tirade and the apparent inability of Justin's police force to find and apprehend her—let alone after my own fruitless search for her and thinking she might be out there doing something horrible.

I felt exhausted, but I couldn't imagine I'd fall asleep easily, even though it was late—and I didn't. But when I finally dropped off, Pluckie awoke me.

I soon realized why, because I heard it, too.

A dog was howling somewhere.

And previously, the dogs I'd heard howling in Destiny had been harbingers of murder.

Twelve

I sat up in
bed, looking Pluckie straight in her highly concerned, fuzzy black face. Did my dog know what those howls were supposed to mean? What they
did
mean?

“What do you think, Pluckie?” I asked, and she nosed against me in a snuggle I knew was meant to comfort me and probably herself, too.

I figured Justin was either out on patrol with his subordinates or sleeping—probably not very deeply, with an important search going on. I didn't want to bother him … and yet, though neither of us admitted to believing in superstitions much, this particular one had seemed to have some merit in the past.

Of course, at least once when I'd heard a howl and a death had ensued quickly thereafter, someone involved had piped the sound in. But people had still heard it, and there had indeed been a death, so maybe the actual source of the howls didn't matter.

This time, I needed whatever knowledge I could get, and some extra comforting wouldn't hurt, either. Trembling, I took my phone off its charger on the bedside table and pushed the button for Justin. He didn't have to answer, after all.

He did answer, though—immediately. “Rory. Are you okay? I was about to call you but received some other communications first that I had to deal with. Did you hear—” He hesitated.

“A howling dog?” I finished. “Yes. So I gather I wasn't the only one who heard it.” If it was just some ordinary dog who'd gotten upset about something normal, like getting lost or being hungry, how could Justin have heard it, apparently at the same time I did, and apparently from his home? My B&B was north of Destiny Boulevard. His house was on Quail Street, several blocks south of downtown.

Recognizing this made me shiver all the more. Maybe there really were such things as omens, at least in Destiny.

But if so, that meant …

“You're right,” Justin was saying. “Maybe everyone in town heard it.”

I looked toward the closed window not far from the left side of my bed. Some light shone outside, the usual amount from the dim lanterns at the front of the B&B. Did I dare go look out the window?

Why not? If the sound had projected everywhere, it was unlikely that a dead body would be lying outside in the parking lot.

But did a dead body lie somewhere else in town?

“Are you home, or did you hear it somewhere near the B&B?” I asked.

“I'm home,” he said, “but not for long. I'm just glad that you—”

He stopped. Had I heard a quiver in his voice? Then I realized he might have been concerned about me, especially after Flora's nastiness at the Welcome.

“You're glad I'm not the person who died, if anyone did?” I spoke as lightly as I could, considering all the emotions that were passing through me—including that, if I was right, Justin apparently gave a damn whether I lived or died.

Well, heck, I did, too. And I definitely was glad to talk to him, to confirm that he also had survived whatever had happened, if anything.

“Justin,” I said softly, “I know you'll be busy tomorrow sorting out whatever is going on, but could we possibly get together for dinner?”

“Count on it,” he said.

I'm sure I dozed off now and then as the rest of the night passed, but I never slept deeply. Eventually, when Pluckie started nuzzling me, I figured I'd tried long enough. Time to take her out and get ready to go to the shop.

I got dressed quickly so I could accomplish the first of my goals fairly fast. As Pluckie and I walked downstairs, I wasn't surprised to see a lot of people hanging out in the lobby of the B&B, as well as inside the breakfast room, talking.

Among them were Gemma and Stuart. I figured he was staying in her room, although he could have been renting a room by himself. If they were together, as long as he treated Gemma well and made her happy, that was fine with me.

Even if his face hadn't been the face she'd seen in the mirror …

“Hi, Rory,” Gemma called up the stairs as soon as she saw me. She had a cup of coffee in one hand and backed away from the group of people she'd been talking to, although Stuart stayed with them. “Did you hear—?”

“The howling dog?” I'd reached the bottom of the stairs, thankfully, so I didn't have to shout about it. “Yes. Did you and everyone else?”

She nodded. Her brown eyes looked huge but excited. “Not everyone knows what that omen means, so, since this is Destiny … ”

“You and Stuart remedied that,” I finished. “I assume Stuart knew, at least, having edited
The Destiny of Superstitions
.”

“Exactly. So … well, no one has figured out if anybody died last night. The local news hasn't said anything, and I checked the
Destiny Star
's website. Have you heard anything? Like, from Justin?”

“No.” I mentioned talking to him right after I'd heard the howl, and that he hadn't had any information at that point. “Even if something happened, I doubt he'd call to let me know, but if I hear from him, I'll fill you in on it.”

“Great. Come join us for breakfast when you and Pluckie are ready.”

I took my dog outside then, or rather she led me out the B&B's front door, under the horseshoe—which faced the correct way now, ends up. I hesitated there, scanning the parking lot and Fate Street beyond it, listening for … well, anything unusual.

Everything seemed normal, at least around here.

When we went back in, I kept Pluckie with me even though we were heading for the dining room. She was family, and Serina never told me to keep her outside. On the way, Pluckie sniffed at the pot of pseudo gold in the lobby. Would that ensure that she—we—had good luck today? I hoped so.

In the breakfast room, a long counter was filled, as usual, with the special food Serina prepared daily for this meal—omelets, toast, pancakes, biscuits, home fries, you name it. I most often stuck to toast and jam, with an occasional half-omelet, and that's what I grabbed now, along with coffee, before sitting down at the table with Gemma and Stuart.

It was a long table, and some of its occupants looked only a little familiar to me—tourists.

For the next twenty minutes, we talked about Destiny and superstitions and what that howling dog last night meant. Yes, nearly all of the guests at the B&B had been awakened by the sound. Since I was now an almost-official Destiny resident, they regarded me as an expert who could explain what the sound meant.

I kept my tone as light as I could, as did Gemma and even Stuart, as we discussed what the traditional interpretation was. “It doesn't mean anyone's even been injured, you realize,” Gemma said as she finished her explanation. “That's the superstition, the possible omen, but we can keep our fingers crossed that all's well with everyone.”

Which I was already doing—under the table.

Because Gemma hadn't been around for some of those previous howls, she could believe, or pretend to believe, what she wanted.

Yet I was also hoping that this time, the howl was benign.

Breakfast was over. Gemma, Stuart, Pluckie, and I were walking down Fate Street toward Destiny Avenue and our shops.

That's when I started hearing sirens in the distance.

No howls accompanied them, but Pluckie's ears moved forward and so did she, pulling her leash.

“What's going on?” Stuart asked.

“I don't even want to guess,” I told them. But I was guessing internally.

Sure, it could be a car crash or small house fire or something not great but relatively normal.

Or it could be because someone had found a body.

Sadly, my bet was on the latter. After all, this was Destiny, and we'd all heard that cursed howl.

It was eight thirty by the time I got to the Lucky Dog. Gemma and Stuart came inside to help me check things out, which I really appreciated. All was fine. No nervous reactions from Pluckie. No further thefts or vandalism.

No dead bodies.

But when my friends entered the Broken Mirror Bookstore, would they find a dead body there?

It wouldn't be the first time.

Before they left, I walked through the curtained door into the storeroom, faced the door to Martha's apartment upstairs, and called her, putting my phone on speaker since Gemma had come in with me. Was Martha okay?

She answered right away. “I'm fine,” she reassured us. “But yes, I heard that howling dog, too. If you happen to learn of anyone who's … who didn't make it through the night, will you let me know?”

“Of course.”

“I'll be down in an hour to help you open the shop,” she said, “but if I get any calls or hear anything on the news before then I'll call you back.”

I thanked her, and Gemma and I returned to the shop. Stuart was looking out the front window, Pluckie standing beside him. “Destiny Boulevard's already full of people,” he said. “I'd imagine they'd really like to find some reassurance that all's well in town, since rumors are undoubtedly flying around today, even among the tourists.”

“I'll seed the sidewalk with some heads-up pennies in a little while,” I said.

“I have a few, and if you've got a lot, we can guarantee the presence of pennies on the ground between our two shops,” Gemma said.

I'd left my purse in the back room but went to the cash register, where I kept some shiny new pennies in a plastic bag in the drawer. I gave Gemma a dozen, plenty for the small expanse of sidewalk. “Here,” I said. “And let's all wish for some really good luck today.” I crossed my fingers and bent to touch my lucky black and white dog.

Pluckie licked my fingers, which made me smile.

Surely all would be well today—wouldn't it?

Gemma and Stuart left then, and I started fussing around to make sure we had enough dog toys and lucky food, collars, leashes, and more on display.

Gemma soon called to say that all was well in the Broken Mirror. “Fingers crossed things stay that way,” she said before hanging up.

Like me, she was becoming accustomed to at least acting as if superstitions meant something real. But I didn't know for sure whether she believed in them any more than I did.

After we hung up, I realized I could use some more hematite amulets in the glass-fronted display case near the checkout counter, so I went into the storeroom in the back. It was probably a good thing I wasn't involved in doing any financial tasks for the store that morning, like balancing our bank account or calculating profits so far for the month. My mind was still obsessing over that dog howl.

At about nine forty-five, Martha came downstairs, as promised. When she entered the store, I was revising the display of stuffed dog toys, wishing I had some of the new ones I'd designed to place there. I'd already ordered a new supply, but they'd take some time to get here.

“Everything okay, Rory?” Martha asked as Pluckie dashed over to greet her.

“Sure,” I said with no hesitation. The only thing that wasn't okay was the way my thoughts had been going, particularly about last night's howl.

“Excellent.” My senior friend started doing pretty much as I had, checking out our great product displays. She puttered a bit but apparently I'd done well enough, since she didn't move things around much.

At ten o'clock, it was time to open the doors. Immediately, several groups of customers entered, including a family with three kids and two dogs, and an older couple who seemed to feel guilty that they'd left their pets, a dog and a cat, back home in Phoenix.

Both kinds of groups were often good for ringing up substantial sales, which proved true once again.

Martha took care of one of the groups and I helped the other. I was glad Jeri was due in fairly soon. If this continued, we'd definitely need more help.

I went behind one set of shelves to grab some dog kibble for one of the customers, and when I came out, Celia Vardox had arrived. She had a notebook and pen in her hands, so I had a sinking feeling she was here as a reporter and not as a pet owner.

I nevertheless said, “Hi, Celia. What do you need for Charlotte today?” Charlotte was her black Labrador retriever. Her name had come from the name Charlottetown, a town in Labrador, Canada.

“Nothing right now,” Celia said. Her short hair was about the same shade as her dog's, and today she wore brown slacks and a lacy beige blouse. “I just wanted to get your reaction to the latest murder.”

My heart plummeted even as my head started to throb. “Murder?” My voice came out as a soft croak.

And why was she specifically looking for my reaction?

Though the possibility of it had crossed my mind earlier, I had a sudden insight into who'd been killed.

Someone who'd singled me out from the crowd of people she disliked in Destiny, who'd distinguished me from the rest.

Celia had simply confirmed it.

She maneuvered a recorder's microphone toward me, but I shook my head. I didn't need to have this conversation, however it progressed, preserved for posterity.

Celia frowned then, even as Martha, who must have seen my expression, turned toward us. With her pen poised over a clean sheet of paper in her notebook, Celia regarded me expectantly with her gleaming, inquisitive brown eyes.

“Rory Chasen,” she said, in a tone that made me wonder if she had some kind of backup recorder hidden in her tote bag or elsewhere on her person, “as you most likely know, Flora Curtival, your real estate agent, was found murdered last night. What is your opinion about that?”