Unlucky Charms Read online

  Copyright Information

  Unlucky Charms: A Superstition Mystery © 2016 by Linda O. Johnston.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Midnight Ink, except in the form of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  As the purchaser of this ebook, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. The text may not be otherwise reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or recorded on any other storage device in any form or by any means.

  Any unauthorized usage of the text without express written permission of the publisher is a violation of the author’s copyright and is illegal and punishable by law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First e-book edition © 2016

  E-book ISBN: 9780738749075

  Book format by Bob Gaul

  Cover design by Kevin R. Brown

  Cover illustration by Mary Ann Lasher-Dodge

  Midnight Ink is an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Johnston, Linda O., author.

  Title: Unlucky charms / Linda O. Johnston.

  Description: First edition. | Woodbury, Minnesota : Midnight Ink, [2016] |

  Series: A superstition mystery ; #3

  Identifiers: LCCN 2016021612 (print) | LCCN 2016027310 (ebook) | ISBN

  9780738745558 (softcover) | ISBN 9780738749075 ()

  Subjects: LCSH: Murder—Investigation—Fiction. | Superstition—Fiction. |

  GSAFD: Mystery fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3610.O387 U55 2016 (print) | LCC PS3610.O387 (ebook) |

  DDC 813/.6—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016021612

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  To all people who believe in superstitions, and to those who claim they don’t but follow one or two—or more—just in case. May you have lots of luck, and may all of it be good!

  And again, to my readers, particularly those who enjoy cozy mysteries with fun-to-write themes … like superstitions. Unlimited luck to all of you, too—and keep on reading!

  And as always, to my husband Fred.

  Acknowledgments

  Repetitious? Perhaps. But definitely true! I again thank my wonderful agent Paige Wheeler as well as my delightful editor Terri Bischoff, great production editor Sandy Sullivan, amazing publicist Katie Mickschl, and all the other fantastic Midnight Ink folks—as well as the other MI authors who are all so wonderful and supportive.

  Thanks again, too, to those who read and critiqued and helped me polish the Unlucky Charms manuscript.

  One

  This was far from my first “Black Dogs and Black Cats” presentation at the Break-a-Leg Theater. What was it—the eighth? Ninth? I’d lost count even though I gave these talks fairly often. Maybe because I was rather nervous this time.

  At the moment, my dog Pluckie and I stood off to one side of the dimly lit stage listening to the noisy crowd take their seats, waiting till it was time for us to walk out in front of them. The curtains, though partially pulled back, interfered with my ability to see anyone, which was probably a good thing.

  Why was I so edgy tonight? Had I actually become superstitious? After all, despite the pet superstition theme of my talk this evening, a lot of it was about me, personally. My ideas. My hopes to increase sales exponentially at the Lucky Dog Boutique, the very special shop I managed, even though the store was already doing just fine.

  Tonight I was going to talk about our newest products—superstition-related items for pets I had dreamed up and designed. I’d recently gotten a company to manufacture them for us.

  Was this good luck? My shop had built up its reputation for canine delights long before I started working there, offering everything from plush black-cat toys and specialty dog foods to rhinestone-studded collars and leashes and amulets with smiling animal faces. Would it be bad luck to change or add to things that were already working?

  I, Rory Chasen, was about to find out.

  “What do you think, Pluckie?” I whispered to my dog. “This is kind of a business meeting, so you’ll give me lots of good luck tonight, right?”

  After all, black dogs were often said to be lucky, and black and white ones like my adorable spaniel-terrier mix were particularly lucky at business meetings. I’d learned that on my very first day here in Destiny, when Pluckie had pretty much saved the life of Martha Jallopia, the owner of the Lucky Dog Boutique, by finding her unconscious in the back room.

  Martha would be here tonight, too, sitting in her wheelchair near the front row as she always did for my presentations at the Destiny Welcome show. The angle was such that I couldn’t see that area, but she probably had already arrived.

  Pluckie now stood on her hind legs, her front paws on my thighs and her nose in the air, staring me straight in the eye for comfort. Reassurance. And lots of doggy love. She’d obviously heard me talking to her. I doubted she understood exactly what I said, but I knew she read my uneasy mood and was responding.

  “You’re right.” I bent down to grasp her in my arms and give her a big hug.

  That made me let go of the handle I was holding. At its end was the small black suitcase containing all the items I’d talk about and show off that night. My creations that represented what Destiny was all about.

  “Hi, Rory,” boomed a familiar voice from behind me. I turned.

  Mayor Bevin Dermot stood there, beaming. As usual, he wore what I considered to be his leprechaun outfit: dark pants with a dressy green jacket over them, adorned with a pin depicting—what else?—a leprechaun. He was chubby, and his hair and beard were both silver.

  “Hi, Bevin,” I said softly. I knew my expression must look quizzical. He had sometimes come to my talks but not always, and when he did, he generally sat in the audience.

  “Would you like me to introduce you tonight?” he asked.

  I didn’t really have time to ponder it. I saw Phil, a young guy who worked at the theater, gesture to me from across the stage. He apparently wanted to know if I was ready.

  Well, I was as ready as I was going to get that evening, so I nodded and waved. The stage lights got brighter, while the house lights dimmed.

  It was time for someone to go out there. And why shouldn’t it be the town’s mayor? His presence wouldn’t hurt my talk—or my shop’s sales. It was more likely to help both.

  “That would be wonderful,” I told him. “Thanks.”

  With no further ado, Bevin strode out to the microphone. He introduced himself first and got a loud round of applause. Then he introduced me.

  “You are about to hear f
rom Rory Chasen, manager of one of our best local stores, the Lucky Dog Boutique. She’s a relative newcomer to our town, but she’s a real winner—and I hope she stays that way.” He crossed the fingers on his right hand and waved them in an arc before him. And then he turned toward me. “Rory?”

  I smiled at him despite still feeling uneasy, and his compliment didn’t make me feel any better. Right now, my own creativity and ingenuity—and luck—were on the line. Maybe I had a right to be nervous.

  For reassurance and luck, I bent to pat Pluckie again. Then I stood, holding her leash in one hand and the handle of my bag on wheels in the other. I strode onto the stage, hoping I looked okay in the new black dress I’d bought at the Right Side Out clothing shop; I usually just wore a Lucky Dog T-shirt when I gave these talks. I wanted to reach up and check my straight blond hair, or at least fluff my bangs—but I did neither. I looked how I looked.

  I stopped at the microphone, which had already been adjusted to my height, and glanced briefly at the auditorium’s tall ceiling, ornate chandeliers, and plain walls that I assumed were the result of renovations in this lovely, aging place. “Thank you, Mayor Dermot,” I said with a smile I hoped appeared genuine. “And hi, everyone. I’m Rory Chasen, manager of the Lucky Dog Boutique, and, as our mayor said, a relatively new Destiny resident. I’m here to talk to you about animals and superstitions.”

  I managed to glance around at the audience as people began clapping, which made me all the more uncomfortable even though I wasn’t a shy and retiring person—or at least I hadn’t been before. Bevin clapped, too, as he backed off the stage, leaving me alone there with Pluckie. I hadn’t said anything special for the audience to acknowledge. Not yet, at least.

  But one of the most exuberant clappers was Martha, who indeed was in her wheelchair off to the side of the front row. One of my shop assistants, Millie Weedin, was with her, as I’d anticipated, sitting in the end seat. Off to the other side of the theater was my very good friend Gemma Grayfield, who’d followed me to Destiny and now lived here as well, managing the Broken Mirror Bookstore.

  I also noticed some fellow shop managers and owners, who gave talks now and then about their stores and luck-related products. One of them was Kiara Mardeer from the Heads-Up Penny Gift Shop. Her daughter, Jeri, another of my part-time assistants at the Lucky Dog, was with her. Brad Nereida, one of the owners of the Wish-on-a-Star children’s shop, was also there. I glanced around but didn’t see his wife, Lorraine. I recognized quite a few other people, but the audience was mostly composed of strangers who were probably tourists.

  But I was really only looking for one person: Justin Halbertson, chief of the Destiny Police Department. His presence, here and otherwise, was becoming very important to me.

  I didn’t see him, though. A good number of people filled the auditorium, so maybe I had somehow overlooked him—but I doubted it.

  As I continued to smile and look around, the clapping wound down. Time for me to dive into my speech.

  “As I said, I’m here tonight to talk about dogs and cats and other pets, as I generally do in my talks called ‘Black Dogs and Black Cats.’ I’ll bet you’re not surprised about that.”

  A few small laughs permeated the audience, but I didn’t wait to listen to them.

  “What I intend to mostly discuss tonight, however, is the store I currently manage here in Destiny, the Lucky Dog Boutique. Its owner, Martha Jallopia, is in the audience to listen to me and scold me if I don’t do a good job, so I’d better excel. Say hi, Martha.” I waved my arm toward her.

  My boss rose from her wheelchair, turned, and grinned. “You bet I’ll scold you if you blow this, Rory,” she yelled, and even though she didn’t have a microphone, I believed she was audible all over the room. “Hi, everyone.”

  “What Martha doesn’t know,” I said, speaking into the microphone in a loud whisper, “is that my intent tonight is to promote myself and my ideas for some very special products that I came up with to sell at the Lucky Dog—ones related to superstitions, of course—which I hope will provide the customers who buy them, and their pets, with good luck.”

  Part of what I said wasn’t true. Martha knew what my talk was about; we were good friends as well as business associates, and I had no intention of doing anything at the store without her knowledge and okay. We’d discussed this dramatic approach to introducing my new products, and she had been fine with it.

  I bent down and unzipped my bag, pulling back the top and extracting a few of the items—including my very favorite one. Once I was at the microphone again, I hugged all the objects to me except for my favorite, which I held in one hand and waved in the air.

  It was a white rabbit that resembled a children’s toy—somewhat large and stuffed, and sturdily made to resist tearing apart even when a dog chomped down and worried it. The materials were faux fur and other fabrics that would run through a dog’s system without causing harm in the event they were swallowed. I’d done careful research on the materials, even getting in touch with some of my contacts from when I’d been assistant manager at a MegaPets major chain store before moving to Destiny. They’d helped me to find the right manufacturer to put my new products together safely, although the labels encouraged owners not to allow the toys or their contents to be eaten.

  The most fun thing about the toy rabbits was their link to Destiny and superstitions. Each had one disproportionately large and lucky rabbit’s foot!

  “Here we are,” I said. “This is Richy the Rabbit. He can be nearly any dog’s best friend, and he will eventually come in several sizes. And you know what?” I didn’t wait for anyone to respond. “He’ll bring both you and your dog lots of luck. That’s why he’s named Richy. His big rabbit’s foot will help you and your dog get rich with whatever it is that makes you feel that way. No guarantees, of course, but maybe that means money for you, or a better career. And treats for your best friend.” I paused, but only for a few seconds. Then I stuffed Richy into the arm that held the other toys and raised my right hand. I crossed my fingers and said into the microphone, “At least I, and everyone at the Lucky Dog, will cross our fingers to help ensure it.”

  At my words, Martha rose again, and this time both Millie and Jeri stood too, raising their arms and crossing their fingers.

  The audience laughed, cheered, and applauded.

  Most of the other toys I’d designed and manufactured so far also had lucky connotations, like … well, black dogs and black cats, deemed good luck in some cultures if not here, and ladybugs and woodpeckers, each with a smiley face. They had personalities. They were cartoonish. Many of them squeaked when squeezed.

  They were hopefully lucky for dogs and their humans alike.

  And they were potentially lucrative if they sold well.

  I’d even added a toy Dalmatian—a lucky black and white dog, of course. It had been one of my first ideas for a new dog toy when I’d started working at the Lucky Dog.

  I held each toy up individually and explained its superstitious significance and why I’d chosen that particular theme—which mostly had to do with providing good luck, or so truly superstitious people said.

  I didn’t mention that I wasn’t sure if I was one of those people. I happened to remain a superstition agnostic. I’d come to Destiny to learn whether my dear fiancé Warren’s death had really occurred because he’d walked under a ladder just prior to being hit by a car, and I wound up staying for many reasons.

  But becoming a true believer wasn’t among those reasons.

  I continued my presentation for maybe another ten minutes, also describing some superstitions relating to dogs, particularly those who were black or black and white, like Pluckie. And I of course discussed black cats, who might be unfairly maligned when considered bad luck when they cross your path—or not.

  Eventually, I was done. I thanked everyone for coming and invited them all to visit the Lucky Dog—
and perhaps buy some of the things I had shown off.

  I wasn’t surprised when Mayor Bevin wound up striding back onto the stage and retaking the microphone, thanking everyone for coming to Destiny and inviting them to visit all our shops and restaurants, take our tours, and just have a fantastic, superstitious, and lucky time here.

  While he talked, I wheeled my bag off to the side and put the toys back in, with Pluckie at my side. Then we exited the stage and went to the theater’s entry area to wait and greet the audience as they left.

  I was soon surrounded by people who thanked me and said how much they’d enjoyed my program. Some tourists promised to come visit my shop.

  Jostling the group nearest me aside, Flora Curtival was suddenly in front of me. “Great talk!” she said.

  I’d first met Flora about a month ago, when she’d stayed at the Rainbow Bed and Breakfast after arriving in town. She’d moved out a week or so later—into an apartment, I’d heard—after getting a job in real estate. Then she started approaching people she’d met in Destiny as potential clients, including me—which wasn’t a bad idea, since I’d finally started to seriously consider living someplace other than the Rainbow B&B. I liked the inn, but I’d now decided to stay in Destiny indefinitely. I’d even been the one who’d arranged for Gemma to manage the Broken Mirror. I wasn’t sure yet whether I wanted to buy a house or condo, or find a nice apartment to rent, but either way, I knew it would be fun to work out something where Gemma and I could be roommates.

  But not necessarily right this moment. Despite our interest in the town, we weren’t in a hurry to move.

  Flora was tall and thin. She dressed almost professionally, in a slender brown dress and heels I’d never dare donning without incurring a lot of bad luck for my legs and muscles. Her makeup was model perfect, and her short brown hair provided a nice frame to her attractive face.

  In short, she appeared to be someone who had something she hoped to sell to everyone she met. Which was fine with me, as long as she wasn’t too pushy about it.