Unlucky Charms Read online

  Bad luck or not, I’d warn Gemma in the morning so she could do what she thought necessary to protect the Broken Mirror Bookstore. That place, in some ways the core of Destiny and its retail businesses, had already had too much bad luck rain down on it. Its original owners were dead as a result—but it had been proven to be bad luck to talk about that.

  Maybe as a result, that store would be safe from whatever was going on now.

  Or not.

  Even if it was, the Lucky Dog Boutique was my responsibility.

  I slept a little, but when I woke around six in the morning, I decided not to try to rest any longer. Pluckie seemed happy when I got up and started to get ready.

  Before heading to the B&B’s breakfast, I leashed Pluckie and walked her outside through the front door. We headed for a grassy area to the side of the parking lot, and I turned to regard the horseshoe hung above the entry.

  Serina must have seen us go by, since she came out the door, looked around till she spotted us, and hurried in our direction. “Good morning,” she said, waving as she approached.

  Serina Frye had been one of the first people I’d met here in Destiny, since I’d moved into in the Rainbow B&B right away. She kind of represented Destiny, for me and for the tourists who were her guests. She emphasized this by nearly always wearing blouses and long skirts in the style of women back in Gold Rush days, when Destiny was founded. Today was no different. She was pretty, around ten years older than me, and a nice and welcoming presence in this town of superstitions.

  “Hi, Serina,” I said as she reached us and bent to give Pluckie a pat. “Everything okay with you?”

  “You mean, did having the horseshoe over my door turned upside down send some bad luck my way?” At my surprised look, she said, “I saw you staring at it when I came outside. How did you hear about it?”

  “I understand it’s bad luck to talk about any of the stuff going on around here right now,” I responded.

  “But you’ve always said you don’t necessarily believe in such things.” We were close enough buddies that I’d admitted this to Serina.

  “You tell me. Is it bad luck to have the ends of a horseshoe hanging downward rather than up?”

  “Depends on who’s describing the superstition,” she said. “That’s generally true. People say that having the ends up turns it into a receptacle that holds good luck in, but ends down means the luck pours out. Although I’ve heard the opposite, kind of. If the ends are down, luck is released to the people around it. That means whoever turned my horseshoe over might have intended to ramp up my good luck.”

  “And did it?”

  “Who knows?” Serina shrugged her narrow shoulders. Her blouse and skirt rippled in the morning breeze. As often happened, she made me feel under­dressed, since I was clad as I usually was to go to the store—in a Lucky Dog knit shirt and nice slacks. At least I had my lucky black dog hematite amulet on, as usual.

  “I guess a lot of superstitions can have opposing interpretations,” I agreed. “The Destiny of Superstitions even says so.”

  “Right.” She paused. “So everything’s all right with you and with the Lucky Dog?”

  While Serina wasn’t exactly talking with me about the thefts, like she had with Carolyn, she certainly wasn’t staying silent, either.

  “Just fine,” I said brightly. “In fact, I stopped by there briefly with Justin and Gemma last night.” I hesitated. “I didn’t see you … ”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t make your talk and the get-together. I had things to take care of. I’ll really try to come next time.”

  I wasn’t sure what was on her mind, but, like me, Serina was still trying to get over the loss of an important man in her life. In her case it was Tarzal, author of The Destiny of Superstitions as well as a recent local murder victim. The fact that the two of them had all but broken up before his death seemed to have only made it harder for her.

  “It’s okay,” I told her. “Anyway, Pluckie and I want our breakfast.”

  Gemma joined us in the dining area, where she and I ate a light breakfast—although with everything Serina made available, we could have loaded up on enough to fill us for the entire day.

  I didn’t tell her about my conversation with Carolyn till we started toward our shops. She took the news grimly but well, all things considered. I didn’t mention what Serina had said about the horseshoe, since there was nothing much to report on that anyway, except the controversy about the direction in which a horseshoe should be hung.

  The walk to the Lucky Dog Boutique didn’t take long. It was early, but there were already tourists on the streets—avoiding the cracks on the sidewalk. I’d have to seed the area in front of my shop with some heads-up pennies later, since that kind of good luck often brought customers into my shop.

  My shop. It remained Martha’s, of course. But I had pretty well taken over the management. And I had the goal of buying it someday—maybe. If it made sense to Martha, too.

  As we reached the Broken Mirror Bookstore, Gemma and I started to say goodbye. She patted Pluckie goodbye, too—or tried to. Pluckie seemed energized. She jumped at the end of her leash, pulling me toward the Lucky Dog.

  She’d done this before—on our first day in Destiny. That was when she’d found an ill Martha in the back room and helped to save her.

  Was Martha okay?

  “Let’s go, Pluckie,” I told her, exchanging glances with Gemma. “I’m not sure what’s going on.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Gemma said.

  We hurried to the front door of the shop, where I used my key to enter, Gemma right behind me.

  I immediately stopped.

  Things—leashes and food, toys and more—were off the shelves, tossed onto the floor. I didn’t see the bag I’d left up against the counter, the bag filled with my new dog toys.

  Pieces of broken mirror were everywhere, and so was salt.

  Whatever was going on in Destiny had invaded my shop.

  Five

  “Call 911!” I yelled to Gemma. “I’m going upstairs to check on Martha.”

  I closed and locked the door behind us so I could let go of Pluckie’s leash. My little dog nevertheless stayed right with me as I crossed the shop to fling aside mesh drapery decorated with dog bones, open the door to the storeroom, and hurry through it to the door to the stairway that led upstairs.

  To Martha’s apartment.

  Was she okay, after the disaster that had happened downstairs in her shop? I crossed my fingers.

  Flicking on the light, I began running up the steps, at the same time pressing Justin’s number on my phone. He needed to know what was going on for many reasons—because of his warning, because he was so close to Martha, and maybe most of all because I needed his presence for some modicum of reassurance that all, eventually, would be well again.

  “Good morning, Rory,” I heard in my ear, just as I tripped over Pluckie and fell onto my knees on the stairs.

  “Ow!” I gasped.

  “Rory, are you okay?”

  I’d pulled the phone away from my ear as I caught myself and prevented any further falling, but I still heard him. “Yes,” I lied. One of my knees was killing me. “Sort of.” I spoke in gasps through gritted teeth as I started back up the stairs, walking much more slowly this time. Pluckie was a few steps ahead of me, sitting now and watching as if trying to apologize. I hoped our collision hadn’t injured her, too. Fortunately, she looked fine. “But I’m on my way up to check on Martha. The store was robbed and vandalized last night, like you warned.”

  “I’ll get someone there right away.”

  “Gemma’s calling 911,” I told him. I didn’t imagine he’d want to duplicate efforts—although he might contact his own people and make sure they were moving fast.

  “Good. I’ll see you in a little while.”

  I’
d reached the top of the steps, standing right beside Pluckie now. I was panting and about to knock on Martha’s door when it dawned on me what had happened.

  I had fallen while going up the steps. If it had been when I was on my way down, that would bode bad luck. Going up, it supposedly meant a wedding in the family.

  Not in my family. I’d lost Warren, and we hadn’t gotten the chance to marry. My mom had passed away long ago, and my father, who still lived in Pasadena, had remarried. We had more distant relatives but didn’t stay in close touch. Was one of them likely to marry?

  But at the time I’d tripped, I’d been talking with Justin, with whom I was developing some kind of relationship that bordered, at least, on romantic.

  Were we now destined to marry?

  Hah.

  I knocked determinedly on the closed door and yelled, “Martha? Are you awake? Are you okay?”

  And waited. She didn’t come to the door immediately. I usually called her first, or accompanied her home, so for her to take a while to get to the door didn’t necessarily mean there was anything wrong.

  It also didn’t mean she was okay. I knocked again, then pulled my phone back out of my pocket and started to punch in her number, just in case she simply hadn’t heard me.

  The ornate wooden door opened slowly, and I could see Martha off to the side, peeking out. “Rory,” she said immediately, pulling it fully open. “What’s wrong?”

  “Can we come in?” I asked, although my gesture toward Pluckie was too late. My dog had already entered the apartment.

  “Of course,” Martha said. She was still in her pajamas, pink ones I’d seen before. Her silvery hair looked uncombed, but her hazel eyes looked fully awake, narrowed out of concern.

  Fortunately, the pain from my fall had dulled to almost nothing. I moved gently past her and into her living room. I always considered it charming and quaint, with its fluffy yellow sofa and antique tables and chairs, but I barely glanced at it this morning.

  “There’s been—” I stopped and started again. “Did you sleep all right last night?”

  She motioned for me to sit down on her sofa, and I obliged as she took a seat at the other end. Pluckie sat beside the long, low coffee table, looking from one of us to the other.

  The expression on Martha’s wrinkled face appeared wry. “I hardly think you came up here like this to ask about my sleeping habits. What’s going on, Rory?”

  “There was a break-in at the shop last night.” I watched to make sure she didn’t look like she was going to faint or anything. When I’d met her, she’d had health issues, and she still was a bit fragile.

  Not now, though. She stood and said, “Tell me. Or should I get dressed first and come see for myself?”

  I waited for just a moment before I spoke again. Should I let her know the forbidden information Carolyn had imparted to me, possibly raining bad luck down on herself and the rest of Destiny? Or should I heed Justin’s warning?

  Heck, he’d be here soon and could scold me then if he wanted to. But maybe if more information was out there, this kind of thing wouldn’t be happening—notwithstanding our dear mayor’s edicts.

  “I haven’t had a chance to really check it out,” I told her, waving her back down to her seat. “I’ll go back down in a few minutes, since the cops should be arriving soon. Gemma is with me, and she called 911 and I called Justin. You can get dressed now if you want. I have to warn you, I’ve been told it’s bad luck to talk about it—but we’re the latest victims of an apparent serial crime spree in Destiny.”

  I was finally downstairs again, in the store. Martha was getting dressed. I’d told her I wasn’t sure of the severity of what had been done at the Lucky Dog; I’d only been in the shop long enough to see the way the merchandise had been thrown on the floor, and how those bad luck symbols—broken glass and salt—had been scattered about. Plus, I hadn’t seen the bag of my new toys.

  “But the Lucky Dog isn’t the only place where this has happened?” Martha had demanded.

  “Apparently not. Justin’s been acting a bit … well, concerned, despite admitting he’s under orders not to talk about something. Someone else”—I didn’t want to mention Carolyn and potentially get her in trouble—“told me about the thefts.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Martha said. “I’ll talk to Justin.” And with that, Pluckie and I were virtually kicked out of her apartment and told to go downstairs to start dealing with whatever had happened.

  I’d heard voices on my way downstairs. I’d proceeded slowly nonetheless, Pluckie ahead of me. I even held on to the rail. No pain now, at least, but one stumble on the steps was plenty for the day. And I most certainly didn’t want to fall going down the stairs. I’d already had some pretty bad luck that day: what was done at the shop, most likely early that morning. I didn’t want to add to it.

  The door into the back storeroom was still open when I reached the bottom, but the voices were coming from the shop. I headed there, Pluckie at my feet, and opened that door.

  Gemma was still there, near the cash register counter covered in tangled leashes and collars, talking to two people in suits. One I recognized as Detective Richard Choye, who’d been the main investigator in the most recent Destiny murder. He was a fairly slim cop beneath his gray suit, although his shoulders were wide. His hair was short and black, and on the whole he was reasonably good-looking.

  I wondered how Gemma felt, talking to him now. He’d been sure she was guilty before I’d helped to find the real killer and absolve my good friend. I doubted that Detective Choye was overly fond of me, or of Gemma, either.

  The person with him was a woman. If Detective Choye was of moderate height, then she was one basketball-player-sized female—very tall and slender. Her suit was black, with a white shirt beneath. Her short hair was light brown, and the expression on her narrow face was intense as she focused on Gemma.

  Gemma soon focused on me. She must have seen me enter the room and most likely had been watching for me. “Hi, Rory.” Although her voice was calm, I sensed relief in it.

  “Thanks for staying here,” I said to her. “Martha’s okay. She’s getting dressed and will be down in a few minutes.” That was as much for the cops as for Gemma. “Don’t you need to get to the Broken Mirror now?” That was solely for her.

  “Yes. I need to open in a short while.”

  I was sure her thoughts were similar to mine. Surely the shop she managed hadn’t been trashed, too—had it?

  Apparently the detectives were on the same wavelength. “Rory, Gemma, this is Detective Lura Fidelio,” Choye said. “She’ll be working with me while we figure out what happened here. Detective Fidelio, why don’t you accompany Gemma next door to the Broken Mirror to make sure everything is all right there.”

  “Certainly.” The other detective lowered her head so she could look more directly into Gemma’s face. “Let’s go,” she said, and it sounded like a command.

  I hadn’t been wild about Detective Choye, but he was better than the counterparts of his I’d met previously. And I already had a feeling I’d like him better than his new associate.

  But given the current circumstances, maybe it would be a good thing for Lura to be a take-charge personality—especially if there were problems at the bookstore, too. My fingers crossed behind my back in the hopes that everything there would be fine. Unlike at my shop.

  Gemma and Detective Fidelio headed out the front door. I pulled Pluckie’s leash out of my pocket where I’d stuffed it and attached it to her collar, to make sure she didn’t attempt to follow them.

  I almost wanted to do that myself rather then deal with the chaos here. Fortunately, since I’d been in retail for a long time, I kept a pretty accurate inventory of all the items we sold, so once I got things back on their appropriate shelves I’d be able to tell what was missing.

  I still didn’t see my to
te-on-wheels. Nor did I see any of the other items I’d designed. Had they been the target of the theft for some reason? If so, that would suggest that whoever had done this had been at my talk the day before. Otherwise, how would they know what to take?

  Unless, of course, they’d opened the bag and removed from the shelves everything that matched what the duffle contained.

  Yes, I was already attempting to think of ways to solve this crime. Was the detective with me doing the same thing? He was no longer standing beside me but had moved a few steps away, surveying the store with his dark eyes beneath thin, worried brows.

  “So, Detective Choye,” I began, “how have you been investigating similar break-ins?”

  I realized I was goading him, in a way. I wasn’t supposed to know about those other break-ins, and presumably he wasn’t supposed to talk about them.

  “The Destiny Police Department has a standard procedure for investigating thefts of various kinds,” he began pompously. At the same time, I heard a noise at the front door and turned.

  Justin was outside.

  I hurried toward him as he opened the door, stepping over and around the thick piles of items cast over the floor. I was glad I hadn’t locked up after Gemma and Detective Fidelio left. That made me remember that I had locked the door behind us earlier, when Gemma, Pluckie, and I first entered, and I recognized in retrospect that this might have been a bad move. What if the thief had been here and we’d needed to escape?

  Fortunately, that hadn’t been the case. Or, if the person had still been here, he or she apparently went out the back door before I’d checked the storeroom. Unless that person was still hiding under a counter somewhere.

  But even if Detectives Choye and Fidelio hadn’t made sure the room was clear, I felt fairly confident the thief wasn’t there. If anyone was still around, Pluckie would have let me know, and she’d been fairly calm since we’d come back downstairs.