Unlucky Charms (6 page)

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.”

We'd also had some money taken, but not a huge amount. Even so, he was right. That could have been the real motive for what had been done to our stores.

We talked a little more, speculating mostly about motive rather than who might have done it.

But I couldn't talk long. From where I sat, I could see the door to the coffee shop, and so I could also see when Flora came through it and approached us, wending her way among the patio tables.

“I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave,” I told the others. “You can go ahead and continue brainstorming. Jeri can catch me up later if there's anything I need to know.” Then, with a sigh, I stood, and so did Pluckie. “Hi, Flora,” I said resignedly. I didn't want her to bother the others, so I picked up my mocha. “I was just about to leave.”

“Great,” she said. “Hi, Brad. Hi to all of you.” She smiled at the Mardeers even as Brad glanced at her, gave an unconvincing smile, and mumbled his own hello. Had they met before? Were the Nereidas looking for a new home?

Or was Flora hoping they were, as she was with me?

I tried to use the opportunity to slip away, but Flora remained at my side.

“I was just talking to Brie about some ideas for residences for Gemma and you,” she said. “I'll walk you back to the Lucky Dog and we can talk about them.”

She didn't give up. Nor did she listen to my repeated admonishments that we weren't in a hurry.

She was, however, in a hurry to scoop us in and try to make a sale, or at least a rental.

Lucky me.

The walk to my shop was quick, and I turned to face her at the door. Pluckie took the opportunity to squat on the sidewalk, waiting for me.

“I'll be in touch when things slow down enough for me to start really thinking about finding a place,” I told Flora.

Or not. I'd actually been okay with the idea last night, but I didn't like being nagged about it. And now, given a choice, I wouldn't want this pushy woman to get some kind of commission based on her unwanted aggressiveness.

“I'd like to come in now and look around your shop some more,” she said.

“Do you have a pet?” I asked. Maybe I could sell her something, then make her go away.

A strange look came over her too-made-up face, almost causing it to pale beneath the blusher on her cheeks. “I used to,” she said softly. “Not now.”

“Oh. Sorry.” I assumed whoever her pet had been, he or she had crossed the Rainbow Bridge—a euphemism for a beloved pet dying and going to pet heaven.

“Me too. Anyway, maybe another time. I like your store, but I just remembered I need to check with Brie about another client.”

She pivoted, which was probably difficult to do considering the height of her stiletto heels, and walked off.

Which made me glad, yet sorry I'd brought on pain. I hated to do that to anyone.

Even to someone who was starting to drive me nuts.

Nine

Martha's kitchen table was
small, but it was large enough for four of us.

It wouldn't have fit five easily, so I'd allowed that to be the sort-of excuse I gave to Justin about why I couldn't see him that evening. As I often did, I requested a rain check. He'd granted it immediately, and I'd almost regretted not inviting him along.

Almost. If he'd been here, I suspected that whatever Arlen wanted to talk about would have turned into a benign superstition discussion—and I'd be driven crazy wondering what he really believed to be so important that he thought we needed to get together in private to discuss it.

Not quite private. He and Martha considered me part of their family now, and I appreciated it. I also appreciated that they'd brought Gemma into the fold as well.

Right now, we were just starting dinner. I'd offered to bring in pizza or even something more formal, but Martha had insisted on cooking. Which was a good sign. Even though she hadn't been well when I'd first met her, now, despite her age, she was going strong. But she hadn't yet booted me out as manager of her store, and I was glad about that. I hoped she never would. Sure, I'd considered trying to buy it from her, and I still had that plan, but I probably wouldn't act on it, not as long as she was able to participate in the shop's management.

Tonight, Martha had made mac and cheese—delicious! I wasn't sure which cheeses she had used, but there were several, and she'd also added bacon, with a slightly crispy coating of bread crumbs on the top.

Apparently Arlen had helped her with the side salad, at least. Everything was great.

Even the company. Especially the company.

But we hadn't yet started discussing the main reason for getting together this evening.

Martha was wearing a pretty lavender housedress. She seemed alert as she finally joined us at the table, looking first at Arlen, her hazel eyes intensely peering from her wizened face. “So spill it, nephew. Why did you want us to get together tonight?”

As always, Arlen looked good, even as he raised his brows at his aunt, his mouth puckering into an expression of wryness. “You aren't going to like it.” But he said this not to Martha, but to me as he turned his head. “You neither.” This time, his gaze was on Gemma.

My dear friend shrugged her shoulders as she took another bite of mac and cheese, then looked at Martha. “Even if I don't like what Arlen has to say, this makes it worth my coming here.” She smiled.

Gemma was still dressed in some of the librarian-like garb she wore while managing the Broken Mirror Bookstore, making her the most formal-looking person at the table. Arlen wore a red Destiny's Luckiest Tours shirt, and I still had on a gray Lucky Dog Boutique T-shirt.

“Why aren't we going to like it?” I demanded lightly.

“It's about superstitions.” He looked at me from beneath furrowed brows, as if he anticipated I'd berate him for that.

How could I, here in Destiny?

“Why am I not surprised?” Gemma asked, covering her mouth as if she was yawning.

“And … well, it's speculation. But first I want you two to know that I'm aware of what happened in the shop last night.”

I looked toward Martha, whose gaze was now pointed innocently toward the ceiling.

“I won't guess about how you learned,” I said dryly, “but let's all knock on wood that the discussion, and this one, will not bring any of us bad luck.”

We all knocked. Did I really believe it provided any protection?

Heck if I knew.

“Okay, then,” Arlen said. “I've heard rumors in town and on tours today that the break-in at the Lucky Dog wasn't the only one
recently. And the other reason I think you two aren't going to like what I have to say is that I know you're looking for a place to live other than the Rainbow B&B. Am I right?”

“Possibly,” Gemma said. She took a bite of salad without removing her gaze from Arlen. “Why does that matter?”

“Because Flora Curtival is your real estate agent, right?”

“She wants to be,” I acknowledged. “Why does that make a difference?”

“Because … well, I know it sounds odd, but I think she's the one responsible for all the break-ins.”

Dinner was over now. Martha, Gemma, and I sat on Martha's fluffy yellow sofa facing Arlen, who occupied the chair across from us. Pluckie sat beside me on the floor.

“So, are you going to tell our estimable police chief about my suspicions?” Arlen asked me.

“Of course,” I said. “Even if it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, that doesn't mean it isn't true. Plus, I suspect the police force can use all the possible angles they can find.”

“Particularly in a town like Destiny,” Gemma broke in, “where what you've suggested might actually be true.”

I took a sip of the after-dinner drink Martha had poured for us, a little bit of sweet wine with a dab of whipped cream on top. I resisted chugging it. It tasted good—and my mind needed a bit of cleansing.

What Arlen had related was that he had met Flora maybe a year ago. She'd come to town with her husband, and they had gone on several tours with Arlen.

“I know I'm not the only one around here who talked to them on that visit,” Arlen had said while gazing over Gemma's head and munching on mac and cheese. “They were around for maybe a week. Flora seemed to be all over her man, hanging on to him on the tour bus, clutching at his arm at each place we stopped. I might not have noticed, since we get all kinds of people on the tour, but there was one night when she came back alone to the tour office when everyone else was gone. I'd taken a late tour out and was just taking care of the administrative stuff afterward, and she burst in the front door.”

I'd been to the Destiny's Luckiest Tours office shortly after I'd come to town, before heading off on a bus tour with Arlen. It wasn't one of the area's most exotic buildings, being low and concrete and outside the middle of town where everything looked like it was built during the old Gold Rush days.

But someone coming in after hours didn't seem especially memorable to me—until Arlen continued.

“She threw herself into my arms and started sobbing. She said she'd dragged her husband here to Destiny since they were destined to stay together. They had to be. He'd talked about leaving her before they came, and now they were going home tomorrow—and she still thought their marriage was doomed. But what could Destiny do about it overnight? What could
I
do about it right then?” Arlen had shaken his head. “I smelled alcohol on her breath, so I figured she'd been out drinking to try to ease her pain. And I kind of half expected it when she started tearing at my clothes.”

“You're kidding!” I interjected.

“Nope,” he said. He related how he'd gently pushed her away—which apparently had only added to how upset she was. “She promised revenge on Destiny for not changing her luck. That was the last time I saw her—until she showed up at a Destiny Welcome a few weeks ago. I stayed away from her, but she probably saw me anyway.” Looking around the table, from me to Martha to Gemma, Arlen continued, “I know it's pretty weird for me to think this, but is she getting her revenge on Destiny by robbing its shops and planting bad luck stuff in the places she hits?”

I'd pondered his revelation and speculation throughout the rest of dinner—not surprising, since we kept talking about it. And now that I was drinking, too—albeit not the quantity I surmised Flora must have imbibed back then—I let my mind wander about superstitions and why Flora might have thought they could help her in her relationship, and whether there were any superstitions connected with how to exact revenge.

Or she could have made up her own superstitions about revenge, which was more likely. Or maybe she was simply removing or ruining good luck stuff and replacing it with bad luck stuff as the best way to get back at Destiny's inhabitants, even those who'd had nothing to do with her prior trip here and its apparent failure to ensure the result she wanted.

So now I said, “The possibility of Flora being responsible for all this makes more sense than a lot of other potential reasons for what's been going on here, Arlen. I'll definitely let Justin know about it.”

I'd also ponder what other ways there might be to determine the truth of what Arlen had said.

Maybe even asking Flora about it.

It was nearly nine o'clock by the time Gemma, Pluckie, and I departed from Martha's and the Lucky Dog downstairs.

Arlen remained in his aunt's apartment after we left, as a good nephew should—assuming he was just keeping her company and taking care of her and not asking for money or something like that. But I'd never gotten that impression about Arlen. He'd moved here to Destiny after his aunt did. He had a job that he seemed to enjoy: taking tourists all around the area and showing them the fun stuff about our town and its superstitions.

Our
town? Again I recognized that I'd begun thinking of Destiny as my town. Which was why, whether Arlen was right or not, I really
wanted to figure out who was trashing our stores—including mine—and trying to change our good luck to bad.

If it was Flora? Well, she certainly wasn't going to get my real estate business, but she would get something from me. Revenge of the arrest kind, at least—if I could do anything at all to help collect the evidence that Justin and his crew would need.

“Why are you so quiet?” Gemma asked as we turned the corner onto Fate Street.

The November night was cool but dry, and we'd both donned jackets before setting out onto Destiny's sidewalks, now nearly tourist-free in the downtown retail area.

“I'll bet you can guess,” I answered wryly. For one thing, Gemma knew me well. We'd been friends for a long time in LA before moving here. For another thing, after the discussion we'd had with Arlen, she could have undoubtedly figured out my thoughts even if we'd been strangers.

In short, we now had a potential suspect for all the nasty stuff that had been happening in town—including at the Lucky Dog.

And that suspect wanted something from us. Something that she believed would result in a commission.

“I'm going to play Justin here,” Gemma said. She stopped walking, drew herself up a little taller, and appeared to attempt to broaden her shoulders—a not-very-good imitation of Justin, if that was what she was doing. I laughed as she said in a deeper voice, “Don't do anything foolish, Rory. Tell me what you know, then let me do the investigation. Got it?”

“I hear you, Justin,” I said, batting my eyelashes so Gemma could see them under the nearest Destiny streetlight. Then Pluckie and I continued walking.

“You hear him a lot,” Gemma huffed, catching up to us. “But do you obey him?”

“What do you think? And do you think I'd have been able to figure out the murder you were all but accused of committing if I'd gone all girly and done everything the police chief said?”

A few cars passed by, and one pulled into the B&B's parking lot just as we arrived there. I didn't recognize the two couples who started to pile out—tourists, I supposed.

“You're right, Rory.” Gemma stopped outside the B&B's door, letting the newcomers file in ahead of us. “Let me know what he has to say about your new suspicions.”

“Sure,” I said. “I think I'll go ahead and call him tonight.”

After our walk, Pluckie didn't need another outing, so we went upstairs with Gemma. I didn't see the tourists, so they must have hurried up to their rooms.

“Good night,” I called to my friend, whose room was farther down the second floor hallway than mine was.

“Good night. Will you be joining me for breakfast?” she asked.

That was our usual arrangement, so I said, “Sure.”

“Good. Oh, and by the way, Stuart is supposed to arrive in town tomorrow for a short stay.” Gemma's smile looked casual, but I knew better. She had gone through a breakup with her former boyfriend a few months ago, and a couple of other men had stepped in, vying for her attention. Stuart Chanick had seemed like the winner—even though, when Gemma had followed a superstition by eating an apple and looking into a mirror to see the face of her true love, she hadn't seen Stuart. She didn't recognize who she'd seen, actually. Still, she and Stuart remained in touch. Close touch, I'd gathered.

Plus, Stuart had made an offer to buy the Broken Mirror Bookstore. As far as I knew, that was still pending.

As the editor of
The Destiny of Superstitions
, Stuart had been the one who'd helped Gemma get started as the new manager of the Broken Mirror. His publishing house was located in New York, but he did manage to come to town every few weeks, ostensibly to ensure that the company's bestselling book remained that way. But I knew he also came to see Gemma.

“Great,” I said. “Will you be talking to him tonight, too?”

“Yes, to make some plans.” She paused. “We can compare notes tomorrow if you'd like.”

Our conversations with Justin and Stuart, respectively, were likely to be very different. “We'll see,” I equivocated. Then I found my old-fashioned key, appropriate at this place that imitated Gold Rush days, and Pluckie and I entered our room.