Free Unlucky Charms by Linda O. Johnston Page B

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.
    â€œHi,” she said. “This’ll be an interesting cup of coffee, I’ll bet.”
    â€œInteresting,” I agreed, nodding. “And it’ll hopefully lead to some good luck, which I think we all need. Have you seen Brad Nereida?”
    â€œHe 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.”
    â€œGood guy,” I said. The three of us plus Pluckie entered the coffee shop and got in line, which fortunately wasn’t very long.
    â€œEverything okay at your store now?” Kiara asked. I heard what she wasn’t saying—that she knew it hadn’t been okay earlier.
    â€œIt’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