Unlucky Charms by Linda O. Johnston Page B

But, hey, it would be bad luck even to talk about that. Wasn’t that what Bevin had decreed?
    Okay, I realized I was letting my mood go sour again. I needed to stay calm and let Justin and his guys do their thing—mainly, finding Flora and determining if what Arlen said had any validity.
    Since so many of the town’s policemen were here, I assumed they hadn’t found Flora to question her. And I didn’t see her at the theater, either.
    Soon the Welcome ended, and Bevin thanked everyone for coming. We all started filing out to the lobby.
    Sometimes, after the Welcomes and events like my talk, a bunch of us went out drinking, as we had the other night. But I thought I’d just go back to the B&B, although first I’d check to see what people I liked, such as Gemma—and Justin—were doing.
    When Gemma and I reached the lobby, I could tell that something was going on. The usual crowd noises were superseded by shouts. People were rattling the doors, apparently trying, without success, to open them and get out. Some were yelling and cursing, too.
    Martha, in her wheelchair, sat in a corner with Millie right beside her. Near them was Serina, along with Carolyn Innes, Jeri and Kiara Mardeer, Brian Nereida, Padraic Hassler, and other store and eatery owners, all of whom I’d seen seated inside. Arlen’s bosses at the tour company were there, too—Evonne Albing and Mike Eberhart—although I hadn’t seen Arlen at the show.
    Theater employees, including Phil, wearing garb reminiscent of Art Deco days, were attempting to use keys to unlock the doors, with no success.
    What was going on?
    Then I heard a voice emanating from the public address system, which was usually used to tell people when it was time to enter the theater. This loud voice sounded familiar.
    It was a voice that had suggested, over and over, that its owner intended to find me a new home.
    Flora.
    But what was she up to? Why was she on the PA system?
    All I knew was that what she was saying was—unsurprisingly—superstition-oriented. And it sounded scary.

Eleven
    â€œAll 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.
    â€œAnd 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