Tags:
Mystery,
Mystery Fiction,
Pets,
cozy,
destiny,
fate,
soft-boiled,
dog,
mystery novel,
Superstition,
Luck,
linda johnston,
linda johnson,
linda o. johnson,
lost under a ladder,
mysteries with dogs,
dog myseries,
mysteries with animals
although I hadnât mentioned his reaction. I did nowâbut all I could say was that heâd been interested and promised to look into the situation.
âHave you heard anything from him yet?â
I shook my head.
âWell, then?â She put an imaginary phone up to her ear.
I shrugged and pulled my real one from my pocket, pressed in his number, and held it up to my own ear.
He answered immediately, a surprise at this time of day when he was usually so busy with chief-of-police kinds of things. But I wasnât surprised that he essentially said hi and bye. The real reason heâd taken the time to answer, though, I figured, was that he added, âThat matter I said Iâd look into? So far, no one has located the person we discussed.â
I heard what he wasnât saying. He wanted to know if I had any idea where to find Flora.
I didnât. âSorry,â I said, âbut if I get any information Iâll tell you right away.â After hanging up, I related that bit of conversation to Gemma.
âInteresting,â she said. âIâd imagine they checked her apartment and the real estate company sheâs working for here.â
âProbably.â
Just then Pluckie rose and gave a little woof from beside me. I half expected that my lucky dog had understood what I was saying, and I looked up quickly to see if Flora had joined us here.
Instead, it was a couple of tourists with an inquisitive Malamute whoâd just come onto the patio. The other dog had also spotted Pluckie, and they were having a canine communication session of sorts, both standing their ground and wagging their tails.
I handed Gemma Pluckieâs leash, dug into my purse for one of the promotional brochures I always carried, and approached the couple. I donned my tourist-welcoming demeanor, handed them the flyer, and told them to come visit the Lucky Dog Boutique with their beautiful companion, whom I patted softly on the head between his erect ears.
It dawned on me then. Tourists? Welcoming? âAnd by the way, in case you havenât heard, thereâs a wonderful Destiny Welcome program planned this evening at the Break-a-Leg Theater. Hope to see you there.â
I had attended a lot of Welcomes, although not every one of them. My happiest times at the theater occurred whenever I gave a âBlack Dogs and Black Catsâ program about pets and superstitions.
And at my last talk, when Iâd been able to show off samples of the new dog toys Iâd designed.
The ones that had been stolen.
But I wouldnât think about that now. Or at least, I wouldnât focus on it. And I certainly wouldnât discuss it here, just in case it really would be bad luck.
Townsfolk were encouraged to attend the Welcomes, along with our visitors, to show how committed we all were to Destinyâand to its superstitions. Even those of us who remained skeptical about the real effects of superstitions were willing to encourage more tourists to visit by showing how much we liked our town and its quirkiness.
Besides, rumor had it that it was good luck to attend a Welcome. And given what Iâd been told in the last couple of days, I could have used some good luck.
Gemma and I, and Stuart Chanick, whoâd arrived in Destiny that afternoon, were just entering through the wide doors at the front of the charming, old-style theater, admiring the buildingâs golden Art Deco façade and rounded arches. We werenât the only ones. A large crowd containing some familiar faces, and some that belonged to tourists, was lined up and starting to move inside. The noise of many conversations filled the air around us.
Millie arrived, pushing Martha in her wheelchair, as was their usual routine. I really liked Millie and her attention to her boss and friend. Like Justin, Millie had helped to convince me to stay in Destiny to help Martha.
I didnât know if Arlen would come to the show tonight. He
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