Unlucky Charms by Linda O. Johnston Page A

sorts of new good luck pet toys, it would be terrible.
    On the other hand, I really needed to do that inventory and see if I still had even one of those new toys left.
    â€œOkay,” I said sadly. I looked at Martha. She was nearer to me now, since Justin had assisted her through the debris. She nodded and looked as miserable as I felt.
    I had an idea. “Martha? Justin? You go ahead and close us down for now. Everything in the back looked okay, so I’m going to get on the computer and print out a bunch of coupons that we can leave in the front—lucky coupons saying that everyone who picks one up will get fifteen percent off whatever they buy here within the next two days, after we reopen.”
    â€œLet us check out the back room first,” Choye said, “and even if it’s okay, you still won’t be able to touch anything besides the computer.”

    It was nearing noon now. Justin had dispatched a crime scene investigation team fairly quickly, three of them, and they’d managed to get through the storeroom, then the shop, reasonably fast. I’d already called our assistants, Millie and Jeri, and told them not to come in till the afternoon, saying that I’d explain later.
    Which I would, as much as I could without making them worry that I was raining bad luck down on them.
    Detective Fidelio had come back after accompanying Gemma to the Broken Mirror, and told us that all was fine there. No one had broken into the bookstore.
    The two detectives had hung around for most of the morning, assisting the crime lab techs and asking me questions. As the investigation wound down, I was surprised that the detectives actually assisted me in doing a cursory inventory, primarily for their own crime scene analysis, but it also helped me.
    And now all of them were finally leaving.
    That included Justin, who’d also remained here, ostensibly helping to pore through everything at the crime scene. Maybe that was, in fact, all he’d intended. But his presence certainly helped me—and Martha—get through a very difficult time.
    He even helped clean up the pieces of broken mirror and spilled salt. I removed five dollar bills from our cash register and handed them out, to counter the former bit of bad luck as that superstition dictated, and we each tossed some salt over our shoulder, to offset the bad luck associated with the latter.
    I carried the tablet computer I used with me as I jotted down each piece of merchandise. I’d compare it against what was supposed to be here later. Finally, I got a brief opportunity to speak to Martha—with Justin present.
    We stood near the shelves where the stuffed dog toys were displayed. Shelves that did not currently contain any of the new toys I’d designed. We’d found none of them in the shop. Although we still had a few of the new products in boxes in the back, not many had been in the front of the store yet. At the moment, none were.
    Which again led me to believe that the thief had been at my talk, and, perhaps, had some kind of grudge against me. But who? And why?
    Martha hadn’t heard any noise from the shop during the night, which she reiterated again, also pointing out that she didn’t sleep too deeply these days. But she’d had some bad dreams. “I don’t remember them all, but one stood out,” she said, a sad expression on her face. “There was a raccoon in it and it was chasing me, so I was running away.”
    â€œThat does sound pretty scary,” I agreed, although it didn’t seem terribly bad to me.
    Not until Martha said, “You know what that means, Justin, don’t you? We’ve talked about it before. I had one like it when I was in the hospital, around the time Pluckie saved me.” She bent slightly and motioned to my dog, who moved from her place beside me to accept a pat on the head.
    Justin nodded. “You told me that dreaming about a raccoon means to stay on guard,