Have Yourself a Beary Little Murder

by Meg Macy

  “I’ll make you that tea.” Leah smiled. “We only turn up the heat right before a showing. Around five o’clock, a few hours before Mr. Cullen tonight. Dave says keeping it at sixty-four degrees saves money. That’s another thing Cal didn’t give us credit for, keeping the utility bills down. Penny pinching. But, oh, Alison never went without.”

  “I take it you don’t like her.”

  “Why should I? She asked for the world, he gave it to her. He always made excuses for her greediness. Poor Alison suffered during the divorce, when Joyce made trouble, on and on. But then he’d complain. Every time he opened his wallet.”

  “What kind of trouble did Joyce make?”

  “That’s old news. Someone slashed Alison’s tires, threw a rock and smashed her car window. Prank phone calls. That kind of thing.” Leah held up a basket with a dozen foil packets. “I have mint, or orange spice, or regular black tea.”

  “Mint is good.”

  “Sugar?”

  “Yes, please.” My throat was dry. Maybe I was thirsty after all. “Things must have settled down, though. Between Cal’s wives.”

  “He had to pay alimony to Joyce, but not child support after she dumped Kristen on him. Now that cash cow’s ended.”

  Leah walked over to the counter and filled a mug with water. She set it in the microwave, punched the panel buttons, and then pushed aside a small coffee maker. While she was busy with the tea, fetching a canister of sugar, I sat down and texted my dad.

  At the funeral home. Help.

  The microwave beeped. I didn’t get a chance to forward the message to Mason before Leah stood beside me, holding my steaming tea mug. She set it before me.

  “Who are you calling?” Suspicion tainted her words.

  “I was going to call Maddie,” I said. Truthful enough, since I always did at some point every day. “Remember, you said you’d show me what happened to the mayor.”

  Leah waved at the sink. “Cal was washing his hands over there. And then he suddenly fell backward. Hit his head, I guess.”

  “You said he clutched his chest. Did he mention having chest pains before that?” I asked. “Or numbness in his arm or shoulder? Most people have warning signs.”

  “Nope, he didn’t say anything. Just fell backward. Dead.”

  “But you said he electrocuted himself.”

  “I guess that’s right.” Her evasiveness was stranger yet. “Drink your tea.”

  “Why didn’t you call 9-1-1? Or check for a pulse.”

  “He was dead. Dave said it had to be an accident. We couldn’t do anything.” Leah waved at the mug, frantic. “You said you wanted tea! Drink it.”

  Her savage tone was another red flag. Since she watched me so close, I brought the cup’s edge to my lips, pretended to swallow a big gulp, and then set it down. “Great. Thanks.”

  “Good, I’m glad you like it.” She broke into a wide smile.

  “Back to Cal Bloom. There had to be some source of electricity for him to get shocked. Bad enough to bring on a heart attack.”

  “He was washing his hands.” Leah blew out a long breath, clearly frustrated. “Why are you asking so many questions! He died. End of story.”

  “But—”

  “Drink your tea, Sasha. All of it.”

  “I’m not thirsty anymore.” I pushed the cup halfway across the table. Her story had flaws and was jumbled together, wrong in parts. And I didn’t trust her now.

  “It probably won’t matter. You drank enough.”

  I froze at her smug tone. “You put something in the tea, didn’t you? Like the wine. In that gift basket Dave took over to Alison Bloom.”

  “How clever of you.” Leah pursed her lips, eyes narrowed. “Alison’s dead, too bad. She deserved it. Like Cal Bloom. He wouldn’t sign those papers, and neither would she. Said she’d never sell, even if we begged her a hundred times. Now you know. And you’ll be sick in a few minutes, too bad. You didn’t need to drink much. I put in extra, to make sure you’ll die.”

  “What did you put in it?” I stared at the mug, wishing I hadn’t touched it at all.

  “It only takes an ounce to kill.” She drew out a small bottle from her pocket. The third one from the shelf downstairs, except the label was missing. “It’s formalin. A mixture of water, menthol, and thirty-seven percent formaldehyde. We use it for embalming.”

  Shock hit me like a cold blast of wind. I pushed my chair back and stood, praying that the mug’s rim had no toxic residue. Could it be absorbed through the skin? My lips burned. Was that real or only my imagination? I scrubbed my mouth with my coat sleeve. If only I could get to the sink and wash, but no. That was where she electrocuted the mayor.

  She’d fry me the same way.

  Leah blocked any escape to the door, and squinted, studying me. As if waiting for me to drop dead. My legs felt wooden, paralyzed. My whole body, in fact. I had to get out of there. Before she had any chance of forcing the rest of that tea down my throat.

  “How did you put the formalin into the wine bottle?”

  “A syringe through the cork. Too bad I couldn’t put in more than an ounce. Otherwise it would have looked suspicious, being too full.” She leaned forward with a sly smile. “You feeling any nausea yet? Maybe disoriented? This time I’ll get to witness the effects in person. That’s gonna be really cool for me. Too bad for you, though.”

  I hated how she kept repeating “too bad.”

  “But, Leah. I thought we were friends.”

  “Sorry, friend. I can’t have you telling the cops what we did. We have to make sure you don’t, that’s all. Just like Alison.”

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “That’s what Cal said, too. He always lied,” Leah said. “He told me that he’d never cheat on Alison, not after he cheated on Joyce. But why did he show me that photo of Cissy? Want to see it? Cal left it here, you know.”

  She pulled a wrinkled photo from her pocket and held it up, although the bright ceiling light added a glare to the shiny surface. That and the creases didn’t hide much of Cissy, with her blond locks falling over one eye, lips pouting. She sprawled across a rumpled bed in crimson Victoria’s Secret bra and panties, a garter belt, black stockings. One red high heel shoe lay on the floor. The other dangled off her arched foot.

  “Cissy Davison thinks she’s so hot, like a movie star.” Leah crushed the photo in her fist. “I told Cal I’d wear an outfit like this, and he could take a photo. All he had to do was sign the papers. But he laughed at me. That was so stupid of him.”

  I forced myself to sound calm, although every nerve inside me screamed. “Yes, that was. He shouldn’t have laughed.”

  “Right! All guys like seeing women half-naked, or totally naked. Even Dave.”

  I sensed Dave had no clue about any of this. Maybe he didn’t want to accept that Cal Bloom’s death was anything but an accident. I couldn’t see him conspiring with Leah to murder the mayor. And I prayed that Dad had gotten my text.

  “Cal washed his hands, right over there, and put on his gloves. He kept laughing. I got mad. So I pushed the coffee pot into the sink. Too bad it was still plugged in.”

  “What did Dave do?” I asked.

  “He wasn’t here,” Leah said impatiently. “Dave really was sick at home, so I took care of everything myself. I didn’t need him.”

  “So the shock brought on Cal’s heart attack.”

  “Uh-huh. Too bad it didn’t kill him. I did check, you know.” She sounded matter of fact, with a hint of pride. “He gasped for air, and squirmed like a pig. He was a pig. Always winking at me. At lots of women around the village, including you. Putting us down like we couldn’t do anything right. Cal fired me, did you know?”

  “He fired you?”

  “He wanted to hire someone else to do makeup,” Leah said, shoulders shaking, half-sobbing. “Someone he could trust! After all the classes I’ve taken, all the people I took pains to make beautiful again. It wasn’t fair, Sasha. I couldn’t let him d
o that to me.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, but knew losing her job had definitely pushed her over the edge. Cal Bloom must not have realized the danger he’d put himself in. He’d made the same mistake with Gina Lawson, dismissing her, and most women. Assuming they’d accept whatever he decided. Gina took steps to claim payment. Leah’s actions went beyond the pale.

  “Cal said he’d tell Dave, too, about me offering to pose for him. What a jerk!” Leah yelled that, her face flushed red. “So I hit him. Hard as I could, on the back of his head. With that pewter urn, the most expensive one that he always pushed people into buying for cremation. Wasn’t that poetic justice? He was good and dead after that.”

  Now I knew the truth. “How did you get him all the way out to the van, though? Cal must have weighed almost three hundred pounds.”

  “And he called me fat!” She huffed, warming to her story. “I got the big rolling cart we use to bring the caskets from the basement. It took a lot, I was sweating by the time I got Cal on it. Then I pushed him out to the van.”

  “Nobody saw you?”

  “It was dark by then. That was the easy part. Now Kristen will sell the funeral home to Dave, and I’ll get what I want for a change. Beautiful clothes, instead of wearing black all the time. And a vacation! We never go anywhere, or get anything new for the house.”

  Dave Richardson suddenly appeared in the lounge’s doorway. “Leah. I told you, we don’t need any of that to be happy.”

  She whirled around at the sound of his voice. He sounded calm. Too calm. Shivers raced through me again, and my skin tingled. Was that another effect of formalin poisoning? My head ached. I blinked, trying to clear my vision.

  “You promised we’d go to Hawaii for our anniversary. Did we? No—”

  “We couldn’t leave after Dad came down sick.”

  “There’s always an excuse! Next month, next year, we have to save more money.”

  Dave heaved a deep sigh. “You said Cal hit his head. Why did you lie to me?”

  I didn’t want to be here, listening to their exchange, but I was trapped. Maybe I’d be able to slink past them while they argued. Leah shoved the table against me, furious, her strength fueled by adrenaline. A wave of tea splashed over the cup’s rim.

  “You’re not going anywhere, Sasha. You’re going to die.”

  “No, Leah. You need help,” Dave said softly. I felt sick, but she ignored him.

  “You weren’t here! There was blood, all over the floor, so I cleaned it up. Bleached it, too. I couldn’t let you find out what happened.” When Dave inched closer to her, she held out a hand. “You never believe me, no matter what I tell you—”

  “Cal never told you jokes. He swore he never made a pass at you.”

  This time she screamed at her husband. “He didn’t have to! I caught him looking at that photo of Cissy, the slut. Cal Bloom was a lying, cheating, dirty old man.”

  I stole a glance at Dave, fearing what would happen next. Would he turn her in to the cops, or protect his wife from being caught? If so, I was doomed. They could work together to get rid of me. Finish the job Leah had started with the formalin.

  “Everything will work out, but you have to trust me,” Dave said.

  “No.” Her fear vanished—replaced by confidence. “Sasha drank the tea. If it wasn’t enough to kill her, I’ve got more. Right here.”

  Leah held up a syringe. I backed against the wall while Dave froze, fists clenched. Was he going to play the hero, and take it by force? She could stick him and then use the rest on me. We’d both end up dead. I reached across the table, since she warily watched Dave.

  “You can’t stop me. Sasha will die—”

  “Wrong.”

  The instant Leah turned her head, I sloshed the tea toward her face. With a screech, she clawed at her eyes but then blindly threw the syringe. It clattered against the wall, inches from my head. I crunched it under my shoe in satisfaction.

  Sirens roared in the distance. Before I dashed to the foyer and out into the cold, panting in relief, I saw Dave wiping Leah’s face, neck, and hands with paper towels. I didn’t care if she suffered. Or what would happen to her, not after she tried to poison me.

  I was so done with crazy killers. Murder, too.

  Chapter 26

  My alarm beeped again. I rolled over in bed, wishing I could stay there all day. Reaching a hand over, I snoozed the button for the third time. Closed my eyes, cherished the last inkling of a sweet dream. Jay’s arms around me, his kisses sweet. And wet.

  “Rosie!” I swiped my mouth. “I love you, too, but ugh. You want to go out already?”

  I checked the clock. Nine o’clock, although the Silver Bear Shop was closed Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. A nice two-day stretch to relax—before our after-Christmas sale, with fifteen to twenty-five percent off holiday accessories and teddy bears. Some customers hadn’t picked up their Beary Potter Keepsake wizard bears yet. But we’d met the deadline, thankfully. Except the Child’s Play Toy Box Co. sent dozens of last-minute orders.

  That meant we’d be producing and shipping bears through January.

  “Sasha,” Maddie called from downstairs. “Breakfast!”

  Leaving the cozy warmth of my down comforter wasn’t easy. I threw on a pair of fleece pajama pants and a hoodie, then brushed my hair and teeth. The formalin in that mug of tea had chafed my lips and the skin below my mouth. It could have been far worse, though. I had minor abrasions, compared to poor Alison Bloom.

  Sighing, I applied the prescription ointment and hoped it would fade before Jay returned today. I wished I’d gone shopping for something else. Maybe my gift for Jay wasn’t as perfect as I first thought.

  It’s almost Christmas. The magic will soon begin.

  “Okay, Grandpa T. R.” Hearing his voice in my head cheered my spirits. Rosie waited by the stairs, so I rubbed her curly ears. “Santa Paws is coming tonight! Let’s go.”

  In the kitchen, my parents sat with Aunt Eve and Uncle Ross, coffee mugs in hand, and the remains of eggs, bacon, and waffles on their plates. Falling snow obliterated the view through the window of everything but white-coated trees. Rosie shot outside without her sweater or coat. She didn’t linger, however. I caught her before she could shake herself. Ice caked her paw pads, which I gently loosened with a soft towel.

  “—sure to get a plea deal,” Dad was saying. “Premeditated murder, plus poisoning. The last is a fifteen-year felony. But I haven’t heard much yet.”

  The awful memory of the funeral home rushed back. I had fled from the lounge to find Dad rushing from his car, but he whisked me to the hospital before I finished explaining. After receiving my text, he’d sent Dave Richardson while he hunted down Chief Russell.

  Dad also explained that Dave had shared his fears of losing everything at the pub. His self-respect, the business, family honor—and he’d kept a close watch on Leah, hoping his suspicions were wrong. He’d sensed Cal Bloom’s death hadn’t been an accident, but chose to be passive.

  That decision nearly cost my life.

  The doctors had examined my inflamed skin and proclaimed me lucky that I’d evaded a more severe injury. After I explained a gazillion times, to the hospital staff, Chief Russell, and my family once Dad drove me home, I remained numb to it all for several days.

  I’d trusted Leah. While not a close friend, she seemed so vulnerable and I felt drawn to help her. Little did I suspect that she’d cracked. I also felt betrayed by Dave, who chose to bury his head in the sand. Leah could easily have added two more murders, mine and Alison Bloom’s. I shuddered, remembering that tea. How sly she’d looked, how self-satisfied until Dave arrived and interfered. At least I’d survived without being poisoned.

  Maddie waved a hand in front of my face. “Wakey, wakey! Feeling better?”

  “Thank God you didn’t swallow that stuff.” Uncle Ross slapped the table. “They’ll put Leah Richardson away for life, since she admitted her guilt.”

  “Aliso
n’s inflammation in her stomach and throat won’t heal for a long time,” Mom said. “I’m so angry at Dave. The truth was staring him in the face. No one in Silver Hollow will ever let him or the whole clan forget this.”

  “People won’t hold it against them,” Dad said. “Even if they won’t forget, they will forgive Dave for being blindsided. It’s Christmas Eve, so let’s count our blessings.”

  I couldn’t help feeling apathetic, though. Dad had called Jay and told him everything, and I knew he’d be upset. Especially since we’d both nearly been killed a few months ago. Jay had warned me to avoid sleuthing. So did Detective Mason. I’d ignored them both and plodded on to confront another close brush with death. Mom felt guilty, and swore she’d never ask me again to prove anyone’s innocence. Not even Dad’s, and that made me laugh.

  But I had some serious thinking to do.

  Rosie jumped up, surprising everyone by her frantic barking by the door. I covered my face with my hands, praying Jay hadn’t arrived. I wasn’t emotionally ready to face him. Hearing Detective Mason’s voice, I sagged in relief. He remained by the door, refusing to sit.

  “Sasha.” Slowly I raised my eyes and met his gaze. Mason gave a wry smile. “I’m not gonna say ‘I told you so,’ but don’t beat yourself up. I missed the boat, like you did.”

  “By an ocean. And you did say ‘I told you so.’ ”

  “How’s Mrs. Richardson?” Dad asked the detective. “Still in the hospital?”

  He nodded. “Dave flushed her eyes before any permanent damage was done, but she inhaled it and that affected her lungs. She’s changed her story half a dozen times, but it doesn’t matter. I have to say this town’s getting a bad rep.”

  “Not our fault,” I said. He laughed.

  “I hope I won’t have to come back for a long time. If ever.”

  Before departing, Mason brought out a package for Rosie. “Hope this doesn’t drive you nuts, but she’s a sweet dog. Have a wonderful holiday, folks. A safe one.”