by Sharon Dunn
Ginger stared at her husband of thirty-nine years with the same mixture of anxiety and excitement she used to feel on a first date.
Like an approaching train, the ringing of the phone grew louder, slowly penetrating the deep sleep Cynthia Mallory had fallen into. Beebe purred on her chest. She had never slept so well and so deeply in her life. Beebe was an all-natural sleeping pill, a narcatic. Mallory opened her eyes. She turned her head slightly, absorbing her surroundings. She’d fallen asleep on her couch. What else? The phone rang again. It was a normal ring, not her cell, which chimed the whistling theme from Andy Griffith.
Mallory twisted slightly and grabbed the cordless off the coffee table.
“‘Lo.” Mallory swallowed to produce some moisture in her mouth. Her voice creaked.
“I’m down at the lab.” Jacobson sounded downright chirpy.
“Weren’t you supposed to go home and reconnect with your family?”
“I did that, and then I came down to the lab to see what the results were on the squirrel ball. What did you do?”
The question implied that Mallory had made some brilliant leap forward with the case. She had in fact consumed half a bag of Famous Amos cookies, felt guilty about that for about ten minutes, and then fallen into a deep sleep thanks to her new pet. “I got a few things done around the house and then took a little nap. Anything good with the lab results?”
“Simpson’s prints are on it, no surprise there. And Martha Hill-strong’s are on it too.”
“Hillstrong and Simpson are acquaintances. It is entirely possible that Martha had a good reason to pick up the Binky ball.” Mallory planted her feet on the carpet. The half empty bag of store-bought cookies rested on the coffee table. Maybe they were placing too much importance on the squirrel-napping. Chances are it was just one of those weird, unconnected crimes. “Was Hillstrong in the system?”
“A minor assault a few years ago. A teenager was shooting a pellet gun at squirrels in the park. Hillstrong took offense.”
“From protecting squirrels to murder. That’s a leap. Plus, I really doubt a squirrel lover would use one as a weapon, even postmortem.” She pushed the bag of cookies to one side. So much of police work was finding answers for questions. That squirrel got out of the room somehow and for some reason. “For lack of a better lead, we might want to talk to her.” That was the problem. Until Xabier Knight and Mrs. Salinski surfaced, they didn’t have any strong leads. So they were killing time with this squirrel thing. “Mr. Salinski hasn’t checked out of the hotel, is that correct?”
“Last time I asked the front desk, he was still checked in.”
Mallory massaged the back of her neck. Beebe had made herself comfortable on her thigh. “Why don’t you meet me in the hotel lobby, say in an hour? I got to go down to the corner market and get some cat food.”
“Things are working out pretty good for you two?”
“Yeah, it’s nice to have somebody who actually likes me around. I went by the Dumpster to see if she wanted to stay there. She chose me over a lifetime supply of pasta and pizza. That made me feel good.” Mallory lifted the bag of cookies and sniffed, absorbing the lingering aroma. Her mouth watered. “Our missing bear suit was in the garbage.” She had forgotten about accidentally accomplishing that bit of police work.
“That might give us a lead,” said Jacobson.
“Maybe. I turned it into the lab. It was shredded with a scissors or knife and pretty contaminated.”
“Sounds like somebody was looking for something.”
A strong hand squeezed Ginger’s upper arm. Victoria had rushed over to greet her.
Ginger turned her attention away from Earl, who was doing his statue impersonation by the elevator. She’d been gone for a day and a night. Why didn’t he come over and give her a hug?
Victoria gripped her upper arm, smiling placidly. She was decked out in a lavender exercise suit. Except for the penciled brows, she wore no makeup.
“I’m on my way to do my workout and then spa. Fiona Truman and I have paid extra for privacy in the spa.” Victoria lifted her chin. “You can do that when you have celebrity status. I’ll wait for you, if you want to change into workout gear.”
“Thanks for the invitation.” Ginger veered her eyes toward Earl. “It’s not a good time.” Her husband still hadn’t moved. “How about a rain check? Tomorrow?”
“Sounds good.” Victoria performed a stretch that involved clasping her arms behind her back and swinging side to side. “What’s your room number?”
“I’m in 517.”
Earl took a single step in her direction.
“Are you feeling okay?” Victoria placed a hand on her hip and bent sideways, stretching her arm toward the ceiling. “You seem a bit distracted.”
She looked at the aging starlet. Victoria’s eyes were clear, her cheeks had a natural blush to them that suggested a high level of health. She’d been so fixated on Earl she’d almost missed the open door God had provided for her to share with a stranger. “I’ve just been through a life-changing event. I—”
Victoria squeezed Ginger’s shoulder. “How about I just meet you in the gym tomorrow, say eleven o’clock?”
That door slammed pretty fast. Apparently, life-changing events weren’t Victoria’s thing. “Okay, that sounds good.” Again, Ginger turned her attention to her husband.
Earl shook his head.
Victoria sauntered around the corner and out of view.
Husband and wife performed a strange choreography. She took a step toward him, and then he took a step toward her, until finally she was close enough to see the level of sadness in his eyes, the droopiness of his expression. What was going on here? Wasn’t he glad to see her?
He lifted and lowered his hands as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them. “I missed you. I was so … where did you go?”
I missed you too, my sweet man. “So much has happened in such a short time.”
He stroked his widow’s peak. “A lot went on here too.” The pace of his head rubbing slowed, and he looked directly at her. “The detective said …” He stepped toward her. “Don’t you trust me?”
That was the last thing she had expected to come out of his mouth. “What are you talking about?”
“When we were being interviewed by that detective, she said you gave me a look.”
This was not how she imagined their conversation going. Disappointment pressed down on her like a lead shawl. “Earl, I saw you on the convention floor hours before Dustin was killed.”
“Do you think I had something to do with the murder?” His voice was almost a whisper. He leaned over, looking like he was about to crumple into a fetal position.
“Of course not. It’s just that …” She hadn’t meant to torment him, to plant such doubt, but she couldn’t deny what she had seen.
“Why didn’t you show up to the Shopping Channel audition? I needed you.” He bent his head and lowered his voice. “Have you lost faith in me?”
“No, Earl, that’s not it.” While her world had been coming together, his had been falling apart. “I’ve been worrying too much about money. I lost everything, and God took care of me—”
“I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t believe in me.”
“It’s just that you’ve become this different person. This goal of becoming a great inventor is consuming you, Earl, and it scares me.” She touched his upper arm. “Where’s the sweet man I married?”
“He’s still here, Ginger.” He held out his arms.
She stepped toward him, let his arms envelop her as she rested her cheek against his warm chest, melting into him. Yes, that was what she had missed.
He patted her back. “We just need to find a distributor, and then things will get back to normal.”
Ginger stiffened in his embrace. “You say that, Earl, but after that it will be some other thing connected with the invention.” She lifted her head off his chest. “I want to be supportive of you, I do, bu
t something is out of whack.”
“Just help me out with this one thing, and then I promise. Fiona Truman from the Shopping Channel might have us on. I’m no good on TV, but you are; you’re a great salesperson.”
Ginger leaned back. “You haven’t heard a single word I said.”
Earl dug into his wallet. “She gave me her card and everything.” He waved the business card like a little boy with a new action figure.
They were two trains headed in opposite directions on different tracks. “It’s just that it seems like you don’t see people anymore.”
“We’ve staked so much financially on this.” He leaned a little closer to her. “I’m working hard. Isn’t that a good thing? Doesn’t God call us to excellence?”
“Not at the expense of everything else. There’s a fine line between striving for excellence and becoming a workaholic.”
His mouth opened slightly, and he shook his head.
She couldn’t make him understand. She stepped away from him. “I’m going to go find that Detective Mallory. I have important things to tell her.”
Hanging out in a discount bait shop wasn’t Kindra’s idea of a good time. But, at least, the place didn’t smell like fish as she had expected. It was more like the scent of fresh-cut wood.
While she had waited in the lobby for Ginger, she had checked the front desk for messages. Xabier wanted to see her again next door at the bait shop ASAP The guy really needed to invest in a cell phone. She’d made a spur of the moment decision, something she rarely did. Xabier needed her more than Ginger.
Kindra scanned the shop. No Xabier. Fishing flies held her interest for about ten seconds. She sauntered in the direction of attire, where she could watch the door in case Xabier came in. What did the well-dressed fisherman wear these days? Waders and flannel shirts were all the rage. Several patrons perused the store. One of them, an older man, engaged the clerk in a conversation about bobbers.
She stopped to examine an odd contraption, waders with a sort of inner tube around the top. What would a fashion show for fishermen be like? Half-starved models stalking down the runway in flotation devices complete with feet. The image made her smile.
A hand warmed her shoulder. She turned slowly and gazed at a man in a baseball hat and dirty T-shirt. Xabier was good at this disguise thing. She had looked at this man several times and dismissed him as a possibility. He had a potbelly and five o’clock shadow. Only the eyes gave him away this time. He’d opted not to use the colored contacts. Looking in those brown eyes was kind of nice.
“I like your smile.” Xabier pulled the cap down so it covered more of his face. “Are you having any luck finding what you need there, pretty lady?”
He had changed his voice, making it more gravelly with just a hint of redneck. Kindra leaned a little closer. “You’re really getting into this, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess, but this isn’t how I planned to use my theater degree.” He pushed up the volume on his voice. “I’m partial to this green flannel myself.”
She caught herself about to say his name and glanced around the store again.
He leaned closer to her and whispered, “I need you to find my mom. I can’t risk them connecting her with me. They might put pressure on her. But I got to take some action, get this thing to move forward. She’s not strong … physically. Her name is Gloria.”
“I know who she is. My friends have met her.”
“Tell her I’m okay.” He turned slightly, pulling on the sleeve of a flannel shirt. He pressed his lips together. “Tell her not to worry.”
It was nice to meet a guy who cared about his mother’s feelings. She touched his hand. “We’ll get this worked out.”
“One more thing. You said that I should do that visualization thing. The agreement they showed me had the name at the top. It was Eternal something or Infinite something.”
“Something to do with things going on forever?”
“Yeah. Maybe Dustin had some record of it in his files. I was thinking maybe you and my mom could look for it together. That would help us figure out who these guys are.”
“We have to go to the police at some point.”
Xabier arched his back. “I told you. I don’t trust cops.”
She tried a different tactic. “Where are you staying?” Maybe if she hit him with the reality of how being a fugitive forced him to live, he’d be more inclined to go to the police.
“I’m moving around a lot. I haven’t been back to the room Dustin gave me to live in accept to grab a few things real quick. I know they’re watching that. There are storage closets on almost every floor; most of them have one of those fold-down beds in them.”
“That can’t be fun.”
“Hopefully, it won’t last much longer. Find my mom and tell her what is going on. She’ll know how to handle it.”
“Take care of yourself.” She swallowed to keep from saying his name. His gaze made her heart beat faster than the prospect of a half price sale on shoes.
His hand grazed over hers, sending tingles up her arm. She leaned close and kissed him on his fake stubble. “You go out now and catch some big fish.”
He whispered in her ear, “Turn your back and I’ll be gone.”
She pivoted pretending to be fascinated by fly fishing poles. His hand brushed over her hair, with a gossamer touch. When she turned back around, there was no sign of him.
Stay safe, Xabier, stay safe.
Ginger stared at the hotel room phone.
“That won’t make it ring sooner.” Arleta played with the zipper on her purple, sequined, satin jacket, turning side to side in front of the mirror.
Suzanne rested on the bed, legs crossed at the ankles, flipping through a magazine. “It’s only been like twenty minutes since you called the station house.”
Half an hour ago, Ginger had walked into her hotel room to find two members of the BHN. They had greeted her with long hugs, and she had shared the ordeal of the night before. Something Earl hadn’t even asked her about.
Suzanne tossed her magazine on the bed. “You left your cell number with the police, didn’t you?”
“I lost my cell when I lost my purse. I gave him your number.”
“Why don’t we go out and do something fun to get your mind off of this?” Suzanne swung her feet to the floor. “Detective Mallory can just get hold of me.”
“I want to get this resolved, so they can find who hit me in the head.” Ginger rose to her feet, crossing and uncrossing her arms. “The stolen jewelry might have something to do with Dustin’s death. I’m sure that was the bear costume he was killed in. How many bear costumes can there be?”
A phone buzzed. Ginger jumped. Hope that the call was for her vaporized when Suzanne flipped it open and checked the screen. Her face brightened. “My kids.” She chimed into the phone, “Hey, sweet baby. How’s Mamas girl?” She meandered toward the bathroom.
“Maybe I should just go down to the station house.” Ginger’s finger tapped the table.
“That sounds like a time waster. You would just be waiting at the station house instead of waiting here. What if she’s here at the hotel investigating?” Arleta plunked down on the bed. “I’m sure she checks in for messages, and the station probably can reach her on her cell.”
She hated not being able to do anything. Waiting was the worst. What to do? Her feet sunk into the plush carpet as she paced.
Arleta propped a pillow against the wall, leaned back against it, and closed her eyes. Her hand fluttered to her forehead. Skin, tissue-paper thin, revealed blue veins. Age spots occupied more territory than clear skin.
She’d never thought of Arleta as old, but now … She noticed the slight shaking when she held her hands up. “That jacket suits you.” Ginger sat back down in the chair. “It brightens you up. Brings out the color in your eyes.”
“I need brightening, do I?” The older woman opened her eyes and smoothed the jacket over her flat stomach. “I think I’m dressing
in these flashy things because I want to feel less close to dying.”
Ginger blinked several times. What a shocking thing to hear her robust friend say. “Arleta, you’re in great health. You’ve got twenty years ahead of you.”
“It’s just that I met that Gloria Clydell the night her ex-husband was killed. She could die anytime. Yet, she was happy. I suddenly saw my own life in perspective.” She patted her chest. “This old ticker is going to stop sooner or later.”
Ginger leaned back in the hotel chair, allowing herself one more glance at the phone. “We’re all going to die … sooner or later.”
“But you’re going to go to heaven.” Arleta picked microscopic fuzz off her jacket.
Ginger stared at the senior member of the Bargain Hunters. She sat up a little straighten They didn’t talk that much about their faith. But something they did or said had impacted Arleta. Ginger opened her mouth to speak. The important moment was interrupted by Suzanne yelping from the bathroom and emerging holding her phone.
Ginger squeezed Arleta’s hand. “We need to finish this conversation. It’s important.”
Suzanne trotted back into the room waving her phone. “Ginger, your cyber stalker is getting quite hostile. You’ve got like ten e-mails forwarded from the address we set up for the blog.” Suzanne read: “‘Where are you? You are the only one who can help me. My spending is out of control. Please help me. Why aren’t you posting? I live for those blog entries.’ She or he signs it Crazy in Calamity.”
Ginger’s thoughts tangled. She rested her head on the table. “I’m not going to post, and I’m not going to respond to that terrible person. I have bigger fish to fry. My cat is still missing. I need to clear mine and Earl’s name.” And … my husband and I are on two separate planets. Ginger rose to her feet.
Suzanne shut her phone. “We will think of Crazy in Calamity no more.”
Arleta threw her hands up. “We can’t just sit here. Ginger will go insane. We have to do something. I’m with Suzanne. Why don’t we go out and visit the garage sales? That’s one of the reasons we came to this town anyway.”
