Death of a Six-Foot Teddy Bear

by Sharon Dunn

  Mallory placed Beebe on the floor and poured some food into the dish.

  She turned the kitchen faucet on while the cat made crunching noises. Warm water flowed over her hands as thoughts cascaded in her head. Ginger Salinski could have put all the guilt at Mr. Simpson’s door to detract attention from herself. Instead, she didn’t want Mallory to see Simpson as a murder suspect. Mrs. Salinski could have gotten herself off the hook, but didn’t.

  Mallory pulled a towel off the refrigerator door handle. That could mean one of two things. Ginger was involved with Simpson, personally or professionally, and she wanted to protect him. The other option was that Ginger was an honest person who would make herself look guilty in order to speak the truth. Mallory tossed the towel on the counter.

  Beebe purred against her leg.

  She didn’t know what to think.

  Kindra slumped against the pop machine and pressed her teeth into the rubbery licorice. “I am pretty sure this licorice was put in that machine when the first Bush was president.”

  Xabier stood by the candy machine. “These don’t look too bad. Gourmet jellybeans.”

  Kindra pulled her knees up to her chest. “I love gourmet jellybeans. Lets try those.”

  “They’re my favorite too.” He slipped quarters into the slot.

  A door clicked open. Kindra crawled to the edge of the vending room and peered around the corner. A large woman in a red coat stepped out of the even-numbered side of rooms. “Not him. What if we wait here all night and Frankenstein never leaves?”

  “I say we give it until our jellybeans are gone.” He sat down beside her. “Being with me isn’t that bad, is it?”

  Kindra shook her head. Not bad at all. Her stomach growled. “Do you suppose room service would come up here?”

  “This will have to be our dinner.” He handed her the bag of jellybeans. “Then maybe I’ll ask Tiff if she can watch the lobby and let us know when he leaves.”

  “You know what I like about jellybeans?” She tore open the bag and ate one; lemon-lime flavor washed over her tongue. Jellybeans were the best snack. “They’re like a million desserts in one.” Using her purse as a table, she spread the candy out. She picked up a yellow one and a white one and placed them in Xabier’s hand. “Guess what you’re eating?”

  “Mixing your jellybeans. You do live dangerously.” He chewed the jellybeans for a moment. “Banana coconut pie.” He picked up a light brown one and white one with yellow dots on it and placed them in her hand. “Now it’s your turn.”

  Again, her heart drummed from the heat of his touch. Kindra popped the two candies in her mouth and bit into them. “Yum, caramel popcorn.”

  “I don’t think people are supposed to have this much fun with a bag of jellybeans,” he said.

  Xabier’s eyes closed when he laughed. Etchings of laugh lines around his mouth appeared. The rich tones of his voice tugged at her heart. The intensity of his stare made a tingling rise up through her toes and radiate over her skin.

  He smoothed his tousled hair. “Are you going to eat the black ones?”

  “I hate the black ones. Licorice is my least favorite.”

  “I like them best. We work well together, don’t we, sweetheart?” Xabier spoke in his Humphrey Bogart voice. “Stick with me kid. You can have a bag of jellybeans anytime.”

  “Just finish your candy, tough guy.” He was fun. Could they base a relationship on a mutual love for jellybeans?

  They ate and talked and laughed until only two jellybeans were left.

  Kindra stared down at the last two pieces of candy. “Well, I guess the party’s over.”

  Xabier tilted his head. “They look kind of lonely there, don’t they?”

  “I’ll take the blue one. You can have the burgundy one.” She picked up the blue jellybean.

  “Wait just a minute.” He clamped onto her hand. “I think I’m getting the raw end of a deal here. Do you even know what flavor the burgundy one is?”

  “No.” She held the blue jellybean close to her lips.

  “My point exactly. But that blueberry one. Now that is a prize jellybean.”

  “Oh, all right.” With exaggerated pathos, she slapped the blue jellybean down on the purse.

  “Now you made me feel bad. You have it.” He slumped his shoulders and hung his head theatrically as he pushed the candy toward her.

  “After that kind of protest, you take it.” She scooted the candy across the purse.

  “I insist.” He picked up the blue bean and placed it in her palm, closing her fingers around it. “You take the blueberry.” He held her hand in his a little longer than was necessary to make his point.

  “Fine.” She shoved the bean in her mouth.

  Xabier opened his mouth wide, feigning shock. “You go right on ahead and have that succulent, juicy blueberry.” He stuck out his lower lip in a mock pout. “I’ll just have blah burgundy.” He fluttered his eyelashes.

  Kindra mimed playing a violin. “Oh, you poor baby.” She leaned toward Xabier. Her cross necklace slipped out from where she had it tucked under her shirt.

  Xabier’s smile faded. He grabbed the pendant and rubbed it. “Is that thing for real or for show?”

  “For real.”

  Xabier nodded and turned away.

  “Like your mom.”

  “My mom’s faith is my mom’s faith.” He still wouldn’t look at her.

  “But it’s not yours?”

  His voice sounded strained. “It’s all messed up in my head.”

  “Sometimes when I try to understand the theological concepts, my head starts to hurt.” She bounced on her knees. “Then I watch a Veggie Tales video, and it all makes sense.”

  Her comment produced a grin from him. “It’s not about theology.”

  She liked the way he could let go of a bad mood so easily. Of course it wasn’t about theology. She knew that. If only his resistance could be cured with an academic explanation. “Your mom and I had a nice talk.”

  He crossed his arms. “You and my mom, huh? I had a feeling about you. Maybe that’s why I liked you in the first place.”

  What did he mean by that?

  Down the hallway, a door opened. Kindra peeked out. “It’s Frankenstein. He’s headed toward the elevator.”

  She’d have to get the answer to that question later.

  Ginger stopped in the long hallway outside of room 515. Her hana slipped from her husbands. She whispered, “There is a light on under Mr. Simpson’s door.”

  Earl wandered the few feet to their room. “Maybe they’ve checked someone else into the room.” He stuck the skeleton key into the doorknob of 517. “Do you really think he would come back?”

  Ginger placed her hand on her hips and stared at the band of light. “Mallory said they haven’t found the jewels yet.”

  “But they searched the room?”

  “Maybe he had a very good hiding place for the jewels. He had to leave in a hurry, so he sure didn’t take them with him.”

  Earl relocked their door and put the key back in his pocket. “Should we call the front desk and find out if they put somebody else in?”

  “I don’t know if they would even tell us that.” Ginger shrugged. She knocked on the door and mustered up a tone of nonchalance. “Hello, is anyone in there?” The light went out. Electric pinpricks tingled down her neck and back, signaling danger. Ginger turned the doorknob.

  Earl trotted toward her and tugged on her sleeve. “The guy tried to stab you with a knife.”

  “You can go with me.” She gave his bicep a little squeeze. I’ll be okay as long as my big, strong husband is by my side.”

  “Your big, strong, old husband, you mean.”

  She laughed and snuggled up against him. “Oh, Earl.” She pushed the door open and stared into the dark room. Earl slipped his hand into hers. She felt along a wall for the light switch.

  The room had been cleaned and vacuumed. “I wonder what happened to his stuff.” The faint impres
sion of footprints was evident in the crosshatching created by the recent vacuuming on the carpet.

  “Hello.” She stepped inside. “Yoo-hoo.”

  Earl rested a hand on her lower back. “Maybe we should just let the police handle this.”

  “Lets check the bathroom.” Her mouth was completely dry. Her heart pounded, yet she couldn’t stop herself from going deeper into the room. It was scary … and exciting.

  “Maybe we should call security or something.”

  Who was he going to call on next for help, the CIA? She swatted him lightly on the shoulder. “That’ll take too long. Besides, you’re the one that said we need to start having more adventures in our empty-nest years.”

  He put his hand in the air. “All right. All right. We’ll do it your way … the dangerous way.”

  She scanned the room and then wrapped her arms in his. “We have to check the bathroom,” she whispered.

  “‘We?’ Do you have a mouse in your pocket?”

  “It’s an adventure, Earl.”

  “A motorcycle ride is an adventure. This is dangerous.”

  “It’s just an empty room.” Of course she didn’t believe that, but Earl was just being such a chicken. They stepped across the carpet. Ginger leaned against the sink outside the slightly open door that led to the toilet and tub. “Push it open.”

  “You push it open.”

  “We’ll do it together, and then I’ll hit the switch on three. One, two, three. “

  Light filled the empty bathroom. The shower curtain was pushed aside, revealing only a clean tub.

  Huh. Ginger tugged on one of her curls. Somebody had been in here. She stalked back into the main part of the hotel room. The window was closed. When she peered outside, there was only wall, no way to crawl down the five floors. No ledge to hide on. Such a riddle. She turned a half circle in the room. Simpson was small man. Where would he hide?

  “Ginger,” Earl walked over to a door partially hidden by the billowy curtain.

  Ginger pushed the curtain aside. “The room adjoins the one next to it, 513.”

  Tiffany lifted her hands off the keyboard. The phone rang a fourth time. She rolled her eyes. It just never let up around here. The phone hadn’t stopped ringing since she’d gotten back from giving Xabier the key. “Hello, Wind-Up Hotel, front desk.” Her stomach growled. She should have eaten hours ago.

  “This is Officer Smith with the Calamity police.”

  The possibility of being part owner in the hotel made it easier to put up with the chaos. Tiffany angled the phone slightly away. The guy sounded like he had a cold. “Yes?”

  “Have you cleaned out 515?”

  Tiffany sighed and stared at the ceiling. She was so over this investigation thing. “You guys said it was okay if I did that after you searched it. I need to get another person in there.”

  “Calm down, miss. We just need to know where you put Mr. Simpson’s personal effects.”

  She’d been through all this with the other officer. “Why?”

  “We’re now thinking that some of those things need to be taken in for evidence.”

  Didn’t these guys talk to each other? “I moved them to the old atrium that’s now a storeroom on the west side of the hotel near the large boat marina. You need to come to me if you want in. I don’t remember any Officer Smith, and believe me, I have met a lot of cops in the last couple of days.” The sooner they were gone, the better. She didn’t need them snooping around. After all, she was about to become half owner of the hotel. “Were you the tall, blond guy who didn’t talk much?”

  The man hung up.

  Kindra’s heart raced as Xabier placed the skeleton key in the lock and turned it.

  With their shoulders pressed together, they peered inside. An open suitcase on the bed came into view. Anticipation akin to holding a wrapped birthday present made her bounce three times. “I feel a little bit like Nancy Drew.”

  Xabier shook his head. “I don’t think I have heard that reference since third grade.” He tousled her fake, black hair. “I like your sweetness.”

  “Is that what it is?” She liked a lot about him too. “So we just go in here and find the name of the business, right?”

  Xabier slipped into the room. He walked over to a desk where several papers were scattered along with a closed laptop.

  Kindra stepped inside and closed the door. She scanned the room. Guilt washed over her. Maybe it wasn’t right to go through someone’s stuff even if he did carry a gun and threaten people’s lives. Maybe it wasn’t right for Tiffany to give them the key. “We should hurry, huh?”

  Xabier opened a desk drawer. “There are some papers over there.”

  She inched toward the bed and slid the suitcase across the comforter. The papers were all brochures and Internet printouts about places to eat and visit in Calamity. Frankenstein had combined extorting money with seeing tourist attractions, a working vacation.

  “Find anything?”

  Kindra shook her head. She positioned the papers the way she remembered seeing them and then scooted the suitcase back over the top of them.

  Xabier wandered toward the bathroom.

  Kindra glanced at the door. “Maybe the other guy has the piece of paper.”

  Xabier angled his head around the bathroom wall. “No, it was Frankenstein who showed it to me, and then he stuffed it in his leather jacket.”

  “Maybe if we find the jacket?” She trotted over to the closet by the door. Bingo. One new-looking leather coat hung in the closet. Kindra pulled it from the hanger. The jacket had a least five zippered pockets. “Which pocket was it?”

  “Umm … I’m trying to do that visualization thing that you taught me. Just a second.” It sounded like Xabier was still moving around the bathroom judging from the jumpiness in his voice. “I think it was one of the lower pockets. No, wait … inside pocket. Yeah, I remember seeing him stuff it like in a breast pocket.”

  Kindra turned the jacket toward the lining and felt for a seam. Her hand touched a piece of paper.

  Three sudden and intense knocks reverberated through the room. “Hey. Hey, Fred. Freddy, are you in there?”

  Kindra froze. What to do? Xabier had stopped making noise in the bathroom. Don’t let that thug open the door. She slipped into the closet and slumped down into the dark corner, positioning the coat over her head.

  The doorknob turned. The voice muttered something about the door not being locked and Fred being less than intelligent. Then the voice became loud, three feet away with no door as a barrier. “I got a lead on the kid. His mom is in the hotel.

  Kindra pulled the jacket away from her face. They knew about Gloria. He walked past the closet. She caught a glimpse of a sports coat, a fat guy. Frankenstein’s partner.

  “Come on, the door is open.” The big guy muttered. “You got to be here. You haven’t passed out in the bathtub again, have you?” Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. This guy was a bigger clod than Frankenstein.

  Underneath the jacket, Kindra’s breathing sounded like it had been turned up to a ten on the volume dial. She had the sensation of pressure on every inch of her skin. Footsteps pounded on carpet. The tone of the footsteps changed from carpet to the sharp click of shoes on tile. She pressed her eyes shut.

  Don’t hurt Xabier.

  Kindra closed her eyes. Pieces of every psalm she had ever memorized floated through her head. God is my refuge and ever present help in time of trouble, the Lord is my Shepherd, be still and know that He is God. Whatever happens, He is God. Protect Xabier, please, God. I know he doesn’t fit anything on my checklist, but I really like him.

  She jumped at the sound of a shower curtain being pulled back. The back of her head hit the wall of the closet.

  Silence.

  She dug her fingers into the carpet. Her muscles hardened. She squeezed her eyes shut, anticipating a gunshot.

  Footsteps again. The man mumbled something indiscernible, and then he thundered past the closet and out the door.
/>   Kindra slumped forward like a rag doll, resting her face against her knees. Was there a silencer on the mans gun? After waiting a few minutes to make sure he wouldn’t come back, she crawled out of the closet, rose to her feet, and willed herself to check the bathroom. Placing a hand over her churning stomach, she padded across the carpet. One step. Two steps. Three. She braced her hand on the door frame of the bathroom.

  Her gaze darted from the abundance of personal grooming products on the sink to the empty, bloodless shower.

  “Don’t jump.” A hand cupped her shoulder. She wheezed in a breath of air.

  She whirled around. Xabier. “I was afraid for you.”

  “Dark corners work best for hiding.” He turned, indicating an area by the bureau. “I heard a noise and scampered out of the well-lit bathroom.”

  “I found the paper.” She unfolded it. “It says Eternal Nirvana at the top.” She drew the paper closer. “Wow, your dad owed them a million bucks. I wonder if they have a Web site. We can figure out who they are.”

  “That’s a good idea, but right now, we’ve got to go find my mom before the guys with guns do.”

  “Are there Only three on this tour?” Arleta buttoned her sequined sweater to stave off the desert night chill. Even if the rest of the Bargain Hunters were busy, she and Suzanne were going to do something touristy together if it killed them. This boat tour might be fun.

  The captain who bore a resemblance to Gilligan, same big nose, same silly hat, smiled. “Yep, just you three.” He pushed a button on the control panel of the boat, causing it to make a noise similar to a large fan. A sign above the control panel announced that the boat provided night tours of the lake.

  A third woman sat on the far corner of the bench with her back to them. She had not turned to look at Arleta and Suzanne when they boarded the boat.