Death of a Six-Foot Teddy Bear

by Sharon Dunn

  Arleta scooted a little closer to Suzanne. “The night air and the sound of the water will make us feel better.”

  “We can still salvage this vacation.” Suzanne rested her forehead against her palm. “Cant we?”

  “I am determined to have a good time.” Arleta had to work to sound cheerful. Who was she kidding? The whole trip had been a downer. “If it kills us.”

  The captain pushed another button on the panel, and the boat roared to life. He veered out of the harbor and into open water.

  Clean air filled Arleta’s lungs. The boat bumped over the water, headlights cutting a swath of illumination. Memories of her dear husband rose to the surface of her consciousness. She and David had taken boat rides in all parts of the world to go on archaeological digs, in all kinds of boats and under all kinds of weather conditions. Since she’d met the other Bargain Hunters, thoughts of David, that longing to be with him, had subsided. Every once in a while though …

  The third woman turned toward them. Even though it was a cool evening, the woman seemed overdressed in her fleece coat, with matching hat and mittens. In the dusky light, Arleta recognized her. “Gloria Clydell?”

  The woman jerked her head up. “Yes.”

  “I met you in the coffee shop, the night that Dustin … We’re friends with Kindra and Ginger.”

  Gloria nodded and scooted a little closer. She studied Arleta for a moment before nodding. “Oh yes, I remember.”

  “This is my friend Suzanne.”

  “You’re the ones who helped Kindra put a marriage checklist together.”

  “Ah, the famous list.” They’d brainstormed the list over peanut butter cookies and tea at Arleta’s condo.

  Suzanne shifted on the wooden bench so she could stare out at the water. Nothing was going to cheer her up. The disappointment had been easier for Arleta to bear. Everyone she cared about in the world was with her on this trip.

  “It’s warmer than usual tonight.” Gloria unbuttoned two buttons on her fleece jacket. “I’m sensitive to the cold, but I love the nighttime. Being out on the water helps me think.” She lifted her chin slightly. “Usually, it’s just me and Captain George.”

  The Gilligan look-alike waved without turning to look at them.

  Gloria rested her hands on her thighs. “But tonight, there are three of us.”

  “The boat held but three.” The increase in the wind intensity energized Arleta as the boat picked up speed. Out here on the water, it just felt like you could get a deeper breath of air. “Isn’t that an Emily Dickinson poem?”

  “The carriage held but three?” Gloria tapped her fingers on the metal railing of the boat. “‘Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me. The carriage held but just ourselves and Immortality.’”

  “That’s it.” Arleta clasped her hands together. “I don’t think I have heard that poem since my college days.”

  Water lapped against the boat, creating a hypnotizing rhythm. The Wind-Up, the Little Italy Hotel, the park, the golf course, and the businesses that surrounded the lake became a shrinking mosaic of flashing and fixed lights and shadows. People were cruising the boardwalks and terraces at this hour, but they had become only faint impressions.

  The song of the water and the caress of the wind enveloped Arleta. She closed her eyes. Deep water had never frightened her. The vastness of it made her feel safe. When she had been out on the ocean with David, she had experienced an unnamed understanding that only now, this night, made sense to her. Years ago, her husband had held her while on the deck of a ship with the sun slipping below the horizon. David’s arms around her and the beauty of the evening had made her think for a moment that there might be a God.

  Gloria reached across Arleta’s lap and touched Suzanne’s hand. “Is the boat ride helping?”

  Suzanne turned to face to her traveling companions. “Did I look like I needed something fixed?” The wind rippled over her curly, brown hair as she tied the strings on her life jacket.

  “You seem to be working through something,” Gloria said.

  Arleta put her arms around her friend. “Our vacation hasn’t gone as we had hoped, and Suzanne is missing her kids.”

  “Children. How many?”

  “Four. My littlest is a year old.” Suzanne crossed her arms.

  Gloria kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her on the bench. “How wonderful.”

  “They are wonderful. I love my kids.” She tilted her face toward the night sky. “And I love this moment, here, right now.”

  “That’s the secret, loving the gift of the moment you’ve been given.” Gloria brushed a gloved hand over the rim of the boat.

  Suzanne rose to her feet and leaned on the boat railing. “If you ladies don’t mind, I’m going to enjoy my gift.”

  An even deeper stillness settled around them as they got farther out on the water. Sounds from the hotel faded.

  Arleta studied her own hands, blue-veined spider webs covered in translucent skin. “Death will stop for me too.”

  “It stops for all of us.” Gloria adjusted the hat on her head. Her labored movement suggested pain in her arms. “Some sooner than others.”

  “At least you know where you’re going.”

  “It’s not an exclusive club.” Gloria turned so she was face to face with Arleta. “Heaven is yours for the asking.”

  “It just seems like it should be harder than that,” Arleta said.

  “That’s what throws most people. Gotta pay dearly for every other good thing in this world.”

  “Mine for the asking?” Arleta planted her feet and slapped her hands on her thighs. “Okay, I’m asking.”

  “You want me to pray with you?”

  Arleta glanced at Suzanne, who seemed lost in some blissful moment leaning against the railing with the wind rippling around her. Captain George kept his eyes on the water. “Uh … okay, but not out loud. That would be just too strange.”

  Gloria removed her gloves, cupped a hand on Arleta’s neck, and leaned toward her. They touched forehead to forehead. Arleta’s neck pulsed, pushing against Gloria’s cool hand. A moment later, Gloria pulled away. She held both of Arleta hands in a barely tangible grasp.

  Arleta sat up a little straighter. “I don’t feel any different.”

  “That only happens in the movies. You are different, believe me.”

  Suzanne sat back down on the bench with a sigh. “That was like Christmas.”

  Arleta tilted her head toward Suzanne, angling slightly so her face would be in the light. “Do I look different to you?”

  Suzanne leaned toward her friend. “Uh … no.”

  Even Suzanne couldn’t tell. “Maybe it’s like stew; it has to cook for a while.”

  Gloria threw back her head and laughed.

  Suzanne shook her head. “What are you guys talking about?”

  “I’ll tell you later.” The boat swayed and rocked in the water. Arleta put her hand over her heart. No, she didn’t feel any different there either. “What is the point of this tour?”

  Gilligan turned slightly sideways. “A boat ride is the point.”

  “We’re not going to stop on an island or whiz past a historical building or something?”

  Gilligan shook his head. “No ma’am, but we are about to come up to the best part of the tour.”

  Suzanne rubbed her shoulders.

  “Let’s huddle,” suggested Arleta.

  The three women sat on one bench, watching the glow left by the setting sun. The captain turned off the engine. Gilligan turned to face them, leaning against the wheel. “This is why I do night tours, ladies. Enjoy.”

  The water rippled against the boat, creating soothing rhythms. The afterglow of the sunset faded on the horizon. The calm that surrounded them seemed fuller, to contain the unnamed thing that now had a name.

  “Come on, you must have seen her.” Xabier trotted behind Tiffany, who appeared to be in training for the one-hundred-yard dash that was run
in four-inch heels. “She’s not in her room.”

  Xabier and Kindra, minus their wigs, had caught Tiffany on her way to Dustin’s old office. Kindra had tried to wipe off the makeup in the lobby bathroom, but Xabier had been in a hurry to find his mom. The makeup made her face hot … or maybe it was the running around.

  Tiffany turned her head but kept up race speed. “Look, sweetie, I’d love to help you, but I am doing more than just standing at the front desk taking notes on who has walked through the lobby. I have a lot on my plate.” She stopped suddenly and elbowed Xabier. “Especially since I’m going to be a partner now.”

  She opened the office door, walked across the carpet, and placed her coffee mug on the desk.

  Kindra followed Xabier into the office.

  Using a high-legged kick she must have learned at dance school, Tiffany removed her pumps. She rolled the office chair out from behind the desk and slumped down into it.

  Xabier’s hand slipped into Kindra’s as though it were the most natural thing in the world. They were partners too, working together to get to the bottom of this.

  “Tiff, my mom could be in danger.”

  Tiffany swiveled in the office chair. She grabbed the coffee cup and took a long sip watching Xabier over the rim of the mug. “Am I going to be, like, in debt to you forever if you give me half ownership of the hotel?”

  Tiffany seemed to have taken to the idea of owning a hotel. She rose and yanked open a file drawer. She took out a stack of papers and proceeded to run them through the shredder.

  “Tiff, come on. This is my mom.”

  Judging from the piles of shredded paper, Tiffany was destroying a lot of documents. Why was she in such a hurry to get rid of so much paperwork?

  Tiffany sat back down in the chair. She pounded on its arm and stared at the ceiling, making a clicking noise with her tongue. “Try the bellboy on shift. His name is Jason. He’s pretty tuned into the comings and goings of people.”

  “Watch your step now, ladies.” Gilligan’s meaty hand grasped Arleta’s as she stepped onto the pier. Her legs wobbled. Hello, dry land. This must be an underutilized part of the hotel. She squinted to discern Suzanne’s features though she waited only a few feet away. The nearest street lamp was close to the backside of the discount bait shop about forty yards away.

  This part of the dock housed larger boats separate from the gondolas. A string of maybe ten or fifteen boats were parked along the pier. Gilligan had docked next to a boat named Jackpot. Beyond the dock was what looked like a greenhouse or atrium that connected to the Wind-Up.

  Arleta did a Charleston step on the pier and waved her arms. “I’m in the mood for cake, a celebration.” She was still waiting for that different feeling to kick in, but she did feel wide awake, like she could go all night.

  “That sounds like fun. Maybe we can find Kindra and Ginger.” Suzanne looked at Gloria as Captain George helped her out of the boat. “You want to come with us?”

  Gloria slipped back into her gloves and crossed her arms. “I am afraid I am out of energy. I have to do life in short spurts.”

  Arleta wrapped her arms around Gloria’s shoulder and squeezed. “Am I glowing yet? I want to glow like you do.”

  “Be patient.” Fatigue weighted her voice. She patted Arleta’s hand with fleece-covered fingers. “Thanks for letting me be a part of this,” she whispered close to Arleta’s ear.

  Arleta’s hand warmed where Gloria covered it with her glove, and her breath brushed the older woman’s ear.

  Gloria slipped from the embrace, waved good-bye, and walked toward the well-lit garden that the two hotels shared. Empty gondola boats lolled in the smooth water. The chatter and laughter of clusters of people barely reached Suzanne and Arleta on the dark side of the hotel.

  Gloria turned toward the side entrance of the Wind-Up, and then disappeared behind a lattice flourishing with ivy and small white flowers.

  Gilligan, who had been bustling around his boat, walked past them. He saluted. “Have a good night now, ladies.”

  Both Suzanne and Arleta nodded. Arleta didn’t say anything until the captain’s footsteps faded.

  Lack of light made her stumble when she moved forward. “Where are we going to find cake at this hour anyway?”

  Suzanne caught her at the elbow. “This city never shuts down, remember. I’m sure we can find cake.”

  They padded past the unused greenhouse or atrium or whatever it had been. Now it looked like a giant storage bin. Arleta saw boxes through dusty windows. She stopped. “Did you see a light flash in there?”

  Gloria Clydell Stuck her key in the lock of her hotel door. She stepped into the room and, without turning on the light, took off her coat and hat, crawled onto the bed, and pulled the pillow close to her stomach. Her hands ached, her joints hurt, and her breathing was labored even though she had only walked a short distance. Warm tears slid down her cheek.

  I’m tired. Lord.

  She pulled the covers around her. The boat ride and visit had been good. That’s what she needed to focus on. Arleta was a sweet lady. Just when the constant pain and despair got the better of her, God gave her the reminder that there was still a reason to be here. She turned over on her back, elevating her head with a pillow, waiting for sleep, that blissful place of floating and drifting when the heaviness of her muscles made the pain subside.

  In the dark, she stared at the ceiling. Something felt … off. She couldn’t pinpoint it. She sat up and traced the outline of furniture in the near darkness.

  She lay back down. Sleep, Gloria, just sleep. Maybe she should have just gone for cake with the ladies. Kindra was in good hands with mentors like that. Her teeth clenched. Hadn’t she prayed that Xabier would find a male mentor? Turning on her side, she drew her legs up toward her stomach. Shut the door on that thought. She needed to take her own advice and focus on the gift of the moment she had been given, not what had been taken from her. She had her son and hopefully would see him soon. Dustin’s messes continued to haunt them even after his death. It was hard to see the blessing in that.

  She jerked at a noise, almost indiscernible, like a hand brushing over silk. Her body tensed. Without sitting up, she surveyed the room. The outlines hadn’t changed. She turned and reached for the lamp by the bed.

  A thud and then footsteps. Hard steel clamped on her shoulder. Her hand slipped from the light without being able to turn it on.

  “Somebody is in there.” Arleta put her face close to the murky atrium window. “I saw a bouncing light.” Her nose twitched from the dust she had stirred up.

  “I thought we were going to go get cake,” Suzanne said.

  “Let’s just look real quick. The place is probably chock full of all kinds of treasures that people have tossed.” Arleta trotted to a glass door. Suzanne still hadn’t moved. “Aren’t we all about finding treasures?”

  Suzanne shrugged. “Okay, you talked me into it.”

  Arleta eased the door open. “I bet this was beautiful in its day. Can’t you just see the plants hanging from the roof?”

  A huge chandelier, long past its luster, rested at an angle in a corner. The room was two-thirds dust and one-third cardboard boxes. A mattress leaned against one of the glass walls. Hard-sided orange and avocado suitcases served as accents in the salute to the seventies’ decor.

  Suzanne sneezed. “Everybody needs a junk drawer and a junk room. I guess hotels need them too.”

  Suzanne followed Arleta as she shuffled toward a wooden door. Dust clouds surrounded their feet. She twisted the knob. The second room was about the same size but with wooden instead of glass walls. Small windows, close to the ceiling, lined two of the walls. Broken chairs, an orange shag rug, and empty soda cans completed the arrangement. Several sets of fresh footprints appeared in the dust.

  Arleta walked over to a counter where a soft-sided suitcase rested. “No dust on this. They must have put it in here recently.”

  “Why would someone abandon their suitcase?”<
br />
  Arleta shrugged. Something white and clean nestled in the corner caught her eye. Among cardboard boxes, broken chairs, and a yellow washing machine was a tiny boat. It looked brand-new and dust free. Arleta leaned down to pick it up. The boat didn’t budge. She pulled a little harder.

  “Is it wedged in there?”

  “It should just come out.” She got down on her knees. “It looks like one of those boats that those squirrels are pulled by.” Her eyes followed the lines of the boat to the hand that held onto it. Her gaze traveled up to two beady eyes surrounded by pale skin and fuzzy hair.

  “It’s mine,” said the man. “You can’t have it.”

  Suzanne placed a hand on Arleta’s shoulder and pointed a finger with her free hand. “I know who you are. I saw your picture in the lobby with that squirrel.”

  The man erupted out of his hiding spot, clutching the boat like a football. He barreled into Arleta, knocking her over. She fell backward, hitting concrete. Her teeth clacked together. Pain radiated from the impact to her shoulder. Blackness and then intense light flashed through her brain. With the wind knocked out of her, it took a moment to recover and absorb what was happening. She rolled to her side. Her shoulder pain flared.

  Two new sets of footprints leading to the exit were evident in the dusty floor. Now she remembered. Suzanne had said something about not hurting her friend and then raced after the man with the boat.

  Arleta turned slightly and pushed herself to her feet. She swayed. Still a little dizzy there. The only thing that reduced the pain in her shoulder was to focus on the ache in her hip, which was even more intense. Someday I’m going to decide I’m too old for cops and robbers. She limped toward the open wooden door. But not today.

  Suzanne might need her help. Still favoring one leg, she dragged herself through the glass door and outside to the pier. Suzanne was by the Little Italy terrace crawling into a gondola boat. The man with the toy boat was already paddling out toward the open water.

  Arleta’s feet pounded on wooden boards, trying to catch up with Suzanne. The man stopped paddling and bent forward, probably out of breath. Suzanne was now in the boat, pushing her oar through the water. The distance between them narrowed. Thirty feet. Twenty.