by Meg Macy
“A professional artist fashioned Minky Bear out of my grandmother’s fur stole. Mom still has the papers. Here’s the tag,” I added, “and that’s the artist’s name.”
Holly shrugged. “Then maybe Gina bought this off of eBay. We do buy unusual items and resell them. Usually Alice in Wonderland items, but other stuff on occasion.”
“Perhaps you could look in your files,” Mason said. “If Gina bought it, she ought to have kept an invoice or a sales receipt.”
I could tell Holly hadn’t thought of that by her furtive glance. She walked halfheartedly toward a cabinet and made a show of riffling through the contents. My gut instinct told me she wasn’t willing to admit how Minky Bear ended up here, hidden in a box.
Mason drew out a small carved bird next, and a scrapbook. “I bet Flynn would know if any of this stuff is Gina’s,” I said. “What’s that big roll in the box?”
He retrieved it while I opened the scrapbook and scanned the pages. It looked like a sample for a paper products company, with beach-themed stickers and paper. Photos could be pasted or inserted into slots, and several pages had dotted lines for text. Mason unrolled a canvas painting, oil or acrylic by my guess. It didn’t have the subtle hues and washes of Maddie’s watercolors. Smudged evergreens lined the shores of a wide deep blue lake, with a thunderstorm approaching in the distant sky.
“Looks unfinished, though. No signature.” I pointed at the bottom edge.
“I have no idea if Gina painted it or bought it,” Holly said. “We couldn’t possibly sell an unsigned work of art.”
“I think the artist intended to fill in more detail on the trees in the foreground,” I said. “From what I’ve seen of my sister’s work, I mean. Maddie starts in the back and works her way to the front, adding in all the details.”
“Did your mother file a police report about this mink teddy bear?” Mason asked.
“No idea. But I do remember that Mom didn’t realize it was gone for a while. She always invites a lot of people over in December, before and after Christmas. She finally realized it was gone long after New Year’s Day. My sister had a birthday party, and Mom wondered if one of the kids took it home. She asked, but no one had seen it.”
I recalled how frustrated Mom had been, questioning all the girls’ mothers. Dad had not allowed her to round up my sister’s friends who attended the slumber party that January. I’d been grumpy since they disturbed my rereading of the latest Harry Potter novel.
Not a great memory.
I watched Mason return all the items to the box. “Thanks so much for cooperating, Ms. Parker. I’ll take these items as evidence—”
“Is that necessary?” Holly interrupted. “I mean, you don’t know for certain if they have anything to do with Gina’s murder. Do you?”
“But it’s possible. I’d like to check for fingerprints, too.”
She looked stricken by that remark and her pale face turned red. Holly flashed an angry look at me, as if this was all my fault. I wondered where she’d been last night. Had Mason asked her that yet? Too bad I hadn’t come sooner to hear the answer.
“Thank you again, Ms. Parker.”
The screen door clanged shut after the detective. I hung back, hoping I’d figure out how to ask without seeming nosy. “That was awful, finding Gina this morning,” I began, and then explained how I’d gotten a ride home after dinner. “That’s why I had to retrieve my car this morning. I was so shocked to see your ‘Think Pink’ hoodie jacket.”
“Yeah. And you thought somebody knifed me.”
I should have been prepared for Holly’s snide tone, but only shrugged. “I didn’t know Gina borrowed that much stuff from you.”
“One thing is sure,” Holly said. “You wished it was me, lying there dead.”
“I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
“Why don’t I believe that?” She slammed the file cabinet shut. “I’m closing up, so buzz off. You didn’t come to buy anything.”
I changed tactics, hoping to find some common ground. “Listen, we’ve had our problems in the past, but that’s all water under the bridge. We’re both business owners in the village. Any type of tragedy affects us all.”
“I suppose that’s true.” Holly narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been through this before with your sales rep. I hope Gina’s death won’t affect my sales.”
“It might, at first—”
“Even bad publicity is good, I suppose.” She shoved me around the corner and all the way to the door. “Like I said, buzz off.”
“I don’t suppose you were here all last night,” I said, half outside.
“No. But since you asked, I was visiting my mother.”
Holly slammed the door in my face. I stood on the porch, wondering at her strange obsession with Alice in Wonderland, and her clear pride in portraying the White Queen. She acted more like the selfish Red Queen in my opinion.
Using her mother as an alibi seemed convenient. I had to wonder whether Mrs. Parker would cover for her daughter. If my mother ever thought I’d committed a crime, she’d turn me in without a shred of guilt. And claiming Gina bought the mink bear off eBay also seemed fishy. No doubt Holly knew a lot more than she was willing to tell. Minky Bear’s reappearance was an odd coincidence, turning up in the back of Holly’s shop. Or was it?
It certainly threw a wrench in the works.
Chapter 10
Sunshine bathed the factory floor on Monday afternoon. Wishing I could grab another cup of coffee for sustenance, I gathered the large tour group of seniors and led them away from the sewing machines. Hilda Schulte seemed relieved. I knew she didn’t like anyone watching her work. She’d recently joined our staff and already chafed under Flora Zimmerman’s strict training rules. That might be why she’d bonded with Joan Kendall, who was more relaxed about visitors trooping through the area.
“We have to move on,” I called out. “Ladies, rejoin the tour so we can continue.”
Trying to keep them together was almost impossible, unlike the schoolchildren who followed directions. Not that the adults ignored me on purpose, but their curiosity seemed insatiable. Like mine, I suppose, so I couldn’t complain. But this wasn’t their first tour of the Silver Bear Shop & Factory. I kept my impatience at bay. Their enjoyment over seeing every little thing was refreshing along with their camaraderie.
“May I ask you a question, Ms. Silverman?”
I nodded, although I could barely hear the older woman’s quavering voice. These local seniors knew my parents well, attended the same church, and always bought teddy bears and accessories as gifts for grandkids, nieces, or nephews. My father’s mantra echoed in my brain—“Questions lead to opportunities, so always engage with the customer.” I figured he’d adjusted that phrase from his former job as an attorney.
I got the gist of what the woman asked when she gestured to a door marked PRIVATE. Uh-oh. I knew they all knew what stood behind that door. They all wanted me to answer why we’d closed off our stuffing machine from display. I sidestepped the issue.
“Employees only, I’m afraid. Let’s continue—”
“You had a new room built?” a bearded man asked, his fedora at a jaunty angle.
“Walter, please. We all know what’s in there,” another woman said.
“Ross Silverman told me after church, Shirley,” he said. “He hired that young Kirby, the carpenter. Everyone knows what happened to Taylor, so why hide the stuffing machine?”
“Sorry, it’s no longer included in the tour,” I said stiffly.
“You showed us how the bears are sewn, but you’re skipping how you stuff them?”
“Come on, Walter,” another gentleman said. “It was murder—”
“Mur-der?” One woman had drawn out the syllables, mimicking a character in a Pink Panther movie with Inspector Clouseau. Everyone laughed. “Did you say mur-der?”
Fake gasps arose from some of the other ladies. Taking a deep breath, I figured this could go on forever if I didn’t
put a quick end to it. “Yes, Will Taylor was murdered. It isn’t funny in the least, though. His death started a chain of consequences. Many people suffered in the long run, including our staff here at the factory.”
Shirley nodded. “We understand that, but—”
“We will not satisfy anyone’s thirst for gore,” I said firmly. “There’s too much of that now in the world.”
“But some of us have never seen the stuffing machine.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry. My father says it’s off limits.”
“We know there’s a time and a place for humor,” Walter said, “and never meant to poke fun at what happened. I mean, yes, it was a real tragedy.”
“Sometimes joking takes the edge off a very nasty truth.” The elderly lady who’d first asked about the room nodded wisely, her hands as shaky as her voice. “I read this somewhere, and it’s true. ‘There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt.’ I love that quote.”
“Who said that, Hannah? William Shakespeare?” Walter asked.
“Erma Bombeck,” she said. “You should know, you gave me that book!”
The seniors all laughed. “I’ve got a better one,” Walter said. “ ‘Learn from the mistakes of others. You can never make them all yourself.’ Groucho Marx.”
He waggled his eyebrows and pretended to flick a cigar. I smiled in relief when the group followed me to the shipping department. I twisted around to walk backward, pointing to Deon Walsh. He rocked to music on his headphones and shuffled his feet.
“We store finished bears in bins where our staff can easily access them, wrap them in bubble wrap, and box them for delivery. Say hi to our newest employee, Tim Richardson.” The group waved to the young man, who smiled. I continued on. “Our office staff prints shipping labels and staples them with the order forms. Deon and Tim fill orders, attach the labels, and set them in this crate for UPS pickup. Okay, let’s move on.”
Uncle Ross’s voice boomed over mine, however, from the doorway. “How can we be behind on filling orders? Two weeks behind!”
“Because we need to hire a third person,” Aunt Eve said, and stabbed her pencil on the clipboard she held. “I’ll start interviewing. Now sign this order, please.”
“Wait just a minute—”
I hurried their way. “Keep it down, you two. I’m giving a tour, remember.”
The seniors walked slowly past with sly smiles. Uncle Ross scowled, but Aunt Eve whispered so only I could overhear. “Listen to me, Ross. Sales have jumped and we’ve got to keep orders going out on time. We can’t be backed up like this.”
“Can we discuss this later?” I asked.
My uncle sighed. “Okay, okay. By the way, Sasha, we’re going to need more of that green corduroy. Joan and Hilda had trouble cutting out the pattern for the lederhosen.”
“Oh no! I hope we can find matching fabric—” I stopped, aware that everyone in the tour group had twisted around to listen. “Okay, everyone, move on! Retrace our steps.”
Asking my aunt and uncle to whisper had drawn more attention to them. Aunt Eve looked sleek in a red plaid pencil skirt with a large ruffle at the hem, black spike heels, and a white blouse. She slid her reading glasses down, flashed a bright smile at the group, and then walked back toward the office, heels click-clacking on the tile floor. All the men ogled her.
Even Uncle Ross.
“Stupid prize bear,” he muttered to himself, stalking off. “I knew it would be more trouble than it’s worth.”
I let out a long breath. “Nothing more to see. Or hear. Let’s go.”
“Why can’t we see the grand prize giant bear?” Walter asked.
“That way we can tell everyone about how wonderful it looks,” Shirley said. “A bit of free publicity for your shop and the Oktobear Fest.”
“Great idea,” I said, relieved to get them away from office drama. “We have to take the stairs in the shop, but there’s also an elevator. Follow me.”
While we walked beneath the honeysuckle-covered trellis between the factory and the house, a fit of sneezing hit me. “Only my allergy, go on. I’ll catch up.”
I groped for a tissue and waited for the stragglers. At last we all gathered at the Silver Bear Shop’s front porch and slowly climbed the steps. Walter helped Hannah up the long ramp near the end. I thanked him since I hadn’t washed my hands.
“Head straight through the shop,” I said. “The elevator’s next to the Rotunda, but it will only hold five or six people. I’ll lead whoever’s able to use the stairs.”
It took forever for the seniors to climb the circular steps, since they oohed and aahed at each acrylic display box holding a custom teddy along the way. We all met near the waist-high crate holding a five-foot tan bear wrapped in plastic.
“Our staff is sewing a costume for this adorable bear,” I said. “The dance contest winners last year donated their bear to a children’s hospital.”
“I believe it was a dark brown bear, wasn’t it, dear?” the frailest woman asked.
“Yes, and next year’s bear will be silver, like Mr. Silver sitting beneath the photo of my grandfather. We change the donation every year.”
“Is there any chance the same dance contestants might win again?” Walter asked.
“I don’t know. It hasn’t happened yet.” I waved an arm. “You’re welcome to look around the rooms for as long as you like. Take turns heading downstairs on the elevator. Don’t try the stairs. I’d rather not take any chances of falls.”
The seniors all agreed. “Walter did a number last month while he was doing a rumba,” Shirley said. “He’s one of the best dancers, too.”
“You’re far better than I am, and you know it. We ought to enter that dance contest.” The old man winked at me. “Good to see T. R. again, even in a photo. I remember him handing out the bears he made by hand. I wasn’t one of the lucky ones, though. Dad wouldn’t allow us to have toys. We worked in the fields—”
“From dawn till dusk, yes,” Shirley teased. “Summer and winter, no time for school. Walked ten miles, uphill, both ways.”
Others razzed Walter and Shirley both. I thanked the seniors for coming, which brought on a chorus of cheers that warmed my heart. Apparently they didn’t hold it against me for not showing them the stuffing machine. My nerves were shot, though, after stumbling upon another murder victim. Alone this time except for Rosie. Thank goodness for my friends Garrett and Mary Kate, who’d come to my aid.
I hooked the chain across the stairs, hoping it would remind them to use the elevator, and headed back to the factory. I felt pressured to make up for lost time after spending more than two hours with the tour. Using my camera phone, I snapped photos of all our bears—white, silver, beige, tan, brown, and black—before the specialty models. Career bears in the proper attire, such as nurses, doctors, and teachers; nationality bears like the German, Japanese, or Scottish bears; holiday bears for Valentine’s Day, Halloween, or Christmas; character bears like President Teddy Roosevelt and A-bear-ham Lincoln, Shakesbear, Queen Eliza-bear, the Three Muske-bears, Napoleon Bear-naparte; and literary bears like Scarlett O’Beara, Hucklebeary Finn, and Bear-lock Holmes. I walked back to the office to print them.
At the front sales counter, I stopped in surprise. Maddie chatted with Kip, who wore a paint-spattered shirt and jeans. “Hey, where’s Aunt Eve? I thought you were busy and couldn’t cover for me.”
My sister smiled. “We made progress on our bears.”
“Yeah,” Kip said. “This is my light day for classes, too. We managed to get the accordion attached on the Polka Bear’s paws. That was tricky.”
“I think it looks kind of lame,” Maddie said. “That duct tape might be strong, but anyone could pull it off.”
“No way.” Kip shook his head. “Plus we’ll seal it.”
“I wanted to wrap the leather straps with carbon fiber and then use Goop.”
“Not strong enough, babe. I bet people will want to pl
ay the instrument, and only duct tape will keep it in place. Besides, they won’t care how it’s attached.”
“But—”
I whistled shrilly. “Time out, you two. You can always fix it if the straps get loose.”
“Hello?” Walter suddenly appeared, holding two tan bears. “Sorry, folks. We wanted to buy these for my grandkids.” Shirley smiled beside him.
“I helped him choose them before the tour. I found this blue Cinderella dress, isn’t it darling? And the baseball uniform comes with a tiny leather mitt.”
“Plastic, actually,” I said. “Pretty realistic, though.”
“Aren’t you two artists for the Bears on Parade?” Walter asked Maddie and Kip. They nodded. “I thought I saw you in the photo with a write-up in the Silver Hollow Herald.”
“I can’t wait to see the sculptures,” Shirley said. “I saw Chicago’s Cows on Parade a long time ago. I’m thrilled the committee came up with bears for Silver Hollow.”
“They raised a lot of money for charity with those cows,” Kip said. “I heard only a few of the Bears on Parade will be auctioned off, though. A majority of the artists found private donors to pay for their sculptures, who will keep them. Like Alex Silverman.”
I hadn’t known that, but wasn’t surprised. Walter winked at my sister. “Are you nervous with all the people coming out on Wednesday night?”
“Should be a great turnout.” Kip slid an arm around Maddie. “You have no reason to be nervous, babe. The Polka Bear is almost done.”
“Don’t forget it still needs sealer, and that will take time to dry.”
She looked annoyed by his quick shrug. Even Walter and Shirley seemed to sense a hint of trouble. I stepped in to reassure Maddie. “You’ll get it done by Wednesday night. If you need help, let me know. I’m good with a brush. Sort of.”
“So what’s the order for the Bears on Parade?” Shirley asked.
“Wednesday is when the first few are unveiled on Main Street, including Maddie’s,” Kip said. “Then more on Saturday, and the final ones come the following Wednesday before the Oktobear Fest. Mine’s in the last group. A few artists are having trouble, like me.”
