Bear Witness to Murder

by Meg Macy

  “Lisa didn’t graduate with us, right?”

  “She’s a few years younger, like your sister. I do know this much,” Ben said. “After Lisa started dating Mike, Holly gave her an ultimatum. Their friendship or her boyfriend. Guess what Lisa decided. She married him, after all.”

  “I’d say she definitely made the better choice.”

  “I gotta run. Wendy’s expecting me at the pub. See you later.”

  Once Ben vanished around the corner, I led Rosie toward Theodore Lane and home. Maddie and Mom sat at the kitchen table with Aunt Eve and Uncle Ross. Rosie padded toward her drinking bowl, lapped up half of it, and then lay down in her crate with her toy bear. I longed for peace and quiet, too, given my hectic Monday. Alone time with a good book and a glass of wine wasn’t going to happen with so many relatives around. After I washed my hands at the sink, I fetched a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “Help yourself to the salad bar, Sasha,” Mom said. “There’s a second loaf of fresh bread in the bag. Leave some chicken for your father, because he should be home any minute. At least that’s what he texted me from the freeway.”

  “Dad texted you?” That surprised me. “He has an old flip phone.”

  “He upgraded to a smartphone. I have no idea what he was doing up north,” she added, “and I’m not sure I want to know. Gil Thompson had better not have talked him into another hare-brained investment scheme. We lost too much money the last time.”

  I piled chopped greens, chunks of apple, walnuts, and dried cherries on a plate. My stomach rumbled, smelling the still-hot mesquite chicken strips I laid on top. Then I grabbed a can of chow mein noodles from the pantry, popped the lid, and tossed a handful over all. A river of spicy red French dressing helped balance the healthiness factor. Mmm. If only I could add some crumbled cookies. Maybe I could use that as an ice cream topping for dessert.

  After tearing off the crusty bread loaf’s end, I sat next to my sister at the table. “So what did Dad invest in a while ago?”

  “Oh, brother,” Maddie said under her breath. My question set Mom off on a long rant about fishing and hunting trips, dilapidated lodges, and campgrounds.

  “He poured five thousand dollars into that dump of a hunting shack on Bass Lake, and what did we get for it? More repair bills when the ceiling caved. I told him not to listen to that snake of a Realtor up there.” She smoothed back her freshly tinted auburn hair, styled in a new shorter bob. “Why men need to hunt or fish is a mystery anyway.”

  Uncle Ross snorted. “Because we like to eat what we kill. Why do women get a weekly manicure, or buy a new outfit? You can’t eat any of that.”

  “Weekly manicure?” Aunt Eve waved a hand in the air. “I do my own, thank you. And I’ll have you know, Ross Silverman, that I only bought a new dress for the holidays, if that, when we were married. But a professional pedi is pure heaven. You ought to try it. There you go, bah-humbugging everything I say. How did we stay married more than a month?”

  “I love that Christmas dress you showed me in your closet,” Maddie said. “We’ll have to host a party at the shop in December.”

  “The red velvet one is darling, isn’t it?”

  My sister turned to me, although I’d just taken a huge bite. “It’s deep red, with a tiny belt at the waist, sleeveless, and a large collar. Aunt Eve wears her pearls with it.”

  “Ross gave me that necklace long ago,” my aunt said. “Imitation.”

  “Authentic and you know it,” he growled. “I gave you the certificate to prove it. They’re genuine freshwater pearls from Hawaii.”

  The screen door slammed shut when Dad breezed into the kitchen. “Stop bickering, you two, or I’m going back to Traverse City. You act like teenagers.”

  Grinning wide, his duffel bag in hand, he set down multiple paper and plastic bags on the floor and waved me back into my chair. The minute he’d walked in the door, Mom rushed to concoct a salad for him and set it down at the table’s only empty spot. Dad sank down with a grateful sigh and tucked a napkin into his plaid shirt collar.

  “Ross called me about what happened. A second murder, wow. I’m sorry I wasn’t here again, Sasha.” He accepted the piece of buttered bread Mom handed him. “Gil and I had to check out a few more places up north.”

  “So what did you invest in this time?” Uncle Ross asked.

  “Nothing. Gil wanted my opinion on some coffee shops there. He’s getting new ideas for Fresh Grounds, I guess. He wants to liven things up.”

  “What do you mean?” I set down my salad fork, worried for Garrett and Mary Kate. “It’s always crammed from morning to night, so why would he want to change things? It’s cozy with all the wood and the seating arrangements, too.”

  “Gil wants to set up a display of tea canisters, and sell coffee beans to grind at home, but that means they’ll have to expand their sales area.”

  “But that means fewer tables for people to sit with their coffee.”

  “Might be a good thing.” Dad shrugged and took a huge bite of salad. “People sometimes spend hours there.”

  “Amanda Pozniak writes her blog and freelance articles at Fresh Grounds. When she’s not working in the antique shop, that is,” Maddie said. “I think taking away tables would hurt getting repeat customers in the long run.”

  “I’m not running their business.”

  “What if Mr. Thompson wants Matt and Elle to move out of their bookstore?” I asked, horrified. “Dad, can that be true? No way would Garrett and Mary Kate agree. They love having The Cat’s Cradle open to the coffee shop. People browse all the time through both shops, and everyone loves that arrangement.”

  “All I know is that Gil wanted some new ideas,” he said. “So while we were there, we scouted a hunting cabin one of his friends offered him to rent.”

  “I knew it,” Mom said in disgust. “Hunting is all you men ever think about come fall. Unless it’s football, or the World Series if the Tigers are in it. If you’re going hunting with Gil and a bunch of his friends, then I’m taking a trip as well.”

  Dad wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Fine with me.”

  “All right. Eve and I will spend a weekend on Mackinac Island.”

  I choked on a walnut piece. Maddie pounded me on the back and leaned forward near my ear. “Let’s hope it’s not the same weekend we’ll be there,” she whispered.

  “Are you okay, Sasha?” Mom asked.

  I nodded, unable to speak, and coughed harder. Mom and Dad turned back to Ross and Eve, continuing their argument about hunting and fishing up north. Maddie handed me my bottle of water and waited until I swallowed several times.

  “Okay, now tell me about Jay and his bear costume,” she said.

  I limited my answers. Maddie seemed pleased that I’d accepted the task, although she questioned using old clothing for the bear’s outfit. Aunt Eve overheard our chat and quickly agreed to knit a cap for the head.

  “Piece of cake. I’ve got red, green, and navy blue yarn, so I’ll start right away.”

  “Go with navy blue,” I said. “But nothing fancy.”

  “With a rolled-up brim,” my sister added. “Did Jay ask you out to dinner, Sash?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? He’s really in to you.”

  “Jay and I haven’t even dated yet—”

  “What?” Mom shifted her attention from Dad and Uncle Ross. “Wait a minute, you don’t mean that boy who carved our bear mailbox?”

  “He’s not a boy, Judith,” Dad said.

  “Yes. Jay Kirby. He’s the same age as Sasha.” Maddie poked me with her elbow. “Such a hottie. You two would be perfect for each other.”

  “Stop trying to set me up.”

  “Come on, admit it. You crazy about him.”

  “He’s nice,” I said, my cheeks hot. “We’re friends for now.”

  “I hope that’s all, for heaven’s sake.” Mom sounded offended, as if she’d discovered a nefarious plot. “It’s long past time you and Flynn g
ot back together.”

  My jaw dropped. “What? No way.”

  “What the hell, Judith.” Dad banged a fist on the table. “You can’t be serious.”

  Maddie looked shocked, too. “Why would Sasha marry that jerk again!”

  My gratitude rose several notches when Aunt Eve added her two cents of protest also, her face red. Either from anger or another hot flash, I couldn’t tell. Only Uncle Ross didn’t bother, although he’d waggled his shaggy gray eyebrows my way. That was our private signal back when I first started managing the shop seven years ago, which meant I was doing fine. Mom seemed genuinely surprised by all the negative reactions, however.

  “What’s wrong with wanting a happier ending? I’ve always liked Flynn. And he’s a wonderful son-in-law—”

  “What about his cheating?” Aunt Eve asked. “From all I’ve heard, he’s the last man Sasha should have married. Why let him ruin her life a second time?”

  My mother turned to Dad, who drew a finger across his throat in warning. “I know you don’t believe me, but Flynn’s changed,” she insisted. “He bought that house, didn’t he? And he told me yesterday he wants to get married again.”

  “Mom,” I said, trying to remain patient despite my urge to scream. “Flynn refused to marry Gina Lawson, remember?”

  “He was never interested in that tramp.”

  “Don’t believe everything Flynn tells you.” I rubbed my forehead in suspicion. What game was this about? I didn’t need this right now, especially among family. “He always leaves important things out. And it’s too late to get Gina’s side of the story, since she’s dead.”

  “I take it Gina is the woman who was killed Saturday night?” Dad asked.

  “Or early Sunday morning,” Uncle Ross said. “I’m not a suspect this time, thank God. Flynn loves to show off his money. Like that big house he bought, and now he’s driving a snazzy car. Whoa, baby.”

  “Look who’s talking about a snazzy car,” Aunt Eve teased.

  “Flynn has a great income. Why shouldn’t he buy a gorgeous house?” Mom sniffed in disdain. “I don’t blame Flynn for wanting someone better than Gina Lawson.”

  “So who’s investigating the murder?” Dad asked. “Digger Sykes?”

  “That same hard-nosed detective,” my uncle replied. “Mason, from the Dexter County sheriff’s office. Looks are deceiving in that one.”

  “He’s very good at the job.” I understood his underlying resentment due to the tough questions Uncle Ross had endured after Will Taylor’s death, but turned to Mom. “Why would you think Flynn wants to marry me again? Seriously.”

  “Think how you could help his career.”

  “Flynn doesn’t need help, not with those TV commercials,” Maddie said.

  “He claimed his colleagues are jealous,” I added. “I doubt that.”

  “Blake and Branson?” My father’s eyes rolled heavenward and then glanced my way. “I’d have to agree. They’re benefiting plenty, from what I’ve heard.”

  “You’re all wrong.” Mom stood, her eyes flashing with anger. “Especially now that Gina’s out of the picture, he needs you, Sasha. Wait and see.”

  She stormed through the kitchen toward the stairs. I blinked several times, totally stunned by her words. What did she mean? Now that Gina’s out of the picture . . . Maddie grabbed my arm and hauled me outside to the porch.

  “Did you hear what I just heard?” She wiggled an ear. “Or did I dream that?”

  I only shrugged. “You heard what Flynn said about people stabbing him in the back. It’s kind of creepy, given what happened to Gina.”

  “Well, yeah, but Mom—” Maddie clapped a hand over her mouth. “I mean, no way could she kill anyone! But why would she say that? ‘Now that Gina’s out of the picture?’”

  “She’s a trip and half, but don’t you remember how someone pulled a knife on Dad in New York City, right in front of her? That traumatized Mom for months. She couldn’t even cut up her meat for dinner.”

  “I’d forgotten that, yeah,” my sister said. “Wow. You’re right. It’s still weird.”

  “If anything, Flynn’s hiding something,” I said. “I’d like to know who he was with, for one thing. But Mason will have to figure it out.”

  Mom’s idea that Flynn wanted to get married again threw me. So did her fit of temper. And she would certainly flip out if she knew I hadn’t started finding evidence to prove that her friend, Mayor Cal Bloom, was innocent of Gina’s murder.

  Things had certainly gotten complicated.

  Chapter 12

  After an early Tuesday morning lap swim at the community pool, and a busy day working in the shop, my stomach knotted tight. I’d been too nervous to eat lunch. Jay Kirby was coming tonight. My confidence had plummeted, however, since I’d promised to help sew the Lumberjack Bear’s costume. Would Velcro be strong enough to work? What if Jay didn’t bring enough material to fit a five-foot-tall resin sculpture?

  I rubbed sweaty palms on my jeans. I wore a maroon T-shirt instead of my usual silver logo one, plus a gray cardigan, jeans, and knee-high boots. My necklace’s tiny charms tinkled whenever I moved; I’d bought it at an art show, drawn by the glass bottle of sand, a gilded pinecone, curved shell, a piece of beach glass, and a Petoskey stone. They all represented the state of Michigan’s natural wonders. People had complimented it all day in the shop. And I loved supporting unique artwork. I’d agreed to help Jay for that reason, too.

  But how would we manage fitting a costume on his fiberglass bear?

  Suddenly I snapped my fingers. Mr. Silver—our giant bear— could be a mannequin. Jay’s sculpture wouldn’t have the same give as a stuffed toy, but it was better than nothing. I glanced at the clock. Almost closing time, thank goodness. Since two customers browsed in the next room, I dialed my sister’s cell. Maddie was working in the office alcove, designing brochures for our holiday sales.

  “Hey, Mads, can you cover for me? I need to do something.”

  “Sure, but wait five minutes. Aunt Eve is tearing her hair out over a new online order. The company changed their mind twice. She’s trying to get a firm decision.”

  “Soon as you can, then.”

  My sister arrived within ten minutes, looking adorable as usual in the T-shirt that she’d designed for the Bears on Parade. The committee had been selling them all month. I loved the image of a line of upright bears, touching paws to shoulders, marching in a rainbow of colors across the white shirt with black letters spelling out OKTOBEAR FEST and then SILVER HOLLOW, MICHIGAN, below that. I was so proud of her amazing talent, and glad she’d taken up art again instead of the shop’s office grunt work.

  “I wish I’d bought a second T-shirt,” I said. “Mine’s in the laundry.”

  “Want me to get you an extra one?” Maddie grinned. “Ten bucks, half-price. We’ve got plenty to sell in the next week or so. I hope we don’t get stuck with ’em.”

  “Okay, cover the register. I’ll be right back.”

  I raced upstairs to the loft and grabbed Mr. Silver from his spot. Stuffing him into the small elevator was real fun, along with dragging him through the office to the side door. Aunt Eve, in a flared white dress with tiny strawberries all over it, didn’t look up from her desk. She peered close to the laptop screen through rhinestone-edged glasses, similar to the ones Marilyn Monroe wore in How to Marry a Millionaire, and then banged a fist on the desk.

  “Honestly, people. It’s not that hard to decide—”

  I lifted the bulky Mr. Silver and carried him out the door and toward the factory, avoiding the covered walkway. Despite that, I bumped into a support post. Then I trampled a bed of chrysanthemums and nearly dropped the bear.

  Crash.

  The large pot of petunias I’d knocked over hadn’t broken, thank goodness. I shifted the bear over my shoulders backpack-style. Oof. Awkward to say the least. A flashy sports car pulled into the parking lot, a dark blue Jaguar. I should have guessed the owner.

  “Hey, Sas
ha! Still playing with toys, I see.”

  Flynn climbed out of the car, grinning as usual, wearing a dark three-piece suit. His tie was blue paisley today, with a silver tiepin and cufflinks, plus a maroon handkerchief tucked in the suit’s breast pocket. He also wore exotic black leather boots.

  “What are those?”

  “Croc. Lucchese brand, seven hundred bucks, handmade. Really comfortable.”

  “What do you want now?” I had to admit I sounded cross to my own ears, but the last person I wanted to see was my ex.

  “What’s the deal with you lately? Even your mom thinks you’ve been treating me like I’ve got the plague.” Flynn squinted hard. “Sun’s in my eyes, hang on. Move to the left a little. A little more. Perfect.”

  I’d shifted without thinking, and then mentally kicked myself. “Why aren’t you wearing sunglasses? Like Gucci, or Tom Ford.”

  “I left them in the car. Now you and Mr. Silver are blocking the light, so it’s cool.”

  I moved back to the original spot to annoy him. “Why do you expect everyone else in the world to revolve around you, Flynn Hanson? And by the way, I bet Detective Mason is going to track you down for more questions.”

  “Why?”

  “For more information on Gina.”

  He shrugged. “My schedule is so tight, he’ll have to wait.”

  “The cops don’t wait for whatever time’s most convenient for people,” I said. “They’d never solve a case if they did that. Why are you here if your schedule’s tight? And why is Mom sticking to you like a burr on Rosie’s coat?”

  “We’re good friends.”

  “Friends.”

  “We always had a great relationship. Nothing wrong with staying friends even though you divorced me. Judith’s great. Very supportive, unlike you.”

  “Seems she has a lame-brained idea that you and I are getting back together.” I hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but there it was. Flynn didn’t laugh, which stunned me more. In fact, he looked serious and inched toward me. I backed away. “That is a joke, right?”

  “Sasha, you were the best thing that ever happened to me—”