by Meg Macy
“I suppose you’ll want us to ask everyone in the village if they own a bike,” he said, his sarcasm clear. “Not everyone registers them. Or buys a license for their dogs.”
“Then send everything to the county lab. That pipe and the gloves.”
“Yeah, we will. Even if it’s a hopeless case.”
A truck’s tires squealed outside. Kip O’Sullivan surged through the coffee shop’s doors, his face red, as if ready to burst a blood vessel. Maddie jumped to her feet. He rushed over and folded her into his arms, hugged her tight.
“What the hell happened? I couldn’t get here right away. Babe, shh.” Kip murmured against her hair, rubbed her back. “Who would smash it like that?”
Maddie gulped back her tears. “It’s okay.”
“But your Polka Bear. What’s being done about this?” Kip turned to the policemen, his voice raised in anger. “I hope you’re taking this vandalism seriously. It’s not like spray-painting a freeway underpass, you know. Anything over a thousand dollars is a felony. And it’s clear that all the bears in the village are at risk.”
“We’re doing the best we can, sir.” Officer Shook sounded defensive, but Hillerman waved him back to the kitchen.
“It might take some time to investigate.”
“You better find who did this.” Kip drew my sister toward the door. “Mads. I need your help with the Hippie Bear’s highlights.”
She twisted away. “I can’t leave! They’re still asking questions.”
“I can’t finish without you, babe. You’re the only one I trust.” He turned to Hillerman. “You’re done here, right? She can go.”
Abby, Amanda, and I exchanged shocked glances. How could he drag Maddie off to help him with his bear, after being dealt such a blow? Talk about selfish. I could tell Abby looked ready to tell him off, and struggled to control herself. My gut churned. I hoped Kip would think twice before pushing harder. But no. He kept the pressure on.
“It won’t take much time, just a few more touches. Then Jay and I can seal it.”
“Just seal it, or it won’t be dry by tomorrow night,” she said wearily. Tears dripped over her cheeks and off her chin. “I can’t help you any more than I have already, Kip. I’m so tired, don’t you understand? Your bear’s done. Seal it, let it dry, and bring it in.”
Kip whispered low, his eyes darting to the rest of us and back to her. I couldn’t hear what he said, but she shoved him when he tried to clamp hands on her shoulders. Officer Hillerman took a few steps, but Maddie signaled for him to stop.
“I’m going home, and so is Kip.”
“Mads—”
“No. I’m done, totally done. Abby doesn’t expect perfection, Kip! She asked a whole slew of her friends for money to buy the sculpture,” Maddie said. “I’m tired of fighting about this. I don’t want to see you anymore. Especially since you keep badgering me.”
Kip rubbed his unshaven jaw, avoiding everyone else’s eyes, and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Come on, Maddie. You don’t mean that.”
“Your bear’s fine the way it is. Mine is trashed. If you can’t understand how that’s affected me, then forget it.”
Maddie retreated to stand between Mary Kate, Garrett, and me. Abby and Amanda closed ranks around her as well in protection mode. Kip stewed over that in silence, glowering at us all. At Hillerman’s signal, Officer Shook led him outside. The door swung shut with a hiss.
“Well, we’re done here, too,” Hillerman said. “If we find anything, Ms. Silverman, or have further questions, we’ll be in touch.”
My sister collapsed into a chair at the table. Her friends joined her, although Mary Kate and Garrett drew back to the kitchen; I trailed after the policeman. I knew Maddie was hurt, and scared, and needed time and space to recover. She’d also get over breaking up with Kip faster than mourning her Polka Bear. I toed the shards on the sidewalk that the cops hadn’t bagged, hoping to find anything we’d missed.
Jay’s truck pulled to a stop on the street while Mary Kate and I collected the Polka Bear’s shattered pieces. Garrett dragged the heavy bag inside Fresh Grounds. Jay walked over, disbelief clear in his eyes.
“Kip told you what happened, I take it?” I wiped my dusty hands on my jeans.
“So what all happened?” Jay asked. “Or would you rather tell me tomorrow.”
“I’m too wound up to go home yet.”
Plus I’d indulged in a cup of coffee, and knew that would keep me awake for a while. Jay led me over to his truck; he listened in amazement while I explained the whole story, about the vandalism, my theory of the bicyclist. Even Kip and Maddie’s heated exchange.
“Wow. I don’t blame her, not one bit,” Jay said. “He may be under stress, but he did it to himself. Kept putting things off, and now it’s crunch time.”
“Unbelievable. How could he expect her to help after what happened?”
“His bear’s done. Been done, probably for a week.” He thumped the truck’s fender. “I’ve told him that, Maddie told him over and over. Kip wouldn’t listen. He kept saying it needed a few more details. That I didn’t understand.”
“Yeah, but your Jack Pine’s finished! Even though you waited till the last minute.”
Jay shoved his hands into his pockets. “I’ll wrestle that damned bear out of his hands,” he said. “I had to meet with a client tonight, or I’d have forced him to seal it. Maddie’s right. He owes the sponsors.”
I nodded. “Okay. Let me know what happens.”
Once Jay’s truck rumbled off, I drove my car a block over to Abby’s shop. Compared to the clutter inside the Time Turner, the Pozniaks’ antique shop looked pristine. My sister perched on a chair, her feet tucked under her, china teacup in hand, eyes focused on the steaming brew. Until I cleared my throat. Maddie blinked.
“Remember earlier,” I began, “when Holly talked about Flynn. How she called Cheryl Cummings a weather girl? And you said she was ’a weather forecaster.’ That could be why she may be behind the vandalism. With the pipe.”
“But we can’t prove she smashed my bear.” Maddie set her cup aside.
I didn’t reply. Wishing Holly Parker was guilty didn’t make it true, even if my theory made sense. But I believed Lisa Blake. Holly had it out for my family, and destroying Maddie’s bear seemed to fit.
“I saw a few pipes like that one in the Dumpster behind her shop.”
“Too bad the village council rejected the idea of installing cameras around the village,” Abby said. “Gina would still be alive if they had. But listen. Both of you go home, take it easy until the Oktobear Fest.”
“Jay will make sure Kip brings the Hippie Bear in tomorrow,” I said.
“Doesn’t mean we’re getting back together, though.” Maddie hugged both of her friends, and then drew me into their circle. “Thanks for coming to my rescue, all of you.”
I followed her car around the block, barely paying attention to the traffic signals or other drivers on the way, discouraged to the max. My sister trudged upstairs to bed; I’d never seen her so dejected. And never felt so awful when I tossed and turned for most of the night. Rosie snored beside me, content with her doggie dreams. Morning dawned, and soft sunlight crept into the room. I dozed for a few hours but finally gave up, hit the shower, and dressed.
What else did Holly have in mind to plague my family? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe someone else had shattered the Polka Bear and crushed Maddie’s spirits. But my gut instinct told me otherwise.
Chapter 22
Carrying a cardboard tray with Maddie’s favorite coffee, plus a Mint Mocha for me and a bag of scones, I let Fresh Grounds’ door bang shut behind me. Being a Thursday, the shop wasn’t too crowded. By tomorrow afternoon, the line of customers would stretch halfway down the block. Mary Kate had hired three college students to handle the excess, in fact, and help turn out all the various baked goods for the Oktobear Fest.
I sighed when Flynn’s electric blue Jaguar stopped at the curb. He climbed out
and stared at the spot where the Polka Bear’s square base remained. I noticed a few shards I’d missed last night on the ground, but my hands were full. They’d have to stay put for now. Flynn walked toward me, clearly puzzled. He straightened his silver cufflinks.
“What happened to Maddie’s bear? Judith texted me—”
“At seven thirty in the morning?”
“Sure.” Flynn waved a hand. “So what happened?”
“Vandalism. Pretty obvious to anyone.”
“Cops on the case?”
“Of course. And whoever did it, if they’re caught, will be charged with a felony.” I set the tray on top of my car. “So I hear you’re dating Cheryl Cummings.”
“I see her from time to time.”
“Oh, come on. I saw you both at Quinn’s Pub. Anyone would think you’re more serious than just casual dating. Are you bringing her to the Oktobear Fest this weekend?”
Flynn barked a laugh. “No way. She’s not into corny stuff like that. We have tickets to see Mamma Mia! at the Fisher on Saturday. Cheryl talked me into it. She loves musicals. Said we get to participate in the show, too.”
For the life of me, I couldn’t see him enjoying that kind of play. That vague something, about Gina, kept bugging me—what was it? Was it something Flynn had done? Or said?
“When did you and Gina break up?” I asked, since he hadn’t made a move to leave.
He cocked his blond head. “Things cooled down when she talked about filing that lawsuit against Mayor Bloom. Wouldn’t have looked right. So we broke up.”
“I thought you balked when Gina wanted an engagement ring.”
“Judith told you that, I suppose.” Flynn shrugged. “Whatever.”
“I’m surprised Gina didn’t ask one of your other team lawyers to take the case,” I said, “since it sure seems like a conflict of interest for you.”
“She trusted me. And I have more experience in that kind of lawsuit.” He opened his car door and leaned on it. “Plus I handled another case for her a while back, and won. She expected to win again. Bloom owed her a lot of dough.”
“But you didn’t see her the night she was killed?”
Flynn shook his head, but I could tell the question flustered him. His face flushed red the same way it had a few nights ago back at the factory, when Jay and I planned to work on the costume for Jack Pine Bear. And that’s when I remembered what Flynn had said.
“By the way, what exactly did you mean by ‘the last time I saw Gina alive’? Remember you stopped by Wednesday night, when you wanted me to go to dinner—”
“I told you I talked to Gina at Quinn’s Pub, on Thursday.”
“You said, ‘The last time I saw Gina alive’—that’s an odd way to phrase it.” I caught that wary gleam in his eye and felt triumphant. “You did see her Saturday night. Maybe after she was stabbed? Am I right?”
His face turned ashen and then flooded scarlet again, from his neck to the roots of his hair. “Listen, Sasha. I didn’t kill her. I swear.”
“I didn’t say that. But you saw her, after she was dead?”
Flynn rubbed his face with both hands. “Okay, I’ll explain. I spent Saturday night with Cheryl. Her family has a cottage out on Portage Lake, but her parents are strict. Greek, and Catholic. We can’t let on about how we’re fooling around. I left around five o’clock Sunday morning. I had that appointment at the studio to do another commercial, but I drove through Silver Hollow on the way. Stopped for coffee.”
“What time?” I asked, relieved he’d finally come around to being truthful.
“I don’t remember. I pulled into the parking lot behind Fresh Grounds. Not in front of the building, but I wish I had,” he said in regret. “I wanted to check my phone messages, and I had trouble with all the fog. But then I saw Gina in that stupid pink sweatshirt thing.”
“Wait a minute. I thought she was Holly—oh.” I caught my breath. “You covered up her red hair, didn’t you? Pulled the hood over her head.” Flynn shuffled his feet and refused to answer. “How could you do that? And not call 9-1-1?”
“I did. Once I got to my office.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I’d first checked my messages, but my battery ran out. By the time I called, the dispatcher said they’d already been notified. She took down all the information anyway. Mason can verify that.”
“Yeah. And where the call originated. I bet he already knows.”
“Okay, then.”
“You better explain all this, as soon as you can. Not whenever you happen to run into him,” I said. “Gina was murdered, and you knew her better than anyone else around. I bet Mason hasn’t crossed you off his suspect list, either.”
“I’ll talk to him.” Flynn dodged me and opened the coffee shop’s door. “I’m late getting to the office, and I’m booked solid all day. But I will tell him.”
I walked to my car, wondering if he really would follow through. Flynn soon drove his flashy Jaguar past me, leaving a black skid mark on the street, and his squealing tires hurt my ears. Brother. I mulled over the past twenty-four hours on my way home, hoping Maddie and I could get a breather. Especially with the Oktobear Fest tomorrow.
I set my sister’s coffee on the kitchen island, removed a scone from the bag, and then perched on the window seat next to Rosie. She lifted her head for a moment, eyes on the trees outside, guarding against any rogue squirrels.
“Yeah, it’s hard work. But some dog’s gotta do it—”
“What?” Maddie stood in the doorway, hair spiked every which way, in a bathrobe. “Gaah. I feel terrible. I hope that’s my coffee.”
“Have at it. So you and Kip are no longer an item.”
“Do we have to talk about it now?” she groaned.
“No. But remember how Cissy Davison mentioned a spat between him and Holly, up in Traverse City,” I said, “so I’m curious. How well did Kip know her? Maybe Holly’s taking some of her anger against him on you. By way of the Polka Bear.”
“I suppose that’s possible.” Maddie curled up in an armchair with a scone and sipped her coffee. “But we don’t know who smashed it. Not yet.”
Rosie’s head jerked up. She panted and then jumped to the tile floor, claws scrabbling, and whined at the back door. I grumbled, following her out and watching her trot down the porch steps and out to the lawn. Sipped my coffee—I’d left a half-eaten scone inside, and wanted to finish it. Or crawl back into bed. My head throbbed. The sleepless night would not make the day easier, given a tour with out-of-town Red Hat Society ladies this afternoon. I couldn’t take Rosie for a walk during lunch. And Uncle Ross and I had to deliver the grand prize bear to the village, after preparing for the weekend’s special sale.
I walked through the garden. Where was Rosie? She usually didn’t take this long to tinkle in the morning. “After the Oktobear Fest is over, baby, we’ll go to the dog park—”
“What a silly name. The Oktobear Fest,” a voice sounded from over the hedge. “Every other festival is ‘Oktober.’ But because of your teddy bear shop, the whole village has to kowtow to whatever the Silvermans want.”
Heart in my throat, I peered through an open space in the shrubbery. Holly Parker stood on the sidewalk, hands tucked into the pockets of a green sweatshirt. The early morning sun burnished her dark hair with a reddish glow.
“What do you want?”
“Just being neighborly.”
“At eight in the morning? Or maybe you were heading off on a bike ride.”
She drew in a quick breath, as if she’d caught my underlying meaning. “Maybe. I’ve seen you bike around the village. It’s good exercise.”
“Yeah. Tough to hide a length of metal pipe while you’re pedaling, though.”
Holly poked up her glasses. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do,” I said, anger bubbling up into my voice. “Did you know my sister’s bear was vandalized last night? Not just a broken accordion strap this time.”
“Why
do you keep blaming me for whatever bad luck your family suffers?” Her tone held more than a hint of spite. “You’ve got a problem, Sasha, being so suspicious. Kids will do anything for attention. Look how they painted graffiti on my shop windows.”
“ ‘Your nine lives are over’? What kid would paint that as a message on anyone’s shop window? You came up with that to point the finger at my cousin and The Cat’s Cradle.”
“I didn’t do it,” Holly snapped. “I’m not that desperate.”
“Some people will do anything for attention,” I said.
“Ha.” She tossed her ponytail over one shoulder and headed back toward her store. “Better watch out. Some kids might fiddle with the gate latch, and your little dog would get loose. The way people drive around here, she might get run over by a car.”
That sounded like a threat. If only Maddie had overheard Holly. Damn. I rattled the gate, making sure she hadn’t tampered with the lock, and whistled for Rosie. Inside the house, I felt better. My dog jumped up onto the window seat again. Maddie sat at the kitchen island, far more awake, and drained her coffee.
“Hey. Thanks for getting this, and the scones.”
“I got Aunt Eve’s favorites,” I said, trying to forget the encounter with Holly. “Did you want me to pick up our costumes for tomorrow?”
“Nope. Got everything under control.” She bit into a second scone, chock-full of plump blackberries. “Wish I could figure out how to make these. Then we wouldn’t have to keep running over to Mary Kate’s.”
“I tried once, but they came out tough and dry. Not like these moist, delicious gems.” With a sigh, I nibbled the rest of my scone. “Mary Kate said there’s a trick to getting the dough just right. Some people have the knack for baking. Some don’t.”
“You make wonderful cakes,” my sister said. “And that buttercream icing. Maybe you ought to take lessons in decorating from Wendy Clark.”
“Sure! I’ll squeeze a class or two in between everything else I do. No problem.” I laughed at Maddie’s stuck-out tongue. “I’m more than willing to pay for cake, or cookies, or whatever else they want to make. Saves me the trouble—”
