by Meg Macy
“Um, I think she worked as a school secretary.”
“I thought Flora had a job like that.”
Joan tossed her dark red ponytail over her shoulder. “Yeah. They worked together in the office at that school. I was in the library until they cut staff. That’s when Flora told us both about the bear factory sewing jobs.”
She dumped the icy water out of the empty tub and set it to dry upside down. Stunned, I didn’t know how to answer that. I wished I’d taken lessons from Dad about dealing with people. He’d been far more in touch with workers and treated everyone like close family. At least I knew that Flora could tell me more about Lois.
“Give me that bear!”
Harriet’s two grandsons fought and kicked, fighting over one of the toys they’d found in the crate. I glanced around but didn’t see her anywhere. Flora left her granddaughter reading to her bear on a blanket and rushed over; she parted the two boys, took the bear away with a firm command, and gave them a stern warning.
“Your grandma will not be happy when she returns from the bathroom.”
Cowed, the two joined their third brother to play with his dinosaurs. If Ben was having trouble getting power, we might have to skip the parade. That would disappoint the kids, but it couldn’t be helped. I walked over to Flora, who always looked so together, her hair frosted, her jewelry matching her outfits.
“Thanks for controlling the situation.”
“Harriet’s a softie,” she said with a laugh. “I’m a drill sergeant. Kids know they’d better listen to me, or else.”
“I have a question. Has Lois ever been in trouble with the police?”
Flora hesitated for a long moment. “What kind of trouble?”
Uneasy, I chose my words with care. “I overheard something about Huron Valley, and wondered if she’d spent time there. In the women’s prison.”
“Prison? How can that be true?”
“Ms. Silverman! I’m so glad to catch you.” Harriet Amato hurried over to join us, ignoring her grandsons who’d started wrestling on the grass. “I meant to call you, but I figured it was better to tell you in person.” She patted her silver cap of curls and then turned to yell at the boys. “Stop that, this instant! Right now, boys. Or you’ll be sorry.”
“Tell me what?” I asked, curious now.
“Well, what with the factory being closed the last few days, I had the chance to think.” Her eyes shifted from the boys to Flora and then beyond me. As if she didn’t want to meet my gaze. “I mean, it’s horrible. My sewing machine is right near it.”
“Near—”
“That stuffing machine. I know I’m supposed to give a two-week notice,” Harriet said, clearly nervous. She yelled again at the boys. “That’s it! We’re leaving.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry. I can’t walk past that machine. I quit.”
She hurried off to gather her blanket and picnic basket. The boys followed her like rambunctious cubs after a mother bear. Flora cleared her throat while I stood, speechless. Even Joan looked shocked by Harriet’s news.
“You do understand, things have changed,” Flora said slowly. “A murder—well, it changes everything. I told your sister a month ago that I’m going to retire at the end of the year. I’d like to move that up to now. But I’m willing to train any replacement workers, though. To help you out.”
A double hit. I reeled from that news, although I tried to change her mind. “This is a bad time for us to lose three of our sewing staff. We’ll never fill the order for the Teddy Roosevelt bear without you and Harriet. We can’t put all the work on Joan.”
“Yeah,” Joan said with a scowl. “I’m not Wonder Woman.”
Flora glared back. “Only Harriet is quitting.”
“There’s Lois, too,” I said with impatience. “If we confirm she hid a criminal conviction, we have no choice but to let her go.”
“I doubt that Lois would deliberately lie,” Flora said.
“Our policy is stated right on our employment application—”
“Sounds like a legal argument’s in the making.”
I whirled around at that familiar voice. Flynn Hanson—my ex-husband—grinned at me. His sun-kissed blond hair, crowned with Ray-Ban aviators, glowed above his tanned face. He looked beach ready in a pale blue shirt that matched his eyes, plus white shorts and tennis shoes. Sexy as hell, as usual.
And all of the surrounding moms glued their eyes on his every move.
Chapter 22
“What are you doing here?”
Flynn raised an eyebrow, hands on his hips. “What kind of greeting is that? I’m here to help. You ought to be grateful.”
“Since when have you ever—oh, never mind.” I turned back to Flora. “Look, if we lose more than half from our staff, we’ll never fill our orders. Can’t you wait until after Christmas? We can’t train anyone before the holidays—”
“Nonsense. Lots of people need jobs,” she said.
“We used to have a revolving door of people before you came. They couldn’t keep up with either quality or the pace.” I blew out a breath. Gaah. Everything bad was happening at once. “If I’d known we’d lose half our staff, I would have let Will Taylor send production overseas.”
“Well,” Flora said, biting her lower lip. “I suppose I could wait till January.”
“We appreciate your offer to train new people, but please. We need more time.”
“You could make an exception for Lois if you’re that desperate,” Flynn suggested. “Maybe it was only a misdemeanor. Easy to overlook.”
I glared at him. “Who asked for your professional opinion?”
Suddenly Bing Crosby’s smooth voice blared from the boom box. The kids all squealed in delight. Ben rushed over but stopped in surprise to see Flynn—who had moved to chat with Wendy by the lemonade table. I shoved a teddy bear into Ben’s arms, plus the special hat with attached ears and the silver whistle. He must have seen the pleading look in my eyes; without a word, Ben headed off to begin the parade. Kids, parents, and grandparents all followed him around the picnic area, holding their teddy bears with pride or waving them. Many kids and their bears wore eye masks for the disguise part of the song.
I looked around, but Flora had disappeared. Joan Kendall joined Wendy and Flynn, whose deep, sonorous voice was powerful enough to cast a spell over an entire courtroom—judge and jury included. Let him entertain them and stay out of my hair.
Turning back to the parade, I snapped photos of the kids and their bears with my cell phone. Totally adorable. Maddie usually posted pictures on Facebook and Twitter, so I made sure we had plenty to upload for promotion. The song repeated before parents dragged their kids home. I was swamped with people thanking us for a wonderful picnic. Many begged us to host another before the weather turned cold.
I handed out fliers for the Cran-beary Tea Party instead. “This is our next event. I’m still scouting around for a location, but please sign up before it sells out. Adults and kids are both welcome, and bring your favorite teddy bear. Who doesn’t love a tea party?”
“It sounds wonderful,” one mom gushed.
“We’ll have fun.” I turned and ran smack dab into Flynn’s hard chest. He planted firm hands on my shoulders, but I shook myself free. “What are you doing in Silver Hollow, anyway?”
“When you called, you sounded so panicked that I flew up to check on things. Won’t you give me a little credit for being concerned?”
“Your credit’s been in the red since seven years ago. New Year’s Eve.”
“Oh, come on—”
“You wasted airline miles.” I stared at him, my fists clenched. “I asked a favor, to find out whether my parents had gotten home from New Jersey. You never called.”
“Au contraire.” Flynn touched the tip of my nose. I pulled back, embarrassed by his condescending manner. “I did track them down and explained how you’d called me, that you were worried sick about them. That you might have notified the FBI and
the CIA. Your mom agreed that she’d better answer the phone next time you called.”
“She told you about Dad’s pneumonia?”
He blinked. “Yeah. She also told me how you haven’t dated anyone since our divorce. Kind of surprised me, actually.”
“So?” I folded my arms over my chest.
“So I thought that was interesting.”
My ex loped off, the hint of a sly smile on his face, before I could reply. Fuming, I walked over to help Megan and Bridgette collect the trash. Ben and Wendy lugged things to the SUV; they looked like they were arguing, so I hated to butt in. I noticed Flynn trudging toward a rented car, where he met Joan Kendall. They climbed into the small rental sedan and left. Joan didn’t live far from the park, and her eagerness seemed odd. Oh, who cared? I focused on the task at hand. My back ached by the time we finished packing everything.
“I’m so glad everything turned out well,” I said to Ben and Wendy.
“Yeah. It was great.”
He sounded morose. Wendy poked him. “Oh, stop it. You have no reason to be jealous of Flynn Hanson. He only said hi, trying to be nice.”
“He’s a snake.”
“I owe you both big-time,” I said, and then yawned. “Thanks—”
“What was that?” Wendy turned around. I’d heard a shrill sound, too.
“Sounded like a scream.”
“Probably a kid who doesn’t want to go home,” Ben said with a shrug.
But I’d caught sight of Megan waving her arms frantically by the restrooms and pointed. “Help,” she yelled. “We need help over here.”
We raced over to investigate. Passing the low block building, I saw Megan pull Bridgette up the riverbank’s steep slope. Her clothes were soaked. She tugged off her wet sneakers and wrung out her hair, then turned to point wildly at the river behind her.
“Call the cops!”
“What happened? What is it?” I asked, my heart in my throat. “Did someone fall in? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Bridgette twisted the bottom hem of her sopping T-shirt, which sent a stream of water onto the ground. Her wet hair dripped into her eyes. “I slipped and fell into the river, but lucky for me it’s not that deep right here. But I saw something caught under a log.”
“Something? Like what?” I asked.
“I think it’s a dead body.”
Ben whistled low. “You’re not kidding?”
He grabbed the branches of a tree on the riverbank and made his way carefully down a less steep slope. The rest of us waited, peering through the foliage, trying to see where he was and what he’d find. Bridgette moved to a sunny patch. She billowed her shirt out several times, trying to dry it, but it didn’t help. Ben scrambled back to rejoin us and brushed dirt and bits of broken branches from his clothing.
“Did you see what it is?”
“Can’t tell much except it does have clothing on, so call 9-1-1.”
“Already did,” Wendy said, and turned to speak into her cell phone.
“We saw that old guy hurrying away into the woods,” Megan piped up, “the one who used to own the house where your parking lot is now.”
“Jack Cullen?” Surprised, I glanced at Ben. He shrugged.
“I didn’t see anyone on the path or the pedestrian bridge.”
“—at Silver Park . . . Yes, send the police,” Wendy told the dispatcher. “We may have found a drowning victim in the river. Thank you.”
“We found this, too.” Bridgette held up a vinyl gym bag. “Mr. Cullen was trying to pull it out from under a bush.”
“Yeah,” Megan said. “We saw him snooping around.”
“That’s why we were so curious. So after he rushed off, Megan crawled under the bush to see what he was trying to get. I followed Mr. Cullen, but slipped on the grass and fell down the riverbank. That’s when I saw . . . the body.”
“Let’s hope it’s something else and not a body.” I examined the camouflage print oblong bag, noting the scuff marks and lack of a logo. “Is that why you screamed?”
“Yeah. That was freaky, seeing something in the water. No way was I gonna touch it.” Bridgette shivered. “I hope it’s a bundle of clothes someone threw away. One of my friends said he finds lots of junk around here. Old tires, all kinds of stuff.”
“Look at this—” I’d unzipped the bag and pulled out a teddy bear. Bits of stuffing spilled out from a hole. With my fingers, I searched inside. “There are five more bears in this bag. And guess what’s hiding in them.”
Ben held the bear near his nose and whiffed. “Definitely pot.”
“And look, there’s a bunch of pills in the bag, too,” Wendy said.
“Don’t touch it. I’m guessing it’s narcotics.”
“And these teddy bears have our company logo tags on the ears.” I turned to Megan. “Which bush did you find this bag under?”
“Over there.”
She led the way to one of the scrubby bushes close to a large stand of evergreens. Given how close in color the bag was to the dark foliage, it wouldn’t be easy to find unless you knew where it was hidden. But I found something else on a patch of bare ground, between two of the closest evergreens. Several cigar stubs. I recognized that type. The kind Jack Cullen smoked, with the same silver band.
I wondered what he’d been doing here and for how long, given the number of stubs. Carolyn Taylor had mentioned how Jack had asked about Will’s return from New Jersey. So did that mean Jack Cullen was somehow involved in drug dealing? Had he killed Will Taylor? And what about the body in the water? If it was a body. I doubted it, though. Bridgette was right. I’d heard plenty of stories about people dumping things off the bridge into the river.
I pulled out Detective Mason’s card and punched the numbers into my cell. He’d wanted to know if I came up with anything new. This was definitely worth reporting.
“Call me back,” I said after the voice mail beep. “We found hidden teddy bears in the park with drugs. We called the cops already.”
And now we had proof that Jack Cullen wasn’t just snooping around. He’d been here in the park, near the bag. Either he’d put it there and waited to see who would retrieve it—or he knew who put it there and was watching to see who would come and get it. I couldn’t think of any other reason. The county lab should be able to match his DNA on the cigar stubs, too. It gave Mason a good reason to question Cullen about what he knew and who was involved.
Ben and Wendy agreed to wait in the parking lot and direct the police when they arrived. I rejoined the girls near the restroom. Sirens soon blared. Once again, blue and red flashing lights made my head spin. Ben and Wendy followed Digger Sykes, who was in full uniform and must be roasting—dark blue shirt, twill pants, and a navy tie with official patches on each upper sleeve. Keys jangled at his hip while he walked. He wore his blond hair in a buzz cut.
“Hey, Sasha. How come Mads isn’t here?”
“She’s at the shop.” I explained what the girls had found.
“Whoa. First a dead body at the factory, and now one in the river?” His grin faded at my frown. “What? It’s not like murders happen every day around here.”
“We’re not sure it’s a body,” Wendy retorted. “And who said it’s murder?”
“The way things are going nowadays . . . Never figured Sasha would be party to one of those ambulance chasing lawyers. Wait, isn’t your ex-husband one?”
I resented that. “Flynn and I divorced, remember?”
“Don’t get all hot under the collar.” Digger took out his small notebook. “Okay, who found this so-called body and when?”
“I did,” Bridgette said. “I can’t tell what it is, because I only saw it stuck under a big log. Over that way.”
Megan slid an arm around her sister for emotional support. “Can we go home? Our first day of school is tomorrow.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll call you in if I need anything more.”
“We also found this.” I showed him the camouflage gym
bag holding the bears, the pot, and the bottle of pills. “I called Detective Mason, since he’s investigating Will Taylor’s murder.”
“Okay, but—Hey, girls. Wait a minute!” When Digger beckoned, Megan and Bridgette trudged back over the grass. “Any of your friends selling dope? Or maybe one of you might be involved. Or both of you.”
“They only found it,” Ben said, and Wendy agreed.
“Why would we tell someone if we’re the ones who put it there?” Bridgette huffed in disgust. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“I can vouch for the girls,” I said to Digger. “I hired them to help me at the teddy bear picnic, and they’re Gil Thompson’s granddaughters.”
“I’d better take all your fingerprints, just in case,” he said.
A voice rumbled behind us. “That won’t be necessary.”
I’d been so intent on convincing Digger, I hadn’t heard Detective Mason until he joined us, wearing blue jeans and a Red Wings shirt. Talk about casual—he must be off duty. He’d arrived in record time after getting my voice mail message.
“So what’s this about finding teddy bears?”
“And a dead body,” Digger said. “Only they can’t tell if it is a body.”
Mason looked skeptical, so Ben, Wendy, and I all tried to explain at one time. He held up a hand to stop us. “Contact the coroner’s office, Officer Sykes, just in case.”
“But he’s not back from vacation—”
“Just do it.” He waited until Digger stalked toward the patrol car in the parking lot. “Where exactly did you find the object or body in the river?”
“This way.”
Bridgette led him toward the evergreen trees and pointed down the dirt-streaked slope. Taking it slow, the detective slid to the bottom and found a narrow track along the marshy edge. He soon vanished out of sight. The sisters whispered to each other while Ben and Wendy huddled behind me. Hot, sweaty, exhausted, and yearning for a cool shower, I waited with growing impatience. Was it a body? And who could it be?
Ben looked frazzled. “Finding that gym bag was an eyeopener,” he said. “I’m guessing Alan Grant and Pete Fox might have used this spot. Pretty remote. Hard to find anything hidden unless you know where to look, too. They both live at home, so I bet they had to find a place where the stuff would be easy to store and quick to reclaim.”