Bearly Departed

by Meg Macy

  “Well, it’s late. Your dad needs sleep.” Mom started clearing the plates.

  “I could fall asleep right here,” I said, and carried the empty glasses to the sink. “Plus we’re open tomorrow. Come on, Rosie. Outside.”

  My sister followed us to the porch. “Should we follow up with Detective Mason?”

  “I’m texting him now about whether he plans to trace phone records between Will, Alan, and even Teddy Hartman.”

  “Don’t forget about how Vivian left early from the cinema.”

  “Yeah. I never thought about telling him that.”

  Maddie nodded and returned inside. I finished the text and then whistled for Rosie. “Come on, girl! Bedtime.”

  “Sasha, Sasha.”

  I whirled around, my breath catching in my chest. Flynn had emerged from the shadows of the porch and now leaned against the railing, his blond hair mussed. He grinned wide. I was so tempted to snap at him for scaring me half to death.

  “So where’s that lover boy I saw you with at the picnic?”

  “I don’t know what or who you’re talking about. I don’t have any lover boy.”

  “The pharmacist.”

  “Ben? His girlfriend was there, Wendy Clark. You talked to her.”

  “So, still pining after me.”

  I sputtered while he climbed the steps and entered the house. The door thwacked behind him. Damn. Flustered, I checked the ping from my cell and pressed the side button. An incoming text from Detective Mason.

  On it, records on the way. Thanks for tip re VG, but stick to selling teddy bears. Some cases go cold. Remember that.

  I sank onto the porch swing. Rosie jumped into my lap, which helped my sagging mood and sent us both rocking back and forth. A mosquito buzzed near my ear. I wondered who could be cold enough to stuff Will Taylor’s throat with fiber. Carolyn had a prenup, but she’d been with friends the whole time. That left Alan Grant and Pete Fox. Could they have killed Will and then fled the scene? And then gone to Detroit—where Pete was arrested.

  Then there was Lois Nichols. She had threatened Will, but where was she on Thursday night? Her husband would claim she was home, even if she had gone to the factory. Same with Vivian. Unless someone came forward who saw either of the women arriving here.

  And who knew how Jack Cullen really fit into all this.

  I dreaded going inside. Flynn must be talking to Dad about his legal options. Why couldn’t he have asked Ben’s brother, or Mary Kate’s? Reluctantly I set my dog on the floor and opened the door. Mom and Maddie looked up from the island.

  “What do you think about selling Debbie Davison’s honey in the shop?” I asked. “You know, bears and honey? She was in the parade today, pulling a wagon full of her products.”

  “It’s a wonderful idea!” Mom sounded pleased. “Barbara would love it. Debbie needs a boost for her business, or so she told me yesterday.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Maddie said. “Go get some rest, Sash. You look all out.”

  Dad was nowhere in sight, so I tiptoed down the hall and peeked through the study’s French doors. Flynn sat opposite Uncle Ross, leaning back in a chair, one foot hooked across a knee. Aha. They must be discussing what would happen if Mason actually did arrest my uncle. He didn’t have an alibi, after all. Wearily, I walked upstairs and rapped on the door to my parents’ suite. It creaked open. Dad hadn’t even undressed. He lay on the bed, snoring.

  Double dang. I headed to my room. At least the shop was open once again and factory production could be resumed. We needed to bring in extra help to tackle the latest order from South Dakota. Experienced help—but I couldn’t think of anyone to contact. Tomorrow. My brain was fried. I stripped off my clothes, took a quick shower, and fell into bed.

  Mason’s typed words on my cell phone echoed in my brain. Some cases grow cold.... That definitely wouldn’t be good for business.

  Chapter 25

  By Friday, I knew we were in trouble. Labor Day’s picnic may have been successful, but after that our business dropped off the cliff. I had little reason to wonder why. Mary Kate, Elle, and Uncle Ross had all updated me on the gossip running rampant during the week. I wasn’t surprised that talk had spread, of course, but the latest hurt.

  First a rumor started that a child at the teddy bear picnic had spotted the body in the river and was traumatized for life. Another rumor had Ben Blake rescuing a teen from the water, who died shortly after, choking and spluttering, because no one knew CPR. And everyone in the village was now calling me a dead body magnet. Uncle Ross grumbled about having to defend me over breakfast at the café each morning. But Elle’s bookstore? More than half of people stopping by were visitors from other areas, wanting to discuss the murder and asking questions.

  A few wondered if I’d drowned the person we found in the river. I wasn’t happy. Me, drowning people? Ludicrous.

  Today things were far worse given the lack of customers. “We’ve never had zero sales four days in a row. Ever, not since I started managing,” I said aloud. “Not even one from the Internet.”

  My voice echoed through the front room. The bears on the shelves remained mute, although I swore one winked at me. I turned away. We hadn’t gotten any applications for new staff, either. At this rate, I’d have to get Mom and Dad sewing at the machines. I checked for any updates about Will’s murder on my cell’s News and Facebook apps. Nothing.

  Flynn’s timeline hadn’t changed, either, to my surprise. I thought for sure he’d post pictures of his new house. Or new woman. Was I jealous? I shut the phone down. No way. Not possible. I was so over him.

  Resting my elbows on the counter, I faced the truth. Maybe I was a little jealous. Sure, it was wonderful managing my parents’ dream business and shop—but it wasn’t my dream. Or my shop. I didn’t make a huge salary. My car wasn’t new, just serviceable. So was I happy? Or just satisfied to coast along?

  Yes. I was happy. I wasn’t coasting. Having a huge Mc-Mansion couldn’t compare to seeing kids walk into the Silver Bear Shop, their eyes lighting up, their arms reaching to hug a bear. I loved that. Far more than having a new car, a career independent of my family, owning a gorgeous home, and being arm candy for a crack lawyer. Even managing a career—all the while wondering what my cheating husband was up to next. Sure, I could have had kids. I’d have invested more time in their lives than in my marriage to Flynn.

  My gut instinct, to bail before our first anniversary, had been the right decision. I was more confident living in Silver Hollow and investing my time in the family business. I wasn’t too old to find someone else worthy to be the father of my future kids.

  One day.

  I watched the birds at the multiple feeder out front. Maddie had filled it earlier before she headed to her office. My sister, loaded with a twenty-ounce cup of coffee, a toasted bagel spread with cream cheese, had reluctantly accepted the task of contacting vendors. Trying to explain the situation about Will’s death and mend fences was tough, but she did succeed.

  The phone rang. “Hey, we’re working with a skeleton crew here,” Uncle Ross grumbled over the line. “Me, Deon, Flora, and Joan. Doesn’t Maddie have anyone new coming in?”

  “I doubt it, but I’ll ask and call you back.”

  Lois must have known the jig was up, since she hadn’t shown up for work on Tuesday. I’d called her house, but her husband chewed me out royally. Claimed his wife was now at the Quick Mix factory, making a ton more money, and that we owed her two weeks’ severance pay. Harriet had stuck to her guns, refusing to return; Pete’s dad had bailed him out, but Dad wouldn’t hear of him returning. There’d be no second chance, whether or not the murder was solved.

  I watched a car drive along Theodore Lane and then slow while passing the Christmas shop. Carolyn’s business hadn’t suffered like ours. Not that swarms of people descended on it, but given the echoes in our shop, she was doing okay.

  Sure, I’d fielded a few calls about the Cran-beary Tea Party, but I couldn’t answer q
uestions yet about where it would be held. Mary Kate and Garrett’s shop was too small, we’d decided. The few venues I’d checked were booked. I figured if push came to shove, I could rent a hall. I didn’t have any other options.

  The shop was so quiet, I heard each tick of the wall clock. That drove me to pace the front rooms back and forth. Rearrange the shelves. Pace. Doodle on a notepad. Break open my cozy mystery, which I finished in record time. Pace again, around and around the rooms.

  “Hey, I’ve contacted our vendors,” Maddie said, her heels clacking on the floor. “All the agreements are renewed and on file.”

  “Thanks for doing that. Any problems?”

  “Nope. I even got an application from a woman with German citizenship.” My sister handed me a piece of paper. “After she gets a work permit, I’ll hire her.”

  “Visiting relatives in Chelsea,” I said, reading off the application. “Hilda Schulte. Will she have trouble getting it?”

  “No idea. But she’s coming next week, so that she can watch Flora during the entire process of cutting and sewing a bear from start to finish. Just in case.”

  “What a difference a week can make,” I said, and propped an elbow on the counter. “Last Friday we were being questioned by Detective Mason all day.”

  “Yeah. And nothing much has happened since the Labor Day picnic.” Maddie marched back to the office with a wave of her hand. “Have fun.”

  “Fun, huh.”

  I walked around the circular stairs to the loft and then back down to burn off some frustration. Where was Mason? I hadn’t seen the detective around the village all week, and he hadn’t texted me. Except for the initial reports of the body in the river at the park, nothing else had appeared in the newspapers or on television—not even a brief report identifying the gender or age. That was odd, unless the police had reason to keep quiet.

  I locked the front door at noon. Might as well take my lunch hour, although if I’d left the shop wide open no one would know it. And the house. I headed back to the office.

  “Might as well get this over with,” I said aloud. “Long past due.”

  Maddie glanced up when I entered her cubicle, the phone glued to her ear, but she held up a finger. She looked adorable in gladiator sandals, a white shirt, and red floral shorts. The toenails on one foot were painted red, the other left undone; the bottle of polish remained on her desk. I didn’t see any evidence of food, not even a wrapper in the trash.

  “Yes. Yes, of course we understand,” she said into the phone. “But our staff is short right now—we just cannot fill a rush order. I’m sorry.” Maddie hemmed and hawed for another few minutes and finally hung up. “I want to scream! Why can’t people understand that we’re at a disadvantage right now?”

  “I know.”

  “They want our silver bears, which is great. I mean, I’d love to send them a hundred out of our stock. We have them, but the size! Oh, they don’t want the eight-inch. Not the twelve-or the sixteen- either. They have to be ten-inch, because it’s their company’s tenth anniversary.”

  “They want a hundred, and they have to be silver?” I pushed a strand of blond hair out of my eyes. “How long will it take to get Hilda on staff?”

  Maddie held up a hand, as if stopping me. “I can’t promise a hundred bears in that size, not when our Teddy Roosevelt bear order comes first. Hilda applied for a nonimmigrant work visa, but it might be two weeks to two months.”

  “Whoa.”

  “That’s better than if she wanted to apply for U.S. citizenship and then work for us. That would take years to process. So keep your fingers crossed.” Maddie filed a few papers into slots with an angry frown. “I have had four other applications. Most never finished high school, have never worked at all, or else missed too many work days. Oh, and showed up late half the time.”

  “That means they want to be trained for a few months and then rush off to work at the Quick Mix factory.” I shrugged. “I’m surprised they took Lois with her prison record.”

  Maddie shrugged. “Me, too. Turns out Lois was convicted of felony assault, which means she used a weapon. In her case a knife, against a coworker at a factory. So yeah, I’m shocked they hired her at all.”

  “Maybe she lied again on their employment application,” I said. “Or ‘forgot to mention it’ like she did with us.”

  “That’s their business. After I saw her record, that was enough for me. Lois is officially terminated. I calculated her back wages, cut the check, and sent it off.”

  I perched on her desk’s edge, thinking of how to change the subject. “Listen, why don’t you take over Will’s office? You’re the main cog in the wheel here, and you do more than he ever did. Even more than me. We can redecorate it, however you want. It’s got a fabulous view of the garden—”

  “I can’t think of that right now, Sash. Okay? I’m too busy.”

  I watched Maddie tidy up her papers. Something was up. I could tell by her sharp tone, her tight body movements. She was upset, and I had no idea why. Was it due to worry about the shop and the factory? Or something I said? Maybe she didn’t want Will’s office. But that wasn’t the vibe I was getting.

  “What’s going on, Mads?” I followed her to the low file cabinet in the corner. “Are you angry at me for some reason?”

  “No.”

  “Come on. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  She blew out a deep breath. “Mom’s pressuring me. You know how she gets,” Maddie added. “She thinks if I quit my job here, then the business will fold on its own and Dad will be forced to sell. Then he can spend all his time on her instead. Like that would matter. Nothing will get Dad to give her what she wants. Why don’t they just divorce?”

  “Because Mom thinks failure is worse than putting up with a tepid marriage.” I noticed her surprise and grinned. “You should have heard her after I left Flynn. She ranted on and on about how much money they’d spent on the reception, my dress, their clothes, your maid of honor dress, et cetera. Apparently that was far more important. My feelings didn’t matter one bit.”

  “I don’t remember much of that. I was so busy with school.”

  “Mom didn’t think his cheating was grounds for divorce,” I added. “She even believed him when he promised he’d never do it again.”

  “You’re not kidding?”

  I rubbed my eyes. “Nope. And now Mom seems delighted that Flynn bought a big house and will be working in Silver Hollow.”

  “Yeah, that does seem strange.”

  “Whatever. I’m not impressed and don’t want anything to do with him. As for the business, maybe it’s time for me to get a loan and buy Dad out. That’s bound to make Mom happy. I’m not giving up the last seven years I’ve invested by seeing the business sold to someone else.”

  “This is all my fault,” Maddie said.

  “How?”

  “I’ve been complaining, about how much work it all is. Let me talk to Mom. Don’t worry, because Dad’s never going to sell. To anyone but you, I suppose. I think Will’s death and the way he tried to undermine everything scared Dad. I bet he feels threatened, and won’t let go that easily. No matter what Mom wants.”

  She dashed off before I could stop her. Great. Once Maddie laid things out on the table, things would no doubt heat up again between my parents. The last thing we needed was more fireworks right now. I headed to the kitchen for yogurt and some fruit and then returned to the shop. It didn’t take long to eat lunch.

  Bored, I checked through all the sales slips from the past weekend. Not that there was a huge amount compared to previous years, of course, but decent enough. I rearranged the displays again in each room and switched the wall calendar with the battery-operated clock. I couldn’t see the hands from where I stood or perched on a stool. Then I checked the time every ten minutes.

  I looked up Debbie Davison’s number, but my call went to voice mail. “Hey, it’s Sasha Silverman. We’d love to sell your honey in our shop. Give us a call, thanks.”
>
  Too bad I hadn’t yet received replies to the texts I’d sent this morning. First Wendy Clark—although I wasn’t sure I had the right cell phone number. I hoped she could tell me what time Vivian Grant had left the movie theater. Then I’d texted Jenny Woodley, asking if she or Glen had seen any cars Thursday night at any point in our parking lot. I sent a similar message out to Mary Walsh. If either she or Tyler saw another car besides Will’s and Alan Grant’s from their house across the street, maybe we’d be getting somewhere.

  I wasn’t going to let this case string out forever. The murder hung like an unlucky albatross around our necks. Something had to give. But it wasn’t going to be our shop and factory.

  Maddie returned around three o’clock. “I talked to Mom before she went shopping with Barbara Davison. She said she wasn’t going to worry about anything more than Dad’s health. And she’s over the moon about us selling Debbie’s honey.”

  “What’s Dad up to today? Helping out at the factory?”

  “More like hindering, but Flora offered to train him on a sewing machine.”

  “Better than the cutting press,” I said.

  Maddie laughed. “I told Mom to be subtle and ask Barbara about the ‘pity party’ for Carolyn. It was Cissy and Debbie’s idea, from what I heard.”

  “I sure hope we get Internet orders. Anything, because we’re totally dead.”

  “Why are you so worried? People are busy getting their kids off to school this week. We usually get a few calls from moms wanting our teddy bear backpacks or key chains—”

  When the tiny bells twinkled over the front door, we glanced around in surprise. Vivian Grant stepped inside, her dark eyes darting between us, frizzy black hair surrounding her like a cloud. She wore a hot pink shirtdress with black opaque tights, plus pink leather ankle boots. She ignored our greeting, swung her pink shoulder bag in front of her, and reached inside. After rummaging a bit, Vivian slapped a receipt on the counter.