by Sharon Dunn
Praise for
Death of a Six-Foot Teddy Bear
“A quirky who done it,’ Death of a Six-Foot Teddy Bear is the perfect mystery for women who love bargains and surprise endings.”
—MELANIE DOBSON, author of Together for Good and Going for Broke
“If you enjoy whimsy, humor, and fun characters with your mystery, Death of a Six-Foot Teddy Bear is for you! But beware! Under the laughs are buried strong spiritual truths. A delightful, thoughtful read.”
—GAYLE ROPER, award-winning author of Fatal Deduction
“The bargain hunter gals are at it again! Dunn’s riotous romp seamlessly tucks in truth and light and leaves us in stitches. A must-read for those who think living by faith is boring.”
—LOIS RICHER, author of Healing Tides
“Sharon Dunn’s uncanny sense of the hilarious, her gift for creating unusual but deeply human characters, and her ability to get them into (and out of) outrageously believable predicaments make Death of a Six-Foot Teddy Bear a read that’s just plain fun.”
—KATHY TYERS, author of Shivering World and the Firebird trilogy
“Death of a Six-Foot Teddy Bear is an exquisite combination of fun characters, laugh-out-loud weirdness, and a trail of skillfully laid clues that amateur sleuths will love following. A top-notch mystery delivered in Sharon Dunn’s delightfully snappy style.”
—VIRGINIA SMITH, author of Stuck in the Middle, book one of the Sister-to-Sister Series
“As an ardent garage saler and reader, I love this series and its lovable quirky characters. Fresh, fun, and outrageous humor with a serious side. Sharon Dunn has ‘dunn’ it again!”
—LYN COTE, author of Blessed Assurance
Other Novels by Sharon Dunn:
A Bargain Hunters Mystery:
Death of a Garage Sale Newbie
Ruby Taylor Mysteries:
Romance Rustlers and Thunderbird Thieves
Sassy Cinderella and the Valiant Vigilante
Cow Crimes and the Mustang Menace
For my kids: Jonah, Ariel, and Shannon
because you inspire me everyday to do
my best.
People who want to get rich fall into temptation and
a trap and into many foolish and
harmful desires that plunge men into ruin
and destruction …. Some people, eager for money
have wandered from the faith
and pierced themselves with many grief.
1 TIMOTHY 6:9-10
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to Julee and the great staff at Multnomah including my editor, Diane. I owe a debt to Greg at the Squirrel Lovers club for answering my squirrel behavior questions. Hope this does squirrels and the people who love them some justice. To the Scleroderma Foundation for the information they provided: you helped me create a character of strength and beauty. To my supportive husband who puts up with being married to a “creative” person and all the baggage that goes with that. Finally, to my summer oasis in Idaho and the ladies who meet me there every July. Your support, love, and brainstorming ability mean so much to me.
Other than the fact that her fingers were on a computer keyboard, there was no real evidence that the woman behind the counter would be able to get Ginger and Kindra checked in. Tanned skin contrasted with a sequined zebra-print leotard. Blue feathers sprouted out of the top of her head. Her hair had that recently electrocuted look of a supersized bouffant.
Ginger Salinski strode toward the counter, pulling her rolling suitcase behind her. The suitcase contained twin sets, sandals, and a very crabby cat named Phoebe. Big hair and a skimpy outfit weren’t going to put her off. She was a woman on a mission and time was running out.
“I don’t think the AC is working.” Kindra Halls face glistened like a solar panel as she turned a half circle in the lobby of the Wind-Up Hotel.
Ginger stopped short and closed her eyes, as if that could shut out yet another piece of bad news. She opened one eye. That would make it only half as bad, right?
People perched on lobby couches, wiping their faces with tissues and sopping wetness from their eyes. Across the expanse of black-and-white checkerboard floor, the bellboy, pushing a luggage rack that was shaped like a Radio Flyer wagon, stopped to unbutton his sweat-stained shirt. The brochure had said that the Wind-Up had a classic-toy theme. A stream of moisture trickled down Ginger’s temple.
She had been so focused on getting checked in that the tropical temperatures hadn’t affected her until now. “I’ve seen worse.” Like inside a kiln.
“I’m sure it’s only a temporary thing.” Kindra stood on her toes and bounced.
At least the kid still had some pep and that was a good thing. Of course, the endless stream of lattes Kindra had consumed on the drive from Vegas to Calamity, Nevada, probably had something to do with her exuberance.
“They can’t charge a hundred bucks a night for a room and not have air conditioning.” Perspiration had caused Kindra’s blond hair to lie flat against her head.
Ginger winced. The last thing she needed was to be reminded of the cost of this hotel. She had never paid that much in her life. She could always find discounts and coupons, but not for the Wind-Up. She reminded herself that the best deal, at the expense of relationships, was not a good deal. They needed to be at the Wind-Up so her husband could network.
Ginger cleared her throat. “Lets get Earl checked in so he keeps his booth at the Inventors Expo. We’ll go up to our rooms and wait for Suzanne and Arleta. At this point, I could sleep in a sauna.”
The woman with the showgirl look and poufy hair glanced up from her keyboard, batting blue eyelashes. “Yes, can I help you?” Thick stage makeup coupled with the heat gave her features a melting-wax quality.
“Are you … are you the one who checks us into the hotel?” Or maybe I have fallen down a rabbit hole.
The woman slammed a fist on her hip. “For now. I am afraid the regular help has quit. No surprise there.” Her booming voice almost overpowered her loud outfit. She leaned over the counter as though sharing a confidence, but spoke at an even higher volume. “Our illustrious owner, Dustin Clydell, has alienated yet another employee. I told him not to blame her for the AC problem. He didn’t listen to me when we were married; he doesn’t now. I don’t know why I keep hoping.” She pointed at her chest and nodded. “So who gets stuck with the admin duties? You guessed it. Good old, dependable Tiffany.”
“We’re in a little bit of a time crunch.” Kindra’s voice was apologetic, barely above a whisper. “We need to get checked in to reserve her husband’s spot at the Expo.”
Tiffany wiped her temple and a line of dark brown extended from the corner of her eye to her hairline. “Oh, sorry, honey.” She put her hands on the keyboard. “I just needed to vent. This AC mishap is only the tip of the iceberg. This place is going down like the Titanic, baby.” Tiffany stopped typing and turned. She waggled alternating fingers in the air like dueling pistols. “He just better give me the alimony he owes before this ship sinks.”
Ginger clutched her chest. Titanic metaphors were not a good choice at this point. “Please, we just need to get checked in.”
“I’m so sorry. I did it again.” Tiffany tilted her head side to side. “Yak yak yak, that’s all I do. I’m sure you folks have enough to deal with already.”
Understatement of the century.
“You don’t need to listen to me bellyache.” Tiffany placed her fingers back on the keyboard. “See, I’m being good.” She mimed tapping the keyboard with alternating fingers. “Focus, Tiffany, focus. What did you say your name was?”
“I’m Ginger Salinski. My husband, Earl, is registered for bo
oth 29 at the Inventors Expo. Our contract said that we had to be here by three o’clock Thursday or our spot would be given to someone on a waiting list.” She pointed to the clock on the wall behind Tiffany. 2:48. “And we made it.” Took almost an extra day, but we made it.
“You sure did, sweetie.” Tiffany clicked away at the keys. “Let me just get this printed out, so you can sign it.” Ginger leaned back on her heels and stood up a little straighten With everything that had gone wrong, at least Earl would have a shot at getting attention for his invention. Today was the first full day of the convention, so they hadn’t lost that much time.
Kindra rested elbows on the counter. “We reserved two rooms. One of them should be under our friend’s name, Suzanne Thomas.”
Tiffany held up a finger. “Just one moment, dear.” She bent closer to the printer, as if listening for sounds of operation. “I can only do one thing at a time. I’m not really a clerk. I just play one on TV.” She laughed at her own joke, causing the feathers on her head to shake. “Let me just get this agreement printed up for you. Dustin has been a real stickler about paperwork for the Expo. He’s got a waiting list a mile long, mostly local people who can be here in ten minutes, but a few people are waiting in other hotels. The success of the Expo is the one thing that has gone right.”
A sudden wind blew past Ginger. A rather large woman dressed entirely in lime green materialized. The woman tapped her white plastic sunglasses on the counter. “I want to report a theft. Someone has taken my diamond tennis bracelets, right out of my room no less.”
“I am sure you are mistaken.” Tiffany’s hands shook like aspen leaves. “You probably just misplaced them. This is a nice hotel—”
Ginger’s hand lurched protectively to her own costume jewelry.
“Nice, ha. My friend Gwen has misplaced”—the woman did an air-quote thing with her fingers—“her ruby ring and antique emerald and sapphire brooch last night. I think you know that.” She leaned closer. Her eyes became slits. “Aren’t you the one who took the theft report?”
Tiffany picked up a blank piece of paper and folded it over and over. “I’m … I am helping this woman right now.” Her gaze jerked up to the large lime green woman, then back down to her origami project. “Could you come back in just a few minutes?”
The woman exhaled, showing teeth. “I’ll be back. You can count on that.” She waddled away and disappeared into the sweating masses.
Tiffany crumpled the paper in her hand. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.” She tossed the paper toward a garbage can. “We don’t have a theft issue at the Wind-Up.” She blinked rapidly.
Ginger would bet a fistful of two-for-the-price-of-one coupons they had a big theft problem.
A cacophony of clinking silverware and idle chatter spilled into the lobby as the doors to the hotel restaurant swung open. The sight of the $3.99 buffet sign cheered Ginger. Such a deal.
A tall man with square shoulders sauntered through the door. His clean-shaven face, angular features, and perfectly sculpted hair reminded Ginger of a Ken doll.
A woman barely out of her teens rushed up behind him with a takeout box. She half curtsied as she handed him the leftovers. Ken doll leaned close and whispered something in her ear. The young woman laughed and fanned her neck with her hand, bending toward him flirtatiously.
The man trapped Tiffany in a laser-beam stare and ambled in her direction.
Though the activity in the lobby did not come to standstill, it had slowed. That whole dramatic hush thing really did happen. People craned their necks toward the handsome man and then whispered to their companions.
Before he made it to the check-in counter, a maid and a bellboy greeted him. The maid was blushing by the time her conversation finished, and the bellboy walked away, chin held a little higher, back a little straighter.
Tiffany had stopped her paperwork and stood at attention when he slipped behind the counter.
He buttoned his tailored suit coat and adjusted his cuffs. He half glanced back toward the open doors of the restaurant where an older woman in a hot pink pantsuit stood, arms crossed and scowling. Then his blue eyes rested on Ginger. Maybe it was just his good looks, but she felt hypnotized by his stare. He held out a hand. “I’m Dustin Clydell, the owner and manager of the Wind-Up.”
Ginger introduced herself and Kindra. He offered her a firm handshake.
Dustin touched Tiffany’s arm. “What is going on here, Elise?”
Elise? Ginger exchanged a glance with Kindra as Tiffany or Elise or whatever her name was pulled the agreement out of the printer and placed it on the counter. “These folks are here for the Expo. They just made it before the deadline.” Tiffany’s smile was genuine. After what they had been through, it was nice to have someone be excited about their one triumph.
Ginger’s pen hovered above the agreement. But before she could touch ink to the signature line, the Ken doll snatched the paper and frowned as he scanned it. “Which one of you is Earl?”
His smooth voice lulled her. She took a deep breath and tried to get her brain fired up. “Earl is my husband. He stayed behind in Las Vegas. The airlines lost our booth display.”
The man made a clicking noise and waved the paper twice. His lids slipped over his eyes, almost snakelike as he turned toward Tiffany. “May I speak to you privately?”
Butter would still melt in his mouth, but Ginger detected a subtle aggression that hadn’t been a part of the grand entrance and introduction.
What now? Her palm pressed into the countertop.
Tiffany and Dustin stepped away from the counter, their backs to Ginger. Dustin whispered in Tiffany’s ear. She turned so her profile was visible, planted a hand on her hip, and opened her mouth to protest. He raised a finger. She scowled. Then he touched the back of her neck making tiny circles with a single finger. Her stiff posture softened, and she leaned toward him. Finally, she nodded.
Tiffany returned to the counter and took a deep breath before saying, “Earl Salinski signed the original contract; he needs to sign the check-in agreement. It’s a”—she glanced over at Dustin—“it’s a policy.”
Ginger had a hard time processing what she had just heard.
“I’m sure you understand about policies, Mrs. Salinski.” Dustin’s tone was comforting, like water trickling over rocks. He said the most devastating things in the nicest way. “The booth will go to the next person on the waiting list.”
Ginger saw herself slipping down a mountain, sharp rocks digging into her skin as she grasped for something to hold on to. “Please, we’ve come all the way from Montana.”
Tiffany took a sudden interest in the vacation brochures on the display rack.
Kindra pounded the counter. “Where in the contract does it say that Earl has to be the one to sign? Where?”
How could this be happening? She wasn’t about to give this up without a fight. “Please, I have ID. I can prove that I am who I say I am.” Don’t take my husband’s dream away, please.
Dustin placed a piece of paper he’d been holding into Tiffany’s hand. “Give the spot to the next person on the list.”
Tiffany said something under her breath that sounded a little bit like, “This is no way to run a business.” Her voice was subdued, and she didn’t look at Dustin while she spoke. “It’s not this lady’s fault that you double-booked with the Squirrel Lovers convention and we’re overcrowded.”
Dustin put his finger to his lips. “I did not make that mistake.” He moved from behind the counter. “My former, incompetent staff did.”
Tiffany must have been tapping her foot because the whole upper half of her body vibrated, yet she said nothing.
“I have every confidence that you can take care of things, Elise.” He shot her one final piercing backward glance.
He glided across the lobby floor. Three people stopped him before he disappeared down the hallway. He offered hand holding to all and comments that made each one of them smile or laugh.
Ti
ffany unfolded the piece of paper Dustin had given her. Her face didn’t quite drain of color—given the amount of makeup she had on that was physically impossible—but a shadow crossed her features and her lips tightened. She refolded the letter.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened. Dustin was one of those people who got other people to do his dirty work for him. Ginger knew the type.
Ginger cupped her hand over Tiffany’s. “I appreciate that you tried.”
Tiffany stared at Ginger for a long moment, batting her blue eyelashes. “Most people don’t—”
“Don’t what, dear?” Ginger had been fooled by Dustin Clydell’s smooth demeanor for maybe two minutes. People like him were usually on infomercials pushing the latest lose-one-pound-a-day program while pretending to be your best friend.
“Most people take his side.” Tiffany smiled, and new light came into her eyes. “This is not right. I’ll get you out on that display floor somehow.” She slipped the letter into her sequined purse. Ginger had assumed that the paper must be the people on the waiting list. But why would Tiffany put something like that in her purse?
“Do we lose the room too?”
“No, I can still get you in there.” Tiffany clicked the keyboard.
“That Dustin guy called you Elise.” Kindra pressed her shoulder against Ginger’s, her way of offering support, emotional and physical.
“Tiffany Rose is my stage name. Who would be interested in seeing a dancer who was billed as Elise Rosemond?” She snorted. “It sounds like a librarian’s name.” Her voice had ratcheted back up to full volume. The old Tiffany was back. She looked at the computer screen. Her eyes grew round. “No. No. No.” She tapped the keys, increasing speed and glancing from the keyboard to the screen. “No, please. Don’t.” She pounded the counter by the computer. Tiffany offered them a smile that was more like a muscle spasm. “It’s going to be just a second. The system is down again.”