by Meg Macy
“Hey.” Maddie snapped her fingers. “Remember how Digger gave Holly Parker a few parking tickets while she was moving stock into the new shop. So what if Holly killed Gina, and she used that knife so he’d get the blame?”
“But how would she get his knife?” I asked. “Holly didn’t go with them over Memorial Day weekend. Right, Jay?”
He laughed. “No way. No wives or girlfriends allowed.”
“Like Mason says, let the cops figure things out.” I waved a hand at the worktable. “So let’s get back to the clothes for Jack Pine Bear, or we’ll never get finished.”
Jay helped Maddie and me when we cleared the empty food containers and dumped them into the trash. “What do we do first?” he asked.
“Cut.” I fetched the scissors. “First the pattern, and then the fabric pieces. Are you sticking around to help, Mads?”
“Only if you need me.”
“Okay, you’re in charge of pinning.”
I took a deep breath and cut the pattern shapes. Jay fetched a dozen packages of Velcro from the canvas tote; Maddie searched the sewing area for a box of pins and then fastened the cut pattern pieces to fabric. Next she basted the shirt while I worked on the jeans.
“We can always take in any extra material,” I said. “But we can’t add more if we don’t plan for it. Let’s hope Jay brought enough clothing.”
A cell phone rang. “That’s Kip,” Maddie said, and dug in her pocket. “Hey—right now? Okay, I’ll be right over. Yeah, sure. No problem.”
I laughed at her guilty look. “Go on and help him. It’s okay.”
“He’s freaking out over a mistake he made painting the bear’s back. Says it doesn’t look right. I’ll have to help him fix it. Good thing he’s using acrylic.”
“Tell Kip I’ll beat him getting my bear done,” Jay said. “That should egg him on and make him work faster.”
“He’s had so many distractions. Prepping for his classes, teaching, and students coming around asking for help.” Maddie sighed. “I have no idea if the Hippie Bear will ever get done. But I won’t worry if he’s not worried.”
“You sound worried,” I said. “I know that tone of yours, and that little furrow between your eyes. And the way you’re sitting, all tense and hunched over.”
“Okay, I am worried. Kip won’t listen. He keeps saying he’s got plenty of time, but only the bear’s front is done. And he’s on Saturday’s schedule.”
“Is he painting the arms and legs brown, like fur? That would be pretty cool.”
“Yeah, but it’s already Tuesday and it takes a few days to seal it.” Maddie waved a hand. “My Polka Bear should be dry by now. It’s in the back here. Why not use it and see how Jack Pine’s clothes fit together? It would be better than using squishy Mr. Silver.”
“Good idea. Thanks.”
Once my sister left, Jay took over basting—with an occasional muffled curse. Once he finished, we walked past all the bins of bears, around the long tables Deon and Tim used to box and ship orders. Metal shelves held flattened boxes, rolls of paper for stuffing around items, bubble wrap, plastic bags, mailing tape, labels, and other miscellaneous items. Maddie’s Polka Bear stood half-hidden behind the tall crate where we stashed our largest bears.
I almost shrieked in delight, seeing the rainbow of polka dots over the standing bear. The accordion hung between its outstretched paws. “Aww, this bear is so adorable.” I moved the bellows while lightly fingering the keyboard, which produced a loud wheeze. “Cool!”
Jay held up the basted shirt pieces. “Ready?”
While I slid the buttoned shirt front around the body, he stretched the back pieces to meet mine. We could have used a third pair of hands to mark how we needed to fit them, but somehow managed. We had a harder time wrapping the arm pieces and staying clear of the accordion.
“Maybe we should roll up the sleeves,” I said.
“That might be the answer,” Jay said. “I can paint tan-colored fur on his arms that way, make him look more real.”
“You’ll have to do his face to match, though. That’s a lot of work. And you can’t be too picky like Kip, because Maddie’s right. Time is really short.”
“Yeah, but it will look better in the long run.”
“Let’s do the jeans now.”
I handed him the front piece, with the zipper fly, and then repeated the same mark-up on the denim sections for the sides. The backside with its pockets proved harder; Jay lost his grip several times, or I did, while we figured out where to join the material around one leg of the bear. I finally gave up, trusting to instinct. My arms ached, and so did my fingers after I pinned the Velcro strips to the thick material’s edge.
“Finally ready to sew.” I straightened my stiff shoulders. “Uncle Ross told me Velcro is a combination of velvet and crochet. Doesn’t that sound wacky?”
Jay retrieved his phone. “Hmm. I’ll google it.”
He followed me back to the industrial machines. I sat down, hoping I didn’t look or act as nervous as I felt, and began sewing seams. Each time I came to a pin, I slid it out and fed the material with its Velcro strip under the machine’s needle. I had to sew each side, however, which took time. My eyes hurt from concentrating so hard.
“So I guess it was invented by some Swiss guy,” Jay said.
“When he was walking his dog, my uncle said. The guy saw burrs stuck over his clothes and came up with the idea. I bet he made a fortune.”
“He did.” Jay held up his cell to show me. “George de Mestral, a ‘Swiss engineer and amateur mountaineer,’ filed a patent in nineteen fifty-five.”
“Wish I’d thought of it. I’m sorry this is taking forever.” I peered closer at the machine while the material inched forward. “I’d rather not break a needle. I’d be done for then. I’ve never figured out how to replace one on these things. Anyway, I bet George’s dog had plenty of burrs, too. Rosie always gets them.”
“The only idea I ever came up with was a coffee bag. Like a tea bag but with coffee, back when I was a kid. My mom loves tea, but Dad drinks coffee—so I thought it might be easier, you know? Few months later, my mom found ’em for sale at the grocery store.”
“Too bad. A lot better than instant coffee, I bet.”
Jay opened the next package of Velcro and handed me the strips. “Now I can see why Maddie’s so worried about whether those duct tape straps holding the accordion will last. They do look fragile on the paws.”
“Yeah. Some of the paint’s flaked off, too, and I hope nobody will notice. But people are bound to try playing it.” I set aside the finished piece and selected the next one. “Maybe Mary Kate and her staff at Fresh Grounds will keep an eye on the bear, and tell Maddie if the straps come loose.”
Jay stepped up, helping to guide the fabric toward the needle and not let it get bunched up while I sewed. “We’ll see what happens tomorrow night.”
“Yeah, the big reveal.”
I couldn’t wait to see what other artists had created. This month seemed to be flying by, with the Cran-beary Tea Party, the first night of the Bears on Parade, and the Hide the Bears in the Orchard event this weekend at Richardson’s Farms. Gina’s murder added to the craziness.
The machine whirred while I thought about other possibilities. Had Digger met Gina at some point, and she’d rejected him? What if he’d taken revenge? I’d heard Maddie mention how he often acted desperate with women. But Cal Bloom might be desperate, too.
“What if Mayor Bloom didn’t want to face that lawsuit in court—”
“What’s that?” Jay interrupted. He’d scrambled to retrieve a few fallen pins.
I laughed. “Sorry. Talking aloud to myself. But I can’t help wondering where the mayor was on Saturday night. My mom thinks he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
Jay rubbed his neck. “I have a hard time believing anyone would resort to murder.”
“You and me both.” I sighed and started sewing the shirt pieces. “Have you ever hunted deer in the
fall? Bow or rifle?”
“Nope, not into that. Just sport fishing. Golf, too.” He tested the bear’s denim pants, pressing the Velcro strips together and then tearing them apart with a satisfying r-r-rip. “Looks like these will hold together. I’d say the costume will look amazing on my bear.”
“But not without this!” Aunt Eve strolled into the large room, waving a plastic bag in one hand. She pulled out a huge, bulky, navy blue knitted cap. “The pièce de résistance. So you’re Jay Kirby, the carpenter and wood-carver?”
“Pleased to meet you.” He walked forward to shake her hand. “Thanks for helping.”
“You’re so welcome!”
I introduced my aunt. “Eve Silverman, formerly married to Uncle Ross. And none of us in the family blames her for divorcing him. That hat looks fabulous.”
“I’m happy to help out any way I can. I love the shop’s mailbox,” she said to Jay. “Tell me all about your wood carvings. I’ve heard you do commissions.”
They chatted while I worked on the shirt, a little faster this time since the material was easier to feed under the needle. “Okay, you two,” I said when I finished. “Let’s use Maddie’s bear and see if we need to adjust anything. Come on.”
They followed me to the shop’s back. Once we dressed the Polka Bear—sort of, since the jeans proved a little too generous in fabric, and we had a struggle in rolling up the flannel sleeves—we stood back to admire our handiwork. The sculpture’s polka dots looked odd, but Jay and I fist-bumped our success. The shirt fit almost perfect.
“I could sew another strip of Velcro on the jeans, and we could move the seam over to fit the legs better. I doubt if anyone would notice the bulk,” I said.
“Or maybe I could find a belt instead of making you do all that extra work.”
“You could use twine,” Aunt Eve suggested. “I doubt you’d find a leather strap that long anyway. A frayed rope. That would add to the rugged look.”
I clapped my hands. “I love that idea! Let’s try the hat.”
The knitted cap slid sideways off the bear’s slippery head. Every time I adjusted it, the hat slithered the other way. We all laughed.
“Maybe I should have included holes for the ears,” Aunt Eve said.
Jay leaned back. “I can always glue it on, like I did the boots. Looks like we might have to roll up the jeans or tuck the extra material into the boot tops. I expected the pants might end up too short, but that’s not the case.”
“The height is mostly from the waist up, that’s why,” I said. “Good thing there’s extra material around him, because I forgot about the tail. Do you want me to cut a hole for it?”
“Nah. It looks fine.”
“How about fastening an ax into the bear’s hand—or paw?”
“I had an ax in the original design,” Jay said, “but the committee rejected all weapons. Can’t say I blame them. There’s a log or two around the barn at my parent’s house. I could attach a chain to one end, and then stretch it over one arm down to his paw, like he’s dragging it. That might be rejected, too, so I’ll ask first.”
“I think you’d better undress that bear,” Aunt Eve said. “It’s long past midnight, and I’m going to bed. High time you both called it quits.”
“Can I pay you for knitting the hat?” Jay asked.
“No, no. That was fun, and I didn’t have any other plans for the yarn. Good night!”
“And I’ve got an early meeting.” I winced at the Velcro’s ripping sounds when we took the shirt off. The stitches held, however, even at the fabric’s worn spots. Both items of clothing came free without any damage to the seams or to Maddie’s bear. “I wasn’t so sure about this one area. The flannel’s so faded and threadbare. Thank goodness it didn’t fall apart.”
“I won’t have time to look for any matching shirt fabric, so I hope it holds.”
“So I heard the artists had to find a sponsor to pay for the sculpture, right? My parents paid for Maddie’s. How much did the bears cost, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Twelve hundred bucks.” He laughed at my shocked expression. “Fiberglass isn’t cheap, which is why they mix it with resin. My dad paid for Jack Pine, because he wants to display it at my brother’s lumberyard near Chelsea.”
“That’s how you got the idea for a Lumberjack Bear, then.”
Jay nodded. “So how about dinner on Friday night?”
I folded up the clothing, fetched the unused Velcro, and packed it into a box. “Tomorrow works better, or next week. You’ve got to seal the costume’s seams, remember. I’ll be out at Richardson’s Farms on Saturday. There’s hayrides, face painting, a pumpkin patch, all the usual stuff for fall. We’re doing an event for younger kids with teddy bears.”
“My sister volunteered to help. Last year she was a zombie in the haunted cellar,” he said with a wry grin. “Lauren’s younger than Maddie.”
“I’ve never met her.”
“She’s not around much. Studying to be either an EMT or a paramedic, although she might change her mind again.”
“Nice.” I handed him the empty tote bag. “I had fun tonight.”
“Me too. And thanks again.”
Maddie met us in the hallway on our way out, panting for breath. “We’re done,” I said. “How did it work out with Kip’s bear?”
“Don’t ask. See you tomorrow night, Jay.”
“Sure thing, and good night.”
We walked Jay out to the parking lot and then headed toward the house. His truck’s headlights shone bright, and he waited until we were safe inside. The kitchen was dark, with only a dim light over the sink. I turned to my sister.
“Do you think there’s any chance Digger knew Gina Lawson? Before she moved here to Silver Hollow, I mean. Maybe at college?”
“He graduated from a criminal justice program at Wayne State. Oh!”
“What?”
“Abby told me Gina worked at Wayne State for some professor. What if they had met?” Maddie chewed her thumb. “I know he’s afraid Mason will arrest him.”
“What’s this about an arrest?” Mom loomed in the doorway, one finger holding her place in a hardcover book. I let Maddie explain what Detective Mason told us about the fingerprints. “Great! That means Flynn’s innocent. I told you so, Sasha.”
“I wouldn’t say he’s in the clear,” I said, “but Mason’s suspect list tripled in size.”
Mom looked confused, so Maddie explained next about the fishing trip and the group of friends who had access to Digger’s knife. “Not that anyone swiped it on purpose,” she said, “but Mason will have to find out what happened, if he can. Who knows how that knife ended up in the hands of the murderer.”
“Well, Flynn wouldn’t have taken it.” Mom sniffed. “People have been accusing him to his face that he killed Gina. He’s worked so hard to become the area’s top attorney. He doesn’t deserve such abuse.”
I snorted. “He just moved here. How can he be the area’s top attorney?”
“You’re so biased, you wouldn’t believe anything I said about Flynn. As for Jay Kirby, he doesn’t impress me at all.”
“Because you don’t like the mailbox he designed.”
“No, that’s not why, for heaven’s sake.” She shrugged. “I don’t see much potential in someone who carves wood for a living, compared to Flynn’s career.”
“Jay and I are friends, Mom. Why don’t you work on getting Uncle Ross and Aunt Eve back together,” I suggested. “And let Flynn worry about his career.”
“Your father doesn’t think much of that carpenter, either.” Mom marched upstairs.
Puzzled, I turned to Maddie. “Why would she say that about Dad? Did he mention Jay to you since he got back from up north?”
“Mom’s yanking your chain, Sash. Forget it. I already let Rosie out, too.”
With a tired wave, my sister climbed the steps. It burned me that Mom was so defensive of Flynn, so eager to help him. For some odd reason, she’d taken his side.
But Dad? He always thought the best of people, even Will Taylor. He’d given our sales rep chance after chance, and in the end Will’s betrayal had stung. My poor father had shrugged it off, though. Unwilling to let such things haunt him. Unlike me.
Maybe Maddie was right. Mom was crazy, and trying to upset me. It didn’t take much.
Rosie wagged her tail at the top of the stairs, whining a little, ready for bed. I joined her and followed to the bedroom. Opened the window farther, slid under the covers, lay there and contemplated why I couldn’t be more like Dad. Shake it off, I kept telling myself. It doesn’t matter. Jay was sweet, and he wanted a relationship. That had to be a good thing.
But I wasn’t happy.
Chapter 14
“What’s it supposed to be?” My mother stared at the fiberglass bear which stood near the Time Turner shop, painted a deep navy and covered with white stars.
“ ‘The Starry Night Bear,’” I read aloud from the glossy flyer the committee had printed for the event. “ ‘All the constellations and zodiac signs are related to the universe and time.’ So that must be why they chose this location for it.”
Mom waved a hand in dismissal. “Where’s the next one?”
Dave Fox popped up from behind the sculpture. “Excuse me.” He snapped a photo of the Starry Night Bear with his Nikon professional camera and then hurried off.
I scanned the large crowd across the street. “Let’s head to Fresh Grounds. Maddie’s sculpture will be unveiled in about twenty minutes.”
“It’s too crowded over there.” Mom shaded her eyes from the sun sinking lower toward the west and then walked in the opposite direction. “I want to see the Legal Eagle Bear at the courthouse. Flynn should be there, too.”
Sighing, I followed. Why was I surprised by that? I saw Mark Branson, Mary Kate’s brother, standing beside Mike Blake and a man with frizzy gray hair and a beard. By his T-shirt, emblazoned with DETROIT ARTISTS MARKET, I figured he must have painted the Legal Eagle Bear. He wore thick black-framed glasses, sandals, and cargo shorts, and used his hands a lot while talking. He also had a boisterous laugh that made everyone around him smile.