by Meg Macy
Although my skills with little kids were practically nonexistent, I somehow managed to wash faces and hands, get them into pajamas, comb out and braid their hair, before I supervised them brushing their teeth. Then we headed to the bedroom. Celia stuck a foot in the air.
“Really dirty. See?”
“Whoa! Back to the bathroom. What did you do, run around without shoes all day? I’m not sure, but this—might—just—tickle!”
Celia shrieked while I scrubbed the soles of her feet and ankles with a soapy washcloth. Both girls squirmed and giggled until we finished. I was sweaty and exhausted after they finally tumbled into bed. We chose five books, and I read the last one twice.
“Daddy always skips pages,” Cara said, “but Mommy doesn’t. You’re a better reader with all the funny voices. Read another, please?”
“We agreed that Piggie Pie would be the last one. Give Rosie a kiss! No, she can’t sleep overnight. I should have washed her paws, too, before she jumped on the bed,” I said. “Kisses! Hugs! Wait, I forgot my surprise for you.”
I retrieved the shop’s logo bag from the living room, gave the small pink bear to Celia and the white one to Cara. They hugged them tight. “What are their names?”
“Mine is Pinky,” Celia said. “I love her, love, love, love her.”
Cara thought for a moment. “My new teddy bear is Lily.” She tucked the toy under her chin, pulled the blanket over it, and closed her eyes.
“Thank you, thank you,” Celia chanted, bouncing up and down.
“You’re welcome, settle down now. Good night, sleep tight—”
“Don’t let the bedbugs bite!”
Celia gave one last bounce and snuggled under the covers. I turned off the light, sighed in relief, and then headed back to the kitchen with Rosie. Found a bottle of wine, opened it, poured two glasses, and carried them into the living room. Elle took one with a grateful sob.
“Thank you, Sasha. So. Much.”
“Hey, you’d do the same for me.”
“But I didn’t. Last month when Will Taylor was killed, I didn’t come around. Or call.” She gulped back more tears. “Matt and I both should have helped you and Maddie.”
“We don’t keep tally marks on a board,” I said. “It’s not a contest of who does more. Mary Kate would win that hands down, anyway. You’ve got two beautiful girls. Caring for them takes most of your time, plus staffing the bookstore when Matt works overtime at the factory. How you both manage everything, I don’t know.”
Elle rose wearily from her chair. “He’s exhausted when he comes home, poor guy. And Matt drops Cara at school whenever Celia is too much for me to handle in the mornings. He was home, here with me and the girls, last Saturday night. He told that Detective Mason, over and over again, on Thursday afternoon.”
“I’m sure Matt’s repeating his story again at the station, too.”
“I don’t know what we can do, Sasha. This is horrible.”
Elle paced the room, bare feet slapping the hardwood floor. I knew Matt sank most of the profits from the bookstore back into expenses—paying for supplies, inventory, and taxes. Then juggling their schedules between work, family, finding time for dinner, doing laundry, cleaning, and grocery shopping. Both Elle and Mary Kate had their hands full. I had it easy with only the shop to manage. Even with the busy seasonal events.
Rosie plopped down beside me on the worn sofa. I stroked her curly fur and glanced around the room, taking in the framed family photos on the walls, the small television monitor on a wobbly stand in the corner, the tubs of blocks and other toys near the front window. I counted my blessings. A healthy bank account, a trust fund, and the perks of living above the Silver Bear shop, with cleaning and gardening staff. But I’d trade Elle in a heartbeat for Cara and Celia.
Not that she’d give them up, of course.
My poor cousin. I couldn’t understand why Detective Mason would grill Matt because of a meaningless threat. Benign, by the sound of it. What had Maddie said? Something about Holly being sorry one day. I’d probably said the same thing a few times in our rivalry.
“Did Matt leave at any point Saturday night? On an errand?” I asked.
“I did send him out.” Elle stopped pacing and turned to me, her dark eyes fearful. “Oh, my God. For milk! Just ten minutes, to the grocery store and back. Maybe it was fifteen or twenty minutes. But that’s all.”
“That could be why he’s being held.” I rubbed my forehead. “Mason will need proof, though. That knife won’t be enough to make a murder charge stick. So when did this all happen today? I was out at Richardson’s Farms.”
“We’d planned on coming, but then Matt called. Around three o’clock, and he had to close the store. Even though customers were browsing, because the cops had a search warrant. They took Matt to the station, too, by the time the Bears on Parade event started.” She finger-combed her dark hair away from her face. “Gossip is already so bad around the village.”
“It’ll get worse.” I explained about the graffiti spray-painted on Holly’s shop windows. “Matt couldn’t have done it if he was at the shop, and then at the station. You’ve been with the kids all day, too.”
“Yeah. How strange, that reference to nine lives.”
“That must have been deliberate, to point the finger Matt’s way, but there’s not much we can do about it. Drink your wine, try to relax. I haven’t told you about the box Mason found in the back of Holly’s shop, because that’s just as weird.”
After gulping some of the too sweet Chardonnay, I launched into the story. Elle had stopped crying. Getting her to focus on anything but poor Matt, who was no doubt cooling his heels at the police station, helped. I hoped Dad had called a lawyer, since he’d do anything for Aunt Marie’s son. I explained about the various items in the box, but Elle’s jaw dropped open when I related how Holly might have stolen Jay’s carved bird.
“Unbelievable, but not really. She’s a piece of work, and I bet Holly did it on purpose. And that mink bear! I remember how upset your Mom was back then. But how could Holly have taken it, if she’d never been to your house?”
“I don’t know. But Mom didn’t keep Minky Bear or any of her Madame Alexander dolls locked in a curio cabinet back then—”
“Hey! Maybe Holly’s a kleptomaniac,” Elle interrupted. “She took Jay’s carved bird, sort of like a keepsake. Or a trophy.”
“That’s as good an explanation as any.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “I wonder if Holly and Mayor Bloom have any bad blood between—”
The phone rang, so Elle rushed to answer. I mused over how Jay and I could get a look at that carved bird. If Mason had stashed that box at the Silver Hollow police station and not the county building, that is. Maybe we could ask Bill Hillerman.
“Oh, thank you! Tomorrow? What time?” Elle thanked the caller again and hung up. She turned to me, her face glowing. “That was Flynn Hanson! He promised to get Matt home by tomorrow morning at the latest.”
“Uh. I wonder how—never mind,” I added. Why upset Elle all over again, although the police could detain Matt for up to forty-eight hours. “Good news.”
I should have known Mom would insist on getting my ex involved, even though I’d asked Dad to call Mark Branson or Mike Blake. Huh. Mom always got her way. I was sure she’d grill me about getting on the ball proving Cal Bloom innocent. I hadn’t found out for sure if Flynn was with Cheryl Cummings or someone else the night Gina was killed, either. Or why he’d said “the last time I’d seen Gina alive.” Rosie shifted closer, sensing my worry. I ruffled her ears.
Some things were out of my control.
Chapter 18
The next day, I relaxed after church. I needed a lazy afternoon without any further troubles, without worrying about murder, and without running around asking questions of people who didn’t want to answer. I did hear a few snippets of gossip after the service, however. The graffiti had been scraped off Through the Looking Glass’s windows; police cars patrolled the v
illage streets last night until well after midnight, both downtown and in the neighborhoods; and Matt had been released at six in the morning. Elle had texted confirmation, too.
I shared my relief with Mary Kate and Garrett, who planned on visiting the Coopers. That let me off the hook. Now I sat in the parlor watching a favorite Sandra Bullock movie, Miss Congeniality. The talent scene, where her character demonstrated self-defense, always made me laugh. A cool breeze wafted through the open window. Squirrels raided the backyard for peanuts I’d thrown out earlier. My parents had gone to brunch with Uncle Ross and Aunt Eve, and planned to check out a few condos.
Maddie filled a mug with coffee. After an all-night marathon with Kip, she looked bleary-eyed and pale. “Why did I even offer any help?”
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’m going back to Kip’s, that’s what. It’s wrong.”
“So the Hippie Bear isn’t done, I take it.”
“I think it looks great, but he’s such a perfectionist.” She slammed the refrigerator door and tucked an apple and string cheese, along with a package of trail mix, into her bohemian ecru macramé purse. Maddie gulped more coffee. “I can’t get through to Kip that it’s gotta be done by Wednesday, and he should let the committee be critical.”
“Who sponsored his bear? Maybe that’s why he’s being so nitpicky.”
“Abby raised money for it, using GoFundMe or something. She’s hoping to auction the bear for charity during the Oktobear Fest.”
I smiled. “Anything vintage is sure to draw a lot of money.”
“I know, but Kip is being such a pain. I had the backside done,” Maddie said, “but he got mad and painted over my work.”
“Really? You should let him crash and burn, then.”
“I don’t think he realizes how bad it would look if that happens, that’s why I can’t. He’s a college instructor! It’s crazy.”
I straightened up and joined her in the kitchen. “Yeah. Look at all the attention Jim Perry got for the Legal Eagle Bear, and so did Jay last night.”
“Maybe Kip thinks his design isn’t up to par with theirs? What do you think?”
“Me? I’m no art critic.”
“It’s no worse than mine for the cheese factor.” Maddie plopped down sideways on a chair, her bare legs hanging over one arm. I paused the DVD player and brewed a latte, waiting for her to continue. She did before I finished. “So when I told Kip I wouldn’t touch his bear again, he got mad at that! He wants me there, giving him advice, but then he rejects anything I’ve said. He’s so hard to figure out sometimes.”
“Sounds like you need some space. Stay away for a day or two.”
“That won’t solve the time crunch problem, Sash.”
“You need a sanity break,” I said. “Like me. Take it easy today. You can always go back tonight, if you have to, but give yourself some time.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
Maddie scrambled out of the chair and returned everything to the refrigerator. She padded back and curled on the sofa, flipping through a People magazine. Tossed it aside. Fetched a Sudoku book, then set that down to watch the final few minutes of the movie. When the Kenny G ringtone trilled on her cell phone, my sister jumped to answer.
“Hey, Kip—”
I smiled, figuring she’d give in sooner than later. Within ten minutes, Maddie waved on her way out, wearing paint-spattered clothes, all smiles. She couldn’t resist an artistic challenge. I burrowed into the pages of my latest book. I’d heard so much about the Broadway musical that I finally bought the biography of Alexander Hamilton. Heavier reading than my usual cozy mysteries, but interesting. Until I yawned. Rosie snored beside me. I curled up for a nap, my dog cuddling in my arms, for almost an hour.
Jay called around four o’clock. I took the time to explain Matt and Elle’s situation, but begged off catching a pizza together. Maddie might not need space, but I did given this past week. Things were bound to get crazier, too. Instead, I took a leisurely bike ride around the village before I headed home. While scrambling eggs for supper, I couldn’t help worrying about my sister’s confusion over Kip. She’d never acted so wishy-washy before with a guy. I added some feta and spinach, slid the mess onto a plate, and ate while thinking.
Scrubbing the skillet eased some frustration over my lack of progress.
Mom and Dad finally returned after dark. “Signed a purchase agreement for a new condo,” Dad said after kissing my cheek. “We’ll be out of your hair in a month.”
“You haven’t been in my hair,” I said, “and where’s this new condo?”
“Only ten minutes away, a bit west of here,” Mom said. “Ross bought one last month, only he never told us till now. It’s lovely. Almost as nice as our Florida condo.”
I dogged my father when he climbed the stairs to his suite. “Hey, Dad. Have you talked to the mayor lately? I’m wondering how his re-election campaign is coming along.”
He squinted, one hand on the bedroom doorknob. “Not that great.”
“Is it because of Gina Lawson’s murder?”
“Could be.” Dad sounded weary and loosened his tie. “He mentioned how Detective Mason questioned him, several times, about the court case. But Cal said if the judge had decided to rule against him, he would have paid. Linda isn’t happy with him, wishing he’d avoided all this trouble. Neither of the Blooms expected Gina would be murdered.”
“Do you know if he ever threatened her?”
“Leave the investigation to the police, Sasha. Remember the last time.”
He shut the bedroom door behind him. That signaled the end of the conversation, even though I’d started to ask another question. Apparently, Mom hadn’t told him how she’d asked me to prove the mayor’s innocence.
I wandered back downstairs, recalling Cal Bloom’s friendly and outgoing personality, hefty build, and how he always hugged or shook hands with whomever he met, stranger or village resident. The mayor even acted pleased to see Jack Cullen, the cantankerous old man who’d once owned a house before the village council condemned it; Jack blamed Cal Bloom, in fact, for allowing my father to pave the Silver Bear Shop & Factory’s parking lot in its place. Bloom tolerated Jack’s accusations with his usual good-natured disposition.
He would never risk his political campaign by murdering Gina. And how would the mayor have gotten Digger’s knife? Lost or not. That whole scenario seemed ludicrous.
I sighed. “Come on, Rosie. Outside.”
Her claws clicked over the kitchen tile. I let her out and stood on the porch, shivering in the chilly night air, thinking of my parents living in a condo. I’d gotten used to Dad hanging around. Despite Mom’s faults, she often cooked dinner on weeknights. Now Maddie and I would have to take turns again or order carry-outs. Privacy came at a price.
If Maddie was serious about Kip, though, she’d need space and privacy without parents hanging around and checking on our coming and going. I had yet to consider how things would develop with Jay. Slowly, at first, before getting into an intimate relationship. I’d made a huge mistake marrying Flynn too soon, and didn’t want to repeat that. Rosie followed me upstairs and jumped on the bed, right in the middle.
“I bet you won’t like anyone else sharing your spot,” I said. She closed her eyes without bothering to answer. Ha.
My dreams that night shifted several times, in crazy directions. I woke up late, trying to figure out why I’d stuffed a wad of cash into a lawn mower. Clearly not for safekeeping, since the machine spewed bits of money all over.
“Why not the bank? A lawn mower, of all things,” I said with a laugh, and topped my coffee mug. “That’s crazy, all right. Does it mean I’m wasting money? Hmm.”
I headed to the shop. Aunt Eve waved at me, already at work behind her laptop in the office. She looked spiffy in her black blouse with a white stand-up collar, a black-and-white-striped skirt, and red spike heels. The phone rang, but she pointed toward the front room.
“An ea
rly customer is already waiting on the porch.”
“Whoa. Thanks!”
I rushed faster to unlock the door. On a Monday? We never had people coming early, unless they’d arranged a tour. I yanked the door open. Lisa Blake stood there, smiling, pregnant, but alone. She rested one hand on her rounded stomach.
“Hey, Sasha. I hope this is a good time to stop by,” she said. “I have an appointment at the doctor’s, so my mom is watching my youngest this morning. Are you open?”
“Sure, come on in.”
Lisa Blake walked past me into the shop. Petite and blond, she reminded me of Reese Witherspoon, the actress—with a baby on board, of course. Her husband, Mike, looked a lot like his brother Ben, tall, dark, and handsome, but his smile wasn’t as broad and cheerful. Together Lisa and Mike seemed a perfect family with their two boys. I wondered if Lisa yearned for a girl. Another boy would make it easy in terms of hand-me-down clothes and toys, though.
“Are you shopping for a teddy bear for the new baby?”
“Um, no. I need to talk to you.” Lisa sounded nervous. “It’s important.”
“Have a seat.” I gestured to the benches by the door. After the recent senior tour, I bought padded cushions to cover the hard wood. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“Thanks.” She sank onto one and clasped her hands together, avoiding my gaze. “I’m hoping this baby comes fast like the others. They popped out like toast!”
We both laughed, although I wasn’t sure how funny that was in reality. To me it sounded downright scary, but what did I know about childbirth? She smoothed her maternity dress with a manicured hand, looking smart with styled hair and makeup, even false eyelashes.
“Can I get you some coffee or tea?” I offered. “Water?”
“No, but thanks. I’m glad Deanna Walsh is managing things at The Birdcage. My doctor wants me to rest up these last few weeks. Borderline diabetes, you know.”
I didn’t, but only nodded. “So business is good at your shop?”
“Winter will be better. More people feed wild birds outside.” Lisa shifted, clearly not as comfortable, and focused on the counter, the barrels of small teddy bears, anywhere but my face. “Mike told me about your cousin’s arrest.”