Bearly Departed

by Meg Macy

  Two more women walked past, avoiding my dog by a wide margin. One had platinum blond hair piled high on her head, skittering heels, and a slinky black silk dress. The brunette carried a pink-and-white-striped box from Vivian Grant’s bakery.

  “Did you hear about the murder yesterday? I never expected anything like that would happen here. In Silver Hollow, of all places,” she said.

  The other woman nodded. “What’s the world coming to, really.”

  “I blame the violence on television,” I said aloud. They glanced my way, mouths agape. “You know, the zombie stuff. The Walking Dead? How about Breaking Bad?”

  Both women crossed Main Street without saying a word. I snorted. They’d looked at me from head to toe as if I wore an orange prison jumpsuit. Clearly they weren’t locals and didn’t appreciate anyone joining their conversation. Unlike most village residents, who would have stopped for a good jaw either outside or in line at Fresh Grounds. The two headed to The Birdcage, a shop offering seed, lawn art, and related items.

  My phone jangled with the ringtone I used for Uncle Ross—“Scuttle Buttin’”—a jazzy guitar riff from his favorite musician, the late Stevie Ray Vaughn. “Hey—”

  “Sasha, where are you? You’ve been gone for over an hour.”

  “I’m on Kermit near Fresh Grounds.” I peeked inside the coffee shop, where Mary Kate looked frazzled with a crowd of customers. Maybe I shouldn’t bother her when she was so busy, so I turned and walked past Ham Heaven’s parking lot. “What’s up? News on Dad?”

  “No. I finally found out why Pete Fox went missing.” Uncle Ross’s voice sounded tight, so I knew something was bothering him. “Remember I called Dave Fox about putting a notice in the paper about our shop being closed. He told me Pete drove into Detroit Thursday night and was arrested. He’s being held in the Wayne County Jail. Stupid kid.”

  “Good grief. What did he do?”

  “A drug bust. When you go looking for trouble, it always finds you.”

  “Drugs?” I’d often wondered if Pete was the type to dabble in marijuana. “Buying what? Pot, or worse?”

  “Caught him with a huge stash. Never came to work affected, I can tell you that, or I’d have canned him then and there.”

  “What a shame.”

  “Dave’s doing a special one-page edition. It won’t have a lot about the murder, so he told me. Not with trouble in his own family.”

  “I doubt that will keep gossip at bay, though. I saw more on Facebook than the post Maddie noticed yesterday.” I scratched my leg. “I’m going to talk to Lois. I’ll be back soon. Unless there’s something you need me to do.”

  “No, go ahead. Gil Thompson said it’s bunk about Harry taking a turn for the worse.” Uncle Ross snorted. “Lois probably made that up, especially if she heard about Will’s murder. Probably wants to steer clear of it all.”

  “Call or text if you hear anything about Dad, okay?”

  He hung up, as usual, without saying good-bye. When I passed Amato’s Pizzeria, the tantalizing scent of tomatoes, garlic, and cheese wafted through the open screens. My stomach grumbled. The Silver Scoop didn’t look swamped yet, but would be soon due to the hot weather. Rosie and I crossed the street toward the cottages tucked farther back under a stand of trees; they each had white clapboard siding, wood shutters to match their painted doors, and a porch stoop.

  Lois and Harry Nichols lived in the middle one. Two upstairs dormer windows poked from the roof. Their kids were grown, however, and had moved away from Silver Hollow. A girl and a boy, from what little I knew.

  I loved adorable Cape Cod houses. I’d wanted to buy one after getting married, ditching the apartment where Flynn and I bumped into each other every minute. A cozy house with a white picket fence surrounding it, a vegetable garden in back, and flower boxes below all the windows overflowing with colorful petunias. So much for dreams.

  I climbed the stoop and knocked on the blue door. The lawn looked overgrown, as did the shrubbery. No doubt with Harry’s illness, Lois had to handle all the work inside and out. I tapped a foot, impatient, until she finally answered. She looked surprised to see me and stepped out on the stoop instead of inviting me inside. Perhaps her husband wasn’t doing well. Lois wiped her hands on a checkered kitchen towel.

  “Ms. Silverman—”

  “Sasha, please. How is your husband today?”

  “Oh.” She looked startled, as if she’d forgotten about Harry. “Much better.”

  “Good.”

  Lois resembled a typical housewife in a frumpy plaid cotton dress plus fuzzy pink mules on her feet. I’d never seen her in anything but black slacks or a loose skirt below her silver T-shirt. Then again, I’d never visited her or any of the other sewing ladies at home. We respected our employees’ privacy. I wondered how to broach the subject of the murder and Detective Mason, but Lois beat me to the punch.

  “The police came here yesterday evening. A detective. He asked me about what I said at the meeting Thursday, that I’d kill Will if he took our insurance away.” She sounded resentful. “Who told him that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He questioned everyone, didn’t he? That’s what I heard from Flora.”

  “Yes, but I—”

  “Someone must have mentioned it! I don’t know why he would come here asking about that, when your uncle threatened him worse.”

  I held my temper in check. “Yes, I understand that.”

  She sailed on as if I hadn’t spoken. “Everyone knows Ross Silverman wanted to get rid of Will Taylor. For months.”

  “It doesn’t matter what was said at the meeting,” I said, hoping to sidetrack her. “We’re certain that neither you nor my uncle had anything to do with the murder.” Rosie paced back and forth, sensing Lois’s tension. Mine, too.

  “Harry and I talked that night. After the meeting.” She sounded close to tears. “I’ve worked five years at the factory, so how could Taylor dump us like garbage? Thank goodness he’s dead. We all worried over the past few months that he’d get rid of us.”

  “But why?” I asked. “We never heard anything before Thursday.”

  “I overheard him talking on the phone,” Lois said. “Long before he left for New Jersey. He said he’d managed to keep things secret, and that everything was ready. That a factory had been chosen in Shanghai, and he was going to rent it.”

  “Did Will mention anyone’s name during the conversation?”

  “No. Remember when my sewing machine went on the fritz?” She rubbed her lower back. “The repairman took forever, so I walked around the shop a little. Kind of lingered by the office, and that’s when I heard him on the phone. He wasn’t happy to find me outside his door.”

  “Hey!” a voice bellowed from inside. “Lois!”

  “Oh, that’s Harry. I’d better go,” she said, half in apology. “I have to make lunch now. He sleeps late, so his mealtimes are all out of whack.”

  “I won’t keep you, then. Thanks for chatting.”

  “Ms. Silverman—Sasha. Please believe me,” Lois said, but was unable to meet my gaze. “I did get upset at the meeting, but only because we might lose our health insurance. I’d never hurt anyone, though. Even if I did lose my job.”

  “I do believe you.” Not that it mattered, since she had to convince Detective Mason. “Are you able to help at the shop on Labor Day?”

  “I thought the police closed the business.”

  “We’re going ahead with the teddy bear picnic. I’m hoping we can open the shop for our annual sale on Monday. I can get one of the other ladies, though.”

  “No, I’ll come in by ten.” She hurried inside after Harry bellowed again.

  I descended the steps to find Rosie squatting on the lawn. Oh no. Lois had already disappeared. How embarrassing. Must have been all the extra treats. And while I always carried a bag or two whenever I walked my dog, I’d forgotten to grab one earlier. I did need coffee after all. Next stop, Fresh Grounds. Plus Mary Kate might give
me some word on whether any of her friends had taken the canceled spots at the picnic.

  I checked all my pockets and found a half-used tissue, which was better than knocking again and asking for a plastic bag. Rosie pulled at the leash, anxious to chase a squirrel, making it tough to scoop the droppings. Loud voices drifted through the cottage’s open front window. Lois cursed a blue streak. Whoa. She’d never used such colorful words at work.

  “Losing the insurance don’t matter! What we need is money,” Harry said. “The Quick Mix would pay twice as much. Quit that job at the bear factory.”

  “I’ll do what I want,” Lois snapped. “You’re in remission. Why can’t you go back there if you’re so worried about money?”

  “How do you think I got this stupid cancer? Breathing in all that wheat and cornmeal dust!”

  “The least you can do is help around here. It won’t kill you to mow the lawn or sweep the floor. All you do is eat and watch TV all day—”

  “Oh, you can’t wait to put me in the ground.”

  “Stop, or you’ll find yourself there sooner than you think.” Lois’s tone had turned nasty. So different from our conversation five minutes ago, threatening, almost evil. “You keep pushing me, Harry, and I swear you’ll be sorry.”

  “You don’t want to end up at Huron Valley again, do you?”

  “Shut your piehole!”

  I hurried across the grassy lawn, forgetting all about the tissue and its contents, but no way was I going back to retrieve it. Mortified by eavesdropping, my face burned. How could that be sweet, placid Lois? A woman who sewed teddy bears for children, quiet and efficient. Uncle Ross never mentioned any trouble with her work. So Lois had lied about her husband being worse. And he clearly didn’t care if she lost her job.

  Pete Fox was in jail on a drug charge, and now I’d heard the real Lois Nichols. Plus Will had gone ahead with plans to rent a factory in China, even before Dad agreed to send production overseas. Everyone had their secrets, apparently. Things seemed to be falling apart at the seams, like that abandoned teddy bear we’d found near Will’s body by the stuffing machine.

  Was I being naïve? Did our employees know about my tempestuous marriage, or had the details been fodder in the gossip mill over the past seven years? I wondered if Maddie might be harboring a few secrets of her own. My popular kid sister had dated boys right and left in high school, during college, right up until the last guy she recently dumped. But she’d posted all her status changes on Facebook.

  Single. In a relationship. Single. Et cetera . . .

  Maddie was far more open than me over the years, but she had been acting fairly moody of late. She never shared information about her relationships. Then again, I hadn’t explained everything to her about what happened with Flynn. Maybe that was a mistake. I hated to think our sister bond wasn’t all that close as I once thought. We could change that, though. I added a long heart-to-heart chat with Mads to my list. Along with redecorating Will’s office for her use.

  Two kids screamed shrilly behind the house next door. A third sent up a long wail. The mother yelled at them to shut up or she’d give them something to cry about. So much for the simple life in sweet, picturesque Silver Hollow.

  It had more than a hint of tarnish.

  Chapter 15

  I headed across the street. The bakery with its pink-and-white-striped awning and a window box filled with pink geraniums helped offset the unpleasant taste in my mouth. Until a motorcycle roared past from the Silver Scoop’s parking lot, spewing black exhaust and a swirl of gravel toward my feet. A skittering stone hit my ankle. Ouch! I rubbed the scraped skin. Better me than my dog, though. Two cars honked long and loud; a teen riding a bike stuck out his middle finger at them both. The idyllic street scene was ruined once more.

  Rosie shook herself from head to tail. I wanted to do the same.

  Instead I headed to the Silver Scoop’s side patio, hoping to find Kristen Bloom. I wondered if her story about the “pity party” jived with Debbie Davison’s version. I was in luck. Kristen sat in back under an ironwork table’s umbrella, chatting on her cell phone, a salad before her. I figured she could watch through the side door while her employees raced around one another, filling orders at the counter and drive-through window in back. Always watchful.

  I fetched a triangular paper cup from the stack by the outside drinking fountain. My sweet Rosie slurped from the filled cup like she’d found a desert oasis.

  “Poor baby. I should have brought your water bottle,” I murmured aloud.

  “Hey, Sasha!”

  Surprise, surprise. Kristen waved me over. Easy, since I hadn’t come up with an excuse to chat with someone who usually shunned conversation. I sank on the ironwork chair opposite. I should have ordered a slush or a creamy milk shake, but resting was less calories. Kristen’s tiny frame unnerved me, anyway. Especially given her full Lotus pose. Looking at the marks on her slim calves from the metal chair made me wince; my butt hurt, and I had plenty of padding. Who had that kind of incredible flexibility without killing themselves to attain it?

  Rosie wouldn’t sit on the hot pavement, so I lifted her into my lap. “Business will be booming today,” I said.

  “Great weather for us.” Kristen grinned and then leaned forward to whisper, “So it’s true? You found Will Taylor strangled, on the factory floor?”

  I fixed my gaze on the ice-cream flavor chart. “Dead, yeah. I hear you spent Thursday night with Carolyn at Quinn’s Pub. Cheering her up, which she probably still needs. Poor thing.”

  “Yep.” She took a huge bite of salad. Somehow she could still talk out of one side of her mouth without grossing me out. “Got drunk as skunks. Fun. Bit much, though. Paid for it, too.” Kristen swallowed, adding, “Trying to get my two miles in the next morning was a killer.”

  “I heard the case detective questioned you.”

  “Like cheeseburgers on a hot grill! Good thing we had nothing to hide.” She used a pinky finger to push a strand of blond hair out of her eyes. “That guy is tougher than he looks. I dunno how many times he kept asking the same question but in different ways. Poor Carolyn. She was half out of her mind anyway. You’d think he’d cut her a break, her husband being offed! But no. He asked about every minute, from the time we got to the pub to the time we left.”

  “Wow.”

  “Tell me about it. I mean, sure, Carolyn went off to the restroom to barf. She was gone so long, I thought maybe she’d fallen into the john. Sicker than a dog!”

  “So was Debbie, right?”

  “Yeah. We all had too much to drink.”

  That reminded me to call a friend who often met me after work. Being a nurse, Laura Carpenter could answer questions about a murder victim’s time of death. I had no idea how long it took for a dead body to turn stiff, or whatever. Will’s gray pallor haunted me as it was.

  “—but I won’t throw up. I just can’t,” Kristen went on. “Even though I drank about a gallon of sangria.” She unfolded her legs and sat straight. I pushed my shoulders back from a slouch, seeing her ramrod posture. “We ate like pigs, too. Calamari appetizer, then burgers, fries, onion rings, more rounds of drinks, dessert. That pub makes a mean cheesecake.”

  “I know.” I couldn’t imagine her eating a decadent dessert. But I also didn’t mention how Brian Quinn, the owner, had a standing order for cheesecakes from Mary Kate Thompson, not the Pretty in Pink bakery. “I see you’ve got a new ice-cream flavor.”

  “What, the Salty Honey Bee? Yeah, it’s sort of like salted caramel with a vanilla base. Wanna try it?” Kristen waved to the clerk behind the counter, who nodded. “We use Debbie Davison’s clover honey, too. Good stuff, reasonably priced.”

  “I ought to ask her about selling her honey at our shop.”

  “She’d love it. Bears and honey go together like cream and sugar.” When Kristen beckoned again, one of the teens brought out a small cone with a single scoop of vanilla ice cream. “Hope you like it.”

  “Mm
.” The ice cream was threaded with gold and studded with salt crystals, but I thought the flavor was a bit salty for my taste. Too bad it didn’t have crushed cookies in it. I steered our chat around to Thursday night. “My uncle said you all had a blast at the pub with Carolyn.”

  “We did.” Kristen shoved her cell toward me. “Here, see for yourself.”

  I swiped through three photos. “Nice.” Carolyn was laughing in every single one, a drink in hand and an arm around a different friend. “She sure needed it.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to upload them to either Instagram or Facebook yet.”

  “Only three photos. Because you arrived late?”

  “Are you following up for that cop?” Kristen’s eyes had narrowed, although she kept her smile fixed—a shade short of friendly. “I had a Zumba class, so yeah. I came late. I’d have taken more photos, but my phone died.”

  “Well, thanks for the sample.” Since her suspicions seemed high, I rose from the chair with a firm grip on both Rosie’s leash and the ice-cream cone. “Next time, I’ll join you guys for a drink or two at the pub.”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  By her flat tone, I got the impression there’d be no invitation. I dodged the crowd lined up at the counter. Kristen had pulled out her cell phone and turned sideways to the wall, her back arched. She often did stretching exercises whenever she could squeeze in a free minute or two, at the shop, the grocery store, even in church. I’d always yearned to be tiny and thin like her. But that kind of skinny took work—time and effort I didn’t want to take. I was happy walking my dog. And resorting to a treadmill at the gym.

  Who was I kidding? I always turned down Maddie’s invitation to join her for a workout and curled up with a book, a cup of tea, and a cookie instead. Okay, maybe two or three.

  I dumped the Salty Honey Bee in the trash out front. Definitely cut the salt.

  Rosie scarfed up an ice-cream cone some kid had dropped on the sidewalk. After that, we walked to Fresh Grounds. My heart sank when I saw the line snaking out the door. It would take twice as long to get coffee. Instead Rosie and I headed next door to The Cat’s Cradle Books, where Rozelle Cooper bagged up a customer’s purchases. Elle had married my cousin and was my other best friend besides Mary Kate. She kept her naturally curly dark hair pulled back from her heart-shaped face, sans makeup except for pale pink lip gloss. One quarter Ottawa and Chippewa Native American, her aquiline nose and the golden hue of her skin gave her an earthy charm.