Bearly Departed

by Meg Macy

  “Where you’ll be in for a triple dose of stress,” Elle said, half-joking. “But don’t worry. Our Mary Katherine is a whiz at baking and a great mom. I’ll let her deal with all the screaming kids, broken cookies, and skinned knees.”

  “You’ll saddle Matt with the kids,” Mary Kate retorted, “and sit at home—”

  “Will not!”

  “Quit bickering, you two,” I said. “I feel like the mom in this club.”

  “The Queen. Queen Alexandra.” Mary Kate retrieved my empty plate. “Gotta run, girls! Closing time, and you know what that means. More work.”

  I poked Elle in the shoulder. “I’d open up again if I were you, or you’ll lose business. Looks like a mom with her kids waiting outside.”

  She jumped up, turned the sign around, and ushered the group inside. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you out there. Minor crisis here, but it’s over.”

  “That’s all right. We’d like a picture book—”

  “Oh, doggie, doggie,” the youngest child crooned. Rosie licked the boy’s hand.

  I quickly left before the kids could latch on to my dog. They looked disappointed, but Rosie had been sitting long enough. I didn’t want her to get anxious and nip anyone. I led her past the Fresh Grounds window. Mary Kate waved from inside; she helped Garrett package leftover muffins and bread as donations for the church pantry.

  I guided my restless pooch to the street with plenty of food for thought.

  Chapter 16

  Rosie nosed every bit of litter along the way home while I dawdled. Thinking hard. About Uncle Ross, who wouldn’t have killed Will Taylor even if the jerk begged him to put a gun to his head. I knew that in my gut. My uncle loved hunting—gun and bow—in the fall, but he’d never kill a human being. Or stuff him with fiber.

  I wondered if Detective Mason would tell me the autopsy results and the exact time Will had been murdered. Patience, that’s what I needed. I kicked a pebble from the sidewalk. A sparrow fluttered from a low bush toward the sky, startling me.

  “Oops. Sorry, little bird.” I needed to get a grip. “Come on, Rosie.”

  We walked on. Next I considered Lois Nichols, who had a secret past. What crime had sent her to the Huron Valley Correctional Facility? Robbery? Assault and battery? Murder? Had that been what her husband meant? I couldn’t imagine Lois coming to the factory Thursday night, lying in wait, ready to take steps to prevent losing her health insurance. How would she have known Will planned to come that night? And she couldn’t get inside without a key.

  That wasn’t impossible, though.

  And then there was Jack Cullen. Why had he been snooping around the factory, wrench in hand? He’d bugged Carolyn about wanting to see Will. Too bad Mason never mentioned if the killer had gotten into the factory by prying open the back door. My sister and I hadn’t thought of checking around the building. We’d been too numb, unable to process Will’s death. But if the killer didn’t break in, then Will must have let him or her inside. Unless he left it open for any stranger to walk in unannounced.

  Come to think of it, the door wasn’t locked when my sister and I arrived. I doubted if Mason thought this was a random killing, though.

  What about Carolyn Taylor? A businesswoman like Maddie and me, focused on success, but clearly distraught over her husband’s affair. And with a disadvantageous prenuptial agreement that would push anyone over the edge. Unfortunately, her alibi was airtight. Mason had verified it. Kristen Bloom mentioned being grilled about the “pity party” and I’d witnessed him raking Carolyn over the coals as well. Could she have left the pub without being seen? With enough time to kill her husband and get back? Plus she was drunk out of her mind.

  Was Teddy Hartman a long shot? Sure, he would have jumped at the chance to help Will take over our company. Maybe they even planned to merge the two bear factories. So why would he kill Will Taylor? Plus I’d never established whether Hartman had been seen in the village the day of the murder.

  I didn’t know what to think anymore.

  “Sasha!” Startled, I almost stumbled into the sharp brick corner of the drugstore. Ben Blake had emerged from the side door. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Just clumsy, as usual.”

  Ben grinned and fastened the iron grille’s padlock. Rosie jumped against his jean-clad legs with excitement until he rubbed behind her curly ears, flashing the million-dollar smile that charmed customers, family, and friends alike. He stood half a head taller than me, his brown hair shorter than I remembered, hazel eyes gleaming, and still as handsome as in high school. We’d been good friends since then; Ben had played quarterback until he’d blown his knee during our senior year. After his girlfriend dumped him before prom, Mary Kate, Elle, and I had all gone to the dance with him—supporting him when he hobbled in on crutches.

  The scholarship at UM might have vanished, but Ben quietly worked his way through college and pharmacy school. After a spell with a chain drugstore in a Detroit suburb, he returned to Silver Hollow. Residents needed a close drugstore instead of driving miles away to Ann Arbor or Jackson. And we’d renewed our friendship when I’d returned, minus my wedding ring.

  “A shame about Will Taylor,” Ben said, “but I also heard about your dad ending up in the hospital. Is he going to be okay?”

  I leaned against the wall, suddenly weary. “You’re the first person who’s asked me that, did you know? Thanks for your concern.”

  “Well, I’m medically inclined. And nosy.” He grinned.

  “Double pneumonia. He’s improving, but I haven’t heard otherwise—wait.” After checking my phone, I sighed in relief. “No missed texts. My sister flew to New Jersey last night. I guess everything’s going well and the antibiotics are working.”

  “Glad to hear. Let me know if you have any questions about the specific drugs,” he added. “Have you had dinner yet?”

  “No.” I glanced down at my outfit and at Rosie. “Did you mean catching a burger or something? I’d have to take the dog home first.”

  “How about I bring a pizza over? Unless you want Chinese.”

  “Either sounds great. You choose.”

  At his pleased grin, I suddenly panicked. This couldn’t possibly be a spur-of-the-moment date. No way. I hadn’t had time to consider anyone for a serious relationship since my divorce. Not that Ben wouldn’t make a great boyfriend. Or husband. But not for me. He was like a brother to me and my friends.

  “Sure you don’t mind coming close to the scene of a murder?” I teased.

  “Ha. You’re standing right where the cops almost caught someone who broke into my store. Gave them the slip, although I don’t know how. I’ll tell you the story later. Give me forty-five minutes to an hour and I’ll be over.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Ben headed to his car across the street in the church parking lot. I scurried home at a faster pace than normal, which delighted Rosie. The Holly Jolly Christmas shop was closed tight, although the lights along the roof twinkled. Carolyn left them on at night, summer and winter. We’d considered adding a few strings of teddy bear lights but rejected the idea as too cheesy. We always hired someone to outline the house with white lights in December. Maybe I’d leave them up for the year. That might be pretty.

  Uncle Ross had dragged the dented, broken mailbox and post to the side. It looked so sad. A new mailbox in the shape of a teddy bear would be neat, with the jaw pulling down. Cute or horrifying? Maddie would know how to design it classy and avoid a trashy or cheap look. I’d leave that to her when she returned.

  I rushed in the back door and half-tripped over Onyx, who purred like a tank engine. She always turned on the charm when Maddie was gone. I fed her, hoping I’d remember to clean her litter box in the basement later. I swept the floor and tidied the island, stashing the picnic fliers in a basket. Housework wasn’t my strong suit. It wasn’t a suit in my deck of cards at all, to be honest. Then I raced upstairs to shower and wash my hair. Walking in the summer heat had been exhausting. I
felt so refreshed afterward.

  I wrapped my head in a towel, donned my terry-cloth robe, and wondered if I should call my friend Laura. We’d met in college our freshman year. Laura chose nursing while I’d pursued business. She was great fun as a bridesmaid, joining Elle and Mary Kate in the wedding party. Laura had warned me about Flynn’s old friend Angela, who’d been pretty frisky with all the ushers. If only I’d listened. Apparently Flynn had dabbled in hot and steamy sex with Angela before the wedding and whenever possible afterward.

  I dialed Laura’s cell number.

  “Hey, girl,” I began, but then recognized her voice mail’s automatic message. Drat. “It’s Sasha. Call if you get a chance, and thanks.”

  Within a few moments, a text notification dinged. On vacation, Sturgeon Bay, will call you next week. Double drat. Laura would have called if I’d said “emergency,” but she deserved her vacation. Especially in Door County, Wisconsin. We’d gone there together one summer, enjoyed the wineries, and toured a lighthouse or two; mostly we read books on several beaches when it didn’t rain. My second favorite spot.

  Number one, hands down, was Mackinac Island—the turtle-shaped gem nestled between Michigan’s Upper and Lower Peninsulas. I hadn’t been on a weeklong vacation in a while. Maybe I was overdue. The “sisters” weekend up north couldn’t come soon enough. My stress level sure called for it.

  I’d hoped Laura could answer my questions about autopsy procedures, time of death, and all that. I checked the clock. Only ten minutes before Ben arrived. Too hot for ratty jeans, so a loose crinkle skirt would keep me cool. Maddie had ironed my tan, rust, blue, and white striped shirt yesterday along with her capris. At times I didn’t appreciate my sister being a neat freak, but it came in handy sometimes.

  I left my hair damp and loose and padded barefoot downstairs. Luckily, I found a liter bottle of Coke in the fridge, some beer Maddie kept around, and several cans of ginseng-flavored iced tea, my favorite. Rosie barked—perfect timing. I opened the door to Ben; he sported a faded Ferris State T-shirt, jeans with holes at the knees, and deck shoes. He carried in a large bag along with the square box from Amato’s Pizzeria, which smelled heavenly.

  “Hope you like barbecue chicken pizza.”

  “Mmm. With red onions?”

  “Yep.” Ben entered the kitchen. Rosie followed, sniffing hard, tail wagging. He slid the box on the island and then extracted a large lidded bowl. “Greek salad, too. I’m starving.”

  “I have Coke, beer, or tea. Help yourself.” I gathered plates, flatware, and napkins and then checked the freezer drawer. Ice cream, perfect for dessert. “Let’s sit in the kitchen. Too buggy outside.”

  “That’s right. I remember you prefer a hotel, not a campground.”

  “I like campfires. If the smoke doesn’t get to me,” I said. “Thanks for bringing dinner. I’m not sure when Mads is due back, so you saved me from a bowl of cereal.”

  He laughed. “Dig in.”

  We did just that. I indulged in two pieces of crusty pizza first, dotted with chunks of chicken and layered with cheese, slathered with spicy barbecue sauce, before enjoying salad with feta, Greek olives, and more red onions dripping with vinaigrette. We didn’t talk much, only catching up on family matters. Ben’s brother, Mike, practiced estate planning and probate law at Blake and Branson, plus he represented the village bank; Mark Branson, Mary Kate’s brother, handled divorce and family law. They advertised as Mike & Mark, Legal Eagles.

  Ben wiped barbecue sauce from his jaw. “I never asked you before about how Teddy Roosevelt is linked to teddy bears. I suppose I can look it up on the Net—”

  “Nah, that’s easy.” I launched into the long explanation, figuring it was a good review since we often got asked that during tours with adult visitors. “The president went on a bear-hunting trip late in November of 1902, but never saw a bear. They didn’t want Roosevelt to look like a failure, though, so his attendants cornered a black bear, clubbed it, and tied it to a tree.”

  “That wasn’t easy, I bet.”

  “Hounds chased it down, apparently. President Roosevelt considered that unsporting and told them to kill the bear due to its injuries. A cartoonist turned the episode into a political issue. Other cartoons followed, although the bear eventually changed to a cub. So the following year, when a toy maker came out with the teddy bear, everyone stuck the nickname Teddy on the President. Despite how much he really hated it.”

  “I never knew all that.”

  “But you knew Kermit Street is named after his son, not the frog.”

  “Yeah, I did. Who was the toy maker?”

  “Morris Michtom. He saw the cartoon and created the first teddy bear—at least in the States. He also asked the President for permission to use the name Teddy for his bear and sent one to the White House. Everyone wanted a teddy bear after that.”

  “Of course.” Ben winked. “My mom has my teddy bear at home, somewhere.”

  “Did you know in Germany, right around the same time, Richard Steiff created a toy bear and exhibited it at the Leipzig fair? They didn’t have the Internet like nowadays, so no one really knows who came up with the first teddy bear,” I said. “We’ve tried to make our bears look as real as possible. That’s why we only have tiny bears in blue, pink, green, yellow, and other colors.”

  Ben surprised me with a sudden question. “Sorry to change the subject, but did you ever see Alan Grant and Pete Fox together? Like hanging out around the village. Alan’s mom owns the Pretty in Pink bakery. He makes deliveries for her, too.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I hesitated, wondering if I should reveal what Uncle Ross had mentioned earlier about Pete. “So you think they’re friends?”

  He leaned back. “Must be. I’ve seen them at the Silver Screen and McDonald’s. Alan still lives at home. Not that ambitious for a twentysomething, in my opinion.”

  “You know Pete’s dad runs the local newspaper.” I stole a cucumber slice from the salad bowl and crunched on it. “I remember seeing a small article in it about your pharmacy break-in.”

  “Much bigger write-up in the Ann Arbor News back in June, when it happened,” Ben said. “The cops didn’t find any fingerprint evidence, or anything else, but I think both Pete and Alan had something to do with it. Alan at least.”

  Again, I debated going into an explanation. I trusted Ben, but Uncle Ross might be mistaken. I’d hate to pass on bad information. “Why would you think that?”

  “It’s difficult to explain—”

  “Wait, let me dish out dessert first. Or did you want more pizza?” When he shook his head, I carried the soiled plates and flatware to the sink and grabbed two clean bowls. “Vanilla, chocolate mint, or cookie dough?”

  “Chocolate mint,” Ben said. “I can scoop if you like.”

  “Sure. One vanilla, one chocolate for me.”

  I wrapped the two leftover pieces of pizza in foil and stuck them in the fridge. I rinsed and put the dishes in the dishwasher, refilled our drinks, and then scrounged up some shortbread cookies from the pantry to accompany our ice cream. They crumbled a little, since I’d bought them weeks ago, but tasted fine as a topping. I sprayed a circle of whipped cream over our bowls, then added a few drizzles of chocolate syrup and colorful sprinkles. Yum.

  “Wow. A better sundae than at the Silver Scoop.”

  “But I don’t have maraschino cherries,” I said with a laugh. “Sorry about that.”

  “So, to get back to what happened.” Ben perched on the stool again, spoon in hand, and took a huge bite. “When I worked at the big chain drugstore, we kept the controlled substances under lock and key. There was always lots of traffic in the store. Plus bulletproof glass between the pharmacy and customers added to security. But we rarely had the chance to breathe or take a lunch break. Most pharmacies, even mine, are also registered in MAPS.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The Michigan Automated Prescription System database. Monitors all the Schedule Two to Five drugs dispensed
by doctors throughout the state, and makes it easier to track abuse.”

  “That’s good to know,” I said, taking small bites of ice cream. “Last time I filled a prescription for my mom in Florida, some guy got all mad when the pharmacist wouldn’t give him a refill. It said no refills right on the label. He was downright nasty.”

  “I’ve got stories that would make your hair curl. In my small pharmacy, it’s much tougher for anyone to scope out where the drugs are kept.”

  “Why is that?”

  “We keep controlled drugs mixed in among the other stock. Makes it harder for a thief to find anything without taking a huge amount of time. That’s why the cops almost caught them.”

  “You make it sound like a bank robbery—”

  “Crime is big when it comes to drugs.” Ben scraped his bowl, having inhaled his dessert. “I know the customers coming into my store. They stick to picking up their prescriptions, and maybe a new bottle of aspirin. I’ll take being an independent over working in a big chain any day.”

  “I bet it’s quieter.”

  “And I’m a lot saner. I had enough craziness after losing my dream of a pro football career. Getting through pharm school and then licensing exams was rough. I’m no quitter, though. We all get slammed. You had it rough a while back, too. Your divorce, I mean.”

  “‘Rough’ is a mild word. Try ‘nightmare.’”

  “Yeah, I saw some of the photos and comments Hanson posted on Facebook,” Ben said. “Pretty grim. I can’t believe he blamed you.”

  I swirled what was left of my chocolate mint into the vanilla. “I’d rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

  A long awkward pause dragged out between us. I hadn’t meant to cut Ben off that way, but the last thing I wanted was to talk about Flynn. My life would have been so different if I hadn’t been so blind, so head over heels in love, so trusting.