Bearly Departed

by Meg Macy

  Ben cleared his throat while I finished my last bite of ice cream. “I know firsthand what it’s like to be betrayed. Had a few relationships that went sour over the years. But did you know I’m seeing Wendy Clark now?”

  “No, that’s great,” I said, covering my surprise. “She’s helping Mary Kate Thompson with decorating cookies for the teddy bear picnic.”

  “Yeah, she told me.” He looked sheepish. “Lisa, my sister-in-law, set us up on a blind date. That was the night of the break-in, actually. Alan Grant came in a few times that week. Didn’t buy anything. I sensed he was checking the aisles, and the pharmacy counter setup. That’s why I suspected him right off the bat.”

  “You have a security alarm at your store, right? Mom said the buzzer almost gave her a heart attack last summer.”

  Ben nodded. “Yeah, but it’s outdated. The cops told me to put in that ironwork grille. Usually small pharmacies like mine aren’t on the radar for criminals.”

  “Usually, except in June. You promised to explain.”

  “The alarm wasn’t tripped—it’s outdated, I know that now, and I’ve replaced it. Like I said, it’s too hard to find controlled substances among the other stock, so they failed. When the police showed up, they found the place trashed. But nothing was taken beyond a few bottles of codeine.”

  “I bet that wasn’t fun cleaning up.” I set my bowl aside.

  “Yeah. But Digger Sykes messed up any possible prints. That’s why they couldn’t tell who broke in. Fool couldn’t find a lost cat in a tree,” Ben said. “Good thing the county sent a detective to handle the murder investigation.”

  “But just because Alan and Pete are friends doesn’t mean one of them—”

  “Broke into my drugstore?” He laced his fingers together. “I don’t have any proof, of course, but it seems odd they both hang around the high school. They couldn’t have friends that young. And they always carry backpacks. I think they’re dealers. The street value of opioid drugs is incredible. Vicodin, Percocet, OxyContin—like forty to eighty bucks.”

  My jaw dropped. “A bottle?”

  “Each pill.” He laughed at my sharp gasp. “Yeah, incredible. Pot is a gateway drug, in my opinion, and it ought to be a controlled substance. There’s a growing problem with heroin abuse here in southeastern Michigan, in case you didn’t know.”

  “I guess I better tell you that Pete Fox is in jail.” I noted his raised eyebrows. “Yeah, Thursday night. Caught in Detroit with a stash of marijuana and more.”

  “Guess I was right, then.” Ben waved a hand. “Sorry for all the shop talk.”

  “I don’t mind. It’s way different from teddy bears.”

  “But you haven’t mentioned one thing about how you produce them.”

  “What’s there to tell? After cutting all the pieces, we sew them, stuff them, tag them, display them, sell them,” I said. “And then start all over again.”

  “There must be more than that to the business.”

  “How about this, then? We found a teddy bear on the factory floor near Will’s body. With a seam split open. We didn’t know what to think, unless he was trying to fix it. But that seems doubtful.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “Will Taylor never cared about the toys. Only profits.”

  “So what does that mean?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. Yet.” We both fell silent.

  Ben stroked Rosie’s head. “Sasha, I never forgot what you and your friends did for me back at prom time. I wish I’d said something at that Christmas party when you met Flynn Hanson.”

  “You were there?” My voice broke. I’d almost forgotten that fateful holiday. Once Flynn arrived on my radar, everything and everyone else had faded. “I’m not even sure who invited him. Wish they hadn’t. Boy, would my life be different.”

  “Yeah. But I heard about him cheating on you. Wendy and I—we want you to know we’ve got your back. Especially given what’s happened with Will Taylor.” Ben stood and cleared his throat. “It’s late and getting dark out. I’d better head home and walk my dog. He’ll be raring to go by the time I get home.”

  I’d scrambled to my feet, still embarrassed. I hadn’t even noticed the twilight had faded to darkness. The kitchen light had flipped on automatically. “What breed?”

  “Norwegian Elkhound. Two years old, but he gets antsy if I leave him too long. Wendy has a little Chihuahua. You should see the two of them together. It’s hilarious. Maybe we could meet you and Rosie at the dog park and let them run together.”

  “That would be fun.” I meant it, too. “Rosie loves it at Paw Run. And thanks for your support and understanding.”

  Rosie and I followed him outside to the porch. “Okay, girl. Bedtime.”

  My sweet dog did her business quickly and returned inside ahead of me. Ben’s tale of the pharmacy break-in was troubling. Was Pete Fox involved with Alan in selling drugs? He had been arrested, after all, and on Thursday night. I needed to find out what time that had gone down, if Detective Mason knew. And what about the teddy bear we’d found on the factory floor? I wondered if the police had tested it yet for traces of drugs inside the cavity.

  That might be the real reason behind Will’s murder.

  Chapter 17

  “Uncle Ross! Wait.” I clattered down the steps of the First Presbyterian in my favorite red kitten heels. When he pulled the Thunderbird over to the curb and then shifted into park, I slid into the front seat. “What? I’m being careful.”

  “You wore that to church?”

  I glanced down at my red polka-dot skirt. It wasn’t that skimpy, so I checked my white blouse. All buttoned up to my layered gold necklaces. Even my straw hat with its red ribbon bow seemed tame. My uncle wore his usual grubby cap, a wrinkled blue cotton shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and khaki shorts. I couldn’t unsee his hairy legs, large knee knobs, and white tube socks covering his feet, stuck into ancient sandals.

  “What’s the problem?” I waved a hand to cool off my face and neck.

  “The last time I saw you heading to church, you wore cutoff jeans and a tie-dyed shirt. With a baseball cap. Made me think you were going to a Tigers game. Your sister looked like she was going to a wedding next to you.”

  “I don’t always dress casual. Mads would look good in a clown suit and red nose.” I’d tucked a slip of paper under his visor. “Here’s the list of our suppliers for you to call, with the numbers and contact persons. You can explain that Will was mistaken about our plans.”

  “More than mistaken, that stupid—”

  “Don’t speak ill of the dead. If we’re open on Tuesday, and Mads is back, then she’ll make the calls. Have you heard anything about Will’s funeral?”

  “Nope.”

  “I was just wondering. I looked for that special edition of the Silver Hollow Herald, but Dave Fox hasn’t brought it out yet.”

  “There’s been enough coverage about the murder on television, for pity’s sake,” Uncle Ross growled. “Is that all you wanted? I’m meeting Gil for lunch. If that detective shows up and harasses me again, I’ll put a bug in Chief Russell’s ear about him.”

  “What about Pete Fox? What are they charging him with?”

  “Possession with intent to sell. Not just pot, but pills and some kind of white powder. Either meth or heroin. They’re testing it.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I hopped out of the car and leaned down through the open door. “Any idea where Dave Fox might be?”

  “Around.”

  So unhelpful. Uncle Ross locked the car and ambled across the street. I swiveled and peered down the block, wondering if Mary Kate or Garrett might know. Dave Fox’s newspaper office was on the other side of the Village Green. My heels wouldn’t be comfy for such a hike, so I headed home to change first.

  I’d run into several friends of Maddie before the service, who clamored for news after hearing about her sudden trip to New Jersey. If only I had something to tell. Two of them confirmed being at Quinn’s
Pub on Thursday night; they’d seen Carolyn Taylor but hadn’t paid much attention to who else was there. I’d sure like to know what time Will was murdered and how exactly he’d been killed. Was he stuffed to death? Hit on the head? Drugged? Strangled?

  Then again, Mason told me to stick to selling teddy bears.

  Barbara Davison, Mom’s friend, had also pestered me about Dad after the service. I was surprised to see her in the village. She and her husband usually avoided Silver Hollow over the Labor Day holiday by going up north. I had nothing to report. Mom had called Barbara several times since Tuesday to commiserate about Dad’s condition. Huh. But her own kids seemed to be low on the information totem pole.

  I walked faster, around the corner and past the Holly Jolly Christmas shop—usually closed on Sundays. Today the door stood wide open. Cissy Davison stood behind the counter, yakking on her cell, a laptop open in front of her. How odd. Her own boutique, The Time Turner, filled with unique items plus odds and ends like metal sculptures, pottery, and paintings, was always closed on Sunday.

  Compared to her pixieish sister, Cissy could have walked out of a 1930s starlet movie magazine. Her straightened blond hair swung low over half her face, Veronica Lake style, and bright red lipstick was her trademark. Cissy was also much thinner than Debbie even by Hollywood standards; she usually wore long beaded sheaths with fringe, and swathed scarves around her swan-like neck. Not today.

  Her mint green summer skirt flared out, Doris Day style, with a tulle peek-a-boo underskirt. Her top had a colorful pattern of watermelon slices. I lusted after that shirt. How cute would that look on me for the picnic tomorrow? Too bad I couldn’t do a snatch and go.

  I’d bought a floral top to wear with blue capris, plus silver and blue flower earrings. And as I would be so busy with names, games, and the supply of beverages and teddy bear cookies, no one would notice anyway. Sigh. My one chance to overshadow Maddie with that adorable watermelon print.... Damn. I marched past the store.

  By the time I reached home, my feet ached. Rosie barked, giving me what-for about leaving her so long. I let her out into the yard. Unstrapped my heels, rubbed my arches and toes. Onyx also voiced her opinion. That reminded me to clean her litter box. By the time I padded upstairs from the basement, I saw the blinking button on the answering machine. Where was my cell? I dug in my purse for it. Dead again.

  Once I plugged it into the charger, chased down Rosie outside, scooped her poop, and then fed her, I sat down. Maddie sounded exhausted in her message.

  “Hey, Sash. I’m coming home tonight. Flight arrives around nine. Wanna bet you forgot your cell if you’re out and about? Or else it’s dead, ha. Dad’s a lot better, so I’m coming home to help you at the picnic. Gotta run!”

  I’d started dialing her number before the message finished. Her cell rang a half-dozen times before a quavering voice answered. The speakerphone crackled a little, so I bent an ear closer to hear.

  “Mom, is that you? Where’s Mads?”

  “Resting at the hotel.” She sounded half-asleep, too. “Maddie figured you’d call, so she left her phone with me. I’m sitting here beside Dad. Alex, it’s Sasha. Let me talk to her a little bit first. Relax, that’s what the doctor said. How are things there?”

  I had no idea how to answer that. “Fine. I guess.”

  “Maddie mentioned a picnic tomorrow, and how you need help.”

  Her resentment rang loud and clear. I worried my bottom lip with my teeth while I came up with something to say. “We have twenty families attending—”

  “If the police closed the shop, you ought to have canceled.”

  “We didn’t want to disappoint the kids.”

  “I wanted your sister to help me get Dad home and settled,” Mom continued as if I’d never said anything. She placed her hand over the receiver and scolded him for being impatient. “They should be releasing him tomorrow.”

  “That’s great,” I said. “Dad must have improved a lot.”

  “If you call paying for an expensive breathing machine as being improved. I’m hiring a nurse to help out back home. I can’t lift him with my sciatica pain.” She hissed something else to him and then raised her voice again. “Do you want to talk to him?”

  I jumped to my feet. “Yes!”

  “Don’t upset your father, though. We haven’t told him.” That last bit also came through in a whisper, although I heard Dad mumble. “Never mind, Alex. You always say that Sasha can handle things, so for heaven’s sake let her. I’m not telling you anything until you get back on your feet.”

  At last Mom gave Dad the phone. “Hi, how are you feeling?” I began. His strong tone reassured me. “So they’re releasing you tomorrow?”

  “Get to the point, sweetheart. Tell me what happened—is it Ross? Did someone get in trouble? What’s going on—” His deep coughing bout scared me. I could hear Mom struggling to grab the phone from him, although Dad finally wheezed out a few more words. “Tell me what happened, Sasha. Please. I can handle it.”

  “It’s Will Taylor. He’s dead.”

  “What?”

  His half croak, half shout took me aback. “Mads and I found him in the factory Thursday night. Murdered—”

  All hell broke loose in the hospital room. Although I wasn’t there to see the actual mayhem, I heard Dad cursing up a storm in a hoarse voice. Demanding why Mom had failed to tell him and saying how she’d left us dangling in a crisis without his help. Then a string of loud beeps, a crash, and a loud clattering in my ear. Pain shot through my head. Ow. Dad must have dropped the phone. Mom’s angry voice in the background came through loud and clear, yelling for help.

  “Dad, are you okay? Dad?” My heart in my throat, I held my breath. “Mom?”

  “Just a minute!”

  A long silence followed. Guilt hammered me. My stomach’s growling for lunch had vanished. I fidgeted, flexing my feet and ankles. Shouldn’t have worn heels on a hot day. I shimmied out of my skirt and raced upstairs, polka-dot fabric and heels in hand, the phone still clutched to one ear—which didn’t help the horrible twisting in my gut. Had I caused a setback? Me and my big mouth. I should have resisted his questions.

  When Mom’s voice finally floated over the line, she kept it short. “Well. That didn’t help matters one bit.”

  “What happened? Is Dad okay?”

  “The nurse is giving him a sedative right now.”

  “Mom. You know I can’t keep anything from him.” I gulped back tears. One escaped and slid down my cheek. “Besides, he has to know what happened—”

  “Why can’t Ross help you? He practically runs the whole place anyway.”

  “Because the police think he’s the prime suspect. Not that he’s been arrested yet.”

  Another prolonged silence, which killed me inside. “I’ll talk to Maddie when she wakes up,” Mom said at last. “This whole murder business is crazy. Your father’s health is far more important than a silly teddy bear shop, too.”

  “Silly?”

  “You heard me. I never wanted to start that business.”

  “Wait—”

  She must have punched the off button, because my reply fell into dead air. Boy, was I steamed at that. The least Mom could do was give me a chance to ask questions, or explain herself. But no, her impatience was legendary.

  My anger rose further. Clearly Mom blamed me for Dad getting all worked up, setting off another coughing jag, and needing a sedative to calm down. Nothing else mattered. I fumed while I hung my skirt and tossed my shoes in the closet. I’d never heard any discord between them over starting the shop or about the business’s early days. They made it sound like they both had worked together to make it a success. How could they keep such a secret for so long?

  Then again, Dad brushed things like that aside. And Mom didn’t like to face conflict head-on. Until something drastic cropped up, like his pneumonia.

  Maybe I shouldn’t be so shocked. I also knew that she’d never give me credit. No matter what I did or
how hard I’d struggled to keep tempers in check during weekly battles between Will and Uncle Ross. Mom would blame me if Dad ended up back in the CCU. But given the strength of his voice, I sensed he was on the mend.

  “As stubborn as Uncle Ross,” I muttered. “A family trait.”

  I had to face one more thing after tonight’s chat. While Dad treated Maddie like a child and relied on me, Mom ignored me. Ever since she’d returned to work soon after I was born and let her sister-in-law raise me; I’d often called Aunt Marie Mom, in fact. Had that angered my mother? Probably, since she chose to stay home after Maddie was born. Lavishing attention on her second baby, dressing her like a living doll—my sister was her favorite, hands down. I’d barely noticed.

  Until now.

  We’d always appeared to be a normal, happy family. Free of major crises, except when Grandpa T. R. died, when a few cracks appeared in the fragile veneer of our family life. Perhaps they’d been there all along. Or was it a single crack, with me and Dad against Mom and Mads? Did it take shape when Dad opened the Silver Bear Shop & Factory? I wondered how much Uncle Ross knew about that time.

  Right now, I didn’t want to find out. Everyone had to overcome troubles in their past to survive. I wondered if marrying Flynn was a way of getting the attention I’d lacked from my mother—but it only set me up for failure. Hmm.

  By this time, I’d donned a pair of blue jean shorts and changed into a silk top with an orange swirly design. That seemed to match the chaos in my life right now. I slipped on Chaco sandals. With a floppy hat and sunglasses, I was ready to go.

  Rosie circled me, leash in her mouth, so I grabbed her harness and a bottle of water. I had to find Dave Fox and ask him about his son’s possible drug use. This time I avoided the Holly Jolly shop and headed in the opposite direction. The Walshes’ sweet cottage stood serene, its white picket fence bright in the sunshine; Flambé was around the curve. The restaurant kept long hours Friday and Saturday and only offered Sunday brunch. Usually a line snaked out the door, but people were leaving. That meant they’d be closing soon. I checked my watch. Way past noon.