Bearly Departed

by Meg Macy

  “What if it rained? Wouldn’t that ruin the drugs?” I asked.

  “That bag is fairly waterproof. And I doubt they left it out long.”

  “I doubt if anyone noticed either of them coming and going,” Wendy said. “Not with the playscape area so far away and the soccer and baseball fields across the river. But people come to walk here all the time, too.”

  “Bet Alan and Pete would come at night to store the bag or pick it up,” Ben said. “There’s no gate. And no one ever pays any attention to the sign about the park being closed after dark.”

  “Everyone in school knows Pete and Alan sell drugs.” Megan brushed a stray hair from her eyes. “I’ve seen them in the school parking lot meeting kids after school. I heard that Alan really hated Mr. Taylor, too. The man who was killed at the factory.”

  “Oh? Why is that?” I asked.

  “Because he was dating his mom. We heard Alan say he’d kill Mr. Taylor—that was after the big food fight at Pretty in Pink.”

  Bridgette nodded. “Yeah, he was pretty mad. His mom’s bakery was trashed, and Mrs. Taylor caused all the damage. And even after she took down all the crazy photos on Facebook, everyone made fun of what happened. And him.”

  “Yeah, it wasn’t cool. Trust me, I was there,” Wendy said.

  “So did Alan kill Mr. Taylor?” Megan asked.

  “We don’t know that yet,” I said. “Go on home. I’m sure the police will want you to keep all this to yourselves. Thanks for all your help today, both of you. Stop by later this week. I’ll have the gift certificates ready.”

  “We’re getting two bears in wedding clothes as a twenty-year anniversary present for Mom and Dad,” Bridgette said. “They can’t get off work to take a trip. Thanks, see you later.” They both raced toward the bike rack near the parking lot.

  I turned to Ben and Wendy. “So Alan Grant threatened to kill Taylor. Wow. You’d think more people would have heard about that. Instead they jumped to blame Uncle Ross.”

  “Yeah, it’s a good thing Digger Sykes didn’t arrest him.”

  “Arrest him? Was he going to?”

  “Last Friday. That’s what I’d heard anyway,” Ben said, “at The Sunshine Café. The chief’s wife told me, but then I found out the county detective was taking over. Your uncle was pretty steamed. Told Digger he’d better get the facts straight, or he’d straighten him out but good.”

  I had to laugh. “Sounds like Uncle Ross, all right.”

  Detective Mason climbed back up the slope, his jeans muddy, his wet tennis shoes squeaking. He brushed past us all without a word and headed over to confer with Digger Sykes; the young officer ducked into his car and grabbed his radio from the dashboard. I didn’t know what to think, and Ben and Wendy looked puzzled as well. Mason walked off to his own vehicle. He soon rejoined us in battered and scuffed deck shoes, without his wet socks.

  “Where are the drugs?”

  “In here,” Ben said, and nudged the gym bag with his foot.

  “All right, we’ll take it in as evidence.”

  “So can you tell whether it is a body in the river?” Wendy asked.

  “If it is, we always notify next of kin first.” Mason sounded impatient. “It could be totally unrelated to Will Taylor’s murder. We have several open cases in the county of missing persons, and in neighboring counties as well.”

  “So it is a body,” I said.

  “I didn’t verify that. Thanks again for the heads-up.”

  “Wait, Detective.” I beckoned him over to the cigar butts on the ground. “These are the same kind that Jack Cullen smokes, so it proves he knew about the drugs being here. If he wasn’t involved, he must have been watching for who left the bag. Or maybe whether they’d come back to claim it.”

  “Or he was out for an innocent walk in the park by the river.” Mason patted his pockets and used a clean handkerchief to gather up the cigar butts. He pocketed them. “I’ll get these submitted to the lab, though.”

  “If Jack Cullen found out about the drug deals, he might have wanted a cut of the profits. Blackmail is more his game,” Ben said.

  The detective shrugged. “Maybe. I’ll look into it.”

  “We all touched the bag, but can they detect fingerprints on that type of canvas material?” I asked.

  “My kit isn’t advanced enough. Tile, glass, metal, porcelain—that’s easy for me. Maybe the lab can, though.” Mason pulled two bears out of the bag and opened the holes wider. “Pot in this one, all right. Poor quality. The pills look like Percocet, but I’ll have ’em tested.”

  “Did you know Alan threatened to kill Will Taylor?”

  “First I heard it. And Mrs. Grant insisted her son doesn’t use drugs.”

  “He always keeps a joint in his pocket,” Wendy said. “I work at the bakery—well, I used to, that is. Vivian knows he smokes pot, but Alan promised he wouldn’t during his shifts. I’ve seen him plenty of times after deliveries, though.”

  “And his car smashed our mailbox,” I said. “Have they finished processing the forensics evidence from the factory yet?”

  “Takes a lot more time than on TV, remember.”

  “At least you can question Jack Cullen.” I struggled to hide my annoyance, although Mason seemed aware of it. “And what about Teddy Hartman? I saw him today at the parade. He did meet Will Taylor on Thursday for lunch. Maybe he came back to the village later—”

  “How about letting me investigate, and you sell teddy bears?”

  “I’m only trying to help.”

  “Hartman knows how to dodge questions,” Mason said, growing impatient. “He did say he’s on vacation when I asked why he’s here. He only met Will Taylor as a courtesy, or so he claims. To compare business strategies, I suppose. Brian Quinn verified seeing them together Thursday at his pub.”

  “Hartman claimed he was out fishing with friends that night.”

  “I’ll check on that.” Mason sounded annoyed. “It’s only been a few days since the murder. Things don’t work out so cut-and-dried like on CSI.”

  “I watch NCIS.”

  “Just leave reality to the professionals.”

  The detective stalked back to the parking lot, the nylon gym bag in hand. His advice burned me. While it had been only four days since we found Will stuffed to death in the factory, it seemed like a month ago and the detective was taking forever to solve the case. I’d read enough stories in the newspapers about unsolved murders lasting years before evidence came to light, or a witness finally came forward. Sometimes the killer bragged about it in prison, or confessed.

  I hoped that wouldn’t be the case this time.

  Thank goodness the teddy bear picnic had been a success—for the most part. If word did get out about the drowning victim, people might associate it with Will’s murder at the factory and our teddy bear shop. I sighed.

  “I wonder why Flynn Hanson showed up,” Ben said. Wendy groaned, but he sounded cross. “I’m just curious. He arrived out of the blue.”

  “His parents have a cottage on Gull Lake,” I said. “It’s possible he came up from Florida to visit them for vacation.”

  Wendy shrugged. “Who cares? I’m starving. How about we get some Chinese and bring it over? That way we can help you unpack and put things away.”

  “Gosh, thanks. I really dread unpacking.”

  “I’ll call in an order at China Palace,” Ben said.

  They headed out in their separate cars. I drove home, listening to my grumbling stomach. Twilight had set, although a few people—couples, mostly—still wandered the village streets. With school starting tomorrow and parents heading back to work after the holiday break, summer was officially over. September meant the football season would be underway in earnest at the high school and in Ann Arbor. We always got a flurry of school tours in between the senior groups who’d booked earlier in the year.

  All leading up to the busiest season right before Christmas.

  I left the SUV in the driveway. I had no ener
gy to unpack everything, no idea where Maddie was, and whether the spat between Lois and Uncle Ross had been resolved. I was sure I’d hear the details. We could commiserate over Chinese takeout with Ben and Wendy. I dragged my feet while walking around to the side of the house. Rosie wasn’t in the yard. That was odd.

  So was seeing a rental car, larger than the one Flynn used, in the parking lot. Who could be visiting? I heard loud voices inside the house, too. Rosie barked, hearing my footsteps before I wearily climbed to the porch.

  I stopped in shock at a tall figure looming in the doorway. “Wha—”

  Smiling, Dad held out his arms. “Surprise!”

  Chapter 23

  I hugged my father, so glad to see him looking no worse for wear. Alex Silverman resembled a less rugged version of Harrison Ford without the crooked nose. He did have graying hair, a rock-like chin, and mischievous charm oozing from every pore. Instead of his usual business suit, he was Mr. Casual in a red cotton golf shirt, cargo shorts, and sandals on his bare feet. Compared to my mother, who always looked fashionable like Maddie, Dad could have passed as an aging beach bum.

  I followed him into the kitchen. “You look great, Dad—”

  My tight bear hug must have set off a coughing spell. Maddie rushed to the sink to fill a glass with water, and I gently patted Dad on the back. Mom rummaged inside her huge Dolce & Gabbana pink tiger lily tote bag and took out a zipped bag of prescription bottles.

  “Time for your antibiotic,” she said in a threatening voice. “You don’t want to end up back in the hospital, do you?”

  “No, no.” He sat heavily on a stool.

  Maddie handed him the glass. “Must have been a good picnic. You look wiped, Sash. Sit before you fall down.”

  “Of course it was a success.” Dad sipped water. “Sasha would never fail.”

  His voice sounded strong. Mom leaned against the granite island, arms crossed over her chest, lips pursed. She wore a blue floral top and white jeans, her short reddish-blond hair highlighted to perfection, makeup flawless, long nails manicured pink with swirls of glitter.

  “Why aren’t you two in Florida?” I couldn’t hide my wonder. “I mean, I assumed you were heading home. To the condo.”

  “We decided to help settle things down here,” Dad said, and coughed a few more times. “So what happened at the picnic? Maddie said tons of people showed up. I’m assuming you held the teddy bear parade, as usual.”

  I waited until he popped a fat pill into his mouth and gulped water. “Yes, it’s tradition. We had great attendance. But don’t you think it would be better to recover at home? Not that you can’t here, but—I didn’t expect you two until Thanksgiving.”

  “Will Taylor’s dead. Isn’t that reason enough?”

  “Now, Alex. I didn’t think you needed us,” Mom told me. “Ross is here. And there’s nothing we can do while the police are investigating.”

  “My brother’s still a prime suspect.” Dad cleared his throat. “I called the local police, but they won’t tell me anything. I’m going to track down Chief Russell tomorrow and find out what’s going on. There’s no way Ross would kill anyone.”

  “I’ve been telling Detective Mason that since Friday morning,” I said. “And I’m glad the county detective took over. Ben Blake told me just a few minutes ago that Digger Sykes would have arrested Uncle Ross last Friday.”

  “You’re joking!”

  “Nope,” Maddie piped up. “Digger admitted the whole thing is over his head. He doesn’t have experience investigating a murder, and neither does anyone else in town. He did say Detective Mason is top in his field. Digger’s doing all he can to help.”

  Everyone looked at me for verification. “I guess so. They both came out to the park after I sent a text about the dead body in the river.”

  “What?”

  “A dead body?”

  Chaos broke out. Everyone asked rapid-fire questions at the same time until Maddie whistled shrilly. “Hey, shut up! What’s this about another body, Sash?”

  I explained the whole thing, but Mom kept interrupting me as if she didn’t believe her ears. “I didn’t see it, so I can’t tell you much. And Mason took the gym bag with the teddy bears, the pot, and pills. But I know for certain the cigar butts are the same kind Jack Cullen smokes.”

  “So are you saying he might have something to do with all this?” Dad asked.

  “No, I’m not saying anything. I have no idea.”

  “What about Lois Nichols?” my sister asked. “She acted so nervous at the shop, especially after Uncle Ross lost his temper about being so slow to make change. I talked to her about serving time at the Huron Valley Correctional Facility, but she denied it. Rushed off before I could say anything more, so I’ll have to do an Internet search. Maybe even call the county records department.”

  “If she does have a felony conviction, then we’ll have to let her go.”

  Dad held up a hand. “But it doesn’t mean Lois killed Will—”

  “She threatened to, though,” I said, “Thursday night at the meeting. You should have heard her. If only you’d squashed Will’s idea about cutting jobs and sending production overseas! What a mess.”

  “Are you saying it’s your dad’s fault, Sasha?” Mom asked, her tone sharp.

  “Stop, Judith. She’s right,” he admitted. “I should have told Will flat out the idea was bad. Ross is mad at me, too. They both have good reason to be upset that I let things get out of hand.”

  “Ross’s mouth gets him in trouble.”

  “That may be true, but he isn’t a killer.” Dad turned to me again. “Did you know Flynn Hanson is back in Silver Hollow?”

  “Back?” I stared at both of my parents in shock. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s left Florida for good.”

  “He’s moving back to Michigan?” I rubbed my eyes, feeling stupid and slow. “That can’t be right.”

  “Sold his condo, so he told your mother. And he put an offer on a house west of Ann Arbor, about eight miles from here.”

  “Six thousand square feet,” Mom confirmed. “Gorgeous place.”

  “Uh, I think I need some sunburn lotion.”

  Stunned by the news, I stumbled toward the half bath. It couldn’t be true. Flynn living in Ann Arbor? A huge house, three times the size of his Florida condo? I had to wonder why. Unless the woman I’d seen in his latest Facebook posts was involved—maybe as his fiancée. More power to her, if so. She was welcome to him. Along with his cheating ways.

  I wanted to drop from exhaustion. My face felt hot to the touch; my reflection in the mirror showed lobster red cheeks, chin, and nose. I remembered applying sunscreen early in the morning but forgot to reapply it by midafternoon, when the sun was at its highest point. Everything had zipped by in a blur: the games, the parade, Harriet’s announcement of quitting, Flora’s decision to retire earlier, plus finding the teddy bears, pot, and pills in the gym bag. And the drowning victim in the river. Jack Cullen’s cigar butts, too . . . It was all too much.

  “Here, you forgot this.” Maddie appeared at my shoulder and handed over the aloe vera gel. “Take some aspirin, too. You look as bad as I did this morning. Everything worked out? Things looked pretty wild to me when I was there.”

  “Yeah, I’d never have handled it all without Ben and Wendy. Why are Mom and Dad here, really?” I whispered. “I never expected that.”

  “Mom said it was easier coming here than battling to get him home. She’s got him under control.” My sister had shut the door behind us, although the bathroom was so small Maddie had to stand in the corner. “We had loads of customers at the shop, plus a few online orders. But Uncle Ross put his foot down on giving tours. At least until we’re caught up with production.”

  “That might be a problem.”

  “Not doing tours?”

  “No, filling orders,” I said. “Pete’s been arrested. Harriet quit outright—”

  “What?” Eyes wide, she fell back against the
sink.

  “Wait, let me finish.” I smeared lotion over my face. “And I’m sorry I snapped about you not doing a background check on Lois. It must be true, though.”

  “I should have been more careful.” Maddie sighed. “I didn’t expect her to have a criminal background. Plus all her references checked out, and Flora’s the one who sent her to us in the first place. But why did Harriet quit?”

  “Apparently she can’t walk past the stuffing machine. It’s creepy, which is true, but what can we do about it? Except move it into a corner. We’re losing Lois, and Flora wants to retire, although she promised to train new staff. But who will we find with the right experience? We’ll never fill that Teddy Roosevelt bear order.”

  “Yeah. That’s a bigger problem than I thought.”

  The gel cooled and soothed the pain on my face, neck, and forearms. “So it’s true about Flynn? He’s actually moving to Michigan.”

  “Yep. Even Mrs. Davison heard about it, and told Mom last week. She’d talked to her a dozen times, even though she wouldn’t take our calls.” Maddie sounded as mad about that as I’d been. “I guess Flynn got through to her and told her his plans.”

  “Unbelievable. Did he explain why?”

  “Mom said Flynn was bored down in Florida with all the old people. Not his thing, dealing with senior citizens. Not enough women his age, either.”

  “I thought he has a girlfriend.” I relayed seeing the Facebook photos and then shared how Ben had looked jealous over Flynn chatting with Wendy. “How odd that Joan Kendall latched on to him.”

  The doorbell rang. When Maddie banged the door into my shin, I howled in pain. She raced out of the bathroom—too late. Mom had already answered the door. That gave me a sick feeling; I’d forgotten Ben and Wendy were bringing over Chinese food. They stood just inside the door, brown bags in hand, eyebrows raised in surprise.

  “Hey, everyone,” Wendy said brightly. “We brought dinner.”