Free Death of a Six-Foot Teddy Bear by Sharon Dunn Page B

lapped against the shore. Laughter, soft and distant, rose up from the restaurant. On the other side of the hotels, cars rolled over concrete.
A shiver trickled down Ginger’s back. “Earl?” At the same moment she spoke, Phoebe squirmed free, scratching Ginger’s hand in the process. Ginger recoiled from the sting of broken skin and the warm seep of blood. “Earl, what is it?” Phoebe scampered up the pier, but Ginger remained frozen by some unnamed fear.
Earl stood up. The flashlight cast a circle of light on the boat next to the one he stood in. Ginger focused on the sound of her own exhale and inhale until it seemed to match the rhythm of the water licking the shore. Breathe in. Breathe out .
Earl’s voice floated across the water. “You might want to go inside and get security.” He turned, directing the light toward the front of the boat. “There’s a man in a bear costume, and as far as I can tell he’s not breathing.”

The Scent of roses greeted Kindra as she stepped out onto the rooftop garden of the Little Italy Hotel. She spotted the trellis with vines around it and the bench beneath, just as Xabier had described. Soft solar lights were dispersed between the rosebushes and other greenery. A few couples wandered around. She was the only person by herself.
Kindra checked her watch. Already eleven. After burying her face appreciatively in a rosebush, she wandered over to the bench and sat down. A fountain, hidden by plants, trickled and bubbled behind her.
She retied the sleeves of the jeweled cardigan she had over her shoulders, fluffed the skirt of her black dress, and sorted through the coupons in her purse before she dared herself a look at her watch. Okay, so he was five minutes late. Not a good sign . She was willing to forgive his ignoring her in the underground outlet mall, and she was open to hearing an explanation as to why he was running from men with guns. But being late for a date? A girl had to draw the line somewhere. That shifted him from the full-price-new-on-the-floor rack to the ten-percent-off section.
Kindra untied her sweater and slipped into it to stave off the night chill. She crossed her arms and stared at the sky. I am not going to be upset. I am not going to feel rejected .
She hadn’t made a huge emotional investment in this guy. It was no big deal. Her throat tightened. She counted stars. She was up to fifty before she allowed herself a glance at the entrance. A dark head emerged. Kindra stood up. Another head, a woman’s, appeared. A couple stood at the entrance holding hands, leaning into each other. Kindra slumped back down on the bench.
Down below, sirens sounded. Couples ran to the brick fence that served as a railing around the garden. Kindra rose from the bench and peered over the edge of the Little Italy rooftop. About twenty people, some of them policemen, scampered like ants who had found a crumb. The location of the morsel seemed to be out in one of the gondola boats where the cluster of people grew. All those police. What on earth could have happened?
Dragging her silk scarf on the ground, she wandered back toward the garden entrance half hoping that Xabier would emerge smiling.
Okay, so she was sad about him not showing up and upset about being ignored in the outlet mall. This guy was not worth her time. Kindra raced down the stairs to find the other members of the BHN for wisdom, consolation, and hugs.

Detective Mallory placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the crime scene. In a few short hours, they’d gone from jewelry theft, to squirrel abduction, to a dead body in a bear suit. The Wind-Up had officially become Calamity’s hot bed of illegal activity.
Crime-scene people had set up floodlights along the boardwalk and sectioned off the area with tape. They’d have to work through the night.
Her first observation was that four out of five members of the forensics team were overweight. She patted her own ever-expanding hips. No more muffins and doughnuts