Death of a Six-Foot Teddy Bear (20 page)

Ginger couldn’t quite assess what the expression on Mallory’s face indicated. The detective nodded, but there wasn’t so much as a lifting of a brow, very masklike. Ginger turned and walked across the carpet. It didn’t matter what the detective thought. She had laid all her cards on the table, and now her stomach had calmed and the heat she’d felt in her face and neck subsided. That was all she could do. The rest was in God’s hands.

She reached for the doorknob, opened the door, and stepped outside.

“Does anyone have a cell phone?” Frankenstein’s gaze traveled from the old man, to his wife, and then rested on Kindra.

Her heart skipped into double time. The wig was making her sweat. She stared at the pattern in the carpet.
Please quit looking at me
.

Frankenstein leaned toward Kindra as though sharing a secret. “I think I left mine in the hotel room.”

Kindra leaned back. Xabier squeezed her hand tighter. How long before Frankenstein figured out Xabier was in the elevator with him?

The older woman waved the air as if shooing mosquitoes away. “Oh, I never use those things.”

Kindra turned toward Xabier, so she didn’t have to look Frankenstein in the eye. “I think—I think—I have one.” She touched her purse with trembling fingers. Could he see her squirm?

Frankenstein shifted his weight. His gaze rested on Xabier. Oh no. He puckered and then flattened his lips. Time slogged forward.

Please, no, don’t let him figure it out
. She felt around for the cell phone. Her hand brushed over Earl’s Pepper Light. That gave her a sense of security. If things got out of control, she could blast him with it … and run, where, to a corner of the elevator? Frankenstein tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at Xabier in disguise.

Xabier stroked his fake beard.

She pushed all the junk around in her purse. The bangs of her wig angled crookedly across her field of vision. Could her face get any hotter? She touched her head, but stopped short of adjusting the wig. That would be too much of a giveaway.

“Is it in there, dear?” The older woman reminded Kindra of her Sunday school teacher, all pink and soft. The older woman’s husband tapped his foot and stared at the ceiling.

“I’m looking for it.” Her hand rested on the hard plastic of the phone. Was it just her imagination or were the walls closing in? Oh, for the controlled, cool environment of taking an advanced physics final.

Frankenstein continued to watch Xabier. The danger seemed to energize the actor. He stood up straighter, almost challenging Frankenstein to guess who he was. In contrast, she was producing enough perspiration to supply a water park. If she kept it up, they might just drown in this tiny space.

“Here it is.” She lifted the phone and released a nervous giggle.

“Why don’t we call the front desk and let them know we are stalled out?” Frankenstein’s voice boomed, much too loud for such a small space.

Her fingers hovered over the numbers. Her vision blurred.

The older woman placed a hand over Kindra’s “You okay? You’re shaking like a leaf.”

Xabier wrapped an arm around Kindra’s back. “My wife is a just a little claustrophobic, is all. Do you want me to make the call, honey?” He squeezed her shoulder. “I can do it if you like.”

He had turned slightly so Frankenstein couldn’t continue his under-the-microscope examination of him. The movement was so smooth and integrated with his conversation that only she understood the reason for it. She squeezed the phone. “I can do it … sweetheart.”
See, I can act too
.

She caught just the hint of a smile on his face.

She dialed. “Hi, Tiffany. This is Kindra Hall. Listen, the elevator is not working. I’m stuck in here with four other people … You can? Thank you.” She clicked End and snapped her phone shut. She sought out the friendly face of the Sunday school teacher. “She says she can send someone to fix it.”

Sunday School Teacher clapped her hands together. “That’s a good thing.”

Her husband groaned.

Silenced draped the tiny space. Kindra rocked back and forth and stared at the ceiling. She flipped her phone open and snapped it shut.

“Are you two on your honeymoon?” the older woman asked.

Kindra’s neck stiffened.
What do I say?

Xabier said, “Yes, we are. We’re from Omaha. This is our first trip to Nevada.”

What was Xabier doing, telling all these lies? Frankenstein was already giving them the hairy eyeball. The best thing for them to do was to be quiet and not give good old Frank too many opportunities to stare at them. He was bound to figure it out sooner or later.

Xabier worked his way to a wall of the elevator and rested his hands on the metal railing. He positioned himself so he was behind the old man, blocking Frankenstein’s view.

The elevator screeched to life. Frankenstein once again turned his back to them. Kindra melted against the back wall of the elevator next to Xabier. A rock and roll drummer would have envied the rapid pounding of her heart. Might as well place her head in the mouth of a lion. She leaned into his shoulder. This was crazy. Yet, she felt safe standing next to this lion.

The older woman touched her poufy white hair. “They got to that pretty fast, didn’t they?” The couple stepped out on their floor. Doors closed and the elevator rose.

The doors eased open. Frankenstein stepped out. Xabier pulled Kindra through the doors. She stopped just outside the elevator, watching the back of Frankenstein grow smaller as he made his way up the hallway.

Xabier tugged on her hand. She planted her feet. Grasping his arm, she whispered in his ear, “Don’t you think we have taken enough chances today?”

“I want to get to the bottom of this. I am tired of being chased. I need to see that invoice.”

Frankenstein pulled his skeleton key out of his pocket and slipped inside his hotel room.

“You said yourself you think they might be dangerous.”

Three women with shopping bags emerged from the stairwell and made their way up the hall. Kindra turned away from them as though fascinated by the artwork on the wall. She spoke under her breath. “What if they did kill Dustin, by accident or on purpose?”

“This was your idea in the first place. Please help me, Kindra.”

The painting on the wall was of a little girl holding a rag doll. Trains, blocks, jack-in-the-boxes, and wooden cars lined the shelves behind her. The three shoppers passed by, chattering and laughing. “We got to go to the police. You can’t do everything by yourself.”

“I told you; I don’t like cops.”

She studied him for a long moment. Even beneath the disguise, she saw the little boy sitting on the park bench, waiting for help that never came and then wandering home in the darkness. “What’s your plan?”

“Thank you.” Warmth laced through his voice, making her heart beat faster. He intertwined his fingers with hers. “We saw what room he went into. Lets walk by and get the number.”

Their feet padded lightly on the beige carpet. Frankenstein was staying in room 812.

Xabier guided her to the end of the hallway into the room with the pop and snack machines. “Watch his door, see if he comes out. Let me borrow your cell phone.”

Kindra pulled her cell out of the purse.

Xabier hit Redial. “Don’t hang up, Tiffany; it’s your number-one enemy.” Xabier leaned a hand against the wall. “I have a favor to ask of you. Would you consider loaning me the key to room 812?”

Even filtered through the phone, Tiffany’s voice nearly broke the sound barrier. Xabier used the pauses when Tiffany caught her breath to sooth her tirade with, “I understand. I totally understand.” He allowed her to continue until she had exhausted herself into silence or was crying.
Xabier may not want to identify with his father, but he has some of the same charm
.

Xabier allowed the silence to go on for a moment longer before speaking. “If you give me the key, you can have half the hotel, providing Dad didn’t have it in hock. It’s like a gamble.”

Kindra leaned a little closer to Xabier. Had he lost his mind?
Selling his birthright for a key. Hello, Esau
.

“Okay, we’ll be waiting here for you amongst the ice and stale crackers.”

He handed the phone back to her.

“Are you nuts? Did you just give away half your hotel?”

“It’s just stuff. I don’t know anything about running a hotel and Tiffany does. Half ownership would produce enough to start a little theater somewhere. There, see, I made a plan.”

“But full ownership could make you financially stable, and what if Tiffany killed your dad—”

“I hadn’t thought of that.” He pressed his palms together. “The hotel doesn’t matter to me, Kindra. I can always find a job somewhere if I need to.” He ran his hand up and down the wall and shook his head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

She wasn’t sure what the expression on her face communicated, but she knew what the thought in her head was. How could two so very different people like each other so much? “It’s nothing.”

“I’m not a greedy businessman. I’m not my father.” He loosened the tie that was part of his disguise. “I don’t want to be like my father.” Bitterness tainted his words. He studied her for a moment. “What are you thinking?”

“I have this list that my bargain hunter friends helped me come up with, for the perfect mate, which, as you know, needs to happen after I graduate.”

“Let me guess,
must dress in a suit and tie
is on the list.”

She shook her head. “But being financially stable is. I don’t understand throwing away an opportunity like this.”

“’Cause it’s not the opportunity I want. I wouldn’t be happy running the hotel. I never cared about money, about being rich. Look what it did to my dad.”

“Not the opportunity you want? I wanted to major in art. Sometimes you’ve just got to be practical.” She rooted through her purse for change. She didn’t even like soda. It was easier than looking at Xabier … continuing the conversation in which it became more and more obvious that they were a mismatch. What he said made no sense at all. She had been impractical and rebellious only twice in her life. In high school, she’d become a cheerleader against her academically minded parents’ wishes, and she had briefly taken to shoplifting in college to deal with stress.

“What else is on the list?”

She studied the drink choices. Dr Pepper or Sprite. “Just things.”
Choices. Practical or spontaneous. Xabier or not Xabier
.

He grabbed her by the hand and twirled her around. “‘Must love to wear disguises and chase bad guys.’” He pulled her toward him. “Is that on your list?”

The warmth of his hand on the middle of her back relaxed her. She sighed. “No, but maybe it should be.”

It was close to
dinnertime by the time Ginger parked the rental car and walked the long distance to the hotel. The Strip had begun to gear up for a night of activity. Flashing neon invited people to lose their money at a rapid pace. Even though the street was still cut off to car traffic, throngs of people moved up and down the sidewalk. She passed the lot that ran parallel to the Wind-Up. The garage sales had closed down for the night. An orange glow emanated from some of the camper windows. A few merchants threw sheet covers over their tables.

She stood outside the big doors painted in bubblegum colors.
How quickly things change
. Two days ago, she had been a different person with very different dreams. She massaged her shoulders and neck. What a day … and it wasn’t over yet. From a pay phone in the police station, she’d reached Earl on his cell phone. He said he would be waiting for her in the lobby.

She pushed open the doors and stepped onto the checkerboard floor. No one was behind the counter. A young couple and a woman in a waitress uniform sat on the lobby couches … and there was Earl. The man in the straw cowboy hat with the peacock feather, flannel shirt, and Carhartts looked out of place leaning against a Roman column. The closed doors to the convention floor framed him. Someone had neglected to take down the poster on the easel that said Welcome Inventors. Earl lifted his chin in recognition. Her footsteps echoed as she walked across the polished floor.

“Hey.”

He took his hat off and twirled it in his hands. “Hey, right back at you.”

Warming up with small talk and mincing words struck her as tedious. They needed to get this thing resolved. Might as well go for the jugular. “What did you mean out there by the camper when you said I was right?”

He turned slightly toward the closed convention doors. “I wanted this thing so bad.” He rubbed the brim of his hat. “I didn’t mean to make you feel … like you didn’t matter to me.”

He looked cute standing there. “But you did.” Cute or no cute, he still had some explaining to do.

“Don’t you like me to work hard?”

“Not when you forget my name and make me feel like a prop in the
Earl Becomes Famous
show.” She stepped toward him.

“I want to invent something that changes the world.” He bent the brim of his hat back and forth. “I’m not getting any younger. I want my life to matter.”

“Earl, you are looking at the wrong scorecard.” She raised her eyes to the high ornate ceiling. “Dustin Clydell didn’t get to take any of this with him. He left behind three empty people he could have poured his life into.”

He studied her for a moment rubbing his razor stubble with his knuckles. “I sure don’t want to end up like him.”

“Me either. Death by squirrel is a horrible way to go.” She waited for him to smile at her joke before grabbing his hand. “Welcome back, Earl Salinski.”

“Come here.” He pulled her close, swaying while he held her.

Hugs from Earl were better than half-price sales. She stopped swaying. But they needed to have a clean slate in every way. “Earl, why did you lie about what time you got to the hotel? I’ll understand if you were just thinking about how questioning from the police would take you away from the convention floor.”

“I didn’t lie.”

She searched his eyes. “But I saw you on the convention floor.”

He pulled back from the hug and brushed her cheek. “I have agreed to stop being such a workaholic jerk. Now you have to do something for me.”

Ginger nodded. “Okay.”

“I know what your eyes told you. But I’m asking you to have a little faith in me and believe that I am telling the truth.”

“Have faith in what I know about you, not in what I saw?”

“Kind of like we have to do with God sometimes.”

Mallory stood at her living room window. A veil of gauzy gray stretched over the sky, signaling the coming sunset. Her conversation with Ginger Salinski had made things more confusing rather than clearer. Ginger had motive and suspicious activity after the murder.

Beebe meowed from the kitchen again. Mallory pushed open the swinging door.

“Hey, baby.” She gathered the cat into her arms. “How’s my new roommate?” The cat purred. “Thanks for giving me a reason for coming home. I was getting pretty lonely.” Company was nice. Maybe if she had a life other than work, she would be less inclined to make food her best friend. It had been so long since she had done anything social, she wasn’t sure where to start.

Mallory placed Beebe on the floor and poured some food into the dish.

She turned the kitchen faucet on while the cat made crunching noises. Warm water flowed over her hands as thoughts cascaded in her head. Ginger Salinski could have put all the guilt at Mr. Simpson’s door to detract attention from herself. Instead, she didn’t want Mallory to see Simpson as a murder suspect. Mrs. Salinski could have gotten herself off the hook, but didn’t.

Mallory pulled a towel off the refrigerator door handle. That could mean one of two things. Ginger was involved with Simpson, personally or professionally, and she wanted to protect him. The other option was that Ginger was an honest person who would make herself look guilty in order to speak the truth. Mallory tossed the towel on the counter.

Beebe purred against her leg.

She didn’t know what to think.

Kindra slumped against the pop machine and pressed her teeth into the rubbery licorice. “I am pretty sure this licorice was put in that machine when the first Bush was president.”

Xabier stood by the candy machine. “These don’t look too bad. Gourmet jellybeans.”

Kindra pulled her knees up to her chest. “I love gourmet jellybeans. Lets try those.”

“They’re my favorite too.” He slipped quarters into the slot.

A door clicked open. Kindra crawled to the edge of the vending room and peered around the corner. A large woman in a red coat stepped out of the even-numbered side of rooms. “Not him. What if we wait here all night and Frankenstein never leaves?”

“I say we give it until our jellybeans are gone.” He sat down beside her. “Being with me isn’t that bad, is it?”

Kindra shook her head.
Not bad at all
. Her stomach growled. “Do you suppose room service would come up here?”

“This will have to be our dinner.” He handed her the bag of jellybeans. “Then maybe I’ll ask Tiff if she can watch the lobby and let us know when he leaves.”

“You know what I like about jellybeans?” She tore open the bag and ate one; lemon-lime flavor washed over her tongue. Jellybeans were the best snack. “They’re like a million desserts in one.” Using her purse as a table, she spread the candy out. She picked up a yellow one and a white one and placed them in Xabier’s hand. “Guess what you’re eating?”

“Mixing your jellybeans. You do live dangerously.” He chewed the jellybeans for a moment. “Banana coconut pie.” He picked up a light brown one and white one with yellow dots on it and placed them in her hand. “Now it’s your turn.”

Again, her heart drummed from the heat of his touch. Kindra popped the two candies in her mouth and bit into them. “Yum, caramel popcorn.”

“I don’t think people are supposed to have this much fun with a bag of jellybeans,” he said.

Xabier’s eyes closed when he laughed. Etchings of laugh lines around his mouth appeared. The rich tones of his voice tugged at her heart. The intensity of his stare made a tingling rise up through her toes and radiate over her skin.

He smoothed his tousled hair. “Are you going to eat the black ones?”

“I hate the black ones. Licorice is my least favorite.”

“I like them best. We work well together, don’t we, sweetheart?” Xabier spoke in his Humphrey Bogart voice. “Stick with me kid. You can have a bag of jellybeans anytime.”

“Just finish your candy, tough guy.” He was fun. Could they base a relationship on a mutual love for jellybeans?

They ate and talked and laughed until only two jellybeans were left.

Kindra stared down at the last two pieces of candy. “Well, I guess the party’s over.”

Xabier tilted his head. “They look kind of lonely there, don’t they?”

“I’ll take the blue one. You can have the burgundy one.” She picked up the blue jellybean.

“Wait just a minute.” He clamped onto her hand. “I think I’m getting the raw end of a deal here. Do you even know what flavor the burgundy one is?”

“No.” She held the blue jellybean close to her lips.

“My point exactly. But that blueberry one. Now that is a prize jellybean.”

“Oh, all right.” With exaggerated pathos, she slapped the blue jellybean down on the purse.

“Now you made me feel bad. You have it.” He slumped his shoulders and hung his head theatrically as he pushed the candy toward her.

“After that kind of protest, you take it.” She scooted the candy across the purse.

“I insist.” He picked up the blue bean and placed it in her palm, closing her fingers around it. “You take the blueberry.” He held her hand in his a little longer than was necessary to make his point.

“Fine.” She shoved the bean in her mouth.

Xabier opened his mouth wide, feigning shock. “You go right on ahead and have that succulent, juicy blueberry.” He stuck out his lower lip in a mock pout. “I’ll just have blah burgundy.” He fluttered his eyelashes.

Kindra mimed playing a violin. “Oh, you poor baby.” She leaned toward Xabier. Her cross necklace slipped out from where she had it tucked under her shirt.

Xabier’s smile faded. He grabbed the pendant and rubbed it. “Is that thing for real or for show?”

“For real.”

Xabier nodded and turned away.

“Like your mom.”

“My mom’s faith is my mom’s faith.” He still wouldn’t look at her.

“But it’s not yours?”

His voice sounded strained. “It’s all messed up in my head.”

“Sometimes when I try to understand the theological concepts, my head starts to hurt.” She bounced on her knees. “Then I watch a
Veggie Tales
video, and it all makes sense.”