Death of a Six-Foot Teddy Bear (12 page)

They both laughed.

“You rock, Ida Mae.”

“I don’t know about rocking, Donny. I did love to play my mama’s piano though.” An
aah
sound escaped her lips.

“I can take you in on my bike if you like,” Donny said.

“I would love to feel the wind in my hair, but I got to bring my Kirby with me tonight.”

Taking care not to lift her head, Ginger turned sideways. “Where am I?” A view of the man’s worn high tops was all she could manage.

“Hey, she woke up.” The high tops moved toward her.

“Just opened her eyes a few seconds ago.”

Ida Mae bent over Ginger. The face Ginger looked into was a very old face. Milky brown eyes floated in a sea of wrinkles. White hairs sprouted randomly in the furrows of skin. “We plucked you out of the river just like Moses.”

“I was floating in the river?”

Ida Mae’s head bobbed. “In a gondola boat with a hat over your head.”

Whoever had knocked her unconscious must have tossed her in one of the boats and sent her down the river. “I don’t suppose there was a bear costume or some jewelry with me?”

Ida Mae’s forehead crinkled even more. “Maybe you should rest a while longer.” She squeezed Ginger’s shoulder.

“Please, I’m not nuts.”

Since it was the position that created the least amount of pain, Ginger lay flat and stared at the canvas roof. She could still move her eyes even if she couldn’t move her head. The roof was a sort of awning outside of what looked like an army-surplus tent. She’d gotten a glimpse of Donny before the smoldering headache became too much. He had dark, curly hair and an acne problem. She’d managed to absorb some of her surroundings during her brief observation. Assuming this was Ida Mae’s tent, she owned a two-burner camp stove and a thirty-year-old Kirby upright.

“You don’t understand. I have to get back to Calamity.” Her voice didn’t even sound like it was coming out of her mouth.

“Calamity? Is that where you floated out from? I should have known with the gondola boat.”

“Where am I now?”

“You’re just outside of Las Vegas,” Don offered.

“Is this a commune or something?”

Both Ida and Don laughed.

Don got down on his knees so Ginger could see him. “This is a tent city. You’re on National Forest land.”

Ginger did a miniature shake of her aching head to show she had no idea what Don was talking about.

“We all have jobs in Vegas, but we can’t afford the housing costs, so we set up our tents outside the city limits. Our little city has rules. The biggie is you have to be employed.”

“And no druggies.” Ida put her face close to Ginger. The faint scent of Lysol wafted to Ginger’s nose. “You aren’t a druggie, are you?”

“No, I’m here for the Inventors Expo. I mean, I was in Calamity for the Expo. Now I have clues about a murder.” Given that her sanity was in question, she decided to leave out the squirrel parts of her story. She gripped Ida’s spongy arm. “I have to get back to the hotel. I have to tell the police what I found. I have to help Earl with his invention, or we’ll lose our home.”

“Sure you do, dear.” Ida patted her arm.

Don said, “We can take you into Vegas, but priority for the rides has to be for people who have a shift to work. I’m the transportation coordinator.”

“She’s a skinny thing. I bet we can just squeeze her in with me.”

“Maybe. I think some of the girls that work the Bellagio got to go in at nine,” Don said. “If you don’t mind going in an hour early, there’s space in Taheer’s van.”

What was she thinking? She could just call somebody. Earl or one of the girls could come and get her. “My cell phone is in my purse. Can you hand me my purse?”

Both of them shook their heads.

Ida Mae leaned over her. “Honey, you didn’t have a purse when we found you.”

She had no money, no ID, no credit card, and no cell. And she had lost the precious travel purse Earl had given her. “Does anyone in the camp have a cell?” Her voice was faint.

“We don’t have brick and wood homes. Cell phones are not exactly high on the list for our next purchase.” Don sat down on the bench by the two-burner camp stove. “Somebody in the camp might have one. I can ask around. Probably not going to get decent reception out here, though.”

No cell phone. How did she end up in this strange world with nothing that would get her back to the one where she belonged? “Sorry, I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

Ida stretched her arms so they touched the canvas roof. “If she rides out with me, that gives her four hours to sleep and maybe heal up.”

Heal up
probably meant “come up with a more believable story for why she was floating down the river in a gondola.” The story she’d given, the true story, was too weird to be taken seriously.

Ginger felt herself drifting back to sleep while Don and Ida Mae chatted. Like being sloshed back and forth in a boat. No phone, no money, no credit card …

She awoke briefly in darkness to the aroma of warm comfort. A Coleman lantern hung from the metal frame of the canvas awning. Ida Mae held a bowl of steaming soup beneath Ginger’s nose.

“It ain’t much, but it will warm your belly. I suspect you could use some belly warming.”

She scraped the spoon through the bowl and touched it to Ginger’s mouth. The spoon shook in Ida Mae’s hand. Ginger opened her mouth like a bird waiting to be fed. The warm spicy liquid was the most marvelous thing she had ever tasted. A seafood dinner could not top the soup that was more spice than noodles and vegetables. But even lifting her head slightly caused it to throb.

Ida Mae stroked Ginger’s face from the forehead down to the temple. “You sleep. Won’t be long. Won’t be long now.” Ida Mae broke into song again. “Won’t be long now before my Savior comes to get me. And carries me, carries me home on His golden chariot. Carry me, carry me home …”

Ginger closed her eyes and focused on the hypnotic sound of the river rushing by and the gentle comfort of Ida Mae’s humming.

Mallory paused to read
the sign on the restaurant door in the Wind-Up Hotel. “Shopping Channel auditions to be held here at eight p.m. We will be closing at seven.” She pushed the swinging doors open. Half the tables had been scooted against one wall. The other half provided a sitting area for the hopeful inventors. Inventions rested on or beside tables. Some had sheets draped over them. Others were visible in all their creative glory. Some of the hopefuls had brought banners with logos and sales pitches printed on them.

Mallory recognized Fiona Truman from the Shopping Channel standing in an area by the kitchen that had been cleared of tables. Yeah, her life had entered such a sad state that she knew the names of Shopping Channel hosts. She usually had the Shopping Channel on for noise when she got ready for work. At least that was what she told herself. It was all she could stand to watch beside her Mayberry reruns. From news to sitcoms, everyone on TV was selling an agenda. At least the Shopping Channel people were up front that they wanted you to buy what they sat in front of the camera.

Cameras and monitors were positioned at one end of the restaurant. Fiona stood by a counter interviewing each contestant. The line of on-deck inventors holding possible future products took up one wall.

Mallory scanned the room, looking for Earl and Ginger Salinski. She’d sent Jacobson home to her hubby and kids. This was the last thing she had to do before she went home to a carefully measured quarter cup of ice cream and a dog that liked the neighbor better than she liked Mallory. She couldn’t blame Roxy for being disloyal. Mallory worked erratic hours; sometimes the poodle got walked at five in the evening, and sometimes it was two in the morning. Mrs. Tribecca, a retired schoolteacher, was home all the time.

No chance of spotting Mr. Salinski. The room was filled with way too many sixty-something balding men. Mrs. Salinski had a fairly distinctive hairstyle. You didn’t see ringlets on a fifty-year-old woman that often. Mallory paced the perimeter, reading the various logos for the inventions and hoping that the Salinskis would recognize her and look her way.

A man with the same build as Earl Salinski slipped through a side door. Mallory trotted after him. She opened the door just as she heard Fiona ask for a five-minute break.

“Mr. Salinski?” Warm air hit Mallory when she stepped into the alley between the hotel and the discount bait shop. A twilight gray sky arched over the lake.

The man turned.

Mallory paced down the alley. “Remember me? Detective Mallory. I’ve been leaving messages on your cell all day.”

Earl Salinskis shoulders slumped. He anchored a cardboard box under his arm. In his other hand, he held the banner with the logo for the Pepper Light. “Sorry, I haven’t checked messages. Been kind of busy.”

“I need to talk to you and your wife again.”

“She didn’t show up to help me with my audition.” His forehead crinkled as he shook his head. “I’ve been asking everyone. Her friends haven’t seen her since this afternoon.”

This did not look good. “Has your wife left the hotel?”

Earl placed his box on the top of a closed Dumpster. “I don’t know where she is.” He rubbed his thinning hair.

“I just need to get some clarification from you two. Your wife threatened Mr. Clydell. He gave your booth to somebody else.” She tapped the cardboard box. “How bad did you want to see this invention succeed?”

Earl took a step back and held up his hands. “I didn’t know I had lost my booth until the Expo closed down.” Earl turned slightly. “I want this invention to succeed pretty badly, but I am not going to kill for it.”

The side door swung open. Fiona Truman stepped out, wobbling precariously on four-inch heels. “Mr. Salinski. I wanted to catch you before you left.”

Earl perked up. “Really?”

Mallory had never seen a television personality this close up. Fiona had freckles and splotchy skin just like everyone else. Her dark hair was twirled up into a bun and glued in place with a metal doodad.

After making sure the alley wasn’t a high-heel land mine, Fiona stepped toward Earl. “Salinski is an unusual last name.”

“It’s Italian,” Earl said.

“I know the producer said that you didn’t make the cut. But I just wanted you to know that I like your product.”

Earl stood up a little straighter.

“Your stage presence was a little lacking. Maybe if you had a spokesperson, the producer would see the product in a new light.”

“My wife, Ginger, knows about the product, and she might be good in front of the camera. She can talk. She knows a lot about selling things.” His gaze rested on Mallory. “If I can track her down.”

“Our hotel room is booked through the end of the convention, so I’ll be around.” She pulled a business card out of her pocket. “It’s got my cell and my e-mail.”

Earl’s expression brightened. He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders.

Fiona tilted her head. “I’ve got to get back to work. Make sure you bring your wife. You said her name is Ginger?”

Earl nodded.

“That’s an unusual first name too.” She headed back toward the side door. “Hope she shows up.”

Mallory listened for the sound of the door closing. She moved in on Earl. “Let’s hope for both your sakes your wife shows up pretty soon.”

Mallory hated this part of her job. Earl and his wife had seemed like nice people. But the evidence suggested she at least had to question them a second time. The missing wife was a red flag. She had to put a little pressure on them.

Earl gathered his box off the top of the Dumpster. “You can question me if you want to. I don’t have anything to hide.”

“I want to believe you, Mr. Salinski.”

“I won’t leave the hotel. I promise.” He pressed his lips together. “Unless … well, unless Ginger needs me. I don’t know what’s become of her. It’s not like her not to at least call.”

“We wanted to talk to both you and your wife,” Mallory said. She shifted her weight and studied Earl. There was one thing she needed to ask without the wife around. “In the course of the last interview, your wife gave you a look.”

“A look? What kind of look?”

“Like what you were saying was news to her. Or you weren’t telling the truth.”

Earl shook his head. “My wife and I don’t keep secrets from each other. What was it I said?.”

“That you had just gotten into town right before you found the body.”

Earl’s jaw went slack. He shook his head. “I’m not sure why she would think I had lied about that.”

“As soon as your wife surfaces, I would like to talk to the both of you again.”

“Yeah, sure.” The faintness of his voice suggested he was lost in thought. “I’m worried about her.” Earl wandered away, shaking his head.

Besides Ida Mae, only one other person in the cramped car spoke English, and she had fallen asleep against the window. From her place in the backseat, Ginger could see the lights of the Las Vegas Strip as they neared the city across the vast desert flatness.

Though the pain was subsiding, her head still hurt, and the warm washcloth Ida Mae had given her had long since grown cold. After the ride in the van fell through, they had managed to get Ida’s Kirby wedged in the trunk of a Volkswagen. Her bucket of cleaning supplies rested on her lap.

The car rambled and sputtered toward the city.

“How old are you, Ida?”

“I’ll be eighty-one next year.” The older woman lifted her chin in a show of pride.

Ginger turned away and watched the yellow lines on the highway click by. She looked at her folded hands where her purse should be. Empty hands. Nothing. But she was still breathing. Pushing air in and out. That was something.

Ida Mae’s warm voice broke through her thoughts. “Are you wondering how a woman my age ends up living in a tent and working as a cleaning lady?”

“It can’t be where you planned on being at your age.”

“Plans? What do they count for?” Ida Mae shook her head. “My husband was sick for many years before he died. We never had insurance, barely had enough to pay the bills and raise our two girls. I sold the house to pay off some of the debt. I get a little from social security.”

It is possible to lose everything
. She opened and closed her hands. The other woman in the backseat stirred but continued to rest her head against the window. She wore what looked like a maid’s smock.

Ida Mae patted the woman’s leg. “Jodi’s been doing double shifts. God bless her. She’s a twelve stepper. Sober for eight months. Trying to pay off some debts.” Ida leaned toward the window and dug into the pocket of her apron. She produced a jeweled coin purse. She clicked it open and pulled out a wrinkled bill, which she slipped into Jodi’s smock pocket. Then she leaned close to Ginger and whispered, “Aren’t surprises fun?”

Ginger nodded.

“Please don’t feel sorry for me, Ginger. I got a house by the river. Always wanted a house by the river. My youngest daughter helps out when she can. She’s a single mom, so she’s got her hands full. Got two precious grandchildren. One is getting ready for college.”

“You said you had two children.”

Ida Mae stared into her cleaning bucket. She fingered a scrubbing pad. “Last time I saw my Linda was when we took her to rehab.” She pressed her fingers into the pad and tossed it back into the bucket. “She ran away from that place.”

Traffic increased as they neared the city. They passed a truck stop and a trailer park. The highway morphed to city streets. The buildings grew closer together. The driver stopped, and the passenger in the front seat got out, making her way toward a lighted doughnut shop. The driver edged his way deeper into the city. At first, they passed minimarts and single-story office buildings. He stopped on a corner by a hotel with a neon bucking horse and a matching sign that said Cowboy Cottages. Jodi, the sleeping woman, roused. “This is my stop.” She pushed open her door.

“You take care now.” Ida Mae gripped her bucket and smiled.

“Thanks, Ida Mae.” Jodi stretched and yawned.

The hotels became bigger and fancier. Several blocks of bright flashing lights whizzed past her peripheral vision. They veered away from the neon brightness of the Strip. The street curved, and they entered what looked like a downtown office district. “My stop’s coming up. Why don’t you get out with me? I’ll help you find a phone.”

Ginger tensed. She didn’t have even two quarters to make a phone call. She took an assessment of what she did have. Her wedding ring and her engagement ring. She was pretty sure she had some twenty-five percent off coupons for renting a fishing boat in Calamity. Oh yeah, and she was breathing.

The car stopped, and Ida pushed the door open. The driver, a Vietnamese man with slender hands and an expressionless face, popped the trunk and hefted Ida’s vacuum onto the sidewalk.

“Thanks, Anh.”

The man smiled, revealing crooked teeth. He waved at Ida. Ida dug through the tiny coin purse she had stuffed in her apron and pulled out two dollar bills. Anh shook his head, but Ida grabbed his hand, placed the money in it, and folded his fingers over it.