Death of a Six-Foot Teddy Bear (23 page)

“Watch your step now, ladies.” Gilligan’s meaty hand grasped Arleta’s as she stepped onto the pier. Her legs wobbled.
Hello, dry land
. This must be an underutilized part of the hotel. She squinted to discern Suzanne’s features though she waited only a few feet away. The nearest street lamp was close to the backside of the discount bait shop about forty yards away.

This part of the dock housed larger boats separate from the gondolas. A string of maybe ten or fifteen boats were parked along the pier. Gilligan had docked next to a boat named
Jackpot
. Beyond the dock was what looked like a greenhouse or atrium that connected to the Wind-Up.

Arleta did a Charleston step on the pier and waved her arms. “I’m in the mood for cake, a celebration.” She was still waiting for that
different
feeling to kick in, but she did feel wide awake, like she could go all night.

“That sounds like fun. Maybe we can find Kindra and Ginger.” Suzanne looked at Gloria as Captain George helped her out of the boat. “You want to come with us?”

Gloria slipped back into her gloves and crossed her arms. “I am afraid I am out of energy. I have to do life in short spurts.”

Arleta wrapped her arms around Gloria’s shoulder and squeezed. “Am I glowing yet? I want to glow like you do.”

“Be patient.” Fatigue weighted her voice. She patted Arleta’s hand with fleece-covered fingers. “Thanks for letting me be a part of this,” she whispered close to Arleta’s ear.

Arleta’s hand warmed where Gloria covered it with her glove, and her breath brushed the older woman’s ear.

Gloria slipped from the embrace, waved good-bye, and walked toward the well-lit garden that the two hotels shared. Empty gondola boats lolled in the smooth water. The chatter and laughter of clusters of people barely reached Suzanne and Arleta on the dark side of the hotel.

Gloria turned toward the side entrance of the Wind-Up, and then disappeared behind a lattice flourishing with ivy and small white flowers.

Gilligan, who had been bustling around his boat, walked past them. He saluted. “Have a good night now, ladies.”

Both Suzanne and Arleta nodded. Arleta didn’t say anything until the captain’s footsteps faded.

Lack of light made her stumble when she moved forward. “Where are we going to find cake at this hour anyway?”

Suzanne caught her at the elbow. “This city never shuts down, remember. I’m sure we can find cake.”

They padded past the unused greenhouse or atrium or whatever it had been. Now it looked like a giant storage bin. Arleta saw boxes through dusty windows. She stopped. “Did you see a light flash in there?”

Gloria Clydell Stuck
her key in the lock of her hotel door. She stepped into the room and, without turning on the light, took off her coat and hat, crawled onto the bed, and pulled the pillow close to her stomach. Her hands ached, her joints hurt, and her breathing was labored even though she had only walked a short distance. Warm tears slid down her cheek.

I’m tired. Lord
.

She pulled the covers around her. The boat ride and visit had been good. That’s what she needed to focus on. Arleta was a sweet lady. Just when the constant pain and despair got the better of her, God gave her the reminder that there was still a reason to be here. She turned over on her back, elevating her head with a pillow, waiting for sleep, that blissful place of floating and drifting when the heaviness of her muscles made the pain subside.

In the dark, she stared at the ceiling. Something felt … off. She couldn’t pinpoint it. She sat up and traced the outline of furniture in the near darkness.

She lay back down.
Sleep, Gloria, just sleep
. Maybe she should have just gone for cake with the ladies. Kindra was in good hands with mentors like that. Her teeth clenched. Hadn’t she prayed that Xabier would find a male mentor? Turning on her side, she drew her legs up toward her stomach.
Shut the door on that thought
. She needed to take her own advice and focus on the gift of the moment she had been given, not what had been taken from her. She had her son and hopefully would see him soon. Dustin’s messes continued to haunt them even after his death. It was hard to see the blessing in that.

She jerked at a noise, almost indiscernible, like a hand brushing over silk. Her body tensed. Without sitting up, she surveyed the room. The outlines hadn’t changed. She turned and reached for the lamp by the bed.

A thud and then footsteps. Hard steel clamped on her shoulder. Her hand slipped from the light without being able to turn it on.

“Somebody is in there.” Arleta put her face close to the murky atrium window. “I saw a bouncing light.” Her nose twitched from the dust she had stirred up.

“I thought we were going to go get cake,” Suzanne said.

“Let’s just look real quick. The place is probably chock full of all kinds of treasures that people have tossed.” Arleta trotted to a glass door. Suzanne still hadn’t moved. “Aren’t we all about finding treasures?”

Suzanne shrugged. “Okay, you talked me into it.”

Arleta eased the door open. “I bet this was beautiful in its day. Can’t you just see the plants hanging from the roof?”

A huge chandelier, long past its luster, rested at an angle in a corner. The room was two-thirds dust and one-third cardboard boxes. A mattress leaned against one of the glass walls. Hard-sided orange and avocado suitcases served as accents in the salute to the seventies’ decor.

Suzanne sneezed. “Everybody needs a junk drawer and a junk room. I guess hotels need them too.”

Suzanne followed Arleta as she shuffled toward a wooden door. Dust clouds surrounded their feet. She twisted the knob. The second room was about the same size but with wooden instead of glass walls. Small windows, close to the ceiling, lined two of the walls. Broken chairs, an orange shag rug, and empty soda cans completed the arrangement. Several sets of fresh footprints appeared in the dust.

Arleta walked over to a counter where a soft-sided suitcase rested. “No dust on this. They must have put it in here recently.”

“Why would someone abandon their suitcase?”

Arleta shrugged. Something white and clean nestled in the corner caught her eye. Among cardboard boxes, broken chairs, and a yellow washing machine was a tiny boat. It looked brand-new and dust free. Arleta leaned down to pick it up. The boat didn’t budge. She pulled a little harder.

“Is it wedged in there?”

“It should just come out.” She got down on her knees. “It looks like one of those boats that those squirrels are pulled by.” Her eyes followed the lines of the boat to the hand that held onto it. Her gaze traveled up to two beady eyes surrounded by pale skin and fuzzy hair.

“It’s mine,” said the man. “You can’t have it.”

Suzanne placed a hand on Arleta’s shoulder and pointed a finger with her free hand. “I know who you are. I saw your picture in the lobby with that squirrel.”

The man erupted out of his hiding spot, clutching the boat like a football. He barreled into Arleta, knocking her over. She fell backward, hitting concrete. Her teeth clacked together. Pain radiated from the impact to her shoulder. Blackness and then intense light flashed through her brain. With the wind knocked out of her, it took a moment to recover and absorb what was happening. She rolled to her side. Her shoulder pain flared.

Two new sets of footprints leading to the exit were evident in the dusty floor. Now she remembered. Suzanne had said something about not hurting her friend and then raced after the man with the boat.

Arleta turned slightly and pushed herself to her feet. She swayed. Still a little dizzy there. The only thing that reduced the pain in her shoulder was to focus on the ache in her hip, which was even more intense.
Someday I’m going to decide I’m too old for cops and robbers
. She limped toward the open wooden door.
But not today
.

Suzanne might need her help. Still favoring one leg, she dragged herself through the glass door and outside to the pier. Suzanne was by the Little Italy terrace crawling into a gondola boat. The man with the toy boat was already paddling out toward the open water.

Arleta’s feet pounded on wooden boards, trying to catch up with Suzanne. The man stopped paddling and bent forward, probably out of breath. Suzanne was now in the boat, pushing her oar through the water. The distance between them narrowed. Thirty feet. Twenty.

With a backward glance, the man resumed his rowing. He headed toward the shore by the park and the golf course, but Suzanne was gaining on him as she sliced through the water with strong, even strokes.

Arleta headed down the pier and across the grass where the squirrel man was likely to dock. He banged the gondola against the high piles and crawled onto the beach, still gripping his little boat. Arleta jumped in front of him obstructing his likely escape route on the path into the park. He sashayed first one direction, then another. She stepped side to side, mirroring his every move.

The man glanced back toward the water where Suzanne was within ten feet of bumping against his abandoned gondola. They had him.

His head swung like a pendulum from Arleta and then back out to the lake. Suzanne climbed out of her own boat into the shallow water.

He met Arleta’s gaze. Pain shot down her hip. Involuntarily, she bent forward. When she looked up again Simpson torpedoed toward her, clutching his boat.
Here we go again
. The pain from the previous tackle still hadn’t subsided. He was going to do it again, knock her over.

He closed in on her. Her shoulder burned. Her hip felt like it was on fire.
I can’t go through that again
. She stepped to one side. Simpson barely hesitated and ran past her into the park.

“What gives?” Suzanne stalked toward her, hands in the air. “You could have stopped him.” She gasped for air.

Arleta put a fist on her bony hip. “I’m kind of brittle.”

Suzanne tugged on her wet pant legs. “Let’s go get him for Ginger. Looks like he’s headed through the park into the golf course.”

Ice formed in Kindra’s
veins as Xabier took her phone away from his ear and pressed it against his chest. He didn’t have to say a word. The glazing of the eyes and an expression like a mask of gauze told her what was up. Frankenstein and his buddy must have Gloria. How else would they have known to call Kindra’s cell? “What do they want?”

In the courtyard the two hotels shared, Xabier turned toward the trellis that overflowed with ivy. He clenched and unclenched his fists. “Dad told them about some cash he had stashed away in his office. They said they would settle for that.”

“We have to get help.” Her hand hovered inches from his back. She wanted to touch him, to offer support, but his actions just seemed so impulsive sometimes.

“We don’t have time.” He pulled his hair at the temples. “This is my mom we’re talking about.”

“I know that. I don’t want her to be hurt either,” Kindra said. “It just seems like you need to quit being such a Lone Ranger trying to solve this thing by yourself. Look how this has escalated.”

“They have her out at the golf course. I need to be on the second hole in fifteen minutes.”

“Can’t we just call the police?” A group of people walking into the Wind-Up stopped and stared at them. Kindra sank back toward the ivy-laden lattice. She hadn’t meant to shout.

Xabier lowered his voice. “They have my mom. I can fix this by myself.” His stare was intense. “Are you with me or not?”

A picture of a nine-year-old boy, shivering on a park bench and having to find his way home by himself materialized in her head. “I’m with you.” He needed someone to be on his side. His trust was so broken, he thought he had to do everything himself.

He headed for the side entrance of the hotel. “Dad kept a gun with his money stash.”

A gun. Her breath caught. What exactly had she gotten herself into? “Xabier, I don’t think—”

“I am going to get my mom back one way or another.” He held the door for her. “She is the last person on earth who deserves to go through this.”

While Xabier went to Dustin’s office to find the money and the gun, Kindra waited in the hallway and tried Suzanne on her cell. Xabier said no police, but he hadn’t said anything about friends. No answer, no way to leave a message. Suzanne must be busy. She dialed Earl’s cell. Ginger would probably be with him, or he would know where to find her.

It rang once, twice. Her hand tensed on the phone after the third ring.
Come on, Ginger or Earl, pick up
. “This is Earl’s message machine, not the real thing. Leave a message. I’ll get back to you.”

Kindra pressed her body against the wall and rolled so she could peer inside the office. Xabier came toward the door holding an envelope. Had he tucked the gun in his belt or decided not to take it? She pressed the phone against her ear. “Ginger, Earl, get over to the second hole of the golf course. It’s an emergency.”

Xabier tapped her phone with a finger. “You weren’t calling the cops, were you?”

“No.” And that was the truth.

They raced through the dark park holding hands, past the swing set where Xabier had kissed her for the first time. When she’d gotten on the plane in Three Horses, she never would have thought her trip would end up this way, running toward danger with a guy she cared about. Egghead Kindra on her way to a potential shootout, and she thought that she was just going to find some designer shoes on sale.
God, am I doing the right thing?

“You’re awful quiet.”

“I’m praying.”

He stopped, letting go of her hand.

“Don’t you think it would be a good time to pray?” She leaned over, breathing heavily.

“When I was little, I prayed that my father wouldn’t leave us.” He dug at the ground with his toe.

Why did she like him so much? They were in totally different places with their faith … if he had any left at all. “Your father was the one who messed up … not God.”

“My moms been saying that kind stuff for years.” He tugged on her sleeve. “If we don’t hurry, I won’t be able to hear it ever again.” He sprinted down a paved trail past large trees, benches, and playground equipment. He picked up the pace even more.

Kindra jogged behind him. The distance between them increased. She leaned forward, pushing her leg muscles beyond the rising ache.

As they neared the slides, his sprint became a jog, then he halted. His words came out between gasping breaths. “Do you want me to be a big fake? Every time I go into a church, my stomach gets tight.”

“I’m still going to pray that God helps us get your mom back safe.”
So she can keep telling you how much God loves you
.

He squeezed her hand. “You do that. I haven’t been able to pray for years.”

Their feet pounded on the walking trail toward the far end of the park, surrounded by the quiet of the night. By the time they stepped from the hard-pack earth of the path onto the lush grass of the fairway, they were both out of breath.

“What exactly is your plan?” She couldn’t bring herself to ask if he had the gun.

“I don’t have a plan. I’ll make it up as I go. I just know I am going to get my mom back. I want these guys to pay.”

Xabier spoke with conviction, but making things up as you go had never worked for Kindra. She attempted to discern the layout of the golf course. A brick clubhouse with a single light was all she could clearly identify. Three golf carts were parked on the concrete slab outside the clubhouse.

Xabier strode a few feet in front of her. “I wish we had a flashlight.”

Kindra clicked her purse open and felt for Earl’s Pepper Light. “I think I have something that will work.” She clicked on the light and swung it across the landscape.

A bridge over a small creek came into view. Just across the bridge, the flag for hole number one jutted out of the earth. The second hole must be on the other side of the rolling hill.

“Nice flashlight. It throws a good-size beam.”

“Thanks, a friend of mine invented it.” She slipped it into his hand. “The other end is pepper spray. That might come in handy too.”

“You keep it.” He patted his jacket pocket. “I already have something. Lets grab one of those golf carts and find the second hole.”

Kindra’s resolve lagged as Xabier pulled her toward the golf cart. He had brought the gun. Why hadn’t she just called the police? That’s what the still, small voice in her head had told her to do. Her attraction to Xabier made sound judgment pack its bags and leave town. Xabier took her hand and helped her into the golf cart. The warmth of his touch subdued her fear … a little.

After climbing in on the drivers side of the cart, he kissed her forehead. “Thank you … for helping me.”

“You’re welcome.” She closed her eyes, unable to shake off the rising panic that corseted her rib cage.

The cart lurched forward, and Xabier steered toward the bridge. They rolled over the wooden bridge and up the grassy hill. When they came down on the other side, close to a rim of trees, a second flag came into view. A little farther up the hill a sign indicated the third hole was through the trees.

Xabier killed the motor. “This is it,” he whispered. “The second hole.”

Kindra crossed her arms against the nighttime cold. Xabier pulled his own jacket off and placed it over her shoulders. Why did he have to be so nice? What a special guy. She whispered a muffled “Thank you.”

Please, God, just get us both out of here alive
.

Xabier crawled out of the cart. Kindra followed. She swept the flashlight across the green, past a sand trap and toward the tree line. Kindra’s pulse drummed in her ears. Her throat constricted. Her face brushed against the silk of Xabier’s shirt. He grabbed her hand.

She saw a flash of color by the trees.

Xabier let go of her hand. His back straightened.

A voice boomed from somewhere in the trees. “Leave the money and you can have her.”

Kindra steadied the flashlight. “It came from up there somewhere.”

They raced down the tiny hill across the sand trap. Twice, they fell. Xabier helped Kindra to her feet, pulling her up by both her hands. Her shoes filled with sand, tiny barbs against the soles of her feet. She ran up the hill behind him, her breath ragged and raspy, her heart pounding.

“Where is she?” Xabier paced by the edge of the trees.

“Put the money on the ground and back away.”

The voice was coming from somewhere in the trees, but where? The flashlight, still on, pressed against her leg. Kindra started to spotlight the area, then stopped. Better not risk making them angry.

“Where is my mother?” Xabier’s voice cracked.

Silence accentuated her breathing. And then, the distinctive click of a pistol slide being pulled back. Her blood iced, and her muscles tensed.

Footsteps breaking branches. She detected a shadow movement in the trees.

“I don’t think you are in a position to demand anything, Mr. Clydell.” The voice was closer now. “Put the envelope down and walk back twenty steps.”

Xabier placed the envelope in the grass and walked backward. Kindra gripped his arm. Her eyes fixed on the envelope. She curled her fingers into a fist.

A man burst out of the trees from a different place than the voice had come from. Even though he was more shadow than discernable features, he was clearly the shorter, rounder man.

Xabier lurched, then froze. He must have seen the glint of metal in the man’s hand. The man picked up the envelope, shone a tiny pen light into it, and disappeared.

They watched the trees. She grabbed his hand. Her breathing and his filled the air.

A mechanical noise, a low-level electrical hum, shattered the silence. Two headlights appeared on the path that lead through the clump of trees to hole number three. A cart with a passenger rolled onto the green and slammed to a stop. The passenger swung forward, then hit the back of the seat.

Xabier moaned.

Gloria lifted her head and gazed up at her son. “I was afraid I would never see you again.” He rushed toward her, placing his forehead against his moms.

Her hands were tied behind her back. The thugs must have set the cart in motion assuming she would be able to brake but not steer.

Kindra rifled through her purse for her pocketknife and handed it to Xabier. He pulled away from his mom after brushing her cheek with his hand.

As Xabier sawed through the rope, Kindra pulled it off. Gloria’s hands were cold to the touch. When she placed her hand on Gloria’s shoulder, the older woman was shivering.

“Mom, I—” A furtive glance toward Kindra indicated that he was embarrassed by the overflow of emotion.

Kindra reached over and squeezed his hand. “You got your mom back.”

“Where are they?” He pulled himself free of Kindra’s grasp and stalked toward the trees. Xabier was back in Lone Ranger mode.

Kindra placed an arm around Gloria’s back and helped her to her feet.

“Xabier, come on. Lets just go. The police will handle it. You don’t have to. They can get the money back and catch those guys.”

Xabier paced along the tree line.

“Please, son. Don’t try and do this yourself.” Gloria shivered so violently that she was almost vibrating against Kindra.

“It’s not the money.” Xabier paced. “It’s what they did to you. It’s what Dad continues to do to us even after he’s dead. This is his debt.”

Gloria’s entire body trembled from the sheer effort of having to stand up. Kindra pulled her a little closer and planted her own feet for balance.

“Xabier, for your mom, lets go. We need to get her to a warm place.”

He turned to face her. She’d seen that same dark look the night he’d been so angry at his dad.

Gloria stumbled, and Kindra caught her.

“Don’t let your life be about revenge and bitterness. Let God and the police take care of it.” Gloria spoke to the ground, taking a wheezing shallow breath after each word.