Bear a Wee Grudge

Book 5: Teddy Bear Mystery

by Meg Macy

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Mystery; Animal Cozy Mysteries; Craft & Hobby Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

Teddy bear shop manager Sasha Silverman must step fast to find a murderer before an upcoming Scottish festival . . .
 
It’s springtime in Silver Hollow, Michigan, and Sasha is looking forward to the village’s inaugural Highland Fling weekend. Plans are underway for a Kilted 5K, athletic competitions, dancing, live music, and even a Hurl-the-Haggis contest. Meanwhile, Sasha’s staff is busy crafting custom teddy bears in kilts for the Silver Bear Shop’s vendor booth. But trouble’s brewing behind the scenes, as the obnoxious Teddy Hartman, former owner of a rival teddy bear company, sows seeds of discord about town, targeting Sasha’s family and their business.
 
Things go from plaid to worse when—just a week before the festival kicks-off—the disgruntled gossip is found murdered with an ax buried in his back. Sasha’s dad is arrested, since he’s a champion ax-thrower. But she doesn’t give a dram what it looks like—Sasha knows that despite the old business rivalry with Hartman, her father is innocent.  So with a spot of help from her friends, Sasha must bag the real killer before her first Fling also becomes her last.
 
Praise for BEARLY DEPARTED
 
“You’ll fall in love with this delightful debut mystery.”
—Victoria Thompson, bestselling author of Murder in Morningside Heights
 
“The first in a new series features a complex plot awash in red herrings, a perky heroine . . . and everything you ever wanted to know about teddy bears.”
—Kirkus Reviews
 
“The appealing, impulsive amateur sleuth, dedicated to the family business, will appeal to fans of character-driven cozies.”
—Library Journal
 
“Entertaining . . . inhabited by quirky, fully developed characters and good dogs and cats.”
—Publishers Weekly



 

Release date: November 30, 2021

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 304

Sample

“Mama, Mama! My teddy bear—”

I quickly stepped out of the crowd of walkers and snatched up the furry toy before one of the focused joggers in the middle of Roosevelt Street could kick it away. Brushing a smear of dirt from the bear’s nose, I dodged runners in shorts and sweaty shirts. My sister Maddie kept power walking toward the park, arms pumping hard, oblivious to my rescue effort. I struggled to avoid bumping others before I caught up to the woman, who’d halted her child’s stroller.

She smiled in relief. “Thank you so much!”

“No problem,” I said. “Sorry, but it’s a little dirty.”

“I want my bear,” the little girl wailed, wriggling in the stroller’s seat. She looked adorable, with light brown curls and huge chocolate brown eyes.

“That’s the third time you dropped it this morning, Gracie,” the mother scolded her child. “I think you’re doing it on purpose.”

“Gimme my bear!”

“Not until we get home. Which will be sooner if it rains like last night.” The mother stuffed the toy into the backpack hanging from the stroller’s handle. “If you behave, I’ll let you have your teddy bear in the car.”

“I want it now!”

“No. And stop whining.” She turned to me once more with a deep sigh. “Thanks again. I’m sorry if we messed up your timing this morning.”

“Oh, not at all. I was just walking.” I wiggled my foot. “I’m slowing down more and more with each step.”

The woman nodded and pushed the stroller off, her child still wailing in misery. Had my sister noticed that I’d stopped? I shielded my eyes from the bright spring sunshine, trying to spy Maddie up ahead. I gave up and limped to perch on one of several large boulders that bordered a lawn. I should have worn socks and sneakers instead of sandals. My feet felt like ice, and a big blister had formed under the strap on my right heel.

Maybe I should have kept walking instead of taking a break. I rose to my feet and tugged my Silver Bear T-shirt into place. A chill breeze sent shivers up and down my spine. I untied my sweatshirt’s sleeves from around my waist and pulled it over my head. It also had the Silver Bear logo printed on the back. As manager of a teddy bear shop and factory, I had to serve as a walking billboard for the family business.

“Are you okay, Sasha?”

Maddie suddenly appeared before me, looking cute with her pixie hairstyle temporarily dyed pink to match her jogging suit and sneakers. She wore a string of tiny flocked white teddy bears around her neck as well. My sister wasn’t surprised about my blister.

“I told you to change into sneakers.” Maddie handed me a strip of gauze from the fanny pack at her waist. “This should cushion it until we get home.”

She waited while I wrapped the gauze around my sandal’s scratchy leather strap, then pulled me to stand. Maddie led the way to the street once more. The sun shone between the bank of clouds overhead, but that didn’t mean winter was forgotten. Even this late in April, a few weeks short of May, Michigan could get overnight frost, a coating of ice, or even a blizzard.

Silver Hollow’s small park was only a few blocks away. Good thing. I was dying to sit on a bench and take off these sandals. I texted my boyfriend, Jay Kirby, to bring socks and sneakers, if he had a free minute. Smart of him to spend the day working on a commission, and I didn’t mind him begging off on the trot. Jay had signed up for the Kilted 5K in a few weeks instead, while I preferred a relaxed walk today.

I pushed a stray blond hair out of my eye, chugged a long drink from my water bottle, and wiped a few stray drops from my sweatshirt. Dirt streaked my leg below my capris. I needed a shower.

“Hey, Mads. Got a ribbon, by any chance?”

“I found this scrunchie on the ground. Not too dirty.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” I gathered my long hair into a ponytail. One more thing I’d forgotten to do this morning. “Okay, let’s go.”

“You can make it, right?” Maddie asked, eyebrows raised.

“I’ll manage.” I gritted my teeth and limped forward once more. “I feel like such a baby. The Teddy Bear Trot is only what, two miles?”

“Three, I think,” she said. “The joggers’ route is five. I did half of it while I waited for you to show up this morning.”

“You’re a glutton for punishment.”

Ignoring my blister’s sting, I focused on the trees overhead. They’d already filled out with tiny leaves after a rain-soaked March. Clusters of yellow daffodils and the earliest tulips had bloomed and left their green stems behind. Late-blooming tulips of every color would soon brighten the village flower tubs and line the fronts of houses and sidewalks. Azalea bushes sprouted pink or purple flowers, and forsythias danced with bright yellow blooms.

I loved spring in Michigan, except for the heady scent of hyacinths and Easter lilies. Every time I walked past them, inside a store or outside, I sneezed hard. Luckily, I didn’t suffer as much as Jay, whose spring allergies to tree pollen drove him crazy. Right now I relished the flowers, the distant barking of dogs around the village, and the scent of freshly mown grass.

The newly formed Silver Hollow Entrepreneurs and Business Association, commonly shortened to the acronym SHEBA, was hosting a Scottish-themed Highland Fling soon. The committee didn’t have much choice with Mother’s Day and graduations filling up the May schedule, so they settled on the first weekend of May. Once the decision was made, they rushed to shape up their plans.

Local bakeries prepared to sell scones, oatcakes, and other Scottish treats. Vendors had been approved to offer goods from kilts to Renaissance-type costumes, along with swords and armor. Dancing and music, herding dog trials, the Kilted 5K run, plus athletic games filled the tentative schedule. My mother, recently elected as mayor, had joined forces with Amy Evans, the village coordinator, to assist SHEBA. A huge crowd was expected.

“We both missed the latest committee meeting for the Highland Fling,” I said to Maddie, wincing as a stray pebble hit my sore toe. “Not that much happened, from what I read of the minutes Mom printed off. Why did we volunteer to help?”

“Because we let her twist our arms. Total pushovers, both of us.”

I laughed. “That’s true.”

Maddie steered me around a group of seniors, all wearing parka-like jackets with gloves and scarves, who rolled their walkers along the street. I didn’t think it was that cold, but maybe it was part of the territory in getting old. Many had strapped large teddy bears onto the aluminum frame tops. That looked sweet. The seniors chatted together, enjoying the fresh air and the sight of young mothers with toddlers or babies in strollers.

“They need a better name. ‘Silver Hollow Highland Fling’ is boring,” Maddie said.

“I don’t know what else they’d call it,” I said. “The games and food will be bigger draws than the dancing, in my opinion. We’ve gotten tons of pre-orders already for our bears in kilts. That should make Uncle Ross happy.”

“I’ll put a photo of the sample bear in the promotional flyers.”

“Did you know Scotland holds their highland festivals on the Isle of Skye, and all around the country?” I asked her. “The Ceres Games in Fife is the oldest.”

“Let me guess. You Googled that.”

“Nope. Gavin MacRae told me, and that Robert the Bruce gave the village of Ceres a charter in the fourteenth century. Now that’s old.”

Maddie shrugged. “I’ll try to remember those facts for trivia night next week at Eric’s brewery. Maybe he could get some Irn-Bru for people to taste, besides his mead.”

Her boyfriend Eric Dyer owned the Silver Claw, a brewery and wine producer, with help from his dad. I wasn’t sure my sister was committed to their relationship, however. She seemed enthusiastic now, but Maddie’s previous liaisons usually waned long before reaching a one-year anniversary. I wasn’t sure if she was fickle or if it was a coping mechanism to avoid heartbreak. For now, they both acted like they were into each other.

“I’m thinking Eric ought to get some haggis for them to try,” Maddie said.

“He can’t import it, though,” I said. “The USDA doesn’t allow any products made with sheep lung. I bet we can find a different recipe for it on the web.”

My sister slowed her pace again to match mine. “Okay, then. You ought to talk Uncle Ross into making teddy bears using plaid fabric instead of fur.”

“Hmm. Good idea, so I’ll bring it up at the next staff meeting.”

Maddie circled me a few times, dancing around to expend extra energy, while I limped past the park’s entrance. “I thought you prepared for this Teddy Bear Trot. Like using my Pilates machine, right? And walking at least thirty minutes, minimum, each day? That was your New Year’s resolution, starting in January.”

“Aren’t they meant to be broken?”

“Sasha!”

“Hey, you know it’s been crazy at the shop.”

I didn’t have to explain further. While the Silver Bear factory staff worked overtime producing wedding bears and accessories for spring and summer, plus kilted bears for the Highland Fling, the shop itself was closed. We’d hired a paint crew to refresh the exterior and interior, a long overdue project. That meant I had to deliver bears to sell at shops around the region. I logged over three hundred miles in the last month alone.

Plus I’d helped with shipping, stuffing, and a host of other jobs, except for sewing, to get so many items finished on time. I also delivered teddy bears to local shops—Mom’s gallery, the bookstore, the Queen Bess Tea Room, and almost every other shop in our small village. I’d also forgotten all about preparing and filing my tax return. Aunt Eve helped me out at the last minute. We’d spent several days going through paperwork before I filed online, using her temporary “office” in a small corner in the factory.

That created another huge problem over the last month. Aunt Eve and Uncle Ross had recently remarried, and the closer proximity day and night was taking a heavy toll on their sanity. Production staff usually tolerated Uncle Ross’s barked orders and bristly manner, but Aunt Eve craved peace in an isolated working atmosphere. Any attempt to change his grumpiness led to flare-ups between them. Acting as a liaison, more than a dozen times since the painting project began, had not been easy.

The last thing I’d thought about was finding time to exercise.

“Oh, man.” Maddie sighed. “I paid for your yearly gym membership as a Christmas present, Sasha. You’ve used it what? Twice?”

“How do you know that?” I asked, more curious than annoyed.

“You’re on my plan, remember. I know when you check in,” she said airily, “but I’ve got another idea. Remember how Kristen Bloom opened Blissful Yoga? She bought that little rental house from Barbara Davison that you wanted for Jay’s studio.”

“Yeah, I remember. Mom’s too busy being mayor and she doesn’t seem to miss Barbara and any lunch meetups.”

“They talk once a week on the phone. Anyway, Kristen offers a goat yoga class.”

“GOAT? As in ‘greatest of all time’?”

“No, not GOAT. Real goats, baby ones, that jump around during class,” Maddie added. “She teaches out at Richardson’s Farms. You should sign up, since you’re clearly unmotivated to go to the gym. I love it, it’s a blast.”

“I’ll think about it.” Two gym visits in three and a half months was pitiful, I had to admit. My jeans felt tight from eating so many Christmas cookies. My sister took after Mom’s family, slender and petite, while I’d gotten the thunder thighs from the Silverman side. “I’m not thrilled about goats jumping around while I’m doing yoga. Sugar Bear and Rosie cause enough trouble wanting attention whenever I do Pilates.”

“Dogs are a distraction, but the goats don’t care. Ignoring them is a good challenge to keep your focus on each pose.”

I almost laughed at my sister’s sincerity. I had challenge enough finding time—well, making time—to exercise. I wasn’t a morning person and often skipped walking the dogs at lunchtime or after work. Maybe goat yoga would help.

Maddie jogged up the sloping wooden bridge that spanned the narrow Huron River. After meandering through several tiny lakes farther north, the Huron entered Silver Lake behind the Kilted Scot boutique—formerly the Davisons’ residence—then skirted the village’s eastern edge and flowed through the park. Beyond that, the river widened on its way toward Ann Arbor. The banks tended to overflow in spring, unfortunately. Many local roads would either be marked as one-way or closed due to flooding.

Our village park was a misnomer, given it was only a few acres. Evergreens and other trees bordered the open sward, with picnic tables at one end, a volleyball net near the parking lot, and the dilapidated metal jungle gym playscape.

Not nearly enough space for the Highland Fling.

“The committee expects a couple thousand people,” I said. “This park can barely handle our annual Teddy Bear Picnic crowd over Labor Day weekend.”

“True enough. Let’s ask Mom if they found another place to hold it.”

Maddie walked over to join our parents, who stood at the Teddy Bear Trot registration table. Isabel French handled the job since early this morning; we both worked late last night putting all the name tags in lanyards, alphabetizing them, and tucking them into envelopes along with fee payment receipts. Then we’d stapled on a flyer that listed Silver Hollow’s summer events. A portion of the money raised from the Trot would benefit a volunteer group who made fleece blankets for sick kids at the Ann Arbor children’s hospital.

The Silver Bear Shop planned to donate a small bear to go with each blanket, as well. So far I had to package seventy-one bears and then drop them off next week. Isabel handed me a revised list that brought the number up to seventy-four teddies.

“Great, thanks,” I said. “Hey, Mom. Did you enjoy the Trot?”

She nodded. “Of course. It’s all for a good cause.”

“We should have stuck to the route. Your mother slipped on a wet patch when we cut across the village green.” Dad showed off grass stains on his khaki pants and sneakers. “Judith pulled me down with her when I tried to catch her.”

“Oh, Alex! You didn’t have to tell them how we cheated.” Mom brushed the back of her jeans with a frown. “I admit, that was a mistake—”

“What is Teddy Hartman doing here?” Dad glowered past my shoulder.

I whirled to see the former owner of Bears of the Heart, once a rival teddy bear company out east, ambling over the park’s bridge. My stomach clenched at the familiar sick feeling. Teddy Hartman no longer resembled the genial actor Billy Crystal; his temperament was the exact opposite, in fact, and his hairline had receded so far that he was nearly bald. His face sported more wrinkles, too. He wore faded jeans, red canvas sneakers, and a fancy red wristwatch.

I hadn’t seen him since last fall, when he’d passed out flyers for his company, Bears of the Heart, at the Labor Day parade. Teddy Hartman never passed up a chance to compete with the Silver Bear Shop, even after selling his company. That had to be why he wanted to buy Richard and Barbara Davison’s house and turn it into a specialty bed-and-breakfast inn, with themed rooms showcasing his teddy bears. Thank God that plan failed.

I figured Hartman would leave us alone. Clearly, I was wrong.

“Here comes trouble,” Maddie muttered under her breath. “Who’s that with him?”

The woman beside Hartman wore a blue velour jogging suit and headband holding back her shoulder-length dark hair. Her clothes matched the teddy bear she carried under one arm, along with a blue leash attached to a small brown and white dog.

“Teddy and Lucy Hartman,” she said to Isabel, who riffled through the manila envelopes.

Several walkers lined up behind the couple. “What an adorable Yorkie,” one crooned to the little animal, who bared its teeth.

“He’s a Morkie.” Annoyed, Lucy Hartman scooped up the pooch into her arms and turned to her husband. “This is taking forever. I need to get back to the store.”

“I’m sorry,” Isabel said, clearly flustered. “Wait, here it is, out of order.”

Teddy grabbed the envelope. “We already walked the route, but I need the receipt for tax purposes. Do I have to sign anything?”

“Nope. You’re good to go.”

“What a waste,” Lucy muttered. She reminded me of the crabby cartoon character from Peanuts, Lucy Van Pelt, who always pulled the football away from Charlie Brown and called him a blockhead. “Hey, Teddy. Isn’t that the corrupt mayor you were telling me about?”

Hartman snickered. “Yeah, babe. And her lame husband.”

“Hey,” I said, bristling at his insult.

“Still full of yourself, Hartman?” His voice firm, Dad had turned around and now eyed his former business rival. “I hear you opened a pet shop in Silver Hollow.”

“My wife did. She’s finding out just how cozy your wife has it here, taking advantage of the mayor’s perks and throwing her weight around. She’s got plenty of that.”

Dad shook his head at me when I clenched my fists, as if warning me not to speak. “You haven’t changed, putting others down and spreading venomous lies.”

“I’m telling it like it is. Especially after talking to residents here,” Hartman said, “plus a few village council members.”

My mother shoved past my father. “Who are you referring to, Mr. Hartman? Because if there’s any problems, I’m right here. You can discuss the issue directly with me, and tell these unnamed village council members to air their grievances in person, as well.”

Hartman eyed my mother and then me, his thin brows furrowed. “Why do I have to tell you what they said? Go talk to them yourself—”

“I’m talking to you right now,” Mom replied tersely, “since you mentioned corruption. If you make a claim like that, you better back it up with facts.”

Lucy stepped forward and shushed the dog when it growled. “The SHEBA business owners told me you’ve been ramming stuff down people’s throats.”

My mother cocked her head, her auburn hair glinting in the sun, and placed a hand on Dad’s arm before he could speak or react. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll schedule a SHEBA meeting so we can resolve the issue. I heard your husband took over leadership of the group without a vote. Isn’t that right?” she asked, her tone saccharine-sweet.

Hartman shrugged. “So what? Nobody in SHEBA said they had a problem with that. We’ll be keeping an eye on you and Alex Silverman, plus your network of cronies.” He suddenly snapped his fingers, flashing that Michael Kors red watch in my face. “Now I remember you. From a while back, running around that trade show in New Jersey—you were what, fifteen or sixteen? A little spy, taking notes for your dad.”

Both my parents stiffened at his words. I stepped back and waved a dismissive hand in the air to keep them from losing their tempers. “Pure research,” I said. “Dad planned to open the Silver Bear Shop, and I was gathering ideas to help him.”

“Stealing ideas, you mean.” He grinned at my father’s growing anger.

“I didn’t steal any ideas from you, Mr. Hartman,” I said. “You might want to watch what you say given what happened back then.”

“Nothing happened,” he cut in. “I wouldn’t touch such a fat, ugly girl—”

Maddie quickly darted forward and landed a hard punch right on Teddy Hartman’s nose. Howling, he clutched his face. Bright red blood streamed between his fingers. Lucy screamed and dropped her dog on the ground.

At the same moment, I reached out to stop my sister from a second punch. The tiny Morkie snapped at my outstretched hand several times, however, biting my fingers and thumb. In shock, I shook it off and stumbled backward.

Lucy hauled on the leash and jerked her pet away. “First you assault my husband, and now you’re trying to hurt my dog? I’ll sue you for this!”

I reeled, staring at the red drops that dripped to the ground. More blood trickled down from the ragged wounds on my hand. Mom tore off her light jacket, wrapped it around my fingers, and then rushed me over to the registration table. I was oblivious to whether Teddy or Lucy Hartman had retreated from the scene. My shock ebbed away, and pain at last seared my foggy brain. I’d never been bitten by any animal, dog or cat, in my life. I shivered, unable to understand how this had happened so fast.

“Breathe, Sasha,” Dad said, crowding me. “Judith, call 9-1-1.”

“Already did, Mr. Silverman.” Isabel French waved her cell phone.

I took a few deep breaths. Big trouble was certainly brewing now.

Still in shock, I unwrapped my hand to look at the wounds.

“It’s not that bad. I only need a bandage, really. It’s fine.”

“You are not fine,” Maddie said, her cheeks pink, and rubbed her skinned knuckles. “I’m glad I popped that jerk for his insults to you and Mom! What an a—”

“Stop, Madeline, right now,” Mom said. “You’ll be lucky not to land in jail.”

“It’s her own fault,” Teddy Hartman yelled from afar. “She tried to hit our dog!”

“She did not, you liar!” Maddie’s bellow brought more onlookers to the scene.

“Stay away from my family,” Dad said, his voice tinged with fury, so unlike him. “I’ll file charges of harassment if you persist.”

“Sasha, sit down. Alex, what will happen to Maddie?” Mom asked, clearly frantic.

“It’s her first criminal offense, Judith. I’ll talk to the judge and prosecutor about a DPA,” Dad said. Possibly noticing my blank stare, he added, “A deferred prosecution agreement. Otherwise Hartman will insist on felony assault and battery, or even a misdemeanor charge.”

My father had practiced law before he opened the Silver Bear Shop & Factory, so he knew all the ins and outs of legal procedures and jargon. Good thing, too. I was far more worried about Maddie going to jail than my own injuries.

My mother caught me when I swayed on my feet. “Sasha, you’re shaking like a leaf. Sit down, please! Alex, make her sit in that chair behind the table.”

I obeyed, since I saw Hartman better as he held a fistful of paper towels against his face. His wife fussed over him. Lucy’s little dog strained on the leash. . .