Read Online Death of a Six-Foot Teddy Bear by Sharon Dunn - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sharon Dunn
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“Nope.” Victoria grabbed another almond and popped it in her mouth.
Ginger bit her thumb nail counting each nibble Victoria took. She was up to four. How could she be getting her snack fix at a time like this?
“What about Dustin’s birthday?” Even without binoculars, Ginger could see Phoebe slithering across the floor in hunter mode. Hunched down, the cat took six or eight steps and then stopped, ready to pounce. Her tail sliced the air like a switchblade.
Victoria flipped through the book. “Hmm. He’s got his ex-wife’s birthday on his list of dates to remember.”
“Tiffany Rose?”
“No, that’s his second ex-wife.”
“How many ex-wives does he have?”
“Two that I know of. He’s got Gloria’s birthday on here. That’s his first wife. I’ll try that date.” Victoria pressed the buttons on the panel. A whirring sound signaled the start of a motor. “What do you know.” Victoria stepped out of the booth. “Enjoy your magic-carpet ride.”
“Thank you.” The door closed, and Ginger pushed the number one on a larger panel on the elevator wall.
Her heart slammed against her rib cage. She pressed her hand hard against the glass. The floors slipped by.
Please, God, don’t let my cat kill that squirrel.
The doors of the glass elevator slid open, and Ginger stepped out. None of the cleaning crew even lifted their heads in her direction. She raced toward the reptile catcher display, scanning the shelves and the railing above. No sign of cat or squirrel.
A flash of gray by a doorway caught her peripheral vision. A woman with her back to Ginger vacuumed about ten yards from where Phoebe had disappeared. Ginger scampered across the carpet and tapped the woman on the shoulder.
The woman jumped. Arms flew up. She whirled around and pulled her ear buds out. She clicked off her vacuum. “Goodness, you near give me a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry.” Ginger read the name on the woman’s light blue smock. “Cheryl, can you tell me where this hallway leads?”
“To the other convention hall.” Cheryl bent back, causing bones to crack somewhere in her body.
“Where the Squirrel Lovers’ convention is?”
“Yep.” The woman massaged her lower back and tilted her neck side to side. “Those squirrel lovers, they are something else, aren’t they? Nice folks.”
Any other time Ginger would have delighted in small talk about furry tree dwellers and the people who loved them, but right now the clock was ticking. “Is it open?”
“Oh sure, sure. I always unlock the doors first thing so the crew can move on through.” The cleaning lady studied Ginger. “Who are you?”
My name is not important, only my mission . She cupped the woman’s shoulder. “Thank you.” Before the cleaning woman had a chance to become suspicious, Ginger bolted for the dark hallway. She felt along the rough-textured wall, moving toward the faint light that must be the other convention floor.
Ginger blinked and waited for her eyes to adjust to the brightness of the convention floor. Looked like the squirrel lovers had called it a night too. A stage with a podium occupied one corner of the floor. A sign reminded squirrel lovers that the keynote speaker, Martha Hill-strong, squirrel expert and founder of the club, would be speaking tomorrow. Clear plastic tubes circled much of the convention hall. It took her a moment to figure out that the scratching noises were squirrels running through the tubes.
Ginger slowed her pace through the convention hall. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.” The other squirrels might have distracted Phoebe from her intended target. She walked past a table that displayed everything squirrel: squirrel bookmarks, stuffed squirrels, squirrel identification books.
Ginger turned, surveying every dark and shadowed space. Listening. Memories of the screams she heard in the night when Phoebe caught a rabbit caused her shoulders to bunch up to her ears. “Here, kitty.” Her voice faltered.
She studied the tubes.
Ginger bit her thumb nail counting each nibble Victoria took. She was up to four. How could she be getting her snack fix at a time like this?
“What about Dustin’s birthday?” Even without binoculars, Ginger could see Phoebe slithering across the floor in hunter mode. Hunched down, the cat took six or eight steps and then stopped, ready to pounce. Her tail sliced the air like a switchblade.
Victoria flipped through the book. “Hmm. He’s got his ex-wife’s birthday on his list of dates to remember.”
“Tiffany Rose?”
“No, that’s his second ex-wife.”
“How many ex-wives does he have?”
“Two that I know of. He’s got Gloria’s birthday on here. That’s his first wife. I’ll try that date.” Victoria pressed the buttons on the panel. A whirring sound signaled the start of a motor. “What do you know.” Victoria stepped out of the booth. “Enjoy your magic-carpet ride.”
“Thank you.” The door closed, and Ginger pushed the number one on a larger panel on the elevator wall.
Her heart slammed against her rib cage. She pressed her hand hard against the glass. The floors slipped by.
Please, God, don’t let my cat kill that squirrel.
The doors of the glass elevator slid open, and Ginger stepped out. None of the cleaning crew even lifted their heads in her direction. She raced toward the reptile catcher display, scanning the shelves and the railing above. No sign of cat or squirrel.
A flash of gray by a doorway caught her peripheral vision. A woman with her back to Ginger vacuumed about ten yards from where Phoebe had disappeared. Ginger scampered across the carpet and tapped the woman on the shoulder.
The woman jumped. Arms flew up. She whirled around and pulled her ear buds out. She clicked off her vacuum. “Goodness, you near give me a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry.” Ginger read the name on the woman’s light blue smock. “Cheryl, can you tell me where this hallway leads?”
“To the other convention hall.” Cheryl bent back, causing bones to crack somewhere in her body.
“Where the Squirrel Lovers’ convention is?”
“Yep.” The woman massaged her lower back and tilted her neck side to side. “Those squirrel lovers, they are something else, aren’t they? Nice folks.”
Any other time Ginger would have delighted in small talk about furry tree dwellers and the people who loved them, but right now the clock was ticking. “Is it open?”
“Oh sure, sure. I always unlock the doors first thing so the crew can move on through.” The cleaning lady studied Ginger. “Who are you?”
My name is not important, only my mission . She cupped the woman’s shoulder. “Thank you.” Before the cleaning woman had a chance to become suspicious, Ginger bolted for the dark hallway. She felt along the rough-textured wall, moving toward the faint light that must be the other convention floor.
Ginger blinked and waited for her eyes to adjust to the brightness of the convention floor. Looked like the squirrel lovers had called it a night too. A stage with a podium occupied one corner of the floor. A sign reminded squirrel lovers that the keynote speaker, Martha Hill-strong, squirrel expert and founder of the club, would be speaking tomorrow. Clear plastic tubes circled much of the convention hall. It took her a moment to figure out that the scratching noises were squirrels running through the tubes.
Ginger slowed her pace through the convention hall. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty.” The other squirrels might have distracted Phoebe from her intended target. She walked past a table that displayed everything squirrel: squirrel bookmarks, stuffed squirrels, squirrel identification books.
Ginger turned, surveying every dark and shadowed space. Listening. Memories of the screams she heard in the night when Phoebe caught a rabbit caused her shoulders to bunch up to her ears. “Here, kitty.” Her voice faltered.
She studied the tubes.
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