LITMIR.BIZ

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the phone at her elbow startled her so badly that she let out a small squeak of alarm. Embarrassed, she cleared her throat as she reached for the receiver and put all the authority she could muster into her voice.

      “Moosetookalook Police Department. Officer Willett speaking.”

      Ten minutes later, Sherri strolled into Moosetookalook Scottish Emporium. Although Liss hadn’t made a lick of sense on the phone, Sherri was relatively certain there was no crime in progress at the shop. Curiosity, rather than concern for her friend’s safety, had convinced her to forward all incoming calls to the P.D. to her cell phone and venture out on “foot patrol.”

      It took another ten minutes for Liss to bring Sherri up to speed. She recounted Gavin Thorne’s visit and its outcome, stopping now and again to answer Sherri’s questions.

      “So you do have more of these Tiny Teddies?”

      “Almost a hundred of them. And Marcia bought some too.”

      “Why?”

      “I liked the little kilts. I figured I’d corner the market on kilted teddy bears. I never expected—”

      “No, I mean why does Marcia have Tiny Teddies? She runs a consignment shop. Second Time Around stocks mostly clothing.”

      “She bought hers for decoration. They’re dressed like Santa’s elves. From what I can gather—I did some checking on the Internet—the company that makes Tiny Teddies only manufactures a limited number wearing any particular costume. That makes all the varieties more collectible.”

      Sherri nodded. Now that she thought about it, she’d noticed that the Tiny Teddies in the display window of The Toy Box, Gavin Thorne’s store, all wore different outfits. “So Tiny Teddies come in many varieties, in all sorts of get-ups. They’re considered collectible by adults as well as being toys for kids. And if you really have cornered the market on teddies in kilts, you can name your own price. But if this is such a hot item, why haven’t buyers already found your supply? You put the bears in the online catalog at the Emporium’s Web site, right?”

      “Yes, but I didn’t call them Tiny Teddies.”

      “So update the description.”

      “I’ve had a better idea.” Liss’s changeable blue-green eyes gleamed with barely suppressed excitement. “We make the buyers come here. This could be just what Moosetookalook needs. There isn’t much time, but we do still have more than two weeks until Christmas. I’ve been making lists.”

      “Of course you have.” Liss always made lists.

      “First I have to talk to Marcia. Then to Gavin Thorne. And then we need to bring the whole town in on this.” Liss turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED, grabbed her bright green coat off the rack by the door and led the way back outside.

      A blast of cold air hit Sherri as soon as they left the Emporium. She looked hopefully at the sky, but there wasn’t a cloud in sight.

      They hurried past Stu’s Ski Shop with its life-size skier on the roof of the porch and dashed across the intersection of Pine and Birch Streets. Marcia and her husband had bought the corner house a few years back. In common with most of the old Victorians that surrounded the town square, the downstairs portion had been converted for use as a business while the upstairs rooms had been turned into an apartment. Marcia lived there alone now. Almost a year ago, apparently in the throes of a midlife crisis, Cabot Katz had decamped. Sherri had no idea where he’d gone, but several months later, Marcia had dropped the name Katz and gone back to being Marcia Milliken.

      A small bell above the door tinkled merrily and more melodiously than the one at the Emporium. Once inside the consignment shop, Liss waited a moment, then called out a greeting: “Anybody home?”

      “Hang on a sec!” The sound of a disembodied voice was followed by a flush. Sherri and Liss exchanged a rueful grin. When you owned a small shop there was rarely anyone available to cover for you when you needed to use the facilities.

      Marcia emerged through a door behind the small desk she used as a sales counter. She was a tall, angular woman in her forties with a pale complexion and wheat-colored hair. Unlike Liss, she did not wear her store’s stock. She was comfortably dressed in well-worn jeans and a cable-knit sweater. She needed the latter. Marcia kept the temperature in her building at a frugal sixty-two degrees.

      “Liss. Sherri. Hi. What brings you out on this nippy morning?”

      “Have you seen this?” Liss thrust the newspaper at her.

      Marcia’s eyes widened as she read. “Those dumb little bears? Get out of here!”

      “How many do you have?”

      “Two dozen. I didn’t buy them to sell. I’m using them for Christmas decorations.”

      Liss started to explain her plan but Marcia didn’t let her get very far.

      “eBay.”

      “What?”

      “Online auction. That’s the best way to sell them. Put the bears up one at a time. Set a nice high minimum bid for each one.”

      If this were a cartoon, Sherri thought, the artist would draw dollar signs in place of Marcia’s eyes.

      Liss looked horrified. “You can’t do that!”

      “Why not?”

      “Because we have a chance to do something good for this whole town. Gavin Thorne has some of these Tiny Teddies, too. We need to go talk to him. If we work together, I know we can pull this off.”

      Marcia looked doubtful. “Are you sure you want to deal with Thorne? I can’t say as I like him much. I stopped by to welcome him to town when he first opened The Toy Box and he gave me such a chilly reception that I haven’t been back since.”

      “He’s recently divorced,” Sherri put in. “That tends to make folks sour.” She gave herself a mental kick when she realized Marcia might take that comment personally, but the consignment shop owner simply nodded in agreement.

      “He and his wife had a toy store in Fallstown,” Marcia said. “The wife got the building. Thorne got the contents.”

      Sherri tried to think if she’d heard anything else about Gavin Thorne, but the local grapevine had been remarkably quiet on the subject.

      “He did join the Moosetookalook Small Business Association,” Liss said, “but he hasn’t been to any meetings.” Quickly and concisely, she filled Marcia in on Thorne’s visit to the Emporium.

      “He tried to con you and you still want to work with him?” Marcia’s outrage showed plainly on her long, thin face.

      The show of temper surprised Sherri. Until now, Marcia had never struck her as one of those people with a short fuse. Then again, she didn’t know the woman well. Marcia was a relative newcomer to Moosetookalook. She hadn’t grown up in the village, as Sherri and Liss had.

      “It couldn’t hurt to talk to Thorne,” Liss insisted. “For one thing, he’s the closest thing we have to a local expert on toys.”

      A short time later, Marcia in tow, Sherri and Liss retraced their steps past Stu’s Ski shop and the Emporium. They passed Liss’s house—one of only two surrounding the square that was still used exclusively as a residence—and turned onto Ash Street. The Toy Box was located in the center of that short block, between the post office and Preston’s Mortuary.

      Thorne’s shop had no bell over the entrance. The door closed, however, with a resounding thunk that echoed in every corner of the small store.

      “With you in a minute,” Thorne bellowed from behind a sales counter built so high that a child would have to reach above his head to pay for a purchase. It was also an awkward height for Sherri, whose friends universally described her as a petite blonde. It hit the taller Liss squarely at bosom-level.

      The minute stretched into several.

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