Death of a Six-Foot Teddy Bear by Sharon Dunn Read Free Book Online

woman had thinning, dark hair that had been teased to give it volume and unsuccessfully hide bald spots. For an older woman she appeared to be in fairly good shape. Her tight-fitting purple jogging suit revealed no extra pounds. Except for the penciled-in eyebrows and long purple fingernails, she wore no makeup. Washed-out features and pallid skin gave the impression of a soft-focus photograph.
Honesty seemed the best choice. “No, I’m not Dustin.” Okay, vague, stating-the-obvious honesty. “You were expecting him?”
“We were supposed to meet. This is his place.” She traced her collarbone with her finger and then tugged on her ear. “We had something rather important to discuss.” She glanced at the wall clock. “Our meeting was for ten. He should be here by now.”
Dustin seemed to be missing a lot of appointments tonight. “He was bringing you chocolate?”
“He knows Belgian is my favorite.” She clasped her hands together and shrugged. The woman took a small step back, and a shadow crossed her expression. “I’m sorry, who did you say you were?”
“My name is not important.” Only my mission . Oh please. She sounded like 007. “I came up here because I need to ride the glass elevator down to the convention floor.”
“But the glass elevator is not for public use. This is a private residence.” A tone of hostility entered the child star’s voice. “How did you get up here?”
“I just rode the Ordinary Joe elevator up and stepped out.” Ginger’s feet pulsated. She slipped out of her flip-flops and rubbed one foot against her calf, which did nothing to alleviate the sunburn pain.
The woman shook her head. “I’ll have to tell Dustin his alarm system is malfunctioning again.”
“I’m sorry, but I have to sit down. My feet are killing me.” Ginger hobbled over to the couch and plopped down. “So this is Dustin’s place?”
“Please don’t get too comfortable. I will have to ask you to leave. Dustin should be here any minute. We have important things to discuss.” Again, she tugged on her ear.
Ginger pulled a travel-size Aloe vera out of her purse and slathered it on her smoldering feet. “If I could just ride down that elevator, I would be out of your hair.” She closed her eyes and enjoyed the cooling effect of the gel.
“I can’t let you do that. This is not my place. I’m on the second floor.” She pouted. “I don’t have a glass elevator that descends to the convention floor.”
Second floor. She’d had a feeling. Ginger pulled out the last ace up her sleeve—flattery. “Oh, I know who you are. You’re that famous actress. I heard there was a celebrity who lived in this hotel.”
Victoria shifted her weight slightly and batted her eyes. Her lips pursed. “Yes, that is me. I am Little Vicky.” She squared her shoulders, tilted her head, and placed her feet in second position.
Echoes of Sunset Boulevard and someone being ready for their closeup streamed through Ginger’s head. Kind of creepy. Victoria eased across the carpet so the ceiling light washed over her face. “Please, let me ride down on the elevator. I don’t have much time before that convention floor closes. Earl might be so upset he won’t come back to the hotel room for hours.”
“You have to know the code to get the elevator to move.” Victoria stepped out of her spotlight. “Far as I know, only Dustin knows the code.”
Ginger slumped down on the couch. She wasn’t going to get to Earl, they had no booth, her cat was missing, and she wanted to amputate her feet to end the pain.
“Who is Earl?”
“He’s my husband. We came here from Montana for this convention.”
“A husband. I never had one of those.” Victoria placed both hands on one hip and lifted her chin. “Had a lot of things. But never one of those.”
Victoria talked about spouses like most people talked about bread machines. An item to acquire. Just a little something to display on the countertop. “Can I just look out on the