9 Seconds of Freedom, Original Suspense Fiction, Part Nineteen, Links to first 18 parts
By the time we made it to the job site, it was eleven a m. On the way past Al’s, Hals’ car was still there, up on the rack. I doubted we’d have to worry about him today.
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At the house, we grabbed hammers and pry bars and made our way up to the second floor. The steady bang, bang, bang, of the hammers gave me plenty of time to think. My mind was running overtime. I needed to know more. Today was the day I was going to visit Vern. No matter what.
We ate lunch late. Ben and Fred were on a salvage trip to a place called Tiny Texas. The man there collected bits of vintage houses and turned them into tiny houses. He called it salvage mining. He was also one of the biggest sellers of architectural salvage in the US. They were looking for fixtures for this house and the others.
“I’m going to visit Vern, the antique dealer, today,” I said. “He may know something about my bear.”
“I can’t help picturing like Oliver Twist, or something, ‘please sir, may I have some more’ begging for bread, or soup or something,” Leeanne said.
She laughed when I threw bread at her.
“Rude,” I said.
“Can I go with you?” Leeanne asked.
“No, not with that attitude. I just found out I’m an orphan, and not three hours later, you’re making fun of me for it?” I said.
I laughed.
“I’ve got something I need to do anyway. Then I’ve got somewhere to show you,” she said.
“Okay, so, I’ll meet you back at Bedman’s after I go see Vern,” I said. “Do you know where his shop is?”
“Yeah, it’s a horrible place. Full of dead people’s things. Go south from downtown on the highway, it’s an old white farmhouse, big sign, you can’t miss it,” she said.
“What does the sign say?” I asked.
“The man is brimming with imagination,” she said. “It’s a white sign, with big black letters, ‘ANTIQUES’ and that’s it.”
“Huh, gets right to the point, I think I like this guy,” I said.
“If you do, you’ll be the only one,” Leeanne said. “Let’s just say, if I was Fred, I’d kick Ben out, just in case whatever Vern is a carrier of is contagious. Not joking.”
As it turned out, the sign that had once read ‘Antiques’ now just read ‘ntiques’ the A had been taken by some accident. The house looked sad, as if it hated its owner somehow. I was pretty sure that was just me, reading into what I’d heard about Vern.
There were farm implements and a couple of wagons in the yard. The gravel drive, in front of a big white barn, held gas pumps and other car related items too large to display inside a house. On the grass beside the barn, stood an antique firetruck, complete with hoses and ladders.
I walked in. The door had a bell exactly like Bedman’s.
Vern was a big man. He had dark curls, and he smelled like old books and antique after shave. I couldn’t imagine a world in which he could compete with Fred. But, then again, I’m not gay.
“Can I help you my friend?” Vern said.
“Yes, I’ve been told you’re an expert on vintage teddy bears,” I said.
Vern smiled. He came out from behind the counter and took me down a hall. We walked into what had once been the dining room, I guessed. It was overstuffed with bears of every shape, size and color.
I took out my photo.
“I’m looking for a very specific bear,” I said.
Vern took the photo. He leered at the picture. “Vavavoom,” he said. “Aren’t we all looking for a sexy little number like that?”
It was a weird thing to say about an old teddy bear. I was starting to catch on to how everyone else saw him.
“Um, well, I’m the kid in the picture. My parents died when I was young. It was a gift from my mom. I’ve been told it’s likely still around, that the bear has a lot of value to collectors,” I said.
“You’ve been told correctly,” he said.
He was caressing the edges of my polaroid. I felt like I needed to disinfect it.
“I have some other bears, for the more discerning connoisseur, they’re downstairs, last door at the end of the hall. Can I keep this?” he asked.
He looked so hungry for the picture, I wanted to say yes and just walk away, but I couldn’t.
“Well, it’s the only one I’ve got, so no,” I said.
I held my hand out.
“Can I make a copy? I have a photo scanner, I use it for restoring old photos, I’m very professional, I assure you,” he said.
It was too much information. What was his deal with my bear. A sick thought entered my head. Maybe it wasn’t the bear. Maybe it was me. As a kid. Gross.
“Uh, yeah, sure, but could you maybe not rub it so much? The skin oil’s bad for the image. It’s already faded,” I said.
“You do know what this bear is, don’t you?” he asked.
“Sure, it’s a teddy bear,” I said.
Vern scoffed. “No, it’s the teddy bear. Made by Heimler Schnockenbeir. It was made in answer to the story about Teddy Roosevelt. Very exclusive. Only fifty ever made, one of them was shipped to Mr. Roosevelt, it’s in the Smithsonian. Only one other Schnockenbier ever came to the states, it disappeared in about 1990.”
He looked at me.
“I’d say the timeline fits your bear,” he said.
“Have you ever seen one?” I asked.
“Yes, briefly, at an auction in New York. It didn’t meet the reserve, so they removed it from the sale,” he said.
I swear he was rubbing his nipples by this point. I just wanted out of there. I made my way down the hall, leaving Vern to his whatever. I didn’t want to think about it. I found the door and went down.
There were two doors at the bottom of the stairs. One was open. Inside, the walls were lined with shelves full of bears. Most of them looked ancient. In the center, was a pedestal, it held a plexiglass display. It was empty. None of them looked anything like the bear I was looking for.
As I stepped out of the first room, the door to the second room creaked, opening a crack. It had a sign on it. ‘No entrance without authorization. Keep out. Violators will be prosecuted’ I couldn’t resist. I leaned against the door and immediately wished I hadn’t.
The room was lined with photos of Vern. Most of them nude, all of them with teddy bears. Some of the bears wore leather harnesses, others had on lingerie. In all of them Vern was touching and handling the bears in ways that seemed unnatural to me. Great. It wasn’t me as a little kid. I almost wished it was.
I turned to leave, but there, at one end of the room, encased behind a Plexiglas panel, was a bear that looked a lot like mine. I stepped closer. I couldn’t believe it. That bastard upstairs had my bear down here and he was lying about it. From the pictures of Vern with the bear, I thought I knew why. He seemed to have a thing for this one.
I needed that bear. It held the secret to my identity, but I’d have to burn it and bathe in bleach when this was over. I reached up and pulled on the Plexiglas panel. The whole room exploded in sound.
From upstairs, I heard heavy footsteps running down the hall. The shrine was protected by an alarm of some sort and I’d just tripped it. Great. After seeing what this dude did to teddy bears, I wasn’t about to stick around and find out what he’d do to me.
“I’ll be back for you Mr. Ted,” I said.
Poor bear. He wasn’t some innocent child’s plaything anymore. That much was certain.