The Forest for the Bears

Mrs Bear arrived in my office on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, unannounced. She wasn't your standard Grizzly, a snappy dresser in a long scarlet number that had to have been tailored to fit; Ursus Arctos Fashionista. 

"Ms Lox, I hear you have a knack for infidelity," she growled, low and thunderous.

"Finding it, not participating in it," I replied dryly, "what's it to you?"

She dropped a roll of bills on my desk and said, "you're the investigator, you tell me."

I looked her up and down. She wasn't the typical jilted wife or sobbing starlet I usually dealt with; I wondered who had given her my name. It's true I have a speciality, and that I'm good at what I do, but I'm pretty careful about my choice of clientele. Still, some green is a great panacea for what ails you, and the quantity of cash she was carrying could buy a lot of wellness. 

"I'm guessing your man is… of a similar persuasion to yourself?" I said, "I'll need hazard pay."

She shot me a look that could kill, though it was unnecessary in light of her claws, teeth, and giant frame. I'm a petite 5' 2" myself, which will let you get in and out of a scrape easily, but won't help you defend yourself from a four hundred pound bear. I'm not easily intimidated though, and figured if she was going to maul me she would've done it already and not dressed up for the occasion. "Double that," I continued, pointing at the money, "and the same again after, for expenses and proof, either way."

Her lips pulled back in a suppressed snarl, but she reached into her bag and pulled out another roll. "You'll take the job?" she rumbled, holding it delicately between two long talons. In normal circumstances it would have been time for a handshake, but she was an unusual customer. 

"Sure," I nodded, walking up to her and delicately taking the money from her claws, "you got a deal. Now, tell me what you know."

***** *****

Mrs Bear had practically given me a dossier on Mr Bear's habits from her perspective. They had been married for years with four cubs together. He was a businessman, but she didn't know much about his business. He was private about it, and Mrs Bear had the discretion not to ask. Given their standard of living she suspected crime, but until now she wasn't about to go digging around and he had the smarts not to shit where he slept.

Whatever he was doing, he did it a lot. He was away for business almost as much as (and sometimes more than) he was at home. He would come and go at all hours and sometimes be gone for days. None of this Mrs Bear minded. The other week though, she had found a receipt in his pocket for a diamond necklace from a jeweller in town. She had thought nothing of it, it was their anniversary in a couple of days, so what was the worry? But then, the day had come and gone. Oh sure, there were flowers, a salmon dinner by candlelight, and some words of love, but no rocks.

Mrs Bear was not the kind of woman to be trifled with, so here I was, tailing Mr Bear's car, as he drove out of the city limits having left their very generous suburban home early that morning. I'm pretty good at following a car and not being noticed, and Mr Bear's car was easy to follow — it was extra large to accommodate his enormous size, and coloured a golden brown, just like him. My own car was a small grey number, discreet and easy to miss in the traffic.  

I followed him off the freeway, and then onto a small road heading into a forest. I dropped back of course, being the only car behind his would have been too obvious, but thankfully the road gave way shortly after to a dirt track and the tire marks from his giant wheels were easy to see. Eventually, I came to a driveway with a mailbox with a solitary "1" painted on it, and a gate with a welcoming "No Entry - Trespassers will be prosecuted" sign hanging over it. I could think of worse things Mr Bear could do than prosecute me. I drove on for a bit so he wouldn't find my vehicle should he leave, and pulled off the road between some trees.

I got out of the car and opened the trunk, looking at the gear I had. I selected a green jacket and trousers along with heavy walking boots. I tied my long blonde hair in a bun and covered it with a woollen beanie. I grabbed my camera and lockpicks, and put a couple of honey-nut bars in my pocket in case it was a long stakeout. 

The walk through the woods was pleasant, and if I wasn't on the job it would have been a perfect day for a stroll through the trees. Sun shone down, dappling the ground, and the undergrowth wasn't too tricky. I'm fit and healthy too, and hiking is something of a hobby of mine. Unlike a lot of PIs I live pretty clean. Helps keep the mind sharp and the body sharper. 

Finally, I came to a clearing in which sat a cottage. It was two stories, and constructed to accommodate something much bigger than a human — perhaps cottage was the wrong word, but it definitely had been built to look like it was out of a fairy tale. Quaint, chimney with smoke coming out, arched doorways and thatched roof. Outside were two oversized cars, one of them Mr Bear's, the other I didn't recognise. I took a couple of snaps for the record and then settled down to watch. 

At about 10AM I saw Mr Bear leave with a cub and another adult — they headed into the woods and didn't take the cars. I figured they were going for a walk, and it seemed like it might be my best chance to see what was inside, where I hoped I'd find evidence of Mr Bear's unfaithfulness. I crept down to the house as soon as they were out of sight and sneaked to the front door. It was unlocked which saved me a little time. I guess you don't worry too much about security when you live in the middle of nowhere and can maul any intruders. I went inside cautiously, being sure to close the door behind me. I hoped I'd be in and out before anyone noticed my presence. The house was arranged around a central hall with doors to either side and a staircase at the far end.

Knowing that I might not have long, I went upstairs first. There were two bedrooms up there. In the first was a bed about the size of a human one, I figured that was for the cub. It was decorated in all sorts of colours, with toys and whatnot. Looked like a happy place for a kid. Nothing of interest for me there, except… there was a photo of Mr Bear next to the bed. I was beginning to get an idea of what was going on and it didn't look good for my client. I took a picture of it and moved onto bedroom two.

Two beds, pushed together, massive in size. I looked around quickly hoping for evidence. A giant wardrobe with men's and women's bear-sized clothing inside. On a dresser, next to a mirror was a new necklace box. It looked fancy. I opened it, and marvelled at the size of the stones in there. If diamonds are a girl's best friend the owner of this piece would never be lonely again. The necklace matched the description from the receipt Mrs Bear had seen. I wondered why there were two beds and felt them gingerly. One was soft, the other hard. I wondered whose was whose, but it didn't matter. I photographed the clothes, the beds, and the necklace, and moved on.

I hurried downstairs and through the door to my right. This was a generous living room with book cases, a fireplace, a television set, and three armchairs of varying sizes. Didn't seem terribly welcoming to me, and there were no pictures at all. A strange layout, but the longer I was here the higher the chance the bears would come back. 

I left the room and went across the hall. Now this was just weird. It was a dining room with a large table pushed up against the right wall, and three huge bowls of porridge. One was steaming a lot, the smallest one just a little, and the last not at all. My first thought was do bears even eat porridge?, but the proof is in the pudding and these bears obviously did. What worried me more was that with their meal cooling down they probably meant to do some eating soon. I pulled my gaze away from the table and looked around the room. On the wall to my left was another fireplace and a door through to another room. In front of me was a large window, letting in the daylight. 

Finally, on the wall to my right there was what I needed. Hanging above the table was a family photo portrait. There was Mr Bear standing proudly with a lady bear who was not Mrs Bear, and the cub, at the time the photo had been taken little more than a baby. I took a photo of it, and then just to capture the weirdness I snapped a couple of shots of the abandoned food.

I was just feeling satisfied with myself when my head was turned by the alarming sound of the handle of the front door being turned. My breath caught in my throat and I moved as quickly and quietly as I could to the door in the left wall, and found myself in their kitchen, which thankfully had a back door that led out into the woods. 

I heard the three bears enter the house. They were talking together about something to do with trees and what they had seen on their amble. In my line of work it doesn't pay to be clumsy, but everything in this house was bigger than I was used to and as I walked silently towards the door I bumped my foot on a ledge that wasn't quite where my foot expected it to be. It made an audible thump, and the bears went audibly quiet.

"Who's there?" called the cub, sounding nervous.

"I smell a thief," came a much louder, more angry voice, "come out, and maybe I'll go easy when I catch you." 

Mr Bear calling me out, I thought, and I didn't believe him for a second. My best bet was to get out of the house before they found me or I was a goner for sure. I was lucky I wasn't sleeping on the job or something, or they would have had me before I'd have even known it. Thankfully, the bears weren't too secretive about their plan.

"Baby, you stay here," said the third bear voice, "Mama's going to check upstairs and see if the thief's still up there. Papa, you check down here."

"You got it hon'," replied Mr Bear, "we'll find 'em." 

I waited, stock still, until I heard Mr Bear moving into the living room. I could hear him growling out swear words and picking up bits of furniture. I made my way gingerly but quickly to the back door and opened it only to hear the cub's childish purr behind me.

"I see you," said the cub, "and you look juuuust right. Even better than perfect porridge." 

I turned back, feeling chills going through me. Outrunning the cub wouldn't be a problem, but there was no way I was going to get through the woods to my car in a foot race against a single adult grizzly, let alone two. If the baby called for help, I was through. I put my finger to my lips and my mind raced. I could hear Mr Bear and Mama Bear still hunting through the rest of the house, overturning chairs and shouting threats.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a honey-nut bar.

"OK kid," I said quietly but clearly, "I know I look like a great snack to you, but I guarantee you'll like this more. I'm just gonna leave it here, and you're gonna let me go. If you call mama and papa they're not gonna let you have a treat like this…"

The cub tilted its head, thinking. It padded towards me and then reached out one paw for the honey-nut bar. I think it was smiling, but it was hard to tell through all the teeth. I handed it the bar, pulled out the second one, put it on the floor, and then turned and sprinted without looking to see what the bear would do. I had a narrow window of opportunity, and I wasn't going to waste it.

As the trees closed over my head, I was grateful for the effort I put into keeping in shape. It was probably the only thing keeping me alive.

***** *****

Mrs Bear was once again in my office, but this time she was seated on my sofa, which was just big enough for her. I had told her to sit down before I handed over the manila folder with the photos of Mr Bear's other family house.

"That goddamn liar," she snarled as she leafed through them, "well… he won't be sleeping in my bed any more."

I gave her a thin smile. "Sorry this was the answer," I said. It pays to be sorry when the client's suspicions are proved right.

"Here's your money Ms Lox," she said, giving me a baleful stare and pulling two rolls of bills out of her bag, "I don't think I ever got your first name?"

"I didn't give it," I answered, picking up the cash, "but most of my friends just call me Goldie."