Crimes Most Merry and Albright

by Larissa Reinhart

  "Whatever," I said, resorting to a favorite comeback from my eponymous character Julia Pinkerton. Who was, after all, a teen detective. Even though I was twenty-five and should use more adult responses.

  I waited in line at the Dixie Kreme Donut stall while Nash located an empty bench on the lake path. I lost sight of him when crowds passed between us. Which happened fairly often. The donut line crept and my attempts to move forward were halted by snarling adults intent on getting their caffeine and sugar fix.

  Rising on my toes, I tried to see through the crowd to the lake. Nash’s brown fedora popped into view, but I couldn't see if anyone had joined him.

  "Hey, Maizie," said a voice as smooth and deep as hot buttered rum. Similar to Morgan Freeman's. Total ASMR to my ears.

  I turned from my Nash-watch to the open window in the wooden stall decorated with pine boughs. Inside an older African American man in a ski cap, scarf, and thick quilted coat leaned on the counter. He handed me a cup of coffee. "I thought you were watching little Remi while Boomer and Carol Lynn were in Brunswick."

  "Something came up." I glanced around, nervous to speak about the death necklace in public. "We had unexpected…and unwanted visitors. Remi and the dogs are with friends while Nash and I try to figure out what's going on."

  "I heard." He leveled me with a look. "Did quite a job on Boomer's cabin, too. The police aren't interested in pursuing the suspect?"

  "They have an APB out on their vehicle and descriptions. But—"

  "A lot of work with a limited force. It's that time of year. Car accidents, fires, and domestic disturbances take top billing." His brows rose, and he gave me a half-smile. "You know why the culprits wanted what they wanted?"

  I shook my head. "It seems so crazy. Two groups interested in the same thing. And after all this time…"

  "That would make me wonder, why now? Did the interest of one party spur on the involvement of the other?"

  "That's a good point, Lamar."

  "Possibly one reacting to the other." He handed me a sugar packet for my coffee, smiling at the next customer but still speaking to me. "Like a bidding war."

  A bidding war over a movie prop? They sold bullet necklaces at Comic-Con. "Maybe Nash will learn something." I looked down the hill but the crowd milling before the shopping arcade blocked my view. "I should go."

  "I've got a donut for you. Just a minute." Lamar moved to the back of the stall. Returning he passed me a pumpkin spice. "As soon as I sell out here, I'm on my way to my sister's house in Atlanta. I'll wish you a Happy New Year's now." He leaned forward. "Be careful, Maizie."

  "Thanks, Lamar." I waved the donut at him, moved away, and stopped at a barista table to set down my coffee. Inside the donut's napkin was a receipt. I took a bite of the donut and glanced at the slip where Lamar had written, "Manganoid" and "50K."

  I knew Manganoid as an indie studio that mainly did sci-fi and superhero movies. Was Ms. Wonderly working for the production studio and fifty thousand the amount they were willing to pay for it? Why would a studio pay that much money for a prop they could make?

  But the real burning question was the amount of the finder’s fee that Nash would have gotten from fifty thousand dollars.

  My stomach soured. I tossed the coffee, already feeling jittery. Even the donut tasted like paste. Well, not quite paste. More like airy pumpkin spice with a light crunch. A holiday food miracle. But hard to enjoy during all the possible betrayal happening with the man I thought I loved.

  Still loved. I sniffled. But I had been in love before. Depending on the costar. I played the screwed-over ingenue more times than I wanted to count. In real life. Betrayal was as much a part of dating for me as dinner and a movie. Was Nash just another costar crush, and I now faced the ugly reality of who he was? Someone who'd take a hefty kickback from gaining a symbolic movie prop from the woman he allegedly loved?

  Although he had not told me he loved me, had he? At least not with words…

  My chest hurt from this revelation. I needed to speak to Lamar, to see if he was warning me about Nash's motives or just reporting facts. I did have a bad habit of jumping to conclusions. But I didn’t want to stand in line again and Lamar seemed in a hurry to leave. Maybe it was better to confront Nash with the evidence.

  I shoved the receipt into my pocket. A gust of wind blew over the lake and I shivered, hunching my shoulders inside my puffy coat. Black Pine Mountain loomed across the lake. An icy mist surrounded the peaks, making the mountain appear slightly sinister and foreboding. Smoke from the fire pits whipped through the crowd. I waved it away, coughing. The chatter of people around me and shouting of children grew louder. Ahead of me, a couple argued. Still blinking the smoke from my eyes, I spied an elf leaning against the side of a stall, sipping off a flask. I felt his eyes on me and as I passed, he slipped from between the stalls to walk behind me.

  The crowds pressed in and suddenly the Winter Market didn't seem so festive.

  At a wide space between stalls, I rose on my toes, trying to see over shoppers' heads to the park bench where I’d last spotted Nash. I couldn't see his dark brown fedora.

  My heart galloped. Had he gone somewhere with Ms. Wonderly? Sold me out like a holiday s'more?

  A family passed and the mother's purse whacked me, jostling me off my toes. I tripped. A hand jerked me back before I fell into a group of teenagers.

  "Hey," I cried and clutched the front of my coat, ready to protect the necklace.

  "Gotcha." Nash's hat rode low, hiding his features, and he'd pulled up his jacket collar. Tucking my arm through his, he moved us through the crowded market. He lowered his voice. "Anything from Lamar?"

  "He'd heard about the trouble at the cabin. That's all." I didn't want to confront him in this crowd. Somewhere private where I could watch his face. And possibly cry if my suspicions rang true. "Did you see your client?"

  Nash kept his eyes on the crowd in front of us and spoke in a low murmur. "A kid came up to me. Handed me a note that told me to watch out for Gentz. It also said I should turn up with the merchandise at the office by five this evening."

  "A kid?"

  "Just a messenger. She didn't show for some reason." Nash glanced at me. "What's the matter?"

  "Can't you call Ms. Wonderly? To tell her you don't have the necklace?"

  "Sure." He slid his arm out from mine and circled it around my waist. A non-Nash thing to do in public. Normally I would enjoy the PDA. Today I found it extra suspicious but decided to play along. "Let's get out of here. I'll take you back to your friend's house and then I'll head to the office."

  "Back to Tiffany's?" I stopped walking. "But we don't know anything."

  "The police know about Gentz. He doesn't know your friends, so y'all are safe. And after five, Gentz will leave."

  "Why?"

  "Because Ms. Wonderly will have the necklace."

  Eight

  #NoElfinWay

  "What?" I cried. Sliding out from his arm, I turned to face him. Despite the frosty air blowing from the lake, my face felt hot. "You're not serious."

  Nash shoved his hands in his pockets. "Doesn't it seem like the best option? Let them handle Gentz." His eyes flit from mine to skim the crowd. "I don't like the thought of it at the cabin where someone else can turn up and threaten you."

  "You don't know anything about Ms. Wonderly's boss." I folded my arms. "How much are they paying you?"

  "Let's talk about this in the truck." Nash glanced over his shoulder.

  A man carrying a large package shouldered his way between us, followed by his family. I stepped back to let them pass and spotted a small figure in a pink, puffy camouflage coat ducking between stalls. My stomach burbled heat into my chest. I wanted to vomit and faint at the same time.

  Remi had a camo puffy coat.

  Spinning away from Nash, I ran toward the alley between stalls. Pulling out my phone, I dialed Tiffany.

  "Is Remi there?" I panted.

  "We're fixing her a plate rig
ht now," said Tiffany. "Stop it, Rhon—"

  A clatter hurt my ear. I darted out of the alley and found a café filled with families drinking cocoa and hot mulled wine. "Hello?"

  "Hey Maizie," said Rhonda. "Whatcha doing?"

  I didn't want to accuse my BFF's of being negligent, however, I knew Remi all too well. "Do you see Remi, Rhonda? Like right now. With your eyes?"

  "Hang on. We're in the kitchen. She was watching TV with the dogs."

  My phone was yanked from my hand. I felt something hard press against my back. I flicked a glance over my shoulder. An elf stared down, his eyes menacing. The object in my back pressed harder, and I sucked in a breath. "Is that a gun?" I squeaked.

  "Come with me. Nothing funny." He yanked on my arm and we spun toward a stall. Pushing me inside, he locked the door and released the shutter. It banged shut. The stall was filled with wreaths, smelling of wet pine, like woods on a snowy evening. But without the pleasant solitude, thanks to the elf with the gun.

  "Who are you?" My voice trembled. "Besides Santa's helper, I mean."

  The elf stood before the door. One hand held my phone and the other, the flask he'd been sipping from earlier. No gun, but he did have pockets. Bright green on a background of red and white stripes. Very festive, considering.

  "How much is he willing to pay?" The elf shoved the flask into a pocket.

  "Who?"

  "HG."

  "I don't know HG." I edged toward the stall window. "And I'm not sure what you're talking about."

  "Don't give me that, lady. Look, we'll pay more. Think of it as a late Christmas gift."

  "Lady?" The elf wasn't from around here. If he was, he'd say "girl," "hon'," or "miss" in his menacing tone devoid of accent. Or "ma'am," if he felt more polite. "You're not a Black Pine elf. Who do you work for?"

  "You said it yourself," the elf sneered, "Santa."

  I pressed my weight onto my left foot and slid it forward a few inches. "Santa would never hire an elf with bad manners."

  "Guess you never saw Bad Santa."

  This dude was an actor and doing a terrible job of improvisation. And I was fairly certain he'd stuck the flask in my back, pretending it was a gun. Probably stolen from a movie clip. If he really wanted to play the part well, he should use the bale of wreath wire to tie me up, then torture me for the information I didn't have.

  Hello, Maizie. A little disturbing your mind had gone there.

  However, the elf did have my phone. And that was an issue because I needed to apologize for hanging up on my babysitters.

  But first, who in the hellsbah was HG?

  "Listen, elf," I said, adopting Warhead Girl's gruff, snarly voice. "You tell me what I want to know, and I'll let you out of this beautifully scented wreath stall without harm."

  "Oh, yeah?" His eyes narrowed, and he pushed his jingly cap back to a rakish angle. The elf was getting into his tough-guy character. Evidently, he needed an improv partner to spark his creativity. "You and what army?"

  This guy was terrible.

  "My army of four." A line from Kung Fu Kate. Which I had starred in as a preteen. But lines from a kid show seemed to be on par with this guy's level of craft.

  I raised two fists, planted my left foot, and delivered a roundhouse kick with my right. This time it connected. My foot slammed into the elf's chest and my phone popped out of his hand. I scooped up the phone while he leaned over, retching.

  "You tell your boss that I'm not selling," I growled. "And that's what you get for taking nips in a family-friendly environment."

  I scrambled around him and shoved through the door. Stumbling out into the crowd, I felt another hand grip me and yank me to my feet. I screamed and looked up.

  Nash.

  "Come on," he said. "Gentz is here."

  Nine

  #TroubleInPumpkinSpice

  We pushed through the crowd, glancing over our shoulders.

  "Nash," I said. "An elf shoved me into a shop, demanding to know what HG is willing to pay for the necklace. Who is HG?"

  "I've got no clue." Nash sucked in a breath. "I think I see Gentz."

  We ducked around the side of a cocoa stall and hid behind the line of customers.

  "An elf grabbed you?" said Nash. "Like an elf, elf?"

  "Never mind that." I pulled out my phone. "I need to call the girls. I thought I saw Remi."

  Nash mopped his brow. "How can—"

  "It's Remi. Who knows?" The phone clicked as Rhonda answered. "Sorry about earlier. An elf—never mind. Is Remi there? I thought I saw her here."

  "You hung up on us for an elf?" said Rhonda.

  "Technically he hung up on you. Is Remi there?"

  "That's okay then. For what we're doing for you, girl…"

  "I know, I know. The dogs alone."

  "Anyway," said Rhonda. "You had us worried, so we checked on her and she's asleep."

  "Asleep?"

  "In Tiffany's bed. Poor kid, all that earlier excitement must have worn her out. All curled up under the covers."

  I'd not known Remi to willingly sleep at any time of the day or night, but Rhonda could be right. It wasn't every day she was attacked in her own home. I released a long breath. "Thank goodness. Things are getting weirder by the minute here."

  "Your dogs are getting weirder by the minute. Do you know how high they can jump?"

  "Jack Russells are very bouncy dogs." My eyes narrowed, spotting one of Gentz's minions. Oddjob. Nash pulled off his hat, laid a hand on my arm, and we shrank against the cocoa stand. "I'll check in later. We've got the bad guys in our sights."

  "Oh," breathed Rhonda. "Your life is so exciting. But I'm eating sour patch Christmas candy in my comfies and watching Bridget Jones’s Diary, so things are good here, too. I love me some Colin Firth.”

  "Excellent." I snapped the phone shut. An advantage of not being able to afford a smartphone. Touching a home button doesn't have the same endorphin release as a clamshell click.

  "Do you think they followed us?" I whispered.

  "Or they found out I was meeting our client." Nash's eyes trailed the henchman's movement.

  Oddjob had his hands tucked inside his trench coat's pockets. Like he was hiding something rather than warming his fingers.

  "You think he's packing?" I said. "Carrying heat?"

  Nash looked at me. "What character are you doing?"

  I sighed. "The elf's. He really needs to work on his craft."

  "It's hard to say, but I'd think he'd more likely carry in a shoulder or belt holster than in a pocket. Maybe his hands are cold."

  "That makes sense."

  The henchman moved in a slow circle, searching the crowds. As he pivoted toward us, we ducked to hide behind the cocoa line. A little girl pulled on her mother's arm and pointed at us.

  Looking at the girl, I smiled and placed a finger to my lips. "We're hiding," I whispered to her then leaned toward Nash. "Do you think this HG could be Ms. Wonderly's boss?"

  "Possibly," said Nash. "Or a third party. She sent a kid with the message, not an elf."

  Gentz's man moved on. We slid to the edge of the cocoa stall and peeked behind it.

  "Let's get out of here." Nash pulled on my hand and I yanked it back.

  "Just a minute. Before I go anywhere with you, I need to know your intentions."

  "My intentions?" Nash gaped. "You want to do this now? We've got a shot to get out of here before Gentz sees us."

  "What percentage are you getting for the necklace?"

  "Maizie, I told you—"

  "You didn't tell me anything. Look at this." I reached into my pocket to pull out the receipt. Nothing. Rummaged deeper. Checked the other pocket. "It's not here. Someone stole it."

  "Stole what?"

  "The receipt Lamar gave me."

  "For a donut?" Nash gave an exasperated sigh. "We need to go. Now."

  "No, it was information for me."

  "You said Lamar didn't know anything."

  "I lied." I curled my lip
. "Manganoid's paying fifty thousand. How much are they paying you?"

  "You're kidding?" Nash's eyes narrowed. "You'd think I'd let some…whatever that is, buy me off? The whole thing is stupid. It's a piece of junk any idiot can make with a box of four-forty-fours."

  "Stupid to you, but not to my father. I didn't bring home art projects as a kid. All I could offer him were review copies and headshots." Tears welled in my eyes. "This was one of the few pieces of movie property he found remotely interesting. It hung on his tree. That makes it special."

  "Okay, I'm sorry," he hissed. "Can we go now?"

  I blinked back the tears. "How can I trust you?"

  "Because it's me?" His face pinched. "What are you saying?"

  "I'm worried you might just be another costar, ready to sell me out for a better offer." I whirled away, stalking past the cocoa line.

  And barreled right into Gentz.

  Ten

  #PortaNotty

  "Miss Albright, so good to see you again," said Gentz in his heavy accent. Grabbing my hand, he slid it through his elbow. "We need to talk."

  "Don't even try me," I shouted, yanking my arm free. "Nash. It's Gentz."

  "You won't scream. I have this." He pressed something hard against my side.

  I glanced down and gasped. His hand was wrapped in a bandage and he didn't hold a flask. Nor did it look like a prop gun. Gentz was not Hollywooding. "Isn't that a little extreme?"

  "The last time we encountered you, you sicced a pack of wild dogs on me and set a tree on fire."

  "They're not really a pack," I said shakily. Who was I kidding? The Jacks were one step from The Call of the Wild. "And you'd invaded our house? Hello? Self-defense?"

  Oddjob wrapped his beefy arm around my waist. My puffy jacket squeezed out on either side of his arm, like a split can of biscuit dough. My scarf rose, almost covering my eyes. The men heaved, lifting me, dragging my feet above the ground. Cutting through the crowd, they sped toward the parking lot.