“So you two are getting serious.” I reached for another donut.
“Yes. I can’t believe Lawrence set Bernie up like that. I guess I should have questioned him more at the time, but I was so hurt and angry that I just believed him.” She shrugged, looking festive in a green sweater over white linen pants. “He believed it, so I did as well. I wish I could just smack Lawrence in the face and yell at him. How dare he do that to us.”
I looked around. “Speaking of which, if he did that to Bernie, did he hurt or betray anybody else through the years?” From the sound of it, nothing held Lawrence back.
She sighed. “Not that I know of, but how would I know? This whole thing is shocking.” She winced. “I don’t mean to speak badly about the dead, but it wasn’t as if Lawrence was a mastermind of anything, you know? His first wife, God rest her soul, was the brains behind the bait and tackle shop. Lawrence was nice to look at and had a great package and moves in bed, but I can’t imagine he put together such a betrayal of Bernie. Of me, too.”
I stole a napkin from Bud to wipe off my fingers. “Do you think Hoyt helped him? That Hoyt created the plan?” The apartment they’d used had been utilized by Hoyt to gamble, so perhaps?
She reached for another donut. “I don’t know. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree on that one. Hoyt doesn’t seem like much of a mastermind.”
That had been my observation as well. I noted the different Santas. “That’s Doc Springfield over there, and Jocko Terezzi is near the gaming store. Where are the rest?”
Florence pointed to a Santa near the huckleberry treat store. “There’s Donald McLerrison, and Earl is up on the main stage right now. He’s doing a good job for his first gig, I think.” She pointed up at the main Santa. “It’s his turn to have kids give wishes and get their pictures taken.” We watched as one little boy smiled, and an elf helped him to the small slide that brought him back down to cotton batting in a bin. The kid giggled the whole way.
I couldn’t help but smile and noted that Bud did the same.
The choir switched to a rambunctious version of Little Drummer Boy.
“Donald McLerrison is the only Kringle I haven’t spoken with,” I said, putting my purse over my shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
It took me several moments to reach my favorite farmer by Kat’s Jewelry store, and he smiled widely when I appeared. “Howdy. What’s your wish for Christmas?” He handed me a candy cane.
“World peace and a chance to figure out my love life.” I took the treat. “Thanks. What did you get Oliver?” It was so cool that McLerrison had all but adopted Oliver Duck and taken him in to live on the farm.
“Oh, he wanted one of those X-boxes, and I figured why not? It’s not as great as working the farm, but the kid needs a break sometimes.”
That was sweet. A smell caught me, and I leaned toward him. Hey. What was that?
He pulled more candy canes from his jacket. “Any luck figuring out who killed Lawrence?”
“No. Do you think Bernie could’ve done it?”
McLerrison shook his head, and his Santa hat flopped to the side. The white fur on his uniform had turned a light gray, but he still looked authentic. “Bernie would never kill anybody, although, for Flo, it’d probably be worth it. I can’t believe Lawrence did such a horrible thing.”
What the heck was that smell? It was sweet and kind of minty. I’d smelled it before. “Do you know of any other horrible things Lawrence did to other people during his life?” I asked.
“Nope,” McLerrison said.
Bernie ambled over, carrying his bucket. “Do you want to relieve Earl, or should I? It’s one of our turns up on the stage, and they just barricaded the picture space for a ten-minute break.” His beard moved when he talked.
The same scent came from him, and my instincts started to hum. Sweet and minty. Then it hit me like a rock to the head. The man who’d shoved me against the brick wall had smelled like that. Like both of them. The man had wanted Bernie to fry. I stood a step back. “What is that smell?”
Bernie frowned beneath his beard. “Huh?”
“That smell. Kind of sweet and minty,” I whispered, my legs starting to shake.
McLerrison started. “Oh. That’s muscle relaxant. You’d be surprised how sore our shoulders get shaking a bell all day. Earl has it made special, and he shared with us earlier today. Gotta be honest, it does help.”
I slowly turned to look at Earl up on the platform in a brand new Santa uniform with a big round ball at the end of his shiny red hat. “Have you used it before today?”
“No.” Bernie followed my gaze. “I usually use Ben Gay, but Earl just got this stuff and said it was a miracle. It does feel good. Why?”
My mouth opened and closed. Why would Earl have tasered Bud and threatened me? Why would he want Bernie to go to prison? The older black and white pictures flashed through my brain. “Is Earl a strategic kind of guy?”
McLerrison snorted. “Who do you think came up with the hard rock mining plan for us all to get some money to start businesses? I heard you learned about our misspent youth.”
I pivoted to gain Bud’s attention. He was watching two women fight over a blouse on a sale rack. I gulped. “Way back when—before he started his jewelry store. Did Earl have a crush on Florence as well?”
We all looked up to see Earl eating a candy cane on his throne, his gaze riveted on Florence as she sat chatting with Bud.
“Yeah,” Bernie said slowly. “We all were in love with Flo. I think Earl asked her out a few times, and they went on a couple dates, but she still left town.”
McLerrison cocked his head. “I’d forgotten about that. Also, after you and Flo split, he asked her out again. Several times. But she decided to date Lawrence and ended up engaged. Well, until he was murdered.”
The choir moved on to a rock-like version of Silent Night.
Bernie’s mouth dropped open as he quickly caught up. “I knew Lawrence wasn’t smart enough to come up with that whole plan with Sharon Smith. I knew it.” He threw his bucket to the ground and coins rolled out. Kids ran from every direction, sliding on the tiled floor to gather up the money. He looked up at Earl. “You son of a bitch,” he yelled, launching into action and knocking me into McLerrison.
Pain flashed along my ribcage.
McLerrison dropped his bucket to catch me, keeping us both from falling into a glass wall.
Bernie huffed toward the fountain, candy canes falling from his pockets as he went.
Bud jumped up, looking frantically around.
I pushed free of McLerrison, ran after Bernie, my feet sliding through the candy canes and my arms windmilling to keep my balance. “Bernie, stop,” I yelled, trying to catch his Santa sleeve in my hand.
He shrugged me off. “I’m gonna kill you,” he bellowed, looking up.
Earl stood, panic in his eyes. The beard covered most of his face, and his suit was a little too long, going past his black boots. He looked wildly around.
Bernie ran toward the stairs, and two mall security guards blocked him, both looking confused.
People scrambled around, watching him, several getting out of the way. Bernie threw his gloves down to the ground, marching toward the fountain.
Bud rushed toward him and tripped on the gloves, grabbing for Bernie’s shoulder.
Bernie pivoted and shoved Bud in a surprisingly smooth motion, pushing the cop against the edge of the fountain. Almost in slow motion, Bud’s arms windmilled, and he fell backward right into the pool. Water splashed up in every direction, turning the white tiles green.
“Wait,” I yelled, rushing after Bernie.
Bernie jumped into the cotton batting and started roaring up the slide, using his hands and feet, his boots slipping and squeaking loudly.
Earl moved closer to the edge and pummeled Bernie with candy canes and what looked like rubber balls, hitting him in the head and shoulders.
Bernie swore in graphic detail, ducking his head and tryi
ng harder to get up the slide.
The choir sang louder, now belting out Santa Claus is Coming to Town. Their teacher looked over her shoulder at the ruckus and then moved her wand faster, no doubt wanting to keep the kids focused and not watching the mess. Their voices got louder and the tempo even faster as they switched into a wild version of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.
I clambered after Bernie, snatching his boot and pulling him down the slide. A candy cane hit me in the face and I snapped, shoving Bernie out of the way and climbing quickly. Unlike Bernie’s boots, mine had plenty of traction, and I also didn’t have a Santa suit holding me back.
Earl pelted red and green rubber balls at me, making me lose my grip. I slid back down and swore.
Bernie tried to catch my leg, but I kicked him away. Enough of this crap. Earl had tased Bud and scared me, and I was done with this. I climbed quickly, ducking and dodging the balls, reaching the top. Earl tried to kick me, and I grabbed his ankle, yanking hard.
He fell flat and emitted a loud and pained oof.
Coughing and swearing, I hitched up and crawled over him, grabbing his lapels and shaking him. “You tased my friend!”
“And he killed Lawrence,” Bernie yelled from down in the cotton batting.
That, too. Sucking in air, I stood and tried to haul Earl up with me.
Bud pushed past the two security guards, running up the stairs.
Earl stood and grabbed my arms, his eyes wild behind the Santa spectacles. “I love her,” he yelled.
Then he pulled a knife out of his pocket.
Time paused. Everything moved in slow motion. He stabbed toward my stomach, and I grasped his wrist, pivoting like Aiden had taught me and forcing Earl to drop the blade.
He screamed, captured me in a bear hug, and then propelled us both off the high stage.
Chapter 37
The fall down felt like it took an eternity, although it had to be only twelve feet. I screamed, panicked as I flew through the air. I hit first, flat on my back, and he landed on top of me. The wind whooshed out of my lungs, and pain exploded down my back. It took me a second to realize that we’d landed in the cotton batting.
He shoved off me, and I grabbed for him. The bastard punched me in the cheekbone, and I lost it, punching up at his face with all that I had, my vision cloudy.
Bud yanked him away and flipped him around to quickly cuff, shoving him toward the security guards. “Watch him.” Then he turned and crouched down, leaning over me. “Hold still. What hurts?”
Everything hurt. “Not sure.” I breathed deep, thankful I could fill my lungs, shutting my eyes.
Bud ran his hands down my legs, over my torso, and then my arms. “Don’t any feel breaks. Start with your legs and slowly start moving.”
I blinked and looked up to see not only Bud but several Santa Clauses and Florence staring down at me. The choir moved into a song about Rudolf, and the absurdity of the entire afternoon hit me. I started laughing. Hard and fast, I laughed, tears streaming down my aching face.
Florence frowned. “I think she’s concussed.”
“Move. Your. Body,” Bud said, his voice clipped.
Doc Springfield pushed him aside and knelt next to me, his authentic beard really making him look like Santa. “Stop laughing.”
I stopped laughing.
He leaned closer and looked into my eyes. “Does your head hurt?”
“Not really,” I whispered. “My face hurts.”
He nodded. “You’re going to have a heck of a shiner. On the other side of the one that’s almost gone, too. It’s a pity.” He gingerly probed my shoulders. “Any neck pain?”
“No.” I wiggled my legs and feet and then moved to my arms and hands. I frowned. “I think I’m okay.” The cotton batting had probably saved my bones from certain breaks.
“Vision clear?” he asked.
I looked up at the concerned senior citizens looking down at me. “Yeah.” Slowly, I moved to sit, letting him help me. The world remained stable and not swirling around me. “My hips hurt a little, but nothing I can’t handle.”
His eyebrows rose. “Let’s see if you can stand.”
I held his hands and stood, my stance set. Then I rolled my neck and shoulders. “I’m okay.” Thank goodness we’d hit the cotton and not the tile floor.
“Oh, you’re going to hurt tomorrow,” Doc Springfield said. “Nothing is broken, though. But you should ice anywhere it hurts, including your face, and take ibuprofen. It wouldn’t be a bad idea for you to take a vacation.” He kept my hand and assisted me out of the tub of cotton.
Food coloring from the fountain had turned Bud’s buzz-cut hair a dark green, and even the skin on his neck looked holiday-themed. He moved for Earl and jerked the hat and beard off his head. “You don’t deserve to wear these,” he muttered.
“Amen to that,” Jocko snapped. “You are officially out of the Kringle Club, Earl Jacobsen!”
Earl hung his head and looked at Florence. “I love you, Flo. Have my entire life. Why didn’t you give me a chance?”
Her hands shook when she clasped them in front of her stomach. “You killed Lawrence. Murdered him.”
Earl blinked. “He took advantage of me. It was all my idea—with Sharon Smith. Oh, Lawrence knew her and set it up, but I created the entire plan. Then he wooed you and got you to fall in love with him. He betrayed me.”
“So you killed him?” I asked.
Earl shook his head, tears in his eyes. “It was an accident. I doubled back after we’d left the night of the poker game and just wanted to threaten him. I waved the knife to scare him, telling him that Florence was mine. He fought back, and things went south.”
Right. “You stabbed him in the back,” I snapped, twisting my hips. Yep. I was gonna hurt in the morning.
Earl’s mouth opened and closed. “I want a lawyer.”
“It’s a little late for that,” I said. “But you go ahead. Find yourself a lawyer.” It sure as heck wasn’t going to be me.
Florence moved into Bernie’s embrace. “You were so brave to go after him like that.”
Bernie beamed, looking like the proudest Santa on the planet. “To think the time together that we lost because of him.” He hugged her close. “We’ll be okay now, Florence. I promise.”
Bud looked me over. “I have to take this guy in, and you’re coming with me. Front seat. Right?”
“Yes.” I gingerly stepped over spilled green water. I probably needed to make a statement for the record anyway.
In the background, the choir switched to Winter Wonderland.
I finished wrapping all of my Christmas presents, wanting to keep my body in motion for as long as possible. As soon as I relaxed and tried to lie down, I’d stiffen up from my fall with evil Santa. I was working on the bar between my kitchen and the living room while Aiden finished working through case files on the table, still having taken it over.
My cousin had arrived earlier to get his dog, and I wondered if I should get a pet of my own.
It was after nine at night, and we’d had a nice dinner of takeout pizza with Aiden’s team, whom I liked very much. They’d all left about an hour before, more than ready to work the next day, even though it was Sunday. I felt a kinship and warmth for this family Aiden had somehow put together while also pretending to be other people and being in danger the entire time.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, not looking up from his notes.
“Like I could use more ibuprofen,” I admitted, reaching for the icepack for my face again. The new bruise was a deep purple, looking all the worse compared to the light yellow one on my other cheekbone. I was at least an hour away from being able to take any more medication.
He glanced up, studying my face. “I’m not taking very good care of you.”
My grin felt lopsided because half of my face was frozen from the ice. “Not sure that’s your job, Ace.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said quietly. Then his gaze landed o
n my large stack of presents. “How do you keep everyone straight?”
I shrugged. “We usually just buy for our immediate family and have a drawing outside of that. Well, except for Lacey and Pauley—and friends. I don’t know. I should make a list.” Then I stared at him. “What about you?” The grandparents who’d taken him in while he was a teenager in Silverville had passed away. “Do you buy presents for your team?”
“No,” he said. “Well, not really. Sometimes we give gag gifts, but we’ve been too busy the last few years.”
“Do any of them have family?”
He nodded. “They all do—though nobody is married.”
“What have you done for the holidays since you left Silverville?” I asked, feeling for him. With my huge family, I couldn’t imagine not having anybody expecting me to be there during the holidays.
He shrugged. “Sometimes I’ve gone home with Saber to his family farm in Wyoming, and other times I’ve been with a girlfriend, or I’ve just worked. If I’ve been undercover at the time, I played whatever part I’d created.”
“Sounds lonely,” I murmured.
“Yeah.” He looked at the colorful wrapping paper again. “I guess so, but I didn’t realize it until now.”
I rubbed my chest. “I signed your name to my presents,” I blurted out.
He focused back on me. “Okay?”
I winced. “I didn’t know if I should or not, or where we were right now, but since you’re coming to the festivities, I figured you’d be covered?” Of course, with my family, that might be a declaration of something that wasn’t happening with us. Yet. If ever. “I don’t know. Was that a mistake?”
“No,” he said, stacking the case files. “But should I pay you for half or something?”
“No,” I hastened to say. This was awkward. Was it? Yeah, definitely. I might’ve overstepped, or maybe we should have that talk, but Jareth Davey was over our shoulders right now, and I couldn’t get my feet beneath me. My head and back hurt, and the ibuprofen had worn off, and I didn’t want to deal with emotions right now. Plus, if I was honest with myself, I didn’t know what I wanted to say yet. I sighed.
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