"No Santa hunting till tomorrow, I guess," I said glumly as I popped a macaroon into my mouth. "If I'm still around tomorrow, that is."
Josie raised an eyebrow as she bent over the vanilla sugar cookies, pastry bag in hand, and created perfect swirls of fudge on top. "Stop saying that. You're having a baby, not dying."
"I'm talking about prison. Hard, iron cells. Having my baby on the cold, dirty floor with no one to help me. And what if the baby needs medical attention? They'd let me scream all night with no help."
Josie clucked her tongue. "That imagination of yours has always been vivid, but now that you're pregnant, it's off the charts. First off, you're not going to prison. Second, that scenario would never happen. They'd at least take you to the infirmary to have the baby."
"Well, that's a big improvement," I said tartly.
"I was arrested once, remember?" Josie asked. "Your sister would have you out on bail within five minutes. But you don't have to worry because that's not going to happen. It would be your word against Magnolia's, and who would believe her? She had a motive to kill Damian, and she knew he was cheating on her. Plus, she found his body. Isn't that a bit too convenient?"
"I didn't find out anything about Damian's other girlfriend or Farley's ex who died." I blew out a sigh. "My sleuthing skills have vanished."
Josie grinned. "It's all those pregnancy hormones, Nancy Drew. They fool with even the most airtight minds. No worries. I have the entire day off to hunt Santa with you tomorrow. One way or another, we'll find those Jolly-less jerks."
* * *
"But I thought you went to the mall yesterday," Mike said. It was ten o'clock on Sunday morning, and he was still in bed, which was a rarity for him. He'd complained that he might be coming down with a mild case of the flu. This had happened last week too. My grandmother told me this was common for fathers-to-be, and Mike was probably looking for some extra attention. Grandma Rosa was usually right on the money, but I was convinced that she was wrong this time.
Josie's horn honked from outside. I went to the window and held up a finger for her to wait a minute. After wrapping a wool coat around my cumbersome body, I leaned down to kiss my husband on the forehead. "No, plans changed when Dodie twisted her ankle. We won't be gone long. Josie wants to see Santa." And so do I.
He narrowed his eyes. "You're taking those demon kids of hers?"
"No. And they're not demons—they're sweet little boys."
"Right," he mocked and covered his eyes with his arm. "I babysat those terrors once, remember? At least our child won't be like that."
Oh brother. "No, I'm sure he or she will be perfect," I teased.
"I was hoping you'd stay home with me today." He uncovered his eyes and looked up at me with a pitiful expression. "I'll miss you."
Someone was looking for attention. Smiling, I rubbed his tousled dark head and spoke soothingly. "Don't worry. I won't be long. And I'll make you something special for dinner when I get home."
His face brightened. "Pasta fagioli?"
"Sure." Maybe my grandmother had some in her freezer. Or I could always pick up a couple of cans at the grocery store. Gee whiz, didn't he remember who he was married to? "You've been working too hard." I kissed him on the mouth, sorry for ever second-guessing my grandmother, and ran my hands down his smooth, muscular chest. He groaned.
"Okay, I'm starting to feel better. Tell Josie you've changed your mind." His eyes twinkled at me.
I laughed. "You get some rest. You never know when this little guy is going to have us on our way to the hospital. Then there will be lots of sleepless nights ahead of us."
He grabbed my hand and kissed it. "I can't wait, Sal."
"Me too." The horn sounded again. "I'll see you in a couple of hours. Love you."
"Be careful," he called after me.
There was no snow predicted for today, but the wind was in full force, whipping through my coat as I lumbered down the sidewalk and got into Josie's warm van.
"I see that baby is still sleeping on the job," Josie said cheerfully. "Hey, little dude or dudette, are you ever coming out to meet your Aunt Josie?"
"I'm starting to wonder the same thing myself. So, what's our game plan?" I fussed with the seat belt, stretching it as far as I could and wondering how big this baby was going to be.
Josie took a left off my street. "I checked the mall schedule online. Santa's there all today and tomorrow. I thought we'd walk up and down the concourse and see if any of his helpers looked suspicious. Maybe I should have brought one of the kids so that we could get in line to meet the real deal."
"I doubt the Santa hired to greet kids would be one of my carjackers." Call me crazy, but I couldn't imagine those gun-toting psychos being good with children.
Josie scanned the parking lot of the mall. "Man, it's jam-packed today. The last weekend before Christmas is always crazy. I think we should stop over at the costume shop too. Maybe they'd give us a list of people who rented Santa suits lately?"
I held back a laugh. "Why would they do that? Unless they thought we were cops."
"Yeah, I guess that scenario might not work for us, especially with you about to go into labor."
Josie walked swiftly toward the entrance, and I struggled to keep up. The wind left me gasping for breath, and my movements were clumsy and awkward. The baby seemed to have dropped since last night, which I knew meant he or she might come soon. I'd been so looking forward to the moment, but with everything going on, maybe it would be better if he or she stayed put for a few more days, or at least until I could prove my innocence.
A Santa Claus was standing inside the entranceway doors, ringing a bell with a Salvation Army kettle in front of him. I examined him carefully as I dropped a dollar in his red kettle. He wasn't the same one we'd seen here on Friday. This man had a pure white beard and blue eyes, while both Jolly-less Santas had brown eyes. He grinned when he noticed me staring. "Merry Christmas, ma'am."
"Merry Christmas," I repeated. When he was out of earshot, I grabbed Josie's arm. "Scratch him off the list. Have you ever seen a Santa suit with a cream-colored beard?"
She pondered my question. "It's not something I've ever thought about before, but now that you mention it, no. Rob played Santa for the kids last year. We borrowed the suit from his coworker. It said Dry Clean Only on the label. I suppose if you washed it by hand or put certain parts in the washing machine, it might discolor."
"Maybe. I don't know why I'm so obsessed with the beard. That song from my childhood keeps running through my head. It goes, 'Who's got a beard that's long and white? Santa's got a beard that's long and white.'"
"I know that song. It's called 'Must Be Santa,'" Josie said. "And it doesn't say anything about having a cream-colored beard."
"Oh, whatever," I grumbled.
"It may be a lead for us," Josie said thoughtfully as we walked through the concourse and toward the customer service area. Even though it was still morning, there was already a long line of waiting parents and children. Santa was seated in his big red chair, with Mrs. Claus at his side, taking pictures and handing out candy canes.
"Want to get in line?" Josie teased.
"How? We don't have any kids with us."
Josie's gaze rested on my stomach. "Well, if you could talk that kid of yours into making a hasty appearance, we'd be all set."
"Ha-ha. I'm waiting for it to happen during Gianna's wedding." I watched as Santa lifted a pretty little girl of about six or seven onto his lap. She had long honey-colored braids that hung over her shoulders and blue eyes that shone wide in delight. My heart melted at the sight of her, and I recalled what Mike had said the other night about Christmas and believing in Santa. He was right. I couldn't hold a personal grudge against the big red man just because of what had happened to me.
"Peppermints," I said out loud.
Josie wrinkled her nose. "What?"
"One of the Jolly-less Santas smelled like peppermints. Maybe they had a stash of candy canes on them.
" I pointed at the silver bowl next to Santa that Mrs. Claus was reaching into. She handed one to the little girl, who started to jump up and down with excitement. "I don't think that's our guy."
"How can you be sure?" Josie asked.
"His beard is snow white. And look how good he is with the kids."
Josie raised her eyebrows. "Hey. Check it out. There goes another Mr. Ho Ho Ho."
Santa Claus's twin was walking north, back toward the main entrance. Josie was right. This mall was clearly in the business of cloning Santa. How many helpers did the real one need?
There was something familiar about this Santa as he walked, but I couldn't be positive what it was. This Santa had no padding and, as a result, was a much slimmer six-foot version. His shoulders were broad, and he walked with a proud, definitive swagger about him.
My heart started to knock against the wall of my chest. The Jolly-less Santas had also been tall, and without padding. "He could be one of them. Can you see his beard?"
She grabbed my hand. "Stop with the beard stuff. Come on. Let's follow him. I've got a weird feeling about this guy too."
I struggled to keep up with her. "Slow down!" I pleaded. "I'm not exactly a lightweight these days!" The baby gave a sharp kick and distracted me. I shook my hand loose from Josie's tight grip. "You go ahead. I can't walk that fast."
Josie stopped in front of me and swore under her breath. "Oh my God. Look at that, Sal!"
Santa had stopped for a drink at the water fountain. He was holding something in his left hand—a clear plastic bag. I squinted. "What's in it?"
"He's got a fortune cookie and gingerbread men in there!" Josie said excitedly. "My gingerbread men, to be exact!"
I placed a hand on my rock-hard belly. What a great time for a contraction. "If those have strawberry icing, he's got to be our guy. Remember, not all of the cookies you made that day were found with Damian's body."
"This is too much of a coincidence," Josie insisted. "And the shop is closed today. He's got to be one of them. Let me at that creep."
I tried to pull her back. "Whoa. What are you going to do? Waylay Santa in front of the entire mall? Let's follow him for a little while and see where he goes."
Josie squared her shoulders, as if prepared to do battle, and I knew I'd lost this argument. "Forget it," she said. "You stay here. I'll take care of everything."
"Jos, wait!" Another contraction hit me, and I was forced to watch as she walked swiftly toward Mr. Claus, who was now talking to a little girl and her mother. Josie ran up to him and grabbed him by the arm. When he turned around, I sucked in a breath. Shoot. Now I knew what was familiar about the man. With a sinking feeling of dread, I started toward them.
"Not so fast, Santa baby." Josie kept hold of his arm. "We know who you really are."
The woman and little girl gave Josie a funny look and hurried away. Santa glared at Josie but said nothing. My mouth went dry when Santa's angry eyes turned to meet mine and instant recognition set in. "Uh, Jos, I think we're making a mistake here."
"There's no thinking about it," a familiar male voice answered. "Of course, with you two, thinking sometimes is an afterthought. Can you guess who I am, Mrs. Sullivan?"
"Oh crap," Josie said miserably, realizing her error. This was not one of the Jolly-less Santas we were looking for. This Santa was incognito. And mad as hell.
Green eyes with golden flecks in them met mine and were filled to the brim with anger. "You two have some explaining to do," Brian said hotly.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Brian took Josie and me each by an arm and guided us out of the way of mall traffic. I was almost positive that I could see steam pouring out of his ears.
We were standing in front of the Lindt store, with the smell of freshly made chocolate hitting my nose like a distinct perfume. I closed my mouth to make sure I wasn't drooling and then tried to focus on what Brian was saying. It was hard to keep a straight face when you were getting reamed by Santa Claus.
"You two never give up," he growled. "All right, let's have it. What are you doing here? And don't tell me it's last-minute Christmas shopping."
Josie stuck her chin out in defiance. "We could ask you the same thing, you know. What are you doing impersonating Santa? I thought you were done with this case."
Brian's face turned the same color as his suit. "Sorry, but I'm a police officer, so I get to ask the questions. Maybe I should have you both arrested for interfering with a police investigation. It's been a long time coming."
"Not funny, Brian," I retorted. "Especially in light of what's happened to me the last couple of days."
"Yeah." Josie tossed her head arrogantly. "You should be used to us by now anyway."
Brian swore and shook his head. "Why am I even wasting my breath with you two? It's hopeless."
I pointed at the package of cookies in his hand. "Those are our gingerbread men. The shop isn't open today, so when we saw you carrying them—"
"You immediately jumped to conclusions, like you always do." Brian scowled and took off his Santa hat, running a hand through his dirty blond hair in frustration. "If you must know, a little girl brought them for me. She said that she wanted to give me cookies now, in case I had too many to eat on Christmas Eve. Then she told me that they came from her favorite bakery in the whole world—Sally's Samples."
I beamed with pride. "Oh, that's so sweet."
Josie's eyes scanned the mall. "Where is this kid? We could use her for publicity. The shop hasn't exactly been doing well the last couple of days, especially since Sal's considered a murder suspect."
"One last time," Brian said in a somewhat strangled tone. "What are you both doing here?"
I gave in. "Oh, fine. We're looking for the Jolly-less Santas. From your getup, I'm guessing that you're doing the same thing."
Brian was silent for a beat before answering. Maybe he was counting to ten in his head, an attempt to keep from strangling us. "It's entirely possible. But the fact remains that you two have no business being here."
My temper flared. "Oh, come off it. What did you expect me to do, Brian? You said you were taking yourself off the case. You're the only one at the station who's always had my back. Was I supposed to wait until someone identified me going into Damian's building the night he was murdered? And then what—you come and arrest me while I'm in the delivery room?"
Brian and Josie both stared at me with a puzzled expression. "Sal, what are you talking about?" she asked.
That damned dream again. Heat crept up my neck. "Nothing," I murmured.
"We thought this would be a good place to find Sal's carjackers," Josie explained. "Let's face it, Brian—this place has more Santas then Mrs. Gavelli has black housecoats."
His mouth twitched at the corners, then he cleared his throat and shot me the evil eye. "Regardless, you shouldn't be here snooping around, Sally. You're nine months pregnant, for God's sake!"
"I don't have a choice. There's no reason to worry. I'm not taking any unnecessary chances."
"Yeah, right," Brian mumbled. "Let's face it—your middle name is disaster."
I ignored his rather rude comment. "Have you found out anything to help me?"
He rubbed a hand over his phony beard and sighed. "Not yet. I wanted off the case, but we're shorthanded, so my boss said I had no choice. I've been going around talking to fellow Santas today. We're making progress."
"What kind of progress?" I was a bit miffed that he wasn't back on the case by his own accord. "Have you looked into where the Santa suits may have come from? Can you check out the costume store in town to see if they were rented there?"
He gave me a look of disbelief. "Sally, do you think this is my first day on the job? Of course I've already checked there. We tracked down every suit that's been rented or bought at the costume shop on Starwood Avenue since before Thanksgiving."
Shoot. Another dead end. I leaned my head against the bric-a-brac design of the Lindt store wall, the smell comforting me despite my dep
ression. "I didn't mean to insult you, but I'm desperate here. Is there any other place in town that rents Santa suits?"
Brian frowned. "Not that I can recall. We're wondering if—"
Josie put a hand to her mouth. "Wait a second! I forgot all about Candy."
"Who?" Then it dawned on me. "Oh! I forgot too!"
Brian looked at both of us like we had corn growing out of our ears. "Who or what is Candy?"
"Candy Stevens," I replied. "She's a customer of ours who owns a little store that specializes in holiday fare, Party Hardy. She sells costumes for Halloween and even some for the Fourth of July. I'm betting she'd have Santa suits."
Josie drew out her phone. "Why not? She has everything else. And her stuff is cheaper than the costume stores. Candy ordered a tray of cookies last week, so I've got her number in here somewhere." She scrolled through her contacts list, pressed the screen, and waited. "Hi, Candy? Josie Sullivan here. I need a favor."
"This makes perfect sense," I told Brian. "Why not go to a smaller store? Would you need a subpoena to get their credit card information?"
"If they used a credit card," Brian said. "Since it's a small store and she owns it, no. Candy doesn't have to give me the original records without a subpoena, but a copy will suit me fine. If they were smart, they'd have paid cash, so don't get your hopes up."
"Well, they didn't seem very bright to me," I admitted.
Brian raised his eyebrows. "The owner of the jewelry store they held up uttered the same sentiment. They asked him for a bag to haul away the money in his cash register."
I shook my head in disbelief. The baby moved, and I placed a hand on my belly, bracing for another contraction, but nothing came. "This makes me think that someone else was involved and engineering the robberies. These guys were puppets on a string, so to speak."
Brian looked impressed. "Well done, Mrs. Donovan. I happen to think the same thing. Given your current condition, though, it seems that my job is safe for a few weeks."
Ginger Snapped to Death Page 12
