by T Lockhaven
The children danced around him and hugged him, their faces filled with pure delight. Joy lit George’s eyes. He took a seat in front of the fireplace and removed a beautifully illustrated The Night Before Christmas book from his satchel. Everyone gathered around, listening to him read the story. Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
When he was finished, George closed the book and smiled at the children. He leaned forward. The children scooched closer; they couldn’t take their eyes off him. “I’ve got a gift for each of you. Now remember,” he said softly, “Christmas isn’t for a couple more days, but since all of you have been so good this year…well, except for Michael,” he winked. He held his hand up to his mouth and whispered, “He’s on my naughty list.”
The children gasped, and adults broke into laughter.
“Maybe if he tries really hard over the next couple days,” Santa joked playfully, “I’ll have the elves make him something.”
The children nodded in agreement. A small boy crossed his arms and added, “If he behaves.”
George reached into his satchel and gave each child a candy cane and a gift, wrapped in silver paper with a blue ribbon.
“And for the parents, so you can start a tradition with your children….” He handed each of the adults an illustrated copy of The Night Before Christmas.
Cindy looked at her gift and then at Michael. She turned and said something quietly in Santa’s ear. He nodded and dug in his bag, handing her another copy of the book. Cindy proudly marched over to Michael and gave it to him. The girl pulled on Michael’s shoulder, and he leaned in toward her.
“I told Santa that everyone needs something special on Christmas,” she said quietly.
Her voice tickled Michael’s ear, and for a moment he disappeared back to that place, when his daughter held his hand and whispered in his ear.
“Thank you.” Michael hugged Cindy. “Thank you so much.”
“Try to be good, okay?” Cindy said as she walked away.
George caught Ellie’s eye. He mouthed thank you and then bid farewell to everyone as I’ll Be Home for Christmas began to play.
Chapter 4
Olivia stretched and rubbed her hands across her legs. Her bright-red nose matched her scarlet fuzzy earmuffs. “It’s freezing out there.”
“It’s thirty-one.” Michael nodded, took a bite of his egg-and-cheese croissant, and flipped open his laptop. “Supposed to snow until this evening.” He wiped his mouth off on his sleeve.
“You’re such a Neanderthal,” Olivia chided, sliding a napkin over to him.
“Hey, don’t disparage Neanderthals.” Ellie laughed. She wrapped her fingers around her coffee mug for warmth. “So, what’s the plan? Livs and I have to work until three.”
“You own this place…can’t you give yourself a break? What about the millennial?” Michael tilted his head toward the pale, thin male in a white button-down shirt and black skinny jeans. “Can’t he stay a little late?”
“He pulled a double yesterday. He said he has to have time to go to Soul Cycle and Christmas shopping for his family.”
“Soul Cycle? He’s so thin he could wear my watch as a belt.”
“Leave Dwayne alone, he’s a sweetie, and a hard worker. Trust me, those are difficult to come by nowadays.”
“Okay, while you and Olivia are prodding your customers for clues, I’m going to do some recon work at the mall. Hopefully I’ll be able to find out a bit more about Drew.”
“All right, give us a buzz if you discover anything. We’ll do the same. Also,” Ellie said, grabbing Michael’s arm as he stood, “don’t do anything stupid. I spent all of my bail money on presents.”
“I’ll do my best,” Michael promised and headed toward the counter.
Michael eased off of the A1A highway onto Mall Drive. For a smallish-sized town, the Lana Cove Mall was a cornucopia of big-name stores as well as boutique shops that catered to the more sophisticated connoisseur—the type of person who wouldn’t think twice about dropping a couple hundred dollars on candles with names like ‘vanilla pumpkin’ or ‘cinnamon latte.’
Michael eased his red Miata into the mall parking lot. It was a lightweight car and didn’t handle well in the snow. He drove along the outer loop and parked at the back of the Macy’s department store. The yearly Santa Extravaganza was hosted by Macy’s, so it made sense to Michael that Drew would park at the back entrance.
He took a sip of coffee and flicked his wipers twice, clearing the snow off his windshield. Bright-orange plows, their amber lights flashing, were busy creating mountains of snow. An older woman clambered out of her car, one arm wrapped tightly around her coat, the other clutching her hat. The wind had picked up, gusting across the parking lot. Her scarf danced behind her like the tail of a kite. Christmas wreaths with red ornaments swung back and forth, clanging on the light posts.
A steady stream of employees arrived, leaning against the wind, slipping and sliding as they made their way into Macy’s back entrance. Michael grabbed a blueberry bagel from his bag and flicked the windshield wipers again. A metallic-blue Honda Accord pulled into a parking space, a few cars to his left. He stopped chewing and leaned forward.
There was quite a bit of commotion in the front seat of the Honda, and then a man in jeans and a black jacket hopped out of the driver’s side. He opened the back door and tugged out a black trash bag.
“That must be Drew,” Michael whispered to himself. I see he hasn’t upgraded his luggage, he referred to the black bag where George had told them Drew kept his Santa suit.
A woman in a puffy white coat and brown leggings joined him. She looked like a marshmallow on a stick.
Michael grabbed his phone and fired off a quick text to Ellie. A few moments later, the words I can’t afford bail appeared on his phone, with an emoji of a bag of money.
He rolled his eyes and watched Drew and the marshmallow lady disappear inside the mall. I’ll give them five minutes. Just enough time to finish my coffee and bagel.
Michael was a professional. He could blend into any environment. He checked his surroundings and then gently pushed his car door open. A gust of wind buffeted the car, slamming the door on his leg.
“Mother Mary,” Michael gasped, yanking his leg back inside. He raised his knee against his chest and sat for a long while, rocking. Finally, after the pain had abated, he cinched up his pants leg, quite certain the only thing that had kept him from severing his foot were the festival holiday socks he had won from Andrew at the Christmas party.
Assured that he would indeed walk again, he studied himself in the rearview mirror and adjusted his black baseball cap, drawing it low on his forehead. He narrowed his eyes. He had to admit, he was ruggedly handsome. Michael shoved the car door open, stepping lithely to the side. Just as he praised his athleticism, another gust of wind tore his baseball cap from his head, sending it skittering across the parking lot.
Michael sighed, watching his favorite cap disappear beneath a row of cars. He quickly walked across the parking lot, to Drew’s car, wincing with every step.
The first thing Michael spotted was the barcode on the back window. Rental car. He moved to the rear and fished out his phone. Florida plates. He swiped to his photo app and snapped a picture.
I wonder if…. He tried the handle of the passenger door. Locked. He tried the driver and passenger doors, all locked. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. He held his phone to his face, as if making a phone call, and scanned the parking lot. With the wind and the snow, it was nearly impossible to see anything.
Satisfied he wasn’t being observed, Michael reached inside his pocket and removed a small inflatable black bag, about the size of a plastic sandwich bag. It was connected to a thin tube, with an egg-shaped inflator attached to it. It worked like a miniature bicycle pump. He carefully inserted the edge of the bag between the door and the doorframe, and inflated it. Satisfied, he removed a thin rod—that looked like a collapsible pointer with a rubber tip—from hi
s pocket.
He poked it inside the space created by the inflatable bag and maneuvered the stick south until it hovered just above the door’s unlock button. He pressed downward, and a satisfying metallic click sounded as the door released.
Like a pro. Michael smiled. He quickly removed the inflator and collapsible rod, and slipped into the passenger’s side of Drew’s car. Settling into the cold vinyl seat, he opened the glove box. It was nearly empty except for the owner’s manual and, the coup de grâce, the Hertz rental agreement.
Hello, Mr. Calvetti. He pulled out his phone and took pictures of the rental agreement. Michael opened the center console; it was filled with gum and candy bar wrappers.
“What’s this?” Michael flipped over a circular card with a hook at the top, meant to be hung from the rearview mirror. “Parking pass for the Beach Comber Motel dated from November twelfth through December twenty-seventh.” He quickly peered beneath the seats and in the trunk, but there was nothing else of interest.
Michael hurried back to his car, pushed the start button, and flicked on the seat warmers. He swiped his finger across the screen of his phone and clicked on Ellie.
She answered after the third ring. “Well, your call isn’t coming from a payphone, so I’m guessing you’re not in jail.”
“Sorry to disappoint. I can hear the concern in your voice, and I gotta tell you, it’s heartwarming.”
“So. Whaddya got? We’re slammed.”
“A few things,” Michael replied. The commotion of the café filtered through his phone. “First, Drew’s real name is Drew Calvetti.”
“Calvetti. Interesting, unless it’s an alias. He could be using a stolen identity.”
“Maybe. I’ll know for sure as soon as I get back to my office and run a background check on him. He listed a Virginia address and phone number. I also found a parking pass for the Beach Comber Motel.”
“The Beach Comber…. That’s a good choice if you are trying to fly under the radar. You can pay cash there, and it’s kind of a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ establishment.”
“Hmm, interesting you know so much about it. Almost like—”
“I’ve never stayed there. I’ve lived here my whole life. Wait, why am I explaining myself to you?”
“I don’t know, guilty conscience? I do have one of those faces where people love to tell me their deepest, darkest secrets. Anything else you’d care to divulge?” He waited a few beats and then continued. “How about you guys, learn anything new?”
“Nothing we didn’t already know after talking to George. I’ll let you know if we find out anything substantial.”
“Okay, sounds good. I’m going to head home and see what I can dig up on Mr. Calvetti.”
“Good luck!”
“You, too.” He ended the call, flicked on his lights and windshield wipers, and pulled out of the parking lot onto Mall Drive, anxious to discover who the man was behind the fake beard.
Chapter 5
Ellie, Olivia, and Michael followed the hostess to a tall table at the back of Rumor’s Bar and Grill. A jazz band played holiday favorites with a thumping baseline and masterful piano playing.
“Wow,” Olivia exclaimed, gesturing toward the band dressed in red blazers, gold shimmering ties, and green pants, “they’re really good.”
“Yeah,” Ellie said. “I love those upright basses, such a unique sound.”
“I used to play the bass,” Michael said, his face serious.
“Really?” Ellie asked.
Michael could tell from her expression she was impressed. “Yes, until I broke my G-string.”
Olivia shook her head. “Ellie, you should know by now.”
Ellie was about to respond when a young Asian woman in a white button-down shirt and black skirt arrived at their table. “Hello, everyone, I’m Jen, I’ll be your server tonight. May I interest you in a cocktail, an appetizer?”
“It’s a cold, wintery night,” Ellie mused. “I think I’ll have a Moscow Mule.”
“Nice,” Olivia replied, “make that two.”
“And you, sir?”
“I’ll take an Old Fashioned, with Maker’s Mark. Oh, and plenty of cherries.”
“Would you like a sweater vest with that and some reading glasses?” Ellie teased.
“Funny.” Michael shook his head and sighed. “The truth is, Jen, they fight over me constantly. Honestly, it’s embarrassing. I told them, it’s Christmas, just put a big red bow on me, and, well….” Michael smiled. “No need to bore you with the details.”
“I think I just lost my appetite.” Ellie groaned.
“So…,” Michael clasped his hands together as the waitress walked off. “Any juicy news?”
“A smidgen. Mrs. Mallory….”
Michael shrugged, clueless as to who they were talking about.
“She was a professional golfer, a wing of the country club is named after her,” Ellie added, giving the story some much-needed context.
“Oh, that Mrs. Mallory.” Michael nodded and gestured for Ellie to continue.
“Someone stole a thirty-thousand-dollar diamond necklace from her house.”
“Whoa.” Michael whistled. “A break-in? Inside job? When did it happen?”
“That’s just it,” Olivia answered. “She’s uncertain. There was no sign of a break-in, and she’s not sure when it went missing.”
“What?” Michael shook his head. “She’s not sure how long it’s been missing? It’s a thirty-thousand-dollar necklace,” he continued. “How would you not know it’s missing?”
“It’s not like she wore it every day, Michael. When she opened her safe, it was missing, along with her passport, and some other less valuable pieces of jewelry,” Ellie explained.
“She must have a sophisticated alarm system. I’ve seen her house; that thing is like a fortress.”
“The police didn’t find any signs of forced entry, and the alarm company didn’t find anything unusual either,” Olivia added.
“Then it had to be an inside job—but…,” Michael continued his thought, “once inside, how did the thief get into her safe? I’m only asking because I assume she probably has a pretty substantial one.”
Ellie made a face. “She’s not sure that it was even locked. You know how people get. She’s lived in that house for sixty years—she just never thought it would be a problem.”
“It’s never a problem until it’s a problem,” Michael declared sagely.
“You get that off a cereal box?” Olivia teased.
“No, from Mr. Lambert, my psychology professor. He said people find safety through repetition and routines. Unfortunately, routines establish a predictable pattern which can be exploited.”
“Jeesh, Michael.” Ellie winked. “You actually sounded smart for a minute. Don’t make that a habit.”
“I just reread his lecture notes a couple weeks ago while doing research on a jewelry thief for my book. Most of the people who he robbed had a false sense of security. He would find thousands of dollars’ worth of jewelry simply lying out in the open.”
“I can relate. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone to sleep at home with my windows open and my doors unlocked. I just feel safe here.” Olivia shrugged.
“Did the police have suspects? Anything to go on?” Michael asked.
“Well, without a timeline, it’s difficult—and it doesn’t help that she has a busy social schedule. She hosts a weekly book club, afternoon tea, and an annual Thanksgiving and Christmas party.”
“That’s a lot of opportunity,” Michael said.
“And with so many people having access to her house….” Ellie spread her hands as if laying out her cards.
“Well…if I had to bet my vast, nonexistent fortune on who did it, I would have to bet it was someone during her Thanksgiving extravaganza,” Michael suggested.
“She probably has the same group that shows up every week for her book club, and the same friends who show up for tea. It would be too
much of a risk for any of them to take it,” Ellie added.
Olivia agreed. “But it would also have to be someone who knew her, who knew about the necklace.”
“Or someone who just got lucky—someone who had access to her house and just decided to do a little snooping. Was the Thanksgiving party catered?” Michael asked. “Because that would be a good way to…. Over your shoulder.” Michael motioned at Ellie as Jen leaned in between her and Olivia and put two copper mugs on the table.
She gave Michael an ironic smile and popped a beautifully glassed drink in front of him, a mountain of maraschino cherries spilling over the top onto the table.
“Finally,” Michael gasped, “a woman who understands me.”
While he fawned over his new treasure trove of cherries, Ellie ordered the sea bass with capers and lemon garlic butter. Olivia opted for grilled chicken breast, with broccoli and Yukon potatoes, and finally returning to the grown-up world, Michael chose a Caesar salad with grilled chicken.
Olivia took a sip of her Moscow Mule and turned to Michael. “So, we filled you in. What did you learn about Mr. Calvetti?”
“And don’t tell us again that his name rhymes with spaghetti, it’s not funny,” Ellie added.
Olivia nodded in agreement.
“Oh yeah.” Michael placed his hand over his mouth, finishing chewing his salad. “Thank you, Olivia, I got so wrapped up in Mrs. Mallory’s fascinating story I forgot about my news.” He gestured for everyone to lean in. “It seems Mr. Calvetti has quite the record. He’s done time for assault, burglary, grand theft auto, bank fraud, and…from the court records I found, he has ties to the Calvetti crime family.”
“That’s some big-time crime.”
“Nicely put, Livs.” Michael smiled.
“So,” Ellie said, mulling through this new information, “if he has such an extensive record, how did he get a job as Santa at the mall? I know they do background checks. And I hardly doubt that he’s built up a fake backstory as Drew Small.”
