Claus for Celebration

by Laura Durham

  I didn't make a sound as I watched Officer Rogers, and the Santa I was sure was Brianna, facing away from him and holding a cardboard box in her arms.

  It all made sense. Officer Rogers had been the one to suggest that Stanley had killed Kris, which sent us off on a tangent. He’d also been at Fern’s break-in, so he probably suspected that Kris wasn’t dead, and when the blood results came back, he knew Kris was alive. If he had a reason to want the singing Santa dead, he’d probably been trying to track him down—and Stanley, as well—for days. It explained why Stanley was so nervous and why he didn’t trust us when Kate mentioned that I was engaged to a cop. He had no way of knowing if my cop was the bad one or not.

  I swallowed hard as I watched the officer steady his aim at Brianna. As much as I despised her, I couldn’t let her get shot.

  "That's not Kris." A second voice came from beneath one of the trees in the corner, and I had to stop myself from gasping as a second Santa emerged from the shadows of the branches. It was Kris Kringle Jingle and, from what I could tell in the eerie uplighting, he looked completely unscathed.

  Rogers swung his gun to Kris. "I knew you weren't dead. Just like I knew Stanley planted your suit with the fake blood. Where is he, by the way?"

  "Safe and out of your reach," Kris said. "Just like Jeannie and the others."

  "How did you know?" Rogers asked.

  Kris shrugged. "I didn't at first, then I realized why you seemed so familiar when you'd taken the Georgetown beat. You used to be in tight with the guys running drugs and stolen goods through my neighborhood. I'd seen you with them before, then I saw you with them the other night when they were packing up their trucks. Only you didn't stop them."

  Brianna hadn't taken a step, but I saw her twist her head around.

  "I thought I saw you running off that night," Rogers said, raising his gun higher. "I was just curious."

  My heart pounded. Was he going to shoot Kris right here outside the Four Seasons? I opened my mouth to yell for help when the pop of a gun made my knees buckle. Brianna screamed and dropped the box, taking off through the courtyard toward the canal.

  My eyes didn't leave Kris, who still stood, but I saw Rogers fly forward, the momentum causing him to spin and land on his back. Daniel rushed forward, his gun still drawn, and kicked Roger's gun out of the way.

  "You shot him?" I managed to say, my voice barely a croak.

  "In the shoulder, so he wouldn't shoot Santa here," Daniel said, glancing at me. "You okay?"

  I nodded, even though I felt dizzy. Staggering to the raised flower bed, I sat on the brick border. Kris sat next to me while Daniel cuffed Rogers, who screamed as his arms were wrenched behind his back.

  "So have you been behind all the criminals being nabbed and dressed up in Santa paraphernalia?" I asked him.

  "Not just me." He tugged his white beard down so I could see his mouth. "All of my friends. When you live on the streets, you see everything that goes on. We didn't like that crime was on the rise, so we decided to take care of it our way."

  "We saw Stanley last night. I assume he’s been part of it?”

  Kris rubbed a hand over his red belly. “Aside from helping me stage my own death, he’s been helping me take out the bad guys. Stanley was special forces, so he’s been a big help.”

  My stomach tightened. Another homeless vet. “Who tipped us off about the flowers in the dumpster? Was that you or Stanley?"

  He shook his head, but grinned. "Jeannie, but it was me who took care of the guys who went into your building looking for your friend."

  "I should have known when those goons were able to track Leatrice down so fast. She even said it. Only law enforcement or hackers have such fast access to license plate information. And those guys didn't look like hackers." My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I answered it when I saw Kate's name on the screen.

  "Where are you, Annabelle?"

  "In the courtyard with Kris Kringle Jingle." I patted the singing Santa on the leg. "It's all over."

  "For you maybe," Kate said. "Buster and Mack just had to pull two brawling Santas apart down here. Leatrice had Brianna pinned down and was snapping her beard over and over."

  "I'm sorry I missed that."

  "No sign of the ornaments, though."

  "I've got the box up here." I eyed the cardboard container Brianna had dropped and said a little prayer that they weren't all shattered. "And she definitely took it. I saw her with it in her hands before she ran off."

  "Good. I, for one, look forward to pressing charges. I already called your man, so the cops should be here soon."

  “I left him a message telling him what the clue meant.” My heart leapt at the thought of seeing Reese. Even though I knew he wouldn't be thrilled to find me in the middle of another crime scene, there was no one I'd rather be comforted by. "And yours is up here cuffing Officer Rogers."

  "Come again?"

  "I'll tell you everything later," I told her, clicking off as I spotted Reese's car screech to a stop in the valet line, the portable police light flashing on top.

  Kris stiffened next to me. “I guess I have some explaining to do.”

  "Don't worry," I said. "It's my fiancé. He's one of the good guys, like you." I stood up then turned back to him. "How would you and your Santa posse like to come to a party tomorrow?”

  Chapter 36

  “I’m not sure this screams engagement party," Fern said as he stood behind me the next afternoon pulling out the ponytail he'd been horrified to find me wearing when he'd arrived. "There's no diamond ring decor or giant love balloons."

  I surveyed my apartment and stifled a yawn. "It's a holiday-themed engagement party. Heavy on the holidays."

  "Heavy on the last minute," Richard grumbled as he passed us with a platter of hors d'ouevres to place on the dining room table turned food station.

  "Too last minute to warn me that I wouldn't recognize the place when I came home last night?" Reese asked, coming down the hall in jeans and a snug cream sweater topped with a brown herringbone jacket.

  Fern drew in his breath. "Merry Christmas to me." He dropped his voice and leaned close to my ear. "He looks good enough to dip in chocolate."

  "I also styled your fiancé," Richard said. "The sweater and blazer are my Christmas gifts to him."

  Richard liked to give gifts that he knew people would never give themselves. For me, that meant designer handbags he knew I'd never splurge on and because, as he'd once explained to me, "It hurts my eyes to see pleather." For Reese, that clearly meant clothes a DC detective probably couldn't afford. I didn't need to touch the blazer to know it had cashmere in the blend or look at the labels to know they were European.

  "I think it's a gift for all of us," Fern said, making an approving noise in the back of his throat.

  With his dark wavy hair brushed back and one curl falling over his forehead, Reese did look pretty hot. My pulse fluttered as he locked his hazel eyes on me. "You look great, babe."

  Fern let out a breathy sigh, and I caught myself blushing. "Thanks."

  I'd found a red plaid swirl skirt in the back of my closet and paired it with an ivory sweater with a deep cowl neckline and black boots. It might not be as designer as my fiancé's new outfit, but it was pretty festive.

  Richard darted his gaze over me quickly. "Not bad, darling." He tucked one side of my sweater into the top of my skirt. "A little French tuck should do the trick. There. Now it works."

  “Speaking of styling,” I said, “any word on when our photo shoot will be in DC Life Magazine?”

  “Actually, they’ve bumped it up to the January issue, which will be fabulous for business.” Richard touched a hand to my sleeve. “All those newly engaged holiday brides will just be reaching the preliminary panic stage of planning when it hits the stands.”

  “Sounds fun,” Reese said, winking at me.

  A beeping sounded from the kitchen, and Richard hurried off muttering something about his pimento cheese puffs and last-minute p
arties.

  While the rest of us had been running the wedding at the Four Seasons--or giving statements to the police about the proliferation of Santas running around at the wedding--Richard had been tasked by Kate to get my apartment ready for today's party. Considering how little focus we'd all had to give the event, I thought he'd done an admirable job. I didn't even mind the fact that he'd repurposed items from past holiday parties.

  I recognized the gold sparkly table runner from a recent house party he'd splashed all over his Instagram feed and suspected the matte gold antlers tucked into the glittering garland and ornaments filling the runner were from Friday night's rehearsal dinner (and courtesy of a coat of spray paint). White feathers tucked around the antlers were from an art deco wedding we'd had over the summer, and the gold striped paper straws on the counter between the kitchen and living room that now served as the bar were leftover from a client's baby shower. Shiny gold balls filled glass bowls and tall cylinders and were placed on nearly every available surface.

  My usual piles of wedding magazines and Reese's Sports Illustrateds had been whisked away and replaced with decorative stacks of books covered in gold paper. I knew the book's contents were irrelevant as they were only there for visual impact, and I suspected they had been snagged from my bookshelf, as I noticed a few gaps in the rows. Even my usual throw pillows had been switched out for metallic gold versions, several with trendy phrases like "Baby It's Cold Outside" and "Let It Snow." The only element untouched was the tall Christmas tree in the corner, which had already been decorated by Richard in tip-to-trunk metallic.

  "Shouldn't Kate be here by now?" Fern asked, spraying my hair with a travel-sized hairspray that he must have secreted away in his winter white suit, although I couldn't imagine how, since it fit him like a glove.

  "I'm sure she's on her way. It was a long night for us. After all the drama with Brianna and Kris Kringle, we still had to run the wedding."

  "You don't have to tell me." Fern unleashed a cloud of spray over my head. "I had to change out all the bridesmaids' hair after the ceremony, remember?"

  I remembered Fern reluctantly pulling out the hair wreaths and giving the ladies low buns for the reception, although I could have sworn I saw a couple of the hairdos flash green and red lights later in the evening, but that could have also had something to do with the bride being from the South and that region's fondness for light-up accessories during the holidays. "At least you didn't have to stay until the very end. We were supervising the load out until after two in the morning."

  "Another reason why I'm not a wedding planner. Planning Leatrice's wedding was enough for me, thank you very much."

  I didn't mention that he'd only partially planned Leatrice's wedding, since I'd secretly gone behind him making sure all the details were in place.

  Reese put a small portable speaker from the bedroom on the counter and tapped the screen of his phone. The sounds of holiday music immediately filled the air, and I laughed when I recognized the music from "A Charlie Brown Christmas."

  He grinned at me. "It's a classic."

  Richard bustled by us again, and I breathed in the savory aroma of the golden brown puffs on the platter he carried. I'd slept as late as I could after my long night, and hadn't had time to eat anything before Richard had arrived to start prepping. I knew better than to try to sneak food past him once he'd started cooking, but I planned to sample the hors d' oeuvres as soon as my hair was deemed ready.

  "It's as good as I can do," Fern said, giving my hair one last blast of spray. "I'll just tell everyone we went with a tousled look on purpose."

  "There's tousled and there's bed head," Richard said, passing me as he headed back to the kitchen.

  Reese grinned at me. "I don't mind bed head."

  "I'll bet you don't, big boy." Fern nudged me.

  I tried to give him a severe look, but he ignored me, winking at Reese before going to answer the sharp knocking on the door.

  "I'm here." Kate burst in as Fern stepped back, her arms filled with wrapped boxes and her bare legs covered with a red skirt so short it reminded me of an ice skating costume.

  "Why so many presents?" Fern asked. "I thought we only needed one Secret Santa gift."

  Kate jerked her head behind her. "I'm not carrying only mine." She gave me a pointed look, which I knew was because she'd picked up a Secret Santa gift for me on her way in, as well. I held out little hope it wasn't the screaming goat.

  Leatrice entered behind her, a deviled egg plate held outstretched in both hands, and Sidney Allen brought up the rear carrying Hermès in a red-and-green plaid blazer. Both wore a red ascot.

  I walked over to greet them, glancing down at the plate. "Do those deviled eggs look like little Santas?"

  Leatrice beamed at me. "I used pimentos for the hats and mouth, capers for the eyes, and piped cream cheese for the beards and trim."

  Richard emerged from the kitchen, both hands on his hips. "What did I say about bringing food?"

  "You said not to bring my pigs in blankets wreath," Leatrice said as she walked the plate over to the dining table and wedged it in between two of Richard's platters. "You didn't say anything about deviled egg Santas."

  "She has a point," I told Richard, who gave me a murderous look.

  Sidney Allen put Hermès on the floor, and the little dog immediately scampered over to Richard, spinning around so that he faced the same way as his master and giving a loud yip.

  "At least someone agrees with me," Richard said before turning on his heel and disappearing into the kitchen with Hermès close behind him.

  "Don't you two look dashing?" Leatrice said when she'd turned from the table and looked at me and Reese.

  "Thank you," my fiancé said. "Not more festive than you, though."

  Leatrice giggled and spun in her dress, the giant Santa faces flashing by as the skirt flared. "Aren't you sweet?"

  I was grateful she wasn't dressed like Santa again, although I could have done without the red-and-green striped elf hat headband perched on her jet-black hair. At least Sidney Allen was dressed in his usual dark suit, the pants tucked up snug under his chin, and the red ascot his only nod to the holidays.

  Kate deposited the wrapped gifts under the tree and headed for the bottles of champagne lined up on the counter between the kitchen and living room. "This calls for a drink."

  "What calls for a drink, dear?" Leatrice asked.

  Kate began handing out champagne flutes. "Surviving yesterday's wedding, seeing Brianna being hauled off to jail, and finding out what really happened to Kris."

  "It was a big night," Leatrice said. "I'm just glad that imposter Santa didn't get away with trying to sabotage your wedding."

  "Watching you fly through the air and tackle her might have been one of the greatest moments of my life," Kate said, raising an empty glass to my neighbor. “And her being arrested for stealing our escort card ornaments was a bonus.”

  "I'll second that," Mack said as he walked in carrying baby Merry on one hip.

  Buster followed behind holding a glass vase filled with towering white amaryllis cuffed with a wreath of green holly. "It was almost a shame to pull you off her."

  Leatrice blushed, her cheeks reddening beneath her heavy rouge. "That young lady was definitely on the naughty list." She rushed forward to hug Prue. "Unlike other young ladies I know."

  "It's shocking to discover that one of the cops who regularly patrolled our neighborhood was actually helping out the criminals," Mack said as he shifted Merry from one hip to the other. "I can't tell you how many times Officer Rogers popped into our shop to say hello."

  "I have to take some responsibility for him showing up at the hotel last night," Reese said, holding his glass still as Kate poured champagne into it. "He heard me talking to Annabelle about a Santa being at the Four Seasons, and then he heard me mention his badge number, although at the time it didn’t occur to me that was what it was. I had no idea he'd been searching for Kris since his disappea
rance and that the crime bosses were getting irate that their men were getting nabbed and this vigilante Santa was still on the loose."

  "It's not your fault," Leatrice said. "You arrived before any other cops did."

  "That's because when I saw Rogers rush out, I got a feeling something was off. I went into his duty roster and saw that he showed up to every crime scene related to Santa. Then I realized that ever since he'd taken the Georgetown beat, crime had been on the rise. He was first on the scene for almost every crime, but there was never any good evidence."

  "Because he probably got rid of anything that would implicate the guys paying him off," Kate said.

  Leatrice shook her head. "It's sad to see such a young fellow get involved with the wrong crowd."

  "He was a part of that crowd before he became a cop," a voice said from the door.

  We all turned to face the tall man in the brown suit who stood in the open doorway. It took me a moment to realize it was Kris Kringle Jingle in regular clothes.

  "You made it," I said, going to the door and pulling him inside by the elbow. "I invited Kris, Stanley, and Jeannie to celebrate with us."

  Kris’s friends shuffled in behind him, Stanley looking calmer than he had the night before—now in a blue overcoat instead of a Santa suit—and Jeannie smiling tentatively at Fern, who rushed across the room to hug her and fuss over her hair.

  Faces lit up with recognition, and everyone began welcoming the new arrivals.

  "Is that why you disappeared?" Fern asked Kris once he’d started working on Jeannie’s hair. "You were hiding from a dirty cop?"

  “That, and I thought he might have made me,” Kris said.

  I looked Kris up and down, thinking he cleaned up really well for someone living on the streets. “Made you?”

  “I’ve been working undercover.”

  Chapter 37

  Leatrice staggered back a few feet. “You’re an undercover agent? For the CIA? The FBI? The DEA?”