He wanted to respond it went through a fire, what do you expect, but he curbed his instinct and bent next to her.
She pointed at the frayed wiring.
At the sight of it, a lead ball sank in his stomach. She was right. Something was off here. He tried to dismiss it with his original logic—it survived a fire—but the chief’s words echoed in his mind. One of the ornaments shorted out or overheated.
“I’m going to say something, and before you respond, think about it. Promise me?”
Sean nodded.
“What if someone at Rudolph’s was upset the Wilsons didn’t give them business this year?”
“A little drastic isn’t it, sweetheart?”
“You agreed to think about it first.” She straightened up and used her cell phone to snap pictures of the area surrounding the tree base. She zoomed in and took close-up shots of the frayed wire.
He might as well accept it—she wasn’t going to let this go. Another investigation was clearly underway.
-
Chapter 9
“RUDOLPH, THE RED-NOSED REINDEER”
AT FIRST GLANCE, Rudolph’s had a quaint feel. Lights and decorations of every possible fashion were showcased on the property. No potential advertising space remained unused. Santa was on the roof, complete with his sleigh and reindeer. The place transported its visitors to the North Pole. It was hard for Sara to remember they were in Albany.
When they stepped inside, a six-foot-tall Santa greeted them with “Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas.”
“Want one of those, darling?” Sara touched Sean’s shoulder.
“I’m sure we could find a spot…in the attic.”
“Ha, ha.” She figured he’d come back with a witty response similar to that. While it was apparent he liked the holiday, Sara wasn’t sure she’d place his feelings into the love category.
A smiling elf approached. The woman had done a fabulous job with her costume, coming across as believable in the role. With pointed ears, a green suit, and barber-pole stockings winding stripes of color around her legs, the finishing touch was the shoes that had a dangling bell on the tip of each curled toe. She jingled with every step toward them, and almost had Sara convinced she was, indeed, one of Saint Nick’s mystical assistants.
“Welcome to the North Pole. What can this little Santa’s helper do for you?”
That sealed the deal. Sara laughed and the elf smiled.
“It’s part of the routine,” the woman said, slipping out of character. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
Sara was still chuckling and having a hard time composing herself. With her eyes, she petitioned Sean to proceed.
“We’re looking to speak to the owner. I assume that would be Mr. Claus?” Sean smirked at Sara.
“Actually, that would be Rudolph, and he’s over there.” The elf spun, with her arm pointing to the checkout counter.
There was a man of about six feet five, wearing a reindeer suit, complete with antlers and a blinking red nose.
Sara nuzzled into Sean’s arm as they left the elf and headed toward Santa’s favorite caribou. “You should have known the owner would be a reindeer, darling.”
“Forgive me for the misunderstanding, but I thought Santa was the king of the North Pole.”
“But the place is called Rudolph’s.” Another bout of laughter threatened to bring her to tears.
“Are you the owner?” Sean asked the reindeer manning the counter.
Rudolph touched his foam nose. It must have been lit with a small LED, as it flashed continuously, making it hard to take one’s eyes off of it, let alone have a serious conversation.
“What can I do for you?” There was nothing civil that came across in the man’s tone. The creases around his eyes revealed that he either didn’t have enough cheer in his life, or he had consumed too much of it in liquid form the night before.
“We’d like to talk to you about a couple customers of yours—the Wilsons, Elbert and Margaret.”
“And who are you?” His question, accompanied by a sway of his hips, gave them a glimpse of his white tail. He leaned down onto the counter and rested his chin on a hoof.
It took all of Sara’s willpower not to laugh in the reindeer’s face. She had to compose herself and remember why they were here.
“You know, it’s because of people like them that we’re going to have to shut those doors.” He pointed a hoof to the front of the store and straightened up.
With his comment, Sara realized there wasn’t anyone else in the store, and Christmas was about three weeks away.
“People are watching their spending these days or something. Either way, it means cutting us out of the picture.”
“But the Wilsons continued to support you, even this year.” His underlying attack against the Wilsons enabled Sara to find her voice.
Rudolph’s beady eyes slid to hers. “Yes, but our real money is made with the entire package. The decorations and the install. We even offer catering. Other years, the Wilsons utilized those services. This year, nothing but some lighting and the odd trinket for the tree.”
Sara had never met a more ungrateful person in her life, but she held back her urge to lecture him in defense of the Wilsons. She had a feeling any advice to be thankful would fall on deaf ears.
“What exactly did the Wilsons purchase from you this year?” Sean asked.
“Are you asking for a list?”
“That would be great if you would give us that.”
“And why should I? Are you cops or something?”
“Or something.”
They weren’t getting anywhere with this man, so Sara tried to appeal to his humanity. “I’m not sure if you heard, but the Wilsons died three nights ago.”
“I might have heard.”
She tried to read his body language but, again, the blinking red nose made it difficult. “We’re looking—”
“Are you implying that something I sold them might have killed them?” Rudolph crossed his arms, a hoof shooting out each side. “No, no way.”
The nice approach didn’t work, so she’d go for the direct method. “We’re trying to rule you, and your store, out.”
“Out?”
“Yes, they bought lighting from you and they died in a fire. Coincidence?” As she fought on behalf of the Wilsons, the man’s stupid costume became less of a distraction.
“It must be a fluke. It had nothing to do with my store.”
“The fire chief said that one of the ornaments shorted out or overheated.” She sustained eye contact with him. “Please? It’s just a little list that we’re asking for.”
“What if you find something?”
“We’ll come back to you first.”
“No cops?”
“No cops. But I’m sure you want to make sure your products are safe.”
“We just want answers,” Sean pitched in.
“I’m sure you know what it’s like. You lose someone and you want the why. Well, we’re not satisfied.”
“Are you their daughter or something?”
“Or something.”
“Hmm. You two are not very forthcoming about who you are. Why should I give you the list?”
Sara mustered her composure. “We have connections.”
“Mafia?” Rudolph actually appeared panicked.
“No, downtown.”
“Downtown?” Dawning reflected in his eyes. “Oh, the police.”
Sara nodded.
“Fine, but you promised that if you find anything you’ll come to me first.”
“Absolutely.”
Rudolph hoofed it to a back room, and Sara pointed at the display on the counter. She picked an unplugged gold starburst. “Look familiar to you, Sean? A broken one, just like this, was on the Wilsons’ floor.�
�
-
Chapter 10
“WE NEED A LITTLE CHRISTMAS”
SEAN HAD A HARD TIME focusing on his driving. “What was up with you back there?”
“Are you referring to my case of the giggles? You did see the place while we were there, didn’t you? And the reindeer that owns it? The blinking red nose?”
He smiled, but it was subtle. He didn’t find near the amusement in it that she did.
Recalling, though, seemed to be enough to warrant a belly laugh from Sara. “I still can’t get that nose out of my head. When I close my eyes tonight that’s all I’m going to see. That, and his hooves pointing this way and that.” She regained herself. “He was kind of miserable for a reindeer though, wasn’t he?”
“He wasn’t that bad. He did hand over what we were looking for.” Sean dipped his head toward her lap, indicating the list of the Wilsons’ purchases.
“True enough, I suppose.” She tried to hold it together, but a smile gave way to a chuckle.
Sean was mesmerized by how much entertainment she had derived from the store. He had never had a huge Christmas celebration, although, his dad did his best to make it a special day for the two of them. Sean didn’t recall celebrating with his mother—he’d been too young when she’d passed. He wanted to believe that somewhere deep inside he did remember because he’d always associated a sense of security and family to the holiday. The strength of those emotions must have stemmed from at least some recollection of observing the season as a family.
“Sara, let’s keep positive that it was all worth it and we get some answers.”
“I hope so too.”
Their plan was to take the list and compare it with what was in the Wilsons’ living room. While it was possible something could be missing or impossible to identify, they might find an anomaly—something that didn’t belong. They might also be able to confirm the frayed strand of lighting tied back to the store. The one thing nagging him—and it was a large one—was how could they prove the Wilsons hadn’t bought a piece elsewhere? Of course, if they had been loyal to Rudolph’s for most of their lives, why would they seek decorations elsewhere?
Either way, he put that concept to the back of his mind, determined to see this through for Sara. She had a feeling, and he would go along and support her. After all, they had already broken into the Wilsons’ house. How much worse could it get?
“HERE YOU GO, DARLING.” Sean handed her a hot chocolate, made from scratch with Belgian chocolate.
“Thank you.” She blew on it and drew a small amount, careful not to burn her tongue.
It was becoming their decadent holiday treat, and if they kept having them, they’d have to get a real fitness room set up at the house. While they had a bit of exercise equipment—a treadmill, a stationary bike, an ab cruncher, and some free weights—if they continued to sip on cognac in the evenings and indulge in their seasonal beverage of choice, they’d need to do more than that. Or, at the very least, devote more time to working out. But with the situations that kept coming their way, they were doing good buying out an hour daily.
Before getting back to the house, they had hit a copy center and had made enlarged prints of the pictures taken on Sara’s phone from the Wilsons’ house. They spread them out on the long coffee table and got to work.
Sara picked up the one nearest to her. “It’s hard to identify these ornaments with the black soot on them. Some are altogether destroyed.”
“It’s going to be a challenge, for sure.”
She wondered if what he wasn’t saying was that they were reaching this time, looking for a problem to solve. There were moments she wondered the same thing, but she didn’t let herself give into that line of thought.
“What do you think is the best way to handle this, Sara?”
“You read off an item, and then we’ll see if we can spot it. But first, does it show the strand of lighting we found at the scene.” She recognized her terminology the second it came out. “I mean at their house.”
He gave her a knowing smile and turned to the sheet, running his finger down the page. “Yes, it appears so. Now, darling, I hate being the devil’s advocate here, but what if it wasn’t this that caused the fire? Maybe the fire investigator took what they figured had?”
“I suppose, but I don’t think so. Our groupie, the chief, would have given us those specifics. They were also in a hurry to conclude it as electrically related, tying back to the Christmas tree. It seemed that was about as detailed as they were interested in getting.”
“Guess so.”
“I know we might be reaching here, Sean, but my gut is telling me something is wrong. We have to figure it out.”
Eventually, he conceded with a nod. “I am here for you.”
She caressed his cheek. “Thank you. What about the broken gold ornament we found at the base of the tree? The same kind that was on Rudolph’s counter?”
Sean consulted the list, just as the doorbell rang and had them both moaning. He got to his feet. “Who could that be?”
She smiled at him. “I don’t know, but maybe if we were really quiet…”
“Now, darling, I’m appalled you’d suggest such a thing,” he teased.
-
Chapter 11
“CALL ME CLAUS”
JIMMY STEPPED INSIDE, shook the snow off his coat, stomped his boots, and took them off. “It’s quite the winter wonderland out there.”
“That it is.” Sean called out to Sara, “Jimmy is here.”
She had a view of the entry from the couch and waved. “Yes, darling, I see him.”
He devoted his gaze to her long enough that she received his unspoken message. She gathered up the photographs and the list and then flipped them over. She crossed her legs and sat back. “So what are you doing here?”
Jimmy let himself into the living area. Sean supposed it was practically a second home to the man, and, normally, Jimmy would be welcome to roam the house, but for right now, Sean preferred that he didn’t know what they were up to.
“I heard about your neighbors. Very sad.” Jimmy dropped into a chair and patted the arms.
Sean returned to his seat beside Sara. “We didn’t really get to know them.”
“That’s too bad. Unfortunately, we can’t look back.”
“Whoa, Jimmy. I’m impressed.” This from Sara, who was smiling. “What? It’s just a terrific attitude. Even if it can be a little harder to adhere to sometimes, especially if you have regrets.”
Sean reached for her hand.
“You two ready for the parade? It’s this Saturday.”
They were more than aware. It was just two days ago that Sean’s mother-in-law had brought it up, several times, during the afternoon.
“My mother’s a fan.”
“So, you’ll be going?”
“Yes.”
Sara sounded about as thrilled as Sean felt about it. He took her hand and held it over his knee.
“I get to go as the merry Saint Nick himself.” Jimmy patted his belly, which had a long way to go before it measured up to the fella in red. He had kept himself in relatively good shape, but Sean attributed it more to Jimmy’s genetics than to a firm exercise regimen.
Sara laughed. “Now, I’ll look forward to going.”
“This is something we have to see.”
“Now, don’t you two get too excited. I’m going to do my best to stay invisible.”
“Invisible? As Santa? Good luck on that one, Jimmy. Little kids will be all over you,” Sara said.
“Maybe why I’ll take a flask with me.” Jimmy’s gaze drifted to the table.
Sean could tell he took in the small stack of papers, and the glint in the man’s eyes disclosed he suspected they were up to something. The what he couldn’t know, but would likely try to find out. Jimmy had a way of pr
ying willing confessions from people. He would make an effective priest.
“Real shame about your neighbors.”
Here it goes. He was aware of something and had been biding his time before laying it out.
“Yes, it was.” Sean played along.
“Their funeral was this morning, wasn’t it?”
“We went.” Sara was quick to respond. She likely recognized Jimmy’s tactics as easily as Sean had.
Sean’s heart was thumping. Did Jimmy somehow know they broke in? How could he? The alarm system had to be out of commission due to the fire; there was a security guard watching over the property.
“Add to the tragedy, someone broke into their house not long afterward. I mean who would do such a thing?”
Sean’s stomach lurched. He did know, but there was no sense rushing to a confession. They’d made sure to lock the house behind them.
“Oh, did they take anything?” Sara’s voice was cool and collected.
“Not that anyone is aware. Everything seems to be accounted for.” Jimmy’s eyes went to the pile on the table again. “You didn’t see anything suspicious, did you? Anyone nosing around?”
“No. You, darling?” Sara turned to Sean.
“Nope.”
“Hmm. I was hoping that maybe you would have. Shame, though.”
“Well, if nothing was taken, no harm, no foul, right?” Sean’s words came out and he wished he could take them back.
Jimmy pointed his finger at them. “It was you two. Now, give me a good reason. I don’t want to have to—”
“Jimmy, stop with the threats. You know us better than that.” Sara batted her lashes, and her voice took on a soft tone. “If—and I say if—we were in their home, it would have been for a good reason.”
“A good reason to break and enter?” He reached for the top photo and was about to turn it over, but Sara laid her hand over his.
Jimmy reclined back into the chair. “Talk to me. What are you two up to?”
“Off the books?” Sean asked.
Jimmy opened his arms, suggesting it was implied.
Christmas is Murder Page 4