Trouble Under the Tree (A Nina Quinn Mystery)

by Heather Webber

  Mr. Cabrera? As Santa? I tried not to laugh. He wasn’t a little-kid kind of person, though he tolerated teenagers fairly well.

  “Good luck with that.” Across the atrium, someone fired up a wet vac. “Are you sure opening today is a good idea?”

  Her gaze snapped to me. “Yes. Today. No more delays.” Her eyes filled with tears. “If this place doesn’t turn a profit over the next few weeks, it’s doomed, Nina. Then what will Benny and I do?”

  I didn’t have an answer for her, but seeing those tears helped me forget that I was miserable and wet and just wanted to go home. I would stay and help as long as she needed me.

  It was, after all, what friends were for.

  ***

  I was thinking about sabotage as I hauled a trash bag out to the Dumpsters behind Christmastowne.

  It was a lot to think about.

  Between the lengthy delays opening the village, the power outages, the wires on the Christmas lights having been cut, the fire in the men’s room...

  But if it was sabotage, who was the saboteur? And why? What was there to gain, other than to bring misfortune to Jenny and Benny?

  Did they have any enemies? With the way Jenny snapped at her employees, I had a feeling any number of them might want retaliation against her.

  I propped open a fire door and sucked in a breath as a cold wind crawled under my skin. Snow fell in light flakes, dusting the back parking lot in a covering of white.

  How did the toy donations factor into all this? Was their disappearance part of the sabotage? In the midst of what had happened with Lele, I’d almost forgotten about the thefts. If Riley was certain some were missing, I believed him. Little escaped that boy.

  Then there was Lele. How did her murder factor in? Had it been a case of mistaken identity? Or had she seen the saboteur at work and was killed to keep her silent? Or did it have something to do with the “sordid” goings on she mentioned to Mr. Cabrera?

  Snowflakes tickled my cheeks as I dragged the bag down a path to the Dumpster. All these questions were giving me a headache. For a second, I stopped, and just listened to the silence—that eerie, beautiful quiet of snow falling.

  Then I came to my senses and realized I was freezing. I quickly finished dragging the trash to the Dumpster and heaved it over the side. On the way back, I saw that my footprints had already been covered up with snow. At the rate it was falling, Jenny wouldn’t have to worry about opening on time—because no one would be going out in this weather.

  I needed to herd my ragtag crew together and send them home before roads became too treacherous to travel. Picking up my pace, I frowned when I saw the door I left ajar firmly closed. I tugged on the handle, but it didn’t budge. The makeshift door stopper I’d used had been dislodged by the wind.

  Wonderful.

  I banged on the metal door for a few minutes, the sound jarring in the snowy silence.

  No one answered.

  I glanced around. It was a long, frigid walk around the building. I grabbed for my cell phone and groaned when I saw it wasn’t working. The screen had scrambled, and I realized it must have been damaged when the sprinklers went off.

  As I stomped off, I realized how much I must have looked like my mother had this morning. It actually made me smile, which was a good thing, because I had a feeling that for a second there I had also shared my mother’s going-to-kill-someone mentality.

  Kicking into a jog, I silently thanked Duke, my trainer (who would love this story when I told him). His ceaseless treadmill training had finally come in handy. I jogged around the building and noticed a car parked at the edge of the lot, closest to me. The back windows were open, and the front ones were steamed.

  What on earth?

  As I drew closer, I heard a giggle, and the front windows powered down.

  A flushed Santa, complete with beard and hat, said, “Ho ho ho!” when he saw me. “Who have we got here?”

  A head popped up beside his and peered out.

  Ho, ho, ho, indeed.

  “Nina!” Fairlane exclaimed. “What are you doing out there? You’ll catch a death!”

  I cringed at the phrase, but it didn’t seem to faze Fairlane. In fact, she didn’t seem the least bit bothered that she was completely naked, either.

  Santa, aka Drunk Dave, too.

  I was going to need a therapist after all this.

  “Locked out of the back door.” I couldn’t help but add, “What are you doing out here?”

  As if it wasn’t fairly obvious, with the nakedness and steamed windows. I just wanted to hear what she had to say for herself. I certainly wasn’t looking at a grieving sister.

  “Baby, it’s cold outside,” Santa said, slurring his words.

  Fairlane giggled and said, “Santa, here, is just helping me celebrate!” She placed her hands on Dave’s shoulders, and I noticed her fingernails had been painted a flaming red color. “I was rehired this morning.”

  This had to be Benny’s doing. “Does Jenny know?”

  “She doesn’t call the shots around this place,” Fairlane said, an arch to her eyebrow.

  Santa made kissy noises at Fairlane. “Maybe you can put in a good word for me with Ben. Get me my job back. My wife ain’t gonna be happy that I got fired.”

  “I’ll try, Santa, baby,” she cooed.

  I thought I might be sick. I wiped snowflakes from my eyelashes. My rising temper counterbalanced the cold air. “I doubt your wife would be happy about this.” I gestured to the car, the steamed windows, the nakedness. Ick.

  “Ooh,” Santa said. “The little lady wouldn’t be happy. Oh no, sirree. That one has a temper, let me tell you. Best we keep this to ourselves,” he said, winking.

  Fairlane snuggled against him. “Nina’s a party pooper, isn’t she, Santa?”

  I groaned and stomped away.

  Fairlane called after me. “You’ll keep this to yourself, right, Nina? Right?”

  I pretended I didn’t hear. It was a vastly better option that flipping her the bird, which was my first inclination.

  As I pulled open the door to Christmastowne, I threw a look back at their car. It was rocking.

  I was suddenly queasy and regretting that Krispy Kreme I ate this morning.

  But I also wondered what Drunk Dave’s wife would do if she found out that Fairlane had been boinking Santa?

  Would she be mad enough to murder the faux Mrs. Claus?

  Chapter Eight

  "You’re looking a little green around the gills, Abominable,” Kevin said as I dripped melting snow all over Santa’s Cottage.

  Once back inside Christmastowne, I’d thanked my crew, told them I owed them all, and sent them home before they were all stranded here. Then I tracked Kevin to Santa’s Cottage, eager to tell him about what I’d seen in the parking lot.

  I borrowed a table cloth to dry off. “The things I’ve seen...”

  Kevin sat in Santa’s chair, taking notes in a tiny steno notebook. I knew he didn’t need the information down on paper—his memory was impeccable, but he said writing things down helped him think more clearly. There was a furrow between his brows and as he looked at me, I saw troubled eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “More toys are missing.”

  “But the building’s been closed—there haven’t been any donations in days.”

  A corner of his lip quirked. “I set a little trap in Santa’s chest. Someone bit.”

  “Who?”

  There was an electric fire going in the faux fireplace. It emitted little heat, but enough that I wanted to climb onto the hearth and toast my tuchus. Nancy Davidson’s camera bag and equipment was set up, ready to snap shots with Santa, but I didn’t see her around.

  “I don’t know. Yet.” He stretched a long leg. Pointing above the door, he said, “See that exit sign?”

  “Am I blind?”

  He rolled his eyes. “It’s a hidden video camera, one that senses motion. Nancy Davidson helped me rig it up yester
day.” He held up a tiny camera card. “As soon as I get home and load this onto my computer, our thief will be revealed.”

  Relieved, I sagged a bit. Riley was at school—he would be completely in the clear. But I also realized that whoever the thief was must work at Christmastowne. “How do you know the thief isn’t Nancy?”

  Kevin said, “I took a risk in asking for her help, but I figured if she was the thief she’d be smart enough to know she would be on camera if she stole the toys.”

  Nancy didn’t seem like a thief to me. She seemed more like the Neighborhood Watch leader, with her keen eyes and seemingly boundless energy. “True enough.”

  Kevin raised one eyebrow and added casually, “You should get out of those soaked clothes right away, before you catch a cold.”

  I shivered, too cold to care about his not-so-subtle innuendo. “Gee, I forgot my change of clothes when I came to work to dig up some dead poinsettias and first got rained on by a sprinkler system, then when I was locked out in a blizzard.”

  “What’s this about getting locked out?” He tucked his pencil into the spirals of the notepad and slipped it into his coat pocket.

  “I went out back to the Dumpster and left the door propped behind me. The wind blew it shut.”

  His lip twitched.

  “You better not laugh at me,” I warned.

  “Or what?”

  I shoved a dripping lock of hair off my forehead. “Or you’re going to see one seriously ticked-off Ninacicle.”

  He stood and crossed over to me in two long strides. He pushed my nose with his index finger. “No one wants to see that, but really, you need to get out of those clothes. You can borrow my elf costume.”

  “I’d rather pneumonia.” I cozied by backside up to the electric flames.

  He shrugged out of his blazer and draped it over my shoulders. His shoulder holster fit snug against his white button down, outlining his muscles. “Don’t blame you. Those tights are enough to make a grown man cry.”

  “Now you know how women feel about nylons.” I huddled into the warmth of the fabric and tried to ignore how his scent suddenly enveloped me. “As I traipsed around the building to get back inside, you’ll never believe who I came across in the front parking lot.”

  “At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if Rudolph was out there.”

  “No, he’s on my mother’s roof.”

  “Do I want to know?”

  “Probably. It’s good for a laugh, but maybe another time. I saw Santa.”

  “Drunk Dave?”

  “The very same. And he wasn’t alone. He was with Fairlane.”

  “McCorkle?”

  As if there was another. “She doesn’t seem all that broken up by her sister’s death, does she?”

  “What makes you say so?”

  “She was naked and playing with Santa’s jingle bells.” I explained about the steamed-up car.

  He went to sit back down in Santa’s chair, gave it a second look, and remained standing. “Just so you know, you’re ruining Christmas for me.”

  “What I want to know is what might have happened if Drunk Dave’s wife found out he couldn’t keep his hands to himself. This probably wasn’t the first time he and Fairlane hooked up.”

  Kevin smirked. “I’m not sure it’s Dave’s hands his wife has to worry about.”

  Truer words might never have been spoken. As Brickhouse had so eloquently put it, Fairlane was a hussy. “Either way,” I said, “Dave’s wife might have a desire to see Fairlane dead.”

  ***

  Before I left Christmastowne, I went in search of Jenny. I passed through the empty reception area of the third floor office space—Jenny hadn’t hired an assistant yet—and I found her sitting behind her desk, staring at a forty inch plasma TV. The local weatherman was predicting snowmaggedon.

  I thought that a big dramatic of him. It was a snow storm, not the white death.

  As I sat down, I noticed tears in Jenny’s eyes. Outside the tinted windows, heavy snow fell. I couldn’t even see my truck in the parking lot, which meant it was going to be a fun ride home. Not.

  “I’m going to have to stay closed today,” she said.

  A ticker at the bottom of the TV screen listed all the local closings, including Riley’s school. I wondered how he would get back to Kevin’s and tried not to worry.

  “It’s probably best.” It would certainly allow the place time to dry out. I glanced around. The divided office was spacious but sparse. Jenny’s desk was neat as could be, without a stray paperclip to be seen. “The forecast calls for a warm-up tomorrow. All this snow will be gone by the weekend.”

  Letting out a deep breath, she leaned back in her chair. “I kind of wish the fire this morning burned this whole place down.”

  She seemed perfectly serious. “Really?”

  “It’s been nothing but a nightmare.” She rubbed her temples.

  Benny’s desk was a mess, heaped with papers and files, old coffee cups and take-out containers. His side of the office was filled with pictures of himself in his old uniform, getting awards, and at media events. There were no other people in the shots. Only Benny.

  Jenny’s side only had one picture. Her wedding photo. She and Benny stood side by side, dressed in their finery. Jenny gazed adoringly up at Benny, while he gazed adoringly at the camera.

  “Benny’s not exactly camera-shy, is he?” I asked, standing to look at his pictures.

  She smiled weakly. “There’s no one he likes looking at more.”

  “Even you?”

  “Even me, Nina.” She sighed. “Now, what brings you up to my dungeon?”

  Snowflakes flecked the windows. “All the dead poinsettias have been removed, but only half have been replanted. My crew will be back tomorrow to finish the job.”

  She narrowed her eyes on her watch. “Surely there’s enough time to finish planting today.”

  “I sent my crew home already. The roads are getting dangerous.”

  Angry eyes flashed at me. “Unacceptable.”

  I stood up. I’d had enough of her abuse. “Technically, I don’t have to be here at all, Jenny. The deaths of those plants don’t fall under my warranty. Someone killed them on purpose. So I suggest you start taking a good look at your employees and try to figure out who’s sabotaging this place. Because someone is. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She said nothing as I left, and as I walked out, I nearly bumped into Benny.

  By the guilty blush licking at his cheeks, it was clear he’d been eavesdropping.

  Chapter Nine

  The roads were a disaster. Cars in ditches, crawling traffic, and low visibility. I’d white-knuckled my steering wheel the whole way home. Not even the Christmas carols on the radio—or my new reindeer antlers—could relieve my anxiety.

  I was never so glad to pull into my driveway in all my life, but was a little surprised to see ruts of tire tracks in the snow. Someone had been here recently.

  Candy cane pathway lights led up to my front porch, which had been decked out as gaudily as possible with multiple strings of lights, dangling snowflakes, and icicles. Several light-up snowmen and painted ornaments were staked in my front yard. My mother’s pawned-off snow globe was in my side yard but not currently inflated. It was a Christmas wonderland, and I loved it.

  Bracing myself for the cold, I shouldered open the truck door and trudged through the blowing snow and ankle-high drifts. I skirted the house to go in the side door and noticed that the Snoopy snow globe would have to be dug out if I wanted to use it tonight.

  I pushed open the door leading into the mud-slash-laundry room, and immediately a yipping, yapping ruckus started.

  A tiny black ratlike creature barreled toward me, skidded on the linoleum, and knocked into my legs. As it continued its noisy welcome, I kicked off my boots and shrugged out of my coat. Bending over, I picked it up the black blob. “Hi, Gracie.”

  My sister Maria’s Chihuahua snarled at me. We had a history, Gracie
and I. A War of the Roses (movie version) kind of history.

  I petted her head, and she piddled on my arm.

  Ah, hell. What was one more kind of wetness today?

  I set her down, held my arm out to the side, and looked around. Where there was Gracie, there was usually Maria. “Hello?” I called out as I entered the empty kitchen.

  “In here!” Riley shouted from the living room.

  As I walked under the arch into the living room, I nearly had myself a heart attack at the sight before me.

  “Don’t you dare say a word,” Riley warned.

  I burst out laughing. “You’re kidding, right? I’m on Candid Camera.” I glanced around for any kind of hidden camera—including one lurking in an innocuous exit sign.

  “Be nice, Nina,” Maria chided. To Riley, she said, “Watch, Ry. Knit, knit, purl.” Metal knitting needles clicked happily together.

  The two of them sat side by side on the sofa, knitting.

  Knitting!

  Well, Maria was knitting. Riley was holding the ball of yarn. A big carpetbag sat on the floor. It was filled with dozens of skeins of varying colors.

  Riley glanced up at me with big “help me” eyes.

  “What are you both doing here?” I asked.

  Riley said, “The street to Dad’s was blocked off because of a big accident, so a buddy dropped me off here. Dad said he’d pick me up later.”

  “And you?” I asked Maria.

  She primly set her knitting down. “I came by to drop off a few things. Look, I made you a scarf!” Rummaging in her Mary Poppins’ bag, she came up with a folded purple scarf. But as she reached out to give it to me, she suddenly pulled it back. “Why are you holding your arm out like that? And why is it wet?”

  Riley sniffed. “Is that dog pee I smell?”

  They gaped at me.

  “Hey,” I said, “it was Gracie’s fault.”

  We all looked down at her, this half-deaf and mostly-blind dog. She was sniffing around the Christmas tree and making chortling sounds as though she was about to hack up a hairball. Maria called those noises “normal” for a Chihuahua.