Random Acts of Scrooge: a Christmas novella (Holly Anna Paladin Book 4)

by Christy Barritt

  “The good news is that you’ll get all of your money back. The bad news is that Larry is apparently innocent.”

  I flinched as if I’d been slapped. “That’s not possible. I saw the money in his bag myself. That can’t be a coincidence.”

  “You did see that money, but he claims he has no idea how it got in his bag. We think someone may have planted it there. His girlfriend confirmed they didn’t go near your booth. It would have been a pretty brazen move. We’re checking the video footage now, but I’m not expecting much to come from it. The camera angles weren’t arranged for events like the Christmas bazaar.”

  “But . . . but—” I tried to think of a reasonable explanation, but I couldn’t. Larry was such an obvious choice. However, he had looked surprised and he’d willingly let us look in his bag. Would he have done that if guilty?

  “There’s more. He has an alibi for the timeframe when the money was stolen from the convenience stores. The videos, of course, were time-stamped. Since the money was all stolen within a two-hour period on the same night, we didn’t have to look very far to verify his alibi.”

  “Well, where was he?”

  “He was playing Bingo. Three different people vouched for him.”

  “But that still doesn’t explain how that money got into his bag today.”

  “Larry did say a man bumped into him while he was shopping. He thinks the guy could have slipped the money into the bag to implicate him.”

  “What? Really?”

  “Well, the man was wearing a Santa hat . . . with the Reds logo emblazoned across the front.”

  I paused for a moment. There was only one person I remembered being dressed like that.

  It was Dr. Evans, the choir director from my church. He wouldn’t . . . would he?

  No, it was a coincidence. It had to be. But he did appear to have a reason to want to hurt the Sullivans. I just couldn’t see him taking it this far.

  I hoped I was right.

  * * *

  “You look distracted,” Chase whispered in my ear, his warm breath ticking my cheek.

  Around us, people mingled in a ballroom at a nearby hotel. I had joined Chase for the police department’s annual holiday party. I wished I was feeling more festive, but my thoughts were preoccupied with everything going on.

  “I am a little distracted.” I frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  I stood at the edge of the room and watched as everyone else mingled in the dim lights of the ballroom. The place smelled like warm turkey, honey ham, and spicy apple pie. Christmas music played overhead—“All I Want for Christmas is You” at the moment.

  I wore my cutest black dress with a festive red scarf, and Chase looked dashing in his black suit and tie. I’d run into several people I knew from my involvement in the community.

  I had no reason not to enjoy the party—except for the fact that I was focusing on other people’s problems.

  “How much money did you raise at the bazaar?” Chase asked, still close enough for his breath to tickle my cheek.

  I held my punch in my hand and occasionally took sips of the cranberry-flavored concoction. “We raised just over two thousand dollars, including the amount that was stolen and returned. Ralph donated an extra five thousand.”

  “So that totals seven thousand? That’s fantastic.”

  I wanted to rejoice also, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it at the moment. “It’s still a long way from saving the Sullivans’ house, though.”

  “What about the online account?”

  “We’re up to $1,225. I’m hoping more will come in.” I’d checked the numbers right before I came here.

  “Holly, why are you beating yourself up over this?” Chase moved around to face me better. He blocked my view of the rest of the room, so I had no choice but to focus on him and this conversation.

  I shrugged, not wanting to argue. It was so unbecoming—especially in social situations. “I’m not beating myself up. I just don’t like it when the bad guys win.”

  “They’re not. Something bad happened, and now you’ve turned the situation around. The Sullivans have more money now than they had before. Good has come from the bad.”

  “But, Chase, if I don’t help these people, who will?”

  “Certainly they have other people who can help. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t help. I just hate to see you beating yourself up over it, especially since you’ve bent over backward to assist them.”

  “I know it might sound crazy, but God calls us to love other people. It’s not enough to just preach that. We have to be God’s hands and feet. In my own twisted way, that’s what I’m trying to be. I would hope someone would do the same for me if the roles were reversed.”

  He squeezed my arm. “I know.”

  I sighed before taking another sip of my punch. “It still perplexes me how people can do such cruel things. I just don’t understand the depravity of the human soul at times.”

  Chase grabbed my hand and tugged me closer. “How about we get out of here, Holly? We can go somewhere and relax. You know I’m not much into parties anyway.”

  “You should be here. These are your coworkers. I’ll be fine.”

  He squinted and tilted his head uncertainly. “Are you sure?”

  I nodded and handed him my drink. “I’m positive. Just let me run to the bathroom and freshen up for a moment, okay?”

  “Sure thing.”

  I escaped across the room. I didn’t want to be a killjoy, and that was how I felt tonight. I needed a moment to get myself together.

  I didn’t head for the closest bathroom, but instead walked to the one on the other side of the hotel lobby. There was less of a chance I’d run into someone there. I stepped inside, and noted that the bathroom had a lobby of its own. It also had two couches, a fancy swirled ceiling, and rich-looking carpet that lent an uppity feel to the area.

  Two sets of doors led inside the bathroom from the sitting area. I pushed through the first one I came to and was greeted on the other side with glossy black-and-green tiles, as well as the scent of bleach. It wasn’t quite as fancy as the lobby, but it would work.

  I was alone. That was the important thing.

  I paused by the mirror a moment. The normal spark was missing from my eyes tonight. I needed to change that. Some Scrooge—or Grinch, depending on how I looked at it—wasn’t going to steal my Christmas joy.

  I escaped inside a stall for a moment and leaned against the door. I closed my eyes and drew in some deep breaths and lifted up a prayer.

  Dear Lord, help me not forget the reason for the season. Help me remember all that I have to be thankful for. And help me figure out who stole that money.

  I opened my eyes and blinked.

  Darkness stretched across the bathroom.

  What?

  I squinted and blinked again, making sure I wasn’t losing my mind. Sure enough, the lights were out.

  “Hello?” I blindly reached for the door handle and tried to exit the stall.

  “Stay where you are, Ms. Paladin,” a deep voice said in the distance. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  My blood went as cold as the North Pole as I waited for what would happen next.

  Chapter 8

  I froze when I heard the voice. The last thing I wanted was to be in the dark with a strange man desiring to deliver a cryptic message. But what other choice did I have? I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face.

  “Who are you?” My voice sounded shakier than I would have liked.

  “I can’t tell you.”

  I felt along the wall of the stall, wishing I had a weapon other than toilet paper. “You know there are police officers all over the place outside.”

  “I’m aware of that. I needed to catch you in private.”

  “You managed to do that. But why? Did you want to talk?”

  “You need to look into the background of Greg and Babette Sullivan.”

  “What? Why would I do that?�
�� Certainly I hadn’t heard him correctly.

  “They were involved in a scam about ten years ago. They stole money from innocent people. I think they stole their own money from those canisters to gain sympathy.”

  Was this guy drunk? Another disturbing thought hit me: Had he moved closer? I hated not being able to see anything. “That’s crazy.”

  “But is it?”

  “Besides, they weren’t at the bazaar yesterday until after the money had already been stolen.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but I did.

  “Are you sure about that?” The man sounded like he knew something I didn’t.

  “Greg and Babette didn’t show up until the end. I was there.”

  “They ate at a Mexican restaurant around the corner. You should check it out. They had the time to grab the money, eat, and then show up later, looking innocent.”

  His words rushed over me. Had Greg and Babette told me they’d just arrived or had I assumed things? “Why are you doing this?”

  “Because I don’t want to see con artists succeed.”

  A swoosh sounded in the distance before a flash of light filled the room. The man had slipped outside and into the lobby area of the restroom, I realized. The light from outside had temporarily filled the room.

  Despite my blindness, I rushed toward the door. I pulled it open and nearly collided with someone.

  A pretty black woman raised her hands and stepped back. I’d obviously scared her as much as she’d scared me.

  “Sorry. The lights went out,” I rushed. “Did you see someone leave here?” My hand went over my heart as I gulped in deep breaths.

  A wrinkle formed between her eyebrows. “A man in a black suit. He mumbled that he worked here.”

  “Did you see which direction he went?”

  “It looked like he was walking toward the party.”

  “Anything else you can remember?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t see his face. But he was a white guy, average height. A black hat covered his face, though. A fedora.”

  “Thank you.” Before I could waste any more time, I rushed from the bathroom. As I surveyed the empty hallway, my gaze came to a stop on something left on the floor.

  A black fedora.

  I frowned. That had been my only distinguishing clue. Whoever that man was, he would easily blend in now. Was he a cop?

  I couldn’t believe that. But somehow this man had sneaked into this Christmas party. He must have known who I was and followed me here, just to give me that message. That was how it appeared, at least.

  I glanced around again and shook my head.

  The man was gone.

  But I did see another familiar face. Amar Kumar, the owner of the first convenience store Chase and I visited.

  What was he doing here? Was he the one who’d cornered me in the bathroom?

  There was only one thing I was certain about: all I wanted for Christmas was to no longer feel so confused.

  * * *

  “The man in the bathroom was telling the truth.” Chase shook his head as he stared at the computer screen in the office of my home. My mom was at a fundraiser, the Christmas tree in the background cast a soft glow about the room, and, of course, Bing sang in the background.

  “I’m not even looking at police records, but there’s a news article here about the Sullivans,” Chase continued. “It’s from Indiana.”

  “I think that’s where Greg and Babette moved when they first got married.” I leaned behind Chase, staring at the screen as he read aloud. “I remember Mrs. Signet talking about that.”

  “Greg and Babette collected donations for a family whose house supposedly burned down. However, it later turned out to be a scam. There was no family in need. The whole story was made up. Greg and Babette pocketed the cash they’d collected from the community.”

  “Just when you think you’ve heard it all . . .”

  “Finally, a coworker caught on to what was happening and called the Sullivans out on their scheme,” Chase continued. “He eventually went to the police, and Greg and Babette faced misdemeanor fraud. They had to serve community service hours and pay back the money.”

  I straightened as a weight pressed down on my chest. “I just can’t believe this. Of all the things I thought might happen, the possibility of Greg and Babette deceiving us wasn’t even a blip on my radar.”

  “This is the kind of world we live in, Holly. Like it or not.”

  “Not. I like it not.” I crossed my arms, wishing I could settle my thoughts. In my quest for goodwill to all, peace on earth was eluding me. “But what does this mean for this situation? Greg and Babette didn’t fake the car accident in order to gain sympathy . . . right?”

  Chase swiveled in the chair to face me. “Faking a car accident would be difficult. But maybe they’re twisting the facts. Maybe it’s because the collision really was their fault.”

  “It’s not beyond the realm of possibility. But I just can’t see it. The money they have to pay out far exceeds what they could raise.”

  “Unless they faked their injuries. In the least, maybe they exaggerated them.”

  If Greg and Babette were con artists, fraud wasn’t out of the question. I didn’t want to believe someone would sink this low.

  I turned the idea over in my head. “I just don’t know, Chase. I don’t want to believe they’d do this. I saw their eyes—they looked hurting.”

  “I’m not saying they’re not hurting.” His voice sounded gentle and calm. “People that desperate have a lot of things going on inside that we can’t see with the human eye. What you want to believe and reality aren’t always the same thing, unfortunately.”

  “I know . . . but this just seems extreme. Besides, wouldn’t the Sullivans want all the money they could get? You’d think they’d want me to go to the media so they could bring in more cash if that was their end goal.”

  Chase raised a finger in thought. “Unless they’re afraid someone would discover what they’re doing if you went public with it.”

  I closed my eyes. Was that it? Was that the real reason why I couldn’t do a press campaign to help the Sullivans raise money?

  And, if all of this was true, then I’d just raised money for con artists.

  “There’s one other thing that bugs me. The light switch at the hotel: it’s operated by a key. Who would have access to that?” I’d gone back to check it out before I left.

  “Maybe someone swiped the key.”

  I nibbled on my bottom lip a moment. “Maybe. It just seems extreme for someone to do that, just so they could cast suspicions on Greg and Babette. I did see Amar.”

  “He took some of the management from his three stores out for a Christmas dinner. He has an alibi,” Chase reminded me.

  We’d tracked him down before leaving the hotel and asked him some unassuming questions. He hadn’t acted guilty. Besides—what in the world could his motive possibly be? Was he in financial trouble? It just didn’t make sense. Furthermore, he wasn’t the man from the photos. I supposed he could have hired someone to steal the canisters for him, but that seemed extreme for such a small payout.

  Chase pulled me down into his lap and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Maybe we could just forget about this for a while. I was looking forward to enjoying the holidays with you. Something uncomplicated. You know, I haven’t had very many idyllic Christmases. I haven’t had any, truth be told.”

  That had been my original goal, back before I got sidetracked with all of this. I’d wanted Chase to have a Christmas to remember. I’d practically ruined his Christmas party, and now I was obsessed with a thief. Maybe Chase was the real loser in all of this. I couldn’t let that happen.

  I draped my arms around his neck. “I know. And I’m looking forward to you being with my family during this season. How about this? Let’s go watch a Christmas movie. I promise to let this go—for the rest of the day, at least.”

  “If that’s the best I can get, then I’ll take it.�
��

  As I stared up into his blue eyes, I realized I had to get focused. I’d be perfectly content to stay here feeling safe and wrapped in his arms. But I couldn’t let the Christmas music, the soft lights, and the man of my dreams play on my sensibilities. “White Christmas?”

  “I’ve heard so much about this movie.”

  I stood and grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the living room. “But you’ve never seen it. That’s a shame. Everyone needs to watch it.”

  “You practically took the words right out of my mouth.” His eyes twinkled.

  “Let’s remedy this. I even have some leftover cookies. It’s going to be a great Christmas. At least, if I have anything to do with it.”

  Chapter 9

  As soon as church was over the next morning, I decided I needed to confront the issue of Greg and Babette’s past head-on. Before I arranged for the Christmas tree to be delivered and recruited little elves to help decorate at the Sullivan’s house, I needed answers. I hated to be taken advantage of, and that’s exactly how I was feeling.

  Chase insisted on accompanying me to their house, and I didn’t refuse. But I noticed the Sullivans’ place seemed especially quiet as we approached the front door. I rang the bell but heard nothing. I rang the bell again. Still nothing. No scampering footsteps, blaring TV, or muted conversations.

  “I don’t think they’re here,” Chase said. “Maybe they’re at church?”

  “Maybe.” I sighed and glanced around like the answers to all my questions might magically appear. “I’d call them, but I need to look them in the eye when I ask the questions. Besides, they no longer have phone service.”

  “What now?”

  “There’s only one other way I can think to find answers about the validity of the accident. We can ask Larry Jenkins.”

  Chase twisted his head, looking skeptical. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Larry isn’t the nicest man. I’m not sure he’d be forthcoming with answers.”

  “No, but we could get a feel for the accident. Don’t you think? Isn’t that what this boils down to? Did the accident happen as they claimed or not? If it really happened, then maybe the Sullivans truly do need the money. But I refuse to participate in something dishonest. I won’t raise money for a family who is trying to con people.”