3 Claus of Death

by Gayle Trent

  “You used to work at the gas plant with Jackson Barnard, didn’t you?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “That was bad about Jacks.”

  “They’re saying he killed himself.”

  “I know that’s what they’re saying,” Hazel said. “But I don’t believe that for a minute. Jacks was raised up religious. I don’t know whether or not he still went to church, but I know he thought killing himself was a sin.”

  “I think the whole thing sounds hokey too,” I said. “I didn’t know the man, but I find it hard to believe he’d kill himself right there in the mall…on the Santa Land throne.”

  “Yeah. Even if he was going to do something like that, he wouldn’t have done it in public,” Hazel said. “I don’t doubt that somebody killed him.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Because people are so mean nowadays.” She sighed. “I heard he’d fell in with some shady men after he got laid off from the plant. Maybe one of them killed him. Who knows? It’s awful, ain’t it?”

  “It is, Hazel. I hope the police find whoever did this to Mr. Barnard.”

  “I hope they do too. Well, let’s get in out of the cold,” she said. “Bye, Myrtle.”

  I told her goodbye. As I turned to walk back to my car, my cell phone rang. It was the mall. They wanted to hire me to play Mrs. Claus, and they wanted to know if I could be there in an hour. I told them I could.

  * * *

  I got to the mall office about four hours before my shift was to start. Pinchy—whose real name, I learned, was Nancy—had me a costume ready. There was a big red dress, a frilly white apron, and a red and white bonnet. She’d also gone to the Wigwam and got me a curly white wig, and she’d come up with a bunch of poufy padding too.

  Well, I went into the bathroom and put on all that garb. I looked at the final product and hoped I wouldn’t see anybody I knew—or, rather, anybody that knew me. I didn’t look all that much like myself. I looked like something out of a storybook…or a circus…and I wasn’t too thrilled with the whole thing. But, I had a job to do…a job way more important than being Mrs. Claus. I had a murder to solve; and if I had to look like a weirdo laughingstock to do it, so be it.

  I came out of the bathroom, and Nancy clapped her hands together. “You look charming!” She was actually smiling. I was shocked. I’d have thought a smile would’ve made her face break.

  There was a tall, skinny, bald man standing beside her. He smiled at me and told me the costume was “delightful.” I immediately thought of him as Mr. Clean…and I had to stick to calling him that in my mind because he never did tell me his name. All he said was that he was the mall manager. I reckoned I wasn’t important enough for him to tell me his name. But that was fine with me. Mr. Clean suited him.

  “Okay, Mrs. Claus, your job will be to help corral the kiddies into the queue to the Santa Land throne,” Mr. Clean said. “You’ll also make sure each child has a candy cane and a mini coloring book. Please be sure to encourage photos with Santa and patronage to the mall shops.” He did a little flourish with his left hand. “For example, make sure parents know that toys their children are requesting are available at Toy Town and that the store has a wonderful layaway plan. Also mention ongoing sales and promotions for shops throughout the mall. Any questions?”

  The only question I had was why the mall was so alliteration nuts—Toy Town, Cookie Cabin, Chicken Coop, Bagel Barn—but I just shook my head. “I think I’ve got it.”

  “Very well,” said Mr. Clean. “If at any time you do have questions, please don’t hesitate to contact Nancy.”

  And with that, I took my basket of candy canes and box of mini coloring books and went off to Santa Land. When I got there, the line was already forming. I spotted the new Santa hurrying on over. I put my stuff down and met him halfway.

  “Hi, I’m Myrtle, and I’ll be helping out.”

  He nodded. “Myrtle, nice to meet you. I’m Abe.”

  I later learned that Abe’s last name was Linkus. Yep, he was Abraham Linkus. Made me wonder if his parents were on drugs before, during, or after the birth…or all of the above. Either way, Abe Linkus was jolly enough for his role. His belly didn’t shake like a bowl full of jelly when he laughed, but he could belt out a “ho, ho, ho” with the best of them. Most of the young ‘uns seemed to like him pretty good, and I thought our first couple hours went fairly well.

  After that, Nancy—alias Pinchy—came and got us and said we could take a ten-minute coffee break. We finished up with the little boy and his sister—who’d already got started before Nancy got there. Abe asked what they wanted for Christmas while I got their candy canes and mini coloring books ready to go and tried to sell their hardworking parents on some overpriced photos of their little darlings with St. Nick.

  “Could I snap a photo with my phone?” their mom asked.

  I kinda doubted Nancy would be too keen on losing a sale, but I gave the mom the tiniest nod I could and got out of the way so she could take a decent picture. For Nancy’s benefit, I made a big deal of targeting the dad.

  “Did you know that Toy Town offers a generous, no-interest layaway plan?” I asked, drawing him to the side. “It’s a great way to budget for presents and keep them out of the house until the big day.” I glanced out of the corner of my eye to see that Nancy was nodding. “My Faye was an awful snoop when she was little. She always did try to find her presents, and wrapping them didn’t provide too much of a deterrent either.”

  “We’ll check it out,” said Dad. “Thanks.”

  As the children climbed down off Santa’s lap and accepted the goodies I handed them, Nancy told the people waiting that Santa and Mrs. Claus would be back in ten minutes.

  I headed straight for the Bagel Barn. I hadn’t forgotten my real reason for taking this job in the first place.

  Although there are tables throughout the food court, most of the restaurants also have seating inside. Bagel Barn’s seating was a deli-style counter. I sank onto one of the stools at the counter, and my legs immediately protested. I must’ve grimaced in pain because a middle-aged man two stools away from mine slid over to talk about it.

  “First day on the job?” he asked.

  I nodded, rubbing my calf muscles.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I could tell you weren’t used to being on your feet for that long at a time.”

  “You got that right,” I said.

  “Get you a glass of milk,” he said. “The calcium will help to keep your legs from cramping up.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  When the waitress asked for my order, I did as the man suggested and ordered a glass of milk instead of the coffee I’d been going to get.

  “Also, you might want to get some magnesium on your way home,” he said, as the waitress walked away. “That’ll help too.”

  “All right. I appreciate the advice,” I said. “How come you to be such an expert? Are you a doctor or something?”

  “I wish.” He barked out a short, dry laugh—the kind of laugh you make when you don’t think there’s anything funny about the situation in the least. “I went to work as a cashier at Pickles and Pretzels a few weeks ago. Until I got used to being on my feet for so long at a time, my legs nearly killed me.”

  “Well, thanks again,” I said. “I’ll be sure and get me some magnesium on the way home.”

  “You do that.” He put a tip on the counter for the waitress, and then he left.

  When she brought me my milk, I reminded her of the talk we’d had the day before about Jackson Barnard and the man he’d been meeting with. “Are any of those men in here now?”

  “One was,” she said. “You were just talking with him.”

  Chapter Five

  Well, I didn’t stop on my way home to get some magnesium because it was after nine o’clock, and I was bone tired. I hadn’t stopped to think that this would be a full-time job. I thought they might have me work a couple hours here and there, and I would have plenty of tim
e to investigate Jackson Barnard’s death and do all the other stuff I like to do. It didn’t appear that was to be the case.

  Poor Matlock had to go out the minute I got in. I put some soup on the stove, and while it was heating, I filled his bowl with kibble. Then I let him back in. He ate and then had to go right back out.

  I noticed the answering machine light blinking to beat the band, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to return any calls tonight. I wanted to eat my dinner, get my dog back in, and go take a bath. And then I wanted to go to sleep.

  As I ate my tomato soup, I thought about the man who’d told me to get some magnesium so I wouldn’t have leg cramps. He’d seemed all right. Normal…you know…not like he’d been up to anything. He’d dressed and behaved respectably. And, yet, the waitress said he was one of the men who’d met with Jackson Barnard every day before Mr. Barnard’s death. This man hadn’t seemed to be a member of a rough crowd…but you never could tell. Hopefully, I’d see him again soon and find out more about him.

  * * *

  I slept in until after eight o’clock the next morning. My poor old legs were so stiff and achy that it felt like it took a good five minutes for me to get down the stairs. Matlock kept going down and then coming back up to see what had happened to me. I let him out into the backyard and put the coffee on. Melvia was supposed to be here at nine-thirty. I took a few of the cookies out of the freezer and put them on a plate. I’d warm them in the microwave when it got closer to time for Melvia to get here.

  While the coffee was brewing, I went upstairs and slipped on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Then I fixed my face—it needed all the help it could get this morning—and did my hair.

  I went back downstairs, got me a cup of coffee, and finally listened to the answering machine messages. One was from Sunny. She wanted to know if I’d heard anything from the mall. She’d already left for school, of course, but I called and left a message saying that I’d got the job as Mrs. Claus at the mall and that they’d about worked me to death Sunday and I had to go back today from one until nine.

  I also had a message from Cooper telling me the cookies were delicious and that he was enjoying them. He said he’d like to take me to dinner one night this week and to give him a call back. I’d call him after Melvia left. I looked forward to talking with him, and I didn’t want to feel rushed.

  She was prompt—got there at nine-twenty-nine. She was blowing on her hands and rubbing them together when I opened the door. God love her—she stays cold.

  “Come on in and get some hot coffee and warm cookies,” I said.

  “Oh, that sounds good,” she said.

  I took her coat and hung it on the rack next to the door, and then we went on through to the kitchen.

  “Where’s Matlock?” Melvia asked.

  “He’s out in the backyard,” I said. She didn’t say so, but I could tell she was relieved. He scares her. He’s never growled at her or anything—always been nice and friendly with her—but she’s intimidated by his size.

  I poured her a cup of coffee and topped mine off, and then I sat down at the table across from her.

  “Ooh, Myrtle, these look so good,” she said, taking a pinwheel cookie and a white chocolate macadamia cookie from the platter and placing them on her dessert plate.

  “I’ve got you a little bag for when you go,” I said. “I’d kind of appreciate it if you don’t mention it to Tansie, though. I didn’t have enough to make a bag up for everybody.”

  “I understand, and my lips are sealed.” She grinned, tickled to have a secret…especially, I imagined, something to have over on Tansie. She dipped the macadamia cookie into her coffee and then took a bite. “These are out of this world good, Myrtle.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “I’m glad you like them.”

  “Are you and your beau getting serious?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “We’re getting along fine.”

  “Tansie said you must be.” She immediately bit her lip like she’d said something she wasn’t supposed to tell.

  “Why would she say that?” I asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know. She’s just jealous probably. You know how Tansie is.”

  I did know how Tansie was. I also knew how Melvia was, and Tansie had said something. I wanted to know what it was.

  “What did she say, Melvia?”

  She took a deep breath. “Don’t tell her I said anything.”

  “You know I won’t.”

  “She said you and your man must be almost to the altar for you to be out so long last night,” she said. “I said we didn’t know where you were…that you could be at Faye’s house for all we knew.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Were you at Faye’s house?”

  “No. I was at the mall,” I said.

  “All evening?”

  I nodded. “I got a seasonal job there.”

  Her mouth formed a little O. “Well, that’s nice…I guess. Is it nice?”

  “It’s all right. It’ll bring in some extra money and get me out of the house for a few hours,” I said. I didn’t want Melvia to know I was investigating a murder. I figured the fewer people who knew, the better.

  “I think it might be nice to work part-time at one of those stores in the mall,” she said. “Of course, if I did Tansie would act like I was just one step outside the poorhouse.”

  “I know. She lords her money over all of us,” I said.

  “Always has.” She dipped the cookie into her coffee and took another bite. “Even when we were little and neither one of us had much of anything, she acted like whatever she had was better than everyone else’s.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know what kept you from boxing her jaws on a daily basis.”

  “For one thing, she’s bigger than me.”

  We both laughed.

  “And she’s my sister,” Melvia said. “She can get on my nerves, but she’s always there when I need her.”

  “Well, that goes both ways. You’re always there for her too,” I pointed out.

  “That’s what family does, I reckon…whether you’re particularly fond of each other or not.” She finished her cookie and started on the pinwheel. “Tell me about your job.”

  “I’m handing out candy canes and coloring books to the young ‘uns who come to see Santa Claus,” I said.

  “How nice,” she said. “I bet they’re cute. What kinds of things are they asking for this year?”

  “Stuff I’ve never even heard of,” I said. “All I know is that you can get the biggest part of it at Toy Town on their generous layaway plan.”

  She laughed. “You sound like a commercial!”

  “I think that’s my main job.”

  * * *

  After Melvia left, I called Cooper. My call went to his voice mail, and I was kinda glad. It would give me a chance to find out my schedule before I talked with him so I’d know what day was the best for us to go out. Surely to goodness, they wouldn’t expect me to work at the mall from the time it opened until the time it closed on Saturday.

  I left early so I could get to the mall in time to see Pinchy…er, Nancy…in plenty of time before my shift. I’d only been given my schedule from Sunday through Thursday. I reckoned the new schedules came out on Thursdays.

  Nancy was on her lunch break when I got there, and I had to wait for her for more than ten minutes.

  “Ms. Crumb,” she said as she strolled into her office. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to see my schedule for the rest of the week,” I said. “I only have through Thursday, and I’d like to know what hours I’ll be free over the weekend.”

  “The new schedules come out on Thursday,” she said.

  “That’s what I figured. Can you tell me when I’m expected to work this weekend?”

  “Since you’re the only Mrs. Claus we have, you’ll probably get in some overtime on Saturday,” she said. “Saturday is our busiest day. We’ll expect you to be here from nine a.m. until nine p.m.”

&n
bsp; If I hadn’t been working this murder investigation, I’d have told her to take her Mrs. Claus costume and snort it up her nose. As it was, I said, “All right. May I be off Sunday then?”

  “Sunday is our next busiest day after Saturday,” Nancy said.

  “I can come in after church then,” I said.

  She mushed her lips together in that way that had made me nickname her Pinchy to begin with. “I suppose we could spare you Thursday, if you can come in Sunday. Can’t you go to early church or something?”

  “I’ll work something out,” I said.

  I went and got into my costume and had time to go have a bagel before starting my shift. I hoped to see the shady group who’d been hanging out with Jackson Barnard. Maybe I could get one of them to confess so I could quit this job. It was really starting to cramp my style.

  I ordered a cup of coffee and a whole wheat bagel with peanut butter, banana, and honey. Despite it being twelve-thirty, I found an empty table and sat down. Maybe if the magnesium guy came in, he’d take a seat and unburden his conscience.

  Well, he did come in. And after he got his bagel, he came and asked to sit down. I told him to go ahead. I didn’t really have my hopes up that he’d confess, though, and that turned out to be a good thing.

  “Did you get some magnesium for your legs?” he asked.

  “By the time I left here at nine o’clock, all I wanted to do was go home,” I said. “The milk helped though, and I do hope to get a chance to get some magnesium in a day or two. In fact, I got here early today to ask if I could have a little time off over the weekend.” I sighed and shook my head.

  “No dice, huh?”

  “Nope. But then, that’s why I wanted a job until Christmas, I reckon, and the money’s decent.”

  “Do you usually work during the Christmas holiday?” he asked. “Or is this your first time?”

  “This is a first for me,” I told him. “I’m not accustomed to working outside the home. Sure, I’m on a fixed income, and I have to be careful with my budget, but I generally do all right.”