by Gayle Trent
“Why did you decide to come to work then?” he asked.
“Things have gotten so expensive,” I said. “Goodness, the price of gas alone is out of sight!”
“Ain’t that the truth?”
“What about you?” I asked. “Are you retired and just working over Christmas?”
“No. I worked for a local manufacturing plant that outsourced to Mexico,” he said. “About all I could find was the minimum wage job I got working at Pickles and Pretzels.”
“That’s a shame,” I said.
“Where does your husband work?” Magnesium man asked.
“I’m a widow.”
It was just a fleeting expression, but when I said that, Magnesium man appeared to be pleased.
Chapter Six
I was about two hours into my shift when here came Tansie. We’d had a little group of preschoolers come in, and I was so busy giving them candy canes and mini coloring books that I didn’t even notice her at first. When I finally did catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of my eye, I pretended that I still hadn’t noticed her. I hoped she wouldn’t recognize me in the costume, but I had to wonder if Tansie would even be here if Melvia hadn’t run her mouth.
“Well, lookee here!” Tansie crowed as the last preschooler bounded off to her teacher, candy and book in hand. “If it ain’t Missus Sainty!” That’s how she said it—Sainty. Then she raised up her phone and took my picture. I don’t reckon I have to tell you I was not smiling in the photo.
“I reckon Melvia ran her mouth,” I said. “Now I wish I had my cookies back.”
“What cookies?” Tansie asked.
“The cookies I gave her this morning. Didn’t she share with you?”
Tansie’s beady little eyes narrowed. “No, she did not. And she’ll hear about it too!”
I figured she would. Serves her right. She didn’t have any business going straight to Tansie with my business.
“Well, you look…very much the part,” Tansie continued. “I do hope you’re wearing padding…and not extra pounds brought on by all those Christmas cookies.”
“It’s padding,” I said. “Do I need to show you?”
“That won’t be necessary,” she said. “What does your beau think of you spending your evenings as Santa’s missus?”
I shrugged.
She lowered her voice ever so slightly. “Are you in financial trouble, dear? If so, I could float you a loan until you get back on your feet.”
“My finances are in great shape,” I said. “I simply decided to get out of the house for a few days and do something fun and rewarding. You should try it sometime.”
“I do rewarding things,” Tansie said. “I volunteer at the hospital once in a while…and all kinds of things.”
I nodded toward a woman approaching with three toddlers. “I need to get back to work. Thanks for stopping by.” I’d never been so happy to see a bunch of runny-nosed little yahoos in my life.
* * *
I’d bought a salad at the Subs and Salads Shack, and was sitting in the food court eating it on my dinner break. Magnesium man walked up with two other men—one who was about Magnesium man’s age and one who looked young enough to be his son—and asked if they could have a seat.
“It’s pretty crowded around here today,” Magnesium man said.
“It is,” I said.
He chuckled, as he put his burger on the table and pulled out a chair. “I’d introduce you, but I just realized I don’t know your name.”
“I’m Myrtle,” I said.
“Myrtle, I’m Glen,” said Magnesium man. “This here is Harold and Bo.”
Harold was the one who was closer to Magnesium man’s—Glen’s—age. Bo was the younger one.
“Nice to meet you all,” I said.
They told me it was nice to meet me too, and then they sat down and commenced to eating.
“You’re awfully quiet,” said Glen. “Are your legs still hurting?”
“Not like they were,” I said. “Just had kind of a run-in with a neighbor this morning.”
“I can identify,” said Bo, in a thin, reedy voice. “I’ve got a neighbor whose dog barks all night long. Drives me up the wall. What did yours do?”
“She came in here and made fun of me wearing this infernal costume,” I said. “And she took my picture so she could show it off to everybody we know. And then she asked if I was hard up for money!” I thought the least these strangers knew about me, the better. “As if my finances are any of her business!”
“Where does she work?” Harold asked. His voice was low, and he was soft-spoken.
“Hmph. She don’t work anywhere. Ms. High-and-Mighty has never worked a day in her life,” I said.
“That’s how it goes,” said Bo. He and the other two shared a long look. “Good, hardworking people kept down by the rich and mighty.”
“Well, she ain’t keeping me down,” I said. It dawned on me that all these men were in the same proverbial boat as far as jobs and money were concerned. So I added, “One day, I’ll show her.” I smirked. “Wonder if they’d loan me one of those expensive necklaces from Jay’s Jewelers? I could tell her I was working a little bit—not to make ends meet—but to buy myself the necklace!”
Glen grinned. “You never know, Myrtle. They just might loan you the biggest one they’ve got.”
I didn’t have time to wonder overmuch about his comment because I had to get back to work. I reached into my pocket and took out three candy canes.
“Gentlemen, dessert’s on me,” I said.
They laughed and said they appreciated it.
* * *
I’d no more than got home when I got a call from Faye. It seems Tansie went by the bank right after her visit to the mall. She showed Faye the picture and offered to help if I needed it. Don’t you know that just burned me up? Not only was she insinuating herself into my business, but she got all up in Faye’s too.
“I wish Tansie Miller would just mind her own cotton-picking business,” I said.
“Do you need money, Mother?” Faye asked. “If not, why are you doing this?”
“For one thing, I want to be there at that mall when Sunny’s working on the weekends,” I said. “She needs to know there’s somebody there she can count on. I know she has her heart set on this gift-wrapping job, but she’s only fourteen, for goodness’ sake. She needs to know her Mimi is right there if she needs her.”
“I see your point,” said Faye. “But that doesn’t mean you have to work at the mall every day. I know there’s more to this than you’re telling me.”
“I thought it would do me good to get out of the house a little bit. Plus, it won’t hurt to earn a little extra money before Christmas.” I jumped in before she could ask again whether or not I was hard up for money. “And it ain’t because I need the money. I just thought it would be nice to have a little extra so I could splurge if I wanted to.”
Faye was quiet for a few seconds. Then she asked, “This doesn’t have anything to do with that mall Santa who killed himself, does it?”
“Why on earth would you think that?”
“Because I know you, Mother. What are you up to?” she asked.
“Well, I’m up to no good, that’s for sure,” I said, still dodging her question. “I’m going around the mall handing out candy canes and trying to make sure nobody else commits suicide. I might’ve caused rampant blood sugar spikes, but no one has offed himself—or herself—on my watch.”
Faye sighed. “Just please be careful and don’t get yourself into any trouble.”
“All right,” I said. “Tell Sunny I’ll pick her up Saturday morning.”
“Okay.” She still had that note of forced resignation in her voice. She hesitated like she was going to say something else, and then changed her mind and merely told me goodnight.
Darn that Tansie Miller! The nerve of her going over to the bank and mouthing off to my daughter. I had a good mind to call and give her what for. And I probabl
y would have, but before I could call Tansie, Cooper called me.
“Hello,” he said when I answered the phone. “Is this the most beautiful cookie maker in Backwater, Virginia?”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” I said. I was glad he hadn’t asked me that in person because I could feel myself blushing. “Were they good?”
“They’re better than good. I believe you could give that Mrs. Fields a run for her money,” he said. “I’m trying to be saving and not eat them all too fast, but it’s mighty difficult.”
“Aw, I reckon I could give you a refill if you run out,” I said, using my coy, Lauren Bacall-like voice. At least, in my mind, that’s what it is.
“You’d do that for me?” he asked.
“I sure would.”
“I just might have to take you up on that then,” he said. “How about I buy you dinner, and you refill my cookie basket…say, Friday evening?”
“Could we make it Thursday?” I asked.
“Thursday is fine,” he said. “At least, it is as long as you’re not giving cookies to some other man on Friday. I don’t like sharing my cookies.”
I laughed. “Actually, I’ll be giving candy canes to toddlers on Friday.”
“Well, that’s altogether different then. The sheriff’s department puts on a little Christmas party for needy children every year. I play Santa….” He paused. “That’s next weekend. Would you like to come?”
“If I can,” I said. “See, I’m working at the mall. They’ve hired a new Santa Claus, but after all the hullaballoo about Jackson Barnard, they wanted a Mrs. Claus to help ease the children through the transition.”
“Myrtle….”
“It’s only until Christmas Eve,” I said. “I’d probably quit now—I miss Matlock so badly—but Sunny is wrapping gifts there on the weekends, so I want to be there for her. Plus, I’d hate to leave the mall shorthanded.”
“You’re rambling.” His voice was flat and sheriff-y.
“I suppose I am. I’m a little tired. That’s probably it.”
“That, or you don’t want to tell me that the real reason you took this job as Mrs. Claus is so you could investigate Jackson Barnard’s death.”
“Well, no, I don’t want to tell you that at all,” I said. “What I do want to tell you is that I’m really looking forward to seeing your sweet, handsome face on Thursday.”
He chuckled. “Myrtle, what am I going to do with you?”
“You’re going to take me to dinner,” I said.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, I am. I’m looking forward to it. In the meantime, please don’t get yourself into any trouble.”
Why is it that everybody thinks I’ll get myself into trouble? I didn’t get to be a young sixty-five by going around getting into trouble.
“You know I won’t,” I said.
“No, I don’t know that. If I was to make a bet, I’d lay odds on you getting yourself into trouble as fast as you can,” he said.
“All right, I’ll try not to get into trouble,” I said.
I’m telling you, people don’t give me enough credit. I’m pretty good at taking care of myself…usually.
Chapter Seven
I made myself a sandwich and ate it while Matlock was eating his dinner. Then we went upstairs and got into bed to watch TV. I was scrolling through the channels and saw that one of those Ocean movies with George Clooney and Brad Pitt was just coming on.
“This’ll be good,” I told Matlock. “After being with Santa Claus and the Magnesium Man Gang, it’ll be nice to see some good-lookin’ men.”
As I was watching the movie, I got to thinking about the Magnesium Man Gang. Glen, Harold, and Bo were all in the same boat from a financial standpoint. They’d worked somewhere and been laid off or something and now they were working minimum wage jobs at the mall. I knew Glen worked at Pickles and Pretzels, and Bo had been wearing a custodian’s uniform. I didn’t know yet where Harold worked—he didn’t talk much—but I gathered he wasn’t very happy with his job either.
The three of them had been having lunch with Jackson Barnard, who I knew had been laid off from the gas plant and had taken his job as Santa to help make ends meet. Had the four men just become friends because they had so much in common? Or had they been like this Ocean fellow, and each man had been picked to play a pivotal role in a big heist?
I grinned at myself. I have a big imagination. I decided to elaborate on it.
They’d been friends with Jackson Barnard because they needed him in his Santa disguise for some reason or other. But Jackson got cold feet, and they poisoned him. Now they were buddying up to me because they needed a replacement for their Santa and they thought I’d fit the bill better than the new Santa.
My grin faded. All of a sudden, that didn’t seem too far-fetched at all.
Could that actually be the case? Could the Magnesium Man Gang be planning to rob the mall? Were they trying to feel me out to see if I was heist material?
First thing tomorrow, I needed to talk with the new Santa. Maybe I wasn’t the only one at Santa Land being recruited by the Magnesium Man Gang.
* * *
On Tuesday, I was supposed to be at work at one. I got there about twenty minutes early so I could go by Pickles and Pretzels and get a cinnamon sugar pretzel. If I wasn’t careful, this investigation was going to have me fitting into that Mrs. Claus costume without needing any padding. Still, I made sure not to be my happy-go-lucky self and to scrape together the change to buy my pretzel while Magnesium Man Glen was taking my order.
“Anything wrong, Myrtle?” he asked.
“Huh? No…I’m all right, Glen. Thanks for asking.” I took my pretzel, heaved a big sigh, and went to my post.
“I’m not late, am I?” I asked Santa.
“Nope,” he said. “Right on time.”
“I just bought this pretzel. Would you like half?”
“No, thanks.” He grinned. “Don’t want to not need my padding anymore.”
“Tell me about it,” I said. “This mall is going to be the death of me.” I wrapped the pretzel in a napkin and put it in my purse. I’d have it for dinner. “Mainly I just went by the pretzel place because I have a friend working there. You might know him—Glen?” I didn’t know Glen’s last name.
“No…doesn’t ring a bell.” He frowned. “Works at Pickles and Pretzels, you say?”
“That’s right.”
He nodded. “Seems to me he did talk with me one day. Asked how I ended up with such a crummy job. I told him I didn’t think it was crummy at all.”
“Oh, I don’t think so either,” I said. “I think what we do here is very important.”
“So do I. I’ve always loved children,” he said. “Mine are grown now…married, but no grandkids yet.”
“Where did you work before becoming a mall Santa?” I asked.
“I was a financial planner,” he said.
“Wow. That sounds like a good job.”
“It was. I enjoyed it. But this past fall, I retired.” He smiled. “I’m ready to spend some time with those grandchildren my kids seem determined not to give me!”
We both laughed.
“I have one—a granddaughter—and I can tell you that they’re worth the wait. She’s the most precious person in the world to me.”
He nodded toward a group of preschoolers headed our way. “Look how sweet they are. You know, I wouldn’t even accept any pay for this job. I knew the mall was in a bind after that other fellow died, and I just volunteered to fill in.”
“That’s great,” I said. What I thought was, so if Glen is planning a heist, he knows you wouldn’t be of any help to him whatsoever.
* * *
At dinnertime, I sat in the food court eating my cold pretzel and looking pitiful until the Magnesium Gang showed up.
“Myrtle, are you just now getting a chance to eat that pretzel?” Glen asked, as he sat down across from me.
I shrugged. “Not really. I just decided I’d bett
er save it for my dinner. I’ve been splurging too much lately.”
“Well, now, that just sounds sad,” Bo said, pulling out a chair.
I sighed. “It’s just what it is, I reckon. Y’all remember me telling you about my neighbor coming and making fun of me in my costume yesterday?”
They all nodded.
“Well, if that wasn’t bad enough, she went to where my daughter works and asked if I needed a handout.” I didn’t have to pretend that made me mad because it really did. I shook my head as I ripped off a piece of that pretzel. “Let’s be honest. I’m not doing this for my health.” I was doing it to solve a murder. “But my finances are none of her business.”
“Are you okay, Myrtle?” Glen asked gently. “Do you need some help? I mean, I can’t contribute much financially, but I do get the unsold pretzels at the end of the night.”
“Well, if you don’t mind sharing, I would like a couple pretzels,” I said.
“Consider it done,” he said. “Come by after your shift, and I’ll have a couple put back for you.”
“Are you sure it won’t get you in any trouble?” I asked.
“It sure won’t.” He chuckled. “My family is getting sick of pretzels.”
“Well, I can keep ’em in candy canes,” I said.
“What are you going to do after Christmas?” Harold asked quietly.
“I try not to think about that,” I said. “I was doing well to get this job. Most employers want to hire someone young.” I sighed and shrugged.
I’d been back to handing out candy canes and coloring books for about an hour and a half when Bo came along pushing his janitorial cart. He caught my eye and jerked his head back to signal for me to come there.
“Hello, Bo,” I said. “Candy cane?”
“No, thanks.” He reached into his pocket and took out a wallet. “I found this a few minutes ago…thought you could use it.”
“Are you sure?” I looked around to make sure no one was watching. For some reason, I felt this was some sort of test. “There’s money in it?” I whispered.
