Hot Coffee Iced Santa

by Cam Larson

  While I waited for my food, I dialed Daniel. His voice was welcoming. I could tell things were going better at home. I asked him how he and his father were doing.

  "We've done a lot of mending," said Daniel. "I don't know why we let things go as far as they did. How is it going for you?"

  "For starters, Cassie and Steven are in a relationship for sure." I told him about the conversation between them that I overheard. "I let them know I heard them. They didn't seem upset about that."

  "I'm surprised they are an item but it is something Steven would do. It sounds like Frank was a drinker from what you told me," said Daniel. "I wonder how often he went to Tommy's Bar. You may be able to find out something there."

  "Do I look like someone who would walk into a bar alone?" I asked.

  "I'm sorry, Laila, no, of course not."

  "I'm just teasing you. Yeah, I'll make a visit there. I'll go in the daytime, though. I don't want customers to think I'm there to get picked up."

  Daniel relaxed and laughed. The buzzer on my oven went off and I took the pizza out with one hand in the oven mitt. While I let it sit for a couple of minutes we discussed my approach to the bartender. I opened a drawer and found my pizza cutter while we talked.

  "Daniel, I have something to tell you that happened before you left. I didn't want to ruin your holiday if I thought you would worry."

  "Tell me, Laila. You know you can tell me anything."

  I told him how Steven had planted the kiss on me the night I met with him. There was a short silence before Daniel spoke again. "I know you didn't ask for it. Steven went too far that time. He knows we are seeing each other."

  "I let him know I didn't like it at all. In fact, I reminded him of that very thing. He apologized. But, I can see why he isn't successful in his relationships."

  I told Daniel about the night I had the flat tire and how Steven was right behind me.

  "At the time I wondered why he was on this street. That is, until this afternoon when I took Thor for his walk." I told Daniel about seeing him going into the house several houses down.

  "I thought you said he was seeing Cassie now," said Daniel. "Are you telling me he is seeing two people at once?"

  "I have no proof except for what I observed. If he is, then Cassie has no idea, I'm sure."

  "I don't know why he flirts with every woman who crosses his path. It's like he has an addiction of some kind," said Daniel.

  "I didn't mean to upset you, but we are telling each other everything that may pertain to who killed Frank. Of course, I'm not saying Steven's womanizing is related to the murder in any way. I'm not saying that at all. I just miss having direct conversations with you, I guess."

  "I miss you, too, Laila," said Daniel. We were ready to hang up when Daniel said, "I meant to tell you that I have a friend who works with the medical examiner. He gave me some interesting information." I sat up ready to find out what he discovered. "He told me that they are in the process of testing the DNA found on Frank."

  "That should make a huge difference where suspects are concerned," I said. "Where was the evidence found?"

  "Do you remember when we saw Frank on that freezer floor? He didn't have the Santa mittens on if you recall." I remembered that. "The examiner's office found blood and tissue under his fingernails. Once they have the results, they will be able to match it with a suspect."

  "That is something," I said. "It may not match anyone they suspect now. I'm really curious about that part of the mystery. Frank was fighting with someone before he was killed."

  "That is a sure thing. Did you happen to notice if anyone in the kitchen had broken nails or scratches that night?"

  "I remember Steven constantly brushing his hands on his pants but I figured that was sweat from nervousness. As for Cassie, her face is what stays in my mind. I don't think I paid any attention to other staff members who were there."

  "I didn't either," said Daniel. "I think there were three other kitchen workers. Maybe another dishwasher and two were servers. Or maybe one was cooking that night. I'm not certain who they were. I'm sure the cops looked for scratches on everyone questioned."

  Officer Stanton did ask to see my hands that night, as well as Daniels. I told Daniel I was going to see Chief Donald Hayes again and press him for more information. I knew he would give me only what he wanted to or what he thought would satisfy me.

  The familiar chuckle came across the line. "I guess if anyone can weasel information out of him, you can, Laila. Let me know what he tells you." I assured him I would. "By the way, I picked up another present for you. It should reach you before you leave for Tennessee," he said.

  "Two minds working the same path," I said. "I’ve found something for you, too. I think it will have meaning for you,” I said. “I hope you didn't spend a lot more money on me. I love the bracelet and that was plenty.”

  "This second gift is nothing big, just has some meaning to it. When do you think you will go to Tommy's Bar?"

  "I'll go there during my break time at Roasted Love tomorrow. If there is time, I'll pay a visit to Chief Hayes while I'm out."

  "Laila, I really appreciate what you are doing. But be careful. Let someone you trust know where you go. I mean for you to let someone know when you go to Tommy's Bar. It's not on the best side of town."

  I promised him I would do that. When I ended the call, I picked up a limp and somewhat cool slice of pizza and took a bite. I had to figure out my approach at Tommy's Bar. Walking into a tavern wasn't a usual occurrence for me. One of my questions would be to ask if Frank ever came to the bar in his Santa suit. That possibility popped up in my mind from nowhere. Maybe the bar had a party that night and Frank was there in his Santa garb. If true, new information may help to pull things together. Figuring out Frank and his habits took up too much space in my head for one night.

  There was more to Frank Duvall, aka Santa, than I could figure out at this point.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The sun was out and an unexpected warm-up took the chill from the air. I took a deep breath. Today was the day to visit Tommy's Bar. The top layer of snow around the tavern was speckled with something that looked like sandpaper. I picked my way through the slush to the dark doorway. Blinded by the sun that made a direct hit on sparse areas of untouched whiteness, I fumbled for the door handle.

  It was then that something caught my eye. On top of the nearby storm drain, a red cloth stood in stark contrast to everything else. Bending to pick it up, I turned the Santa's hat over in my hands. The initials F.D. were written inside the rim. There was only one person I thought of with those initials. Whether or not Frank Duvall was at this bar the night he was killed was a sure thing in my mind. The soft hat dripped with melted snow but I stuffed it into my pocket anyway and pushed the door open.

  A combination of stale cigarette smoke and alcohol met me in the dimness. The body odor that lingered didn't help. I wondered what part of the day someone decided to clean up from the night before. I adjusted my eyes and saw two people. The bartender wiped the counter in front of him. His eyes drilled me before he bent to his task again. I walked to the bar to get his attention.

  "Did you see a man dressed like Santa in here lately?" I asked.

  He grunted and wiped the same spot over and over. "I guess the next thing you'll be asking me is do reindeer really fly."

  "No, I just have the one question. Did a Santa come in here recently?" He missed his chance to answer when an inebriated patron spoke up from several stools down the line.

  "Are you asking about Frank?" The only part easy to understand was the dishwasher's name, though it was somewhat slurred. I could see the man started drinking early in the day and was well on his way to a stupor. He slipped to one side on the bar stool.

  "Yes, I'm looking into his death. Did you see him in here?"

  "Just about every day," I heard him from a few stools down. I didn't want to get too close to the man. I barely leaned in to understand him better. There was no mi
ssing the smelly thick breath, even from the short distance. "I heard he was knocked off and left in a freezer. Too bad; it's a shame, it is."

  "Can you remember if he was in here that night? I would really appreciate all the information you can give me."

  He slipped again. Only a couple of inches left before the slumped body would meet the floor. The bartender moved to the end of the counter but kept a watchful eye on the two of us. If he wasn't careful, holes would start to appear in the rag he used as he continued to rub it across the counter.

  The patron shifted back onto the stool and rubbed his eyes. His hand knocked the glass in front of him, but, just in time, he tilted it upright. I noticed the frayed edges of his worn coat. If he shaved at all, it had been a while. His grey stocking cap matched his whole appearance.

  "I saw the news on television, you know," he said. "It was a crying shame he ended up like that."

  "Do you remember if he was in here the night he was murdered?"

  The man shook his head back and forth. "That was just terrible." He suddenly perked up. "I think he was in here that night. We had a couple of drinks together. Anyway, we were having a pretty good time. And, just like that, he up and left." His attempt to snap his fingers failed. "I figured he was going to play Santa Claus someplace."

  "Did he say where he was going?"

  For a split second he appeared to be in deep thought. Recall flooded his eyes. "He didn't leave right then. A tall man with dark hair came in and they stood there and talked. The man was dressed pretty good for this side of town. He looked important in that suit." His speech became clearer. "Yes, that was it. I remember now."

  "Did Frank tell you what they talked about?"

  "He didn't come back in. The man sat down and ordered a drink. He gulped it down and left." The man on the stool swerved and called to the bartender. "Billy, what did that man drink? Do you remember?"

  The bartender glared at him. "I don't even remember him being in here much less what he had to drink. I don't get into personal stuff with my customers."

  The man on the bar stool turned back to me. "Well, that's about it. I just remember Frank in that getup. It was like he was really Santa." He gulped down another shot. "'Course Santa doesn't usually come to bars." A bit of saliva dripped from a corner of his mouth when he grinned.

  "Thanks. At least, I know Frank was here that night and that he talked to someone," I said. "What's your name?"

  "I'm Joe." I handed Joe a five dollar bill for his next drink and left. On my way to the door I thought there was only one man who fit the description and it was Steven Landers. Other than when he cooked a couple of meals for me, any time I saw him he wore a business suit. He was tall and he had dark brown hair.

  Deep in thought, I was stupid not to be aware of surroundings outside the door of Tommy's Bar. Strong hands clamped my mouth shut. Sheer panic set in when I found it impossible to turn around to see my attacker. My neck almost snapped when he jerked me close. The voice was sinister and threatening. Hot breath blew into my left ear. The faint scent of a man's aftershave reached my nose when I attempted a frantic gasp of air.

  "It's time to back off this case if you want to see the holidays."

  Strong arms pushed me to the ground. The refrozen snow on the shadowed ground pierced my face. I fell once before I steadied my feet to a stand-up position. My head swam when I turned around to see who had threatened me. Two stray cats ran across the empty alley. My heart thumped as if on fire and I stumbled to my car. When I looked at Tommy's Bar there was no new activity. The voice that snuck up behind me was not one I recognized. I tried to place the aftershave scent but failed.

  It took two tries to turn the key in the ignition. I then sped off to a more inviting area of West River. When I parked in the parking lot of a large grocery store, I dialed Daniel. My hands shook when I hit speed dial. When I returned his greeting, he picked up on my frenzied voice.

  "What's wrong, Laila?" he asked. "Are you all right?"

  I told him of my experience outside Tommy's Bar. "I don't know who attacked me, but the man that Joe described fits Steven."

  "Oh, no, Laila, I should never have suggested you go down there. You have to tell Donald about this right away."

  For the moment, he chose not to mention Steven's name. I wasn't in any frame of mind to go to the precinct and meet with Chief Hayes at this point. "I'll be all right. The person is long gone by now. I just wish I could figure out that voice."

  "I don't think Steven would have grabbed you like that and threatened you. I just can't believe Steven would do something like kill Frank.

  "I just don't know. When I'm with Steven, I feel he isn't the guilty person. But then when I talk to someone like Joe I'm not so sure."

  "You did say this Joe was a little drunk. He could have been describing anyone he saw in the bar that night."

  "I know that, too. And he was more than a little drunk. I think I'll talk to Steven again. I'll make it a casual visit. That way I can decide if he was the one at Tommy's that night." I paused. "I can't believe he would do that to me outside the bar either. I want to believe he is innocent of all of this like you do."

  "Please be careful, Laila."

  My hands continued to shake. I asked myself why I was so compulsive in trying to solve a real life murder.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Heading for Steven's Steakhouse, it was nearly impossible to erase the scent of my attacker. Late afternoon had emerged into early evening. Shops along the street near the Steakhouse were catering to last minute shoppers. The restaurant was lit and parking spaces were taken except for a few. The Steakhouse was back in business. When I entered, I heard Jingle Bells from the player piano. Lights on the Christmas tree sparkled. Diners were enjoying their dinners.

  "Is Steven around?" I asked the cashier.

  "I'm sorry but he isn't here tonight. Do you want to leave a message for him?"

  I wanted to say I knew where he was. Most likely, he could be found in the vicinity of Tommy's Bar on the other side of town. Instead, I smiled and said, "I'll catch him another time. Thanks."

  She nodded her head and turned to customers waiting to check out.

  The night air whipped my face. Small specks of snow pecked my face. I looped the wool scarf tighter around my neck. My warm apartment waited for me. I had a strong desire to pull Thor next to me and forget about Steven Landers and his dishwasher. I pictured my dog happily chewing on his treat while I curled up with hot chocolate. This detective stuff wasn't always so much fun. Sticking to the safe job as Barista would be a better idea.

  Second thoughts about pursuing who killed Santa washed over me. As the car heater threw out warmth, those doubts pushed away from my psyche. If I gave up, I would be caving in to whoever threatened me earlier.

  Thor greeted me with his usual rambunctious spirit. We went out the back door while I still had my coat on. He ran in pursuit of the ball and brought it back asking for more. After a few more times, we headed back inside and I settled for a light dinner while Thor ate his.

  My phone rang. "How are you feeling, Laila? I've worried about you ever since the attack," said Daniel. "Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine and home again. Don't worry about me. I'm being careful."

  "I miss you."

  "I miss you, too, Daniel. I wish it wasn't holiday time and we could figure things out face to face," I said. My voice edged with a whine. "I almost decided tonight to just drop this investigation and leave it all to the cops."

  "I understand. What conclusion did you reach?"

  "If I drop it, then there is no resolution for me. I decided if Steven is guilty he should pay the price. If he isn't, then he should be exonerated."

  I heard a deep sigh from Daniel. "I'm glad you see it this way. You know, he doesn't have family to stand behind him through all of this. I may call Steven and feel him out. I could check up on him and see if he has any other thoughts on it all."

  "That's a good idea," I said. I told
Daniel about not finding Steven at the Steakhouse. "I suppose he is home and you could reach him there," I said.

  "I'm surprised he wasn't at the restaurant. I didn't think he missed a night there. I'll try him at home and let you know what I find out, if anything," said Daniel. "On another note, I wonder why Frank was in his Santa suit at Tommy's Bar that night."

  "That is a mystery to me, too. I'm thinking he had been someplace playing Santa before he came in that night to get a drink," I said. I reminded him that Joe thought he was leaving to play Santa someplace else. "Not only that, but when I found his red hat on the ground, I later thought maybe someone had a fight with him outside the bar."

  "If he had been drinking, maybe the wind caught it and he didn't realize it flew off when he came out. I guess that would depend on how much he had to drink to begin with." Daniel was silent for a split second. "I doubt he was going to play Santa when he left the bar. It must have been late. Kids would be in bed by that time."

  I hadn't thought of that. "Whatever happened, we do know he came back to Steven's Steakhouse in his Santa suit later that night. Either someone came with him, or he let them in when they arrived. Maybe he set up a meeting with whoever he talked to at the bar. Another theory is maybe he knew someone was already at the restaurant when he came back."

  "There are plenty of questions to it all," said Daniel. "Make a point to see the Chief tomorrow and tell him every detail. That includes the attack on you."

  "Okay. Maybe he can find out more than what I did. I'm not sure where to look next. I wonder if the cops have other leads. I just may ask Chief Donald Hayes that."

  The chuckle on the line reassured me and gave me courage again to see this case to the end. We ended the call and I leaned back in the chair and flipped on the TV. I just got comfortable when the doorbell rang. I shivered in the warmth of the room, hesitating to open the door. It could be my attacker. I used the peephole and saw a delivery man with the UPS emblem on his jacket. He held a package.

  I opened the door and breathed easier when I saw the return address belonged to Daniel Jenkins. I thanked him and took the package to my chair. When I pulled the ribbon from the wrapped package inside, there was a note that read: "To my favorite Barista Detective, Merry Christmas."