The Santa Sleuth
by
Heather MacAllister
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Kindle Edition
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Copyright (c) 1994 by Heather W. MacAllister
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in critical articles or reviews.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locales is purely coincidental.
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Kindle Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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Cover Photos
© Worytko Pawel | Bigstock
© Kurhan | Bigstock
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DEDICATION
For True Believers everywhere
Especially
Brett and Collin MacAllister
Daniel, Andrew, and Adam MacAllister
and Laura Shin
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Originally published as a Harlequin Romance in 1995 as The Santa Sleuth by Heather Allison
Table of Contents
Contents
Cover
Dedication
Author's Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
About the Author
Excerpt from Counterfeit Cowgirl
Excerpt from Haunted Spouse
Excerpt from Undercover Lover
Excerpt from Princess Charming
Also available by Heather MacAllister in the Kindle store
CHAPTER ONE
"Do you believe in Santa Claus?"
Amanda Donnelly squatted to half her height and stared intently into the freckled face of a small boy. He stared back. "Do you believe in Santa Claus?" she repeated, a bit impatiently. Honestly, finding a child to feature as a Santa Sleuth in her story was harder than she'd thought.
The boy, cute, but not vocal, nodded, then looked up at his kindergarten teacher for approval. She patted him on the shoulder and raised her eyebrows at Amanda.
With a slight shake of her head, Amanda straightened and met the principal's eyes.
"Thanks, Stephen," the teacher murmured, and sent the boy back to the classroom.
"Ms. Donnelly," said the elementary school principal, "have you made your decision?"
Amanda shook her head. "I need a child with more ... presence. Not quite so babyish."
The teacher sent her an exasperated look. "Try first or second grade," she said, lowering her voice to a whisper and stepping back into her classroom. "Any older and they don't, you know, believe," she mouthed.
Amanda sighed. The executive producer at Hello Houston, the popular local television show, was always getting clever ideas and assigning others to work out the details. Amanda had been assigned this story--a cute seasonal piece of fluff.
Amanda didn't want this story. She didn't particularly like working with children. She didn't like fluff pieces, and she loathed Christmas.
Her producer, Kay, knew this, of course, and obviously thought the assignment might instill a little Christmas cheer in Amanda.
But it would take more than candy canes and red velvet to bring on the Christmas spirit.
"They lose their teeth in first grade, don't they?" Amanda asked the principal. "Could we find a precocious child who still has teeth?"
"Ms. Donnelly, this is a school, not a casting agency," Mrs. Hull chided as she led Amanda down the hall to the first-grade wing.
"I realize that," Amanda murmured, trying to mend fences. "And we do want that fresh unaffected quality professional child actors lack."
Professional child actors would have to be paid, and Hello Houston wanted to avoid talent costs on this segment. Amanda smiled with all the fake sincerity she could muster.
"I see." Mrs. Hull eyed her for a moment, then left her standing in the hallway and sailed into one of the classrooms.
Amanda was afraid the principal saw a great deal more than she should.
Leaning against the cool tile wall, Amanda sighed again. There it was, school smell--a mix of pencils, paper and starchy lunches. A few feet away, two teachers' aides pulled Thanksgiving decorations from a bulletin board.
The Christmas season had officially arrived. Not that it mattered to her, except that the traffic around the malls would be impossible for weeks. Amanda always avoided it by ordering from catalogs. No muss, no fuss.
Mrs. Hull returned, five children trailing behind her, reminding Amanda of a large duck with her ducklings. Three boys and two girls lined up against the wall.
"Perhaps I could see the entire class?" Amanda suggested.
"These are the only ones with all their teeth," the principal said, showing hers.
Amanda knew she had to select one of these children or find another school. Mrs. Hull had only cooperated because Amanda promised that the school would be named on Hello Houston. Principals were quite competitive, she'd discovered to her surprise.
"Are we in trouble?" asked one of the boys.
"No, Jason, not this time," Mrs. Hull reassured him.
Amanda mentally crossed him off her list. After talking with the children for a few moments, Amanda mentally crossed them all off her list. She wanted to cross the whole idea off her list.
"I'm sorry we couldn't be of any help to you," said Mrs. Hull, her feathers clearly ruffled.
As the principal thanked the first-grade teacher, Amanda looked over their shoulders and scanned the fidgeting class. Her attention was immediately caught by a pair of steady blue eyes, staring out from the face of an angel. The angel had hair of spun gold ringlets.
Perfect.
"Could I talk to that little girl?" Amanda asked, pointing into the classroom.
"She's missing a front tooth," replied the principal.
"Only one?"
"As far as I know."
Amanda ignored the tone in the principal's tone. "Please?"
For a moment Mrs. Hull looked as though she'd refuse, but then she capitulated.
The little girl and her teacher came out into the hallway, but noise from the rest of the students drew the teacher back inside.
"Hi," Amanda said, slightly disconcerted by the child's direct gaze. "Do you believe in Santa Claus?"
"Maybe," the girl replied and tilted her head. "Will I get a Super Nintendo if I do?"
Amanda blinked.
"Virginia!" said the shocked principal.
"Her name's Virginia?" Amanda turned to the principal, who nodded.
"Oh--" Amanda looked heavenward "--it's a sign. Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. And we're going to find him." Amanda fumbled in her purse for a business card.
"Where are we going to find Santa?" Virginia asked.
"At the mall, honey." Amanda thrust a card at the teacher, who stood within earshot, then one each to the principal and Virginia.
"
I don't read very good yet." Virginia tried to sound out "Amanda."
"It says my name, Amanda Donnelly, and that I'm an associate producer with Hello Houston. Have you ever watched Hello Houston on TV?"
Virginia wrinkled her nose. "Is it a cartoon?"
"Sometimes." Amanda grinned.
Virginia grinned back. The missing tooth wasn't so bad. In fact, it was kind of cute.
Mrs. Hull stepped to the classroom door, where she and the teacher engaged in a whispered conference. "Excuse me." The teacher motioned Amanda toward her. With cautionary looks at Virginia, they moved several yards down the hall.
"You don't want to work with Virginia," warned the teacher.
Amanda took great exception to being told what she did or did not want. "She's perfect. Cute, personable, quick thinking for a kid, and I was wrong about the teeth."
"Oh, she's smart. Very smart. But . . ." The teacher darted a glance at the principal.
"We feel another child might better represent Cameron Elementary," Mrs. Hull said smoothly.
Amanda admired her diplomacy. But it only served to make her want this child more. "Why?"
"Virginia sometimes exhibits inappropriate behavior."
Amanda looked past the teacher and principal to Virginia and stifled a laugh. Virginia was performing in the doorway for her classmates. She'd gathered her hair back and had puffed out her cheeks, rendering a startlingly accurate impersonation of Mrs. Hull.
Amanda cleared her throat. "She's not violent or anything, is she?"
"Of course not!" Virginia's teacher answered. "However--"
"However, I'm sure she'll do fine," Amanda said, raising her voice in warning.
Virginia caught her eye and whipped her arms down to her sides just as the other two women turned and walked back to her.
Amanda checked her watch. "Now, what time is school out?"
"Two thirty-five." The teacher looked as though it wouldn't be a moment too soon.
"All right, if we leave now, I can have her back--"
The principal was shaking her head. "You can't take this child anywhere now."
Amanda gripped the strap on her purse. "Now's a great time." She was careful to keep her voice even. "The lines for Santa won't be long. We might be able to visit two malls."
"Ms. Donnelly, I'm afraid you don't understand." The principal nodded a dismissal to Virginia and her teacher.
Amanda caught sight of Virginia's perplexed face as she returned to her seat. "You're right, I don't understand." Calm down. Amanda consciously lowered her voice and slowed her speech. "I thought we agreed that I could feature one of your students in my story. Naturally you or someone from the school will come along." Amanda made a mental note to tape footage of the principal. They could edit it out later.
"I'd like that, but today is out of the question."
"Why?"
Amanda spoke to the principal's back as the woman strode down the hall. Great. Now you've alienated her and you'll have to start all over again at another school.
Amanda lived in the fast pressured pace of the television studio and frequently forgot that the rest of the world didn't run on impossible deadlines.
She hurried after the principal, catching up just as the older woman entered her office. By the time Amanda reached the doorway, Mrs. Hull was behind her desk, pulling on a pair of glasses.
Amanda had clearly outstayed her welcome. Mentally shifting her schedule to allow for another school visit that afternoon, she started to thank the woman for her time.
Unbidden, a pair of blue eyes flashed in her mind, accompanied by a picture of the little blonde scamp prancing in front of her classroom. Virginia. Too good to be true. Amanda knew she wouldn't be able to forget her. Furthermore, she'd probably spend days trying to find another child just like Virginia, fail, and end up back here in a week, anyway.
"Mrs. Hull, it's been a long time since I was in school, and I don't have children of my own. How can we get Virginia to the malls?" Amanda had deliberately said "we."
"You will need," Mrs. Hull said with the slightest bit of emphasis, "parental permission."
"Certainly." Amanda whipped out her notebook. "Do you have a telephone number?"
Mrs. Hull removed her glasses. "I don't have the school records in here, and even if I did, I wouldn't give you that information."
Deep breaths. Long deep breaths.
"And I'm concerned about Virginia’s missing school," Mrs. Hull added.
So why hadn't she brought that up earlier? Amanda stopped breathing. Her brain was getting too much oxygen.
"Of course." Amanda managed a smile. "I'll discuss all that with her parents. I am permitted to speak to her parents?"
The principal favored her with a wintry smile, punched a button on the telephone and spoke. "Would you please look up the McEnery's phone number and contact them for Ms. Donnelly?"
McEnery. Amanda wrote surreptitiously in her notebook.
"That's right," the principal was saying. "Well, call the father, then." She hung up the telephone. "The front office is just around the next corner," she informed Amanda in obvious dismissal.
Amanda gritted her teeth and smiled her way out. Passing gaily decorated bulletin boards, she located the front office.
A woman, bent over a file cabinet, straightened and removed a card. "Are you Ms. Donnelly?" she asked, catching sight of Amanda.
"Yes." Amanda, who had been tapping her pen impatiently, removed her hands from the counter.
The woman nodded and reached for the telephone.
Hurry, hurry, hurry, Amanda urged silently.
Kay had underestimated the amount of time necessary to produce this segment. Amanda looked at her watch again. It was obvious that she wouldn't be making any trip to a mall today.
On the other hand, it was still November, and the serious Christmas-shopping season had only begun. The timing on the Santa piece wasn't critical. Amanda just wanted to get this assignment over with. Malls were places to be avoided around Christmas.
Christmas had become over-commercialized and over-hyped, anyway. People expected too much of Christmas.
The school secretary waved to get Amanda's attention. "Mr. McEnery isn't in his office. Shall I leave your number?"
Amanda rattled off the studio number. "When is he expected back?"
"They don't know. He's showing houses today."
"He's a realtor?" Great. Erratic hours. They'd never connect.
"Apparently so," replied the secretary as she hung up the phone.
"Doesn't he have a cell phone?"
"I didn't ask."
Amanda would have to count on the efficiency of his office staff. "What about Virginia's mother? Does she work outside the home, too?"
The school secretary checked the card. "She's deceased."
"Oh." Poor little kid. "Well, thank you for your time. If you'll tell me what agency Mr. McEnery's with, I'll contact him myself."
"I can't give out that information."
Amanda stared at the woman. "But you said he's a realtor. What if I wanted to buy a house from him?"
"School policy prohibits us from releasing personal information about our students," the secretary intoned.
"That's--"
Amanda's protest was interrupted when a teacher appeared in the connecting doorway. "The copy machine's out of paper."
"Did you look in the cabinet?"
The teacher nodded. "It's empty, too."
"I'll have to get more out of the supply room." The secretary grabbed a set of keys and jingled through the connecting door.
Amanda's gaze remained on the desk where the card containing the personal information of Virginia McEnery gleamed whitely.
No one was around.
Spying in an elementary school--how low had she sunk? Pretty low, she thought, ducking under the counter.
McEnery Realtors, she read on the card. That was all the information she needed. Good grief, she could look up the number herself.
Amanda virtuously avoided reading Virginia's home telephone number or address and stepped back to her side of the counter. "I'm on my way to the studio if anyone calls for me," she informed the returning secretary.
That was entirely too easy, Amanda thought, as she drove to the Hello Houston studio. For all their insistence on school security, Amanda already knew a lot about Virginia. She knew when school was out, how old the child was, that her mother was dead, who her father was, where he worked, and the fact that he kept irregular office hours. If she'd wanted to, she could have learned their home address and telephone number. Come to think of it, no one had asked for Amanda's identification, either. She'd just waltzed into the school with a business card and nothing more.
School Security. How safe are your children? Now that was the kind of story she'd rather be doing. In fact ...
By the time she pulled into the station parking lot, Amanda had thought of possibilities for an entire series of reports. When she reached her desk, she was surprised to find a message on her voice mail from Kirk McEnery.
That was quick. Obviously the man checked in with his office throughout the day. Amanda placed a return call.
He wasn't in. She left a message and went to work on another segment, set to air the next day.
When she discovered she'd missed his next call, she became impatient with their game of telephone tag and looked up the address of McEnery Realtors. They were located in the Memorial area--about half an hour from her Southwest Freeway studio. After leaving one more frustrating message, Amanda decided to drive there.
The traffic on the Houston freeways was already thickening. Amanda sighed, knowing the return drive in rush hour would be tedious.
This trip had better be worth it, she thought, parking her car in the lot of the small one-story building. Glancing at the other cars, Amanda noticed a few Mercedes, a BMW and a Lexus. Nice clientele, but then, Memorial was a nice area. Far out of her reach.
Slamming the door of her car--a modest import--she entered the tree-shaded building.
Ritzy place, she thought immediately. Calming blues and grays projected an air of elegance and no doubt soothed frazzled nerves. The dense carpet muted noise from telephones and computer printers.
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