The man could demand hazard pay, and yet he volunteered each year.
Santa was housed at the end of a row of colorful alpine chalets. One was a Santa-themed gift shop with inexpensive pencils, puzzles, and other things that might catch children’s eyes as they waited in the cold.
Next to the shop was the North Pole Canteen where Donnie and Roseanne Waterbury were helping their father dispense hot cider and donut holes. The line entered the third chalet and cut through the next to Santa’s throne, offering some respite from the cold. Two sides were lined with benches for weary parents and sleeping tots as they waited their turn to sit on Santa’s lap.
Behind the chalets, porta potties were camouflaged as reindeer stables. Liv had to hand it to the residents; they knew how to carry out a theme. What they had needed help with was coordination and organization, and how to actualize germinating ideas in a creative and cost-efficient way.
It was the perfect job for Liv. And she really resented people killing each other on her turf.
She stopped at the North Pole Canteen to say hello to the Waterburys. Roseanne handed her a cup of cider. “Hey, Liv.”
Joss Waterbury, tall, broad, and barrel-chested, said, “That’s Ms. Montgomery to you, miss.”
“She said I could call her Liv, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” Liv said. “If it’s okay with your dad. We kind of bonded over the last few months,” Liv explained. Because the girl had come to her, a stranger, for help. She’d thought that since Liv was from Manhattan, she would know how to solve a murder.
It was flattering but totally off base. Liv had never even been close to a murder before moving to this peaceful country community. Go figure.
“Well, I guess it’s okay. My little girl’s growing up.” Joss tugged at the braid that ran down his daughter’s back.
Roseanne rolled her eyes. “Da-a-ad.”
Joss grinned at Liv. “She’s my last. Donnie here’s graduating from high school in June and going over to the aggie school in Cobleskill.” He smiled proudly at his son, standing next to him, a spitting image of a younger Joss. “Though I spec he’ll be back to get a good home-cooked meal and do his laundry.”
“Which is why he’s gonna ask Santa for a car,” Roseanne said.
“Am not,” Donnie said. “I already got some money saved.”
“Then I’ll ask Santa for a car.”
Joss wagged his finger at her. “You won’t be driving for real for another couple of years, Rosie.”
“Yeah,” Donnie said. “You better ask Santa for some help with your algebra.”
She stuck out her tongue.
Joss shook his head, but he was smiling affectionately. “Better watch that or you’re liable to bite it off.”
“Thanks for the cider,” Liv said and tossed her empty cup in the trash can. “Just what I needed. Is Santa here yet?”
“Been here since ten. He don’t ever stay for the whole breakfast. Talks with the folks a bit, then comes on over here to set up. In fact, it’s almost time for his break. Donnie, go put up that sign.”
Donnie disappeared from the counter and came out to pull two posts, connected by a red velvet cord, across the sidewalk. A sign hung in the center. Santa is feeding the reindeer, back at—A clock with movable hands was affixed to the right, and Donnie checked his watch and changed the hands to two o’clock.
Liv looked at her own watch. It was past noon. Where had the morning gone?
She said good-bye and went to see Hank. She’d wait for his break and then would ask him a few more questions of her own. She stood just inside the door watching him chat with the child on his knee, then pose for a picture taken by a local photographer dressed as an elf.
Hank handed the kid a candy cane and then welcomed the next. He moved through the next few children efficiently without seeming to hurry. Some cried before they reached him, but they all seemed to leave happy.
He was a gentle giant, pleasant, friendly, and he seemed to genuinely like the children. He even laughed a big-belly “Ho, ho, ho” when one of them pulled his beard. And Liv just couldn’t imagine him killing someone, even in anger. Of course, she’d only seen him mad in her office. His temper might be a lot worse than she knew.
It was only a few minutes before the last family left, and Hank stood and stretched. “Ms. Montgomery.”
“Liv, please.”
Hank nodded. “What can I do for you? The ladies did a good job, didn’t they?” He spread his arms and gave Liv a full view of the suit. It was pretty impressive. The velvet, which would be a cleaning nightmare, was beautiful. Just like you’d imagine the real Santa would wear. The fur trim looked real, though Liv had seen it up close the night before and knew it was some kind of poly-something. The hat was jaunty and sported a huge white pom-pom at the point.
“I’m on my way over to the Pyne Bough for a couple of hours. Can I walk you somewhere?”
“Actually I wanted to ask you a few things . . . on our way.”
But Liv didn’t have much success on the walk over. Everyone waved or yelled hello at Santa, and Hank nodded and waved and “ho, ho, ho’ed” his way across the park, around the corner, where he stopped to hand out candy canes to families leaving the Corner Café, and into the alley and to the back door of Pyne Bough Gifts.
A truck was parked outside. The back gate was open and so was the door to the Pyne Bough. Not wide open but ajar, as if someone had swung the door closed but the latch hadn’t caught.
Liv glanced at Hank to see if he’d noticed. He had and he returned Liv’s look before holding the door and following Liv inside.
“Nancy?” he called out.
The stockroom was empty. Hank’s street clothes were hanging on the rack where he’d left them. Several new stacks of boxes rose in the center of the floor.
Liv was beginning to think that the business of locked doors was more good intention than truth. And if that was the case, anyone could have slipped in, nabbed the Santa suit, and gotten away. They could be stealing inventory right now.
“Nancy?” Hank called in his rumbling voice. He passed Liv, pulled aside the madras curtain, and opened the door. Liv followed him into the store.
Nancy Pyne stood at the counter with the deliveryman, running down the items of the packing list. “See. Here’s the discrepancy. There should have been two boxes of one hundred twig bird nests each. There’s only one.”
She was frowning when she looked up and saw Liv and Hank; she stiffened in surprise and a momentary unease, then pushed the packing slip at the deliveryman.
“Would you mind taking another look for the second one on the truck? They’re usually very good about shipping everything at once.”
The man grumbled but took the slip and returned to the stockroom. As soon as he’d left, she turned to Hank. “Is everything okay?”
“Back door was open,” Hank said. “You oughta be more careful, especially since . . . you know.” He nodded his head so strongly that it set his pom-pom to swaying.
“Oh dear.” Nancy started to move.
“It’s okay. We closed it.”
Nancy sighed. “It doesn’t close sometimes. I try to keep the hinges oiled, but it’s an old house. Thank you both, anybody could have come in and—” She broke off as she realized the implication. “Oh, Hank, I’m so sorry. This business is all my fault.”
“No, no. Now, don’t you feel like that. I’ll take a look at the hinges, maybe get some replacements. And as far as that other business goes, it’ll all be cleared up soon enough.”
Not soon enough for Liv.
“Some burglar saw an opportunity and took it. Bill Gunnison will catch him, and when he does, he’ll throw the book at him.”
Nancy flinched. “I should have checked to make sure the door caught, but I get flustered when the trucks come, trying to watch the front while overseeing the deliveries.” She smiled self-deprecatingly. “I can’t seem to be in two places at once.”
“Now, now,” Hank s
aid. And Liv suddenly wondered if there was a little mutual liking going on between the two of them.
“Why don’t you hire someone to help you?” Liv asked, dragging her mind from the possible relationship between Santa and Earth Mother.
“At these rents, I just can’t afford to.”
Liv remembered Miriam saying the same thing. Were rents too high, or was the economy still faltering? The town certainly looked like it was doing a healthy business; the number of visitors was up according to Ted and the board, but maybe sales were still flat. She’d have to check into it.
A loud thump sounded from the back room. Nancy jumped, and Hank rushed out to see what it was. Liv and Nancy were right behind him. The door was open. One of the stacked boxes had fallen to the floor.
They all looked wildly around.
A blur of orange streaked past their feet and slinked through the crack in the door to the outside.
Liv’s breath whooshed in relief. “It’s Grace Thornsby’s cat. I wondered if it would show up again.”
“She came to the door last night as I was leaving. I fed her and let her stay. I always keep a bag of sand in my car for traction. It’s perfect for kitty litter, and much healthier for the environment than chemicals. I figured it was better to keep her inside than take a chance of her freezing during the night.”
“Thanks for that,” Liv said. “I was feeling a little responsible for letting her escape last night. And Grace was asking about her this morning.”
“As if she cares about the poor creature,” Nancy said.
The deliveryman shouldered his way through the back door carrying a large cardboard box. “You were right. I found this in the back with the shipment to Nature’s Nurture over in Plattsburg.” He put the box down and pulled out his signature pad for Nancy to sign.
She followed him to the door, looked out before shutting it firmly behind him. “I guess the cat will be okay,” Nancy said. “I hate to leave it out in the cold.”
“I’m sure she knows where to come if she needs a friend,” Hank said.
Nancy gave him a look that dispelled any question Liv might have about the woman’s feelings for Hank.
“I brought a thermos of vegetable soup that I made last night. Would you like some for lunch, Hank?”
“Thanks, I would.”
“How about you, Liv? Would you like to join us?” She was being polite, but Liv could tell she’d rather have a soup tête-à-tête with Hank. And that would put a bit of a damper on Liv’s ability to ask Hank the questions she had in mind.
“Thanks, but I can’t stay. I want to drop by A Stitch in Time and compliment them on their sewing skills. It’s a great suit, Hank.”
“Yep, we’re real lucky to have all these folks who’ll pull together to see each other through times like this.”
Liv nodded. Like BeBe helping Penny out with a few weekend hours, and Hank hiring Jason and giving him a place to live. And Nancy opening her store, and possibly her heart, to the town Santa.
It was enough to give a person a little holiday glow.
Liv let herself out. Made sure the door was latched, then stepped out into the alley. The truck was gone, and she had a clear view all the way down to the other end of the block. Her holiday glow withered into a bit of holiday speculation.
There were clusters of trash cans at the doors of several stores. There were two Dumpsters, one at the far end and one between Nancy’s and the Trim a Tree store; and two openings to the parking lot, one by the pedestrian walk and the other across from the Pyne Bough. Either one making for an easy getaway.
As Liv pondered this idea, several people came from the parking lot. They stopped at the pedestrian walk and looked down the alley, pointed at the door of TAT. They huddled together talking and looking and pointing, then continued between the buildings to the street.
Word was out.
“Well, Liv,” she told herself. “It is Celebration Bay.”
Most thieves waited until late at night to break in, when no one would be about. Though maybe this one had thought it would be safe to attack when the stores were empty except for a skeleton crew waiting for the light cue, and everyone else’s attention would be on the tree lighting.
It would take guts, or desperation, she guessed, to steal a Santa suit and march down the alley to Trim a Tree when latecomers rushing to the tree lighting might see them. The murder had taken place somewhere between four o’clock when Penny left and around seven o’clock when they’d discovered Phil’s body.
Liv looked around. It had been dark by four o’clock, but even so, the alley was fairly well lit, as was the parking lot. She could see the tops of the floodlights over the stockade fence that lined the alley. Anyone could have seen the killer walking down the alley. But he would be just another pedestrian. And if he were wearing the Santa suit before he entered TAT, everyone would assume it was Hank.
And maybe it was.
He might hold a grudge against his ex-wife, but why murder the fake Santa? Hank had been angry in Liv’s office the day he told her about the second Santa, but his anger had been aimed more at Grace than the poor guy who now lay dead, just for doing a good deed and letting Penny go to sing at the tree lighting.
That was so not right—to die for a good deed. Especially to die violently. And it was hard for Liv not to feel responsible. She knew she wasn’t, but she also knew the town was looking toward her, not only for their livelihoods, but also for their safety.
So far she was failing miserably.
She looked back at the alleyway. She walked over to the first Dumpster, wondering if a person could have stolen the suit, then changed in and out of it without being seen. She turned around and had a clear view from the Dumpster to the street.
Something rolled beneath Liv’s feet; she looked down. Cigarette butts. Lots of them. Several were crushed beneath her boot; more littered the packed snow around the Dumpster. Several packs’ worth. All with the same filter. Someone had either missed the Dumpster or stood smoking cigarette after cigarette, not more than twenty feet from the delivery door of the Pyne Bough. Nancy must have really hated that.
Liv walked down the alley toward the pedestrian walkway, finding the occasional cigarette butt, but not so many as at the other end of the alley. But she noticed that most of them were the same brand or at least had the same filter.
She slowed as she passed the Trim a Tree store. The door was still sealed. There was no sign of the cat. When she got to the pass-through, she turned back to look down the alley. No one could move from store to store without risking being seen when it was daylight. But what about when it was dark? There were lights, yes, but how many shadows? Could someone sneak from store to store avoiding the light?
Unfortunately, there was only one way to find out.
She’d have to come back at night just to satisfy her curiosity. But for now she had to be content to peruse the alley in daylight. Liv knew she wouldn’t find any clues the sheriff and his team had missed. But she couldn’t just ignore the fact that while she’d been waiting expectantly for her first Christmas success, someone was sneaking down the alley to commit murder.
And she didn’t like it one bit.
Chapter Nine
There was a note on Liv’s desk. We had a few errands to run, your lunch is in the fridge. Liv wondered what errands but knew Whiskey would be happy as a clam to explore new vistas with his pal and fellow yodeler.
She was deep into lunch and paperwork when she heard the outer door open and the tapping of doggie paws on the hardwood floor. Whiskey shot through the open door to her office and skidded to a stop at Liv’s feet.
He had a Christmas tree biscuit between his teeth. Liv sighed. People just couldn’t stop feeding him. “Because you’re just so cute,” she said.
Whiskey danced in a circle.
“And wait until you hear this,” said Ted. He lifted his arms like a conductor.
Whiskey dropped the tree and sat.
“For we
like sheep,” Ted sang in a clear tenor.
“Aar-roo-roo-roo,” Whiskey sang back.
Liv groaned. For a monosyllabic vocabulary, Whiskey did a pretty good job of mimicking whatever Ted taught him. But no way was he taking her dog to the Messiah sing-along.
“Do you know what the reaction will be if you show up to the Messiah with a singing dog?”
Ted grinned wickedly. “We’d probably get a solo.”
“You’d probably be shown the door, punctuated by a swift kick, and followed by you being blackballed from the community choir.”
“Nah. We just need a little more practice.”
*
Liv spent the next hour listing security questions to ask A.K. Pierce. By the time he arrived, precisely at three o’clock, she was ready.
Ted ushered him in, or followed in his wake, it was hard to tell. The man had a presence.
He strode across the room, emanating authority. He was in his late thirties or early forties, tall, wide-shouldered, strong. Straight nose, firm jaw, shaved head. Not unpleasant to look at. But it was the don’t-mess-with-the-ex-marine demeanor that would make someone think twice about causing trouble. It was part of the reason Liv had hired him.
But only part. She was savvy enough to know that looks and charisma were only part of success. The services his firm offered were the ones that most closely meshed with the town’s needs. He was precise and ran a tight organization; he was a perfect blend of intimidation and approachability. His team of twenty were instructed to be friendly but firm. Just what she had envisioned for a security hire: a deterrent to anyone planning mayhem, but friendly enough that children wouldn’t be afraid to go to them for help.
Bayside Security cost a bit more than some of the others she had vetted, but the expense would be worth it if A.K. Pierce turned out to be what he promised. The fact that a murder had been committed on his watch was troublesome, but she hadn’t hired him to prevent murder, just to protect the crowd.
Silent Knife (A Celebration Bay Mystery) Page 10
