Death, Taxes, and Mistletoe Mayhem: A Holiday Novella (A Tara Holloway Novel)

by Diane Kelly

  Chris cut glimmering eyes her way. “You’ll never be too big for my lap.” He patted his knee. “Come on up here.”

  Cameron walked around his mother, raised his hands, and put his palms on her butt, pushing her toward the throne. “Go, Mommy!”

  Blushing but laughing, Charlotte stepped forward and gingerly climbed onto Santa’s lap.

  Chris put an arm loosely around her back and looked down into her pink face, his gaze inviting and warm, posing unspoken questions. “You’ve been very good this year, too, Charlotte. Top of my ‘nice’ list. What would you like for Christmas?”

  “Let’s see.” Charlotte looked up as if in thought, but I suspected it was more to avoid Chris’s penetrating gaze, to prevent herself from disclosing her burgeoning attraction to him before she was ready to admit it to herself. “Any chance your elves can make a new carburetor for my Mazda?”

  “I’ll get them working on it right away.”

  “Thanks, Santa.”

  Charlotte stood and climbed down, her movements slow, as if she’d have preferred to remain in the security and comfort of Chris’s arms and lap.

  When we’d all gathered again, Charlotte pulled her cell phone from her purse and turned to me. “Would you mind taking a picture of me and Cameron under the mistletoe?”

  I took the phone from her. “Be happy to.”

  She picked up her son and stepped onto the platform on which the oversized candy canes, MERRY KISS-MAS sign, and mistletoe were displayed.

  Eyes wide in wonder, Cameron stretched out a hand to touch one of the oversized candy canes. “Are these real, Mommy?”

  Charlotte chuckled. “No, honey. They’re just for show.”

  Once mother and son were in place under the candy cane arch, I counted a cue, “One. Two. Three.”

  On three, Charlotte gave her son a big, loud smoooooch on the cheek. He squealed and squirmed and giggled in her arms. When Charlotte set him back down, Brigit trotted over and gave him a lick from chin to ear.

  “Mommy!” Cameron cried, emitting a fresh set of giggles. “The dog kissed me, too!”

  “Don’t worry,” Megan said, pulling back on the leash. “She’s had her shots.”

  “It’s okay. A few dog germs aren’t going to hurt him.” Charlotte gave the dog a scratch behind the ears and stole a glance back at Santa. He was looking her way, too. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say both wished it were the two of them locking lips under that mistletoe.

  Megan and I bade good-bye to Charlotte and her son, and wandered into the mailroom to see if our not-so-secret Santas had delivered their gifts to us.

  “Score!” I pulled a striped pink Victoria’s Secret box from my temporary cubby, while Megan found a red gift bag in hers.

  I plucked the bow off the box and stuck it on Brigit’s head. She wagged her tail. I wrested the lid off to find the cute polka-dot bra I’d been admiring the other day, along with a pair of matching panties. Dressed in these, I’d definitely make Santa’s naughty list next year. I turned to Megan. “What did you get?”

  She reached into her bag and pulled out two black T-shirts, one made for a woman, the other for a dog. Both were printed with the words TOTALLY BITCHIN’. Looked like Santa had a sense of humor.

  Megan slipped Brigit’s shirt over her head and lifted her paws through the armholes. When she finished, she gave the dog a once-over. “Looking good, girl.”

  Brigit wagged her tail again.

  Megan checked her watch. “Better run. Brigit and I are due at the training course for practice.”

  “You’ll be at the jewelry store Monday morning at ten?” Nadine wasn’t due at the store until ten thirty, but I wanted to make sure everything was in place for the bust in case she arrived early. Rather than drag one of my fellow IRS agents all the way from Dallas to assist me, I’d asked Megan to serve as my backup.

  Megan nodded. “Ten sharp.”

  “See you then.” I could hardly wait. Nothing like a good bust to put a girl in a holiday mood.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Smashed

  Megan

  At five minutes before ten Monday morning, I pulled into my reserved spot at the mall. Though the stores wouldn’t open for a few more minutes, the lot was already half full, with cars streaming in from each entrance.

  Brigit and I climbed from the cruiser and had just made in onto the sidewalk when the unmistakable sounds of two vehicles racing for a spot and colliding met our ears.

  Roar-screech-honk-CRUNCH!

  There were two slams followed by a shouting match between two men.

  “What the hell were you doing? That was clearly my spot!”

  “Your spot? It was on my side of the row, you dipshit!”

  The first man shoved the other and the other shoved him back.

  Evidently not everyone was in the holiday spirit.

  TWEEEEET! I blew my whistle to let the men know law enforcement was on its way and to cut the crap posthaste. I headed three rows over to find the fenders of a Chevy pickup and a Ford pickup smashed together.

  The Chevy’s owner jabbed a finger in the air as he pleaded his case. “I was here first!”

  The Ford driver would have none of that. “Like hell you were!” He turned to me. “I was pulling into the spot when this guy—” He hiked his thumb to indicate the other driver. “—punched the gas and tried to beat me!”

  I raised a palm. “Quiet!”

  Both men stood there, red-faced and seething, their fists balling and reballing as I assessed the scene. Given that the trucks were precisely centered at the back of the spot, I’d say the two men shared blame equally. “Looks fifty-fifty to me.”

  When both attempted to argue, I raised my hand again. “Quiet.”

  I texted Tara to let her know I’d be a little late getting to the jewelry store.

  Wreck in lot. B there ASAP.

  Once the men had exchanged insurance information, I instructed them to leave the property, one at a time. No sense running the risk they’d resume their brawl in the mall, where innocent bystanders could get hurt.

  As Brigit and I turned to head into the shopping center, we heard the faraway sound of two pops.

  Jiminy Christmas!

  Was that gunfire?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Four on the Floor

  Brigit

  Brigit had been a K-9 officer long enough to recognize the sound. That pop-pop was the unmistakable sound of gunshots. She also knew the pops meant she and her partner were needed right away. The instant Megan unclipped her leash, the dog put four to the floor and ran as fast as she could in the direction of the shots.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Put in a Call to PETA

  Tara

  As I headed into the jewelry store Monday morning, my cell phone buzzed with an incoming text. I checked the readout.

  Wreck in lot. B there ASAP.

  Damn. This day wasn’t starting well. With Officer Luz delayed, I had my fingers crossed Nadine wouldn’t arrive early. I could handle a bust on my own so long she and Deidre cooperated, but if not …

  I tried not to think about the “if not.”

  I walked back to Deidre’s office to find her wearing a whimsical sweatshirt imprinted with Rudolph’s face, his bright red nose flashing courtesy of a built-in battery pack. Chris was in the office, too, dressed in his Santa suit.

  “Hello, Santa,” I said. “How was your weekend?” Loaded question, huh?

  “Freaking awesome!” Chris grinned from ear to ear. “My Secret Santa gave me a ticket to a charity ball and guess who happened to be at my table?”

  “Hmm…” I furrowed my brow and raised my palms in feigned innocence. “Could it have been Charlotte?”

  He pointed a finger at me. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  “Me and Officer Luz,” I admitted. Partners in crime.

  Chris grabbed me in a bear hug. “I can’t thank you two enough!” He released me and backed up. “We had the best night
ever!”

  Apparently Santa’s belief in love had been restored.

  “It gets even better.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. “My ex-fiancée came back from Montana yesterday and returned my ring.”

  Deidre and I exchanged glances. It was none of our business, of course, but we were both curious how things had gone.

  “And—?” I prodded.

  Chris indulged us. “She asked me to give things another try.”

  “Let me guess,” I said. “You told her to make like Santa’s reindeer and take a flying leap?”

  “Heck yeah!” Though Chris had offered the woman his forgiveness, he didn’t offer her a second chance, his sights now firmly set on Charlotte.

  Deidre took the ring from Chris and offered a smile of her own. “Let’s see about getting you that refund.”

  While Deidre assisted Chris, I set my briefcase down on Phil’s desk and removed the police reports and the documentation Nadine’s supplier had sent me.

  Knock-knock.

  A rap on the door made us all turn our heads. In the doorway stood Nadine, dressed in a black business suit, pearls at her throat, ears, and wrist, as usual. A large leather tote bag hung over her right shoulder. Luckily for me, Nadine’s attention was focused on Deidre. “Hi, sis,” she said, a note of forced cheer in her voice as she plunged her hand into her bag. “Got those catalogs for you.”

  Deidre glanced up at her stepsister. “I’ll be right with you.”

  Nadine’s head rotated in my direction. An expression of confusion flickered across her face, then comprehension, then fury. Her hand froze inside the bag and her eyes and mouth narrowed to harsh slits. “What are you doing here?”

  Deidre glanced up from her desk. “She’s a CPA. She’s doing a rent audit.”

  “If that’s what she told you,” Nadine snapped, “she lied. This woman works for the IRS.”

  Deidre swiveled her seat my way. “Is that true, Tara?” Unlike Nadine’s face, which was red with rage, Deidre’s expression bore hurt and betrayal.

  “Yes, it is.” I picked up the stack of paperwork. “I work for criminal investigations. I have evidence that Nadine faked a series of thefts and it appears you might have helped her.”

  “What?” Deidre’s eyes went wide and her mouth gaped.

  Nadine made a show of rolling her eyes and raised her free hand. “Agent Holloway is clearly off her rocker.”

  Before any of us could respond, Nadine yanked her right hand out of her tote bag. Instead of catalogs, her fingers clutched a .38-caliber handgun. Pearl-handled. No surprise there.

  Without taking time to aim, Nadine squeezed off two quick rounds from her pistol.

  Pop! Pop!

  Her first shot blew away one of the camels in Deidre’s nativity scene. It could’ve been my imagination, but the plastic baby Jesus looked royally pissed. First there’s no room at the inn, then some crazed woman takes out one of his manger-mates? That’s no way to treat the Messiah!

  Nadine’s second bullet went in one side of Santa’s fake belly and out the other, sending a pouf of cotton fluff into the air as it exited, then lodging itself in the thick wood of Deidre’s desk with a thuck.

  Before any of us could say “the goose is cooked,” Nadine had turned and run up the hall.

  I yanked my Glock from my briefcase and took off after her. Gun still in hand, she dashed through the jewelry store as if it were snow and she were a one-horse open sleigh.

  Nadine ran out onto the mall’s crowded sidewalk, sprinting past the life-sized nutcracker, past the Victoria’s Secret store where Charlotte knelt in the window, straightening the display, and past the mall’s choo-choo train, aiming for the parking lot.

  With my sharpshooting skills, I could’ve taken the woman down with a shot to the back.

  But shooting at a suspect who was fleeing through a busy mall wasn’t a good idea. I could only hope she wouldn’t fire her gun again. As crowded as the mall was now, someone could get hurt.

  Or worse.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Angels We Have Hurt on High

  Megan

  Brigit and I were running into the mall when a woman in a business suit rushed down the right side of the walkway toward us, a gun in her hand. Agent Holloway followed twenty feet behind the woman, also wielding a gun. It didn’t take a detective to figure out that the woman in front must be Nadine Gramercy, the target Tara had planned to bust this morning. Following behind Tara was Santa Claus, then Phil Freitag, then Deidre, who wore a sweatshirt imprinted with Rudolph’s cartoon face, his bright red nose flashing like a warning light. Shoppers stopped to watch the odd, impromptu holiday parade.

  Clang-clang! The engineer rang the bell on the train, which was also headed our way in the center of the sidewalk, its cars loaded with passengers.

  When Nadine spotted me and Brigit coming at her, she performed a quick U-turn around the engine of the train, nearly getting herself run over in the process.

  “Watch out!” the train engineer barked, braking to an instant, bell-ringing stop. Clang-clang!

  Following Nadine’s path, Tara, then Santa, then the Freitags circled in front of the now-stationary locomotive. Dozens of heads turned to watch the chase. As the entourage ran by, Charlotte stepped out in front of her store, her mouth falling open in alarm. I was dying to know how things had gone with her and Chris at Saturday night’s ball, but this was no time for chitchat.

  Yanking my baton from my belt, I flicked my wrist. Snap!

  Nadine reached the glass doors of the center courtyard. She yanked one open and ran inside. Tara followed just a few steps behind.

  Deidre had run out of steam and was huffing and puffing as I past her on the walkway. Looked like all those sugar cookies had finally caught up with her.

  Brigit and I made it through the glass doors and into the courtyard to see Nadine sprinting for the exit on the other side, with Tara, Santa, and Phil still giving chase. I gave Brigit the command and she zoomed forward between the food court and Santa’s sleigh like a winning greyhound.

  When Nadine heard the dog approaching behind her, she turned and aimed at my partner. Pop!

  Shoppers shrieked and fled the courtyard as Tara, Chris, and Phil dived for cover behind Santa’s sleigh. I darted behind a metal support beam for protection and screamed for my partner. “Brigit!”

  The courtyard sat eerily silent and I found myself unable to breathe.

  Had Nadine hit Brigit?

  Was my partner injured or … dead?

  My heart and lungs threatened to burst until I peeked around the beam and saw Brigit lunging and bobbing in front of Nadine.

  “Woof! Woof-woof!” To my partner, this was all fun and games. To me, it was The Nightmare Before Christmas. This mall was my beat, and it was my responsibility to maintain law and order, to keep the innocent shoppers safe. And if something happened to my partner …

  My mind reeled, as if I were falling down an endless chimney.

  What should I do? The tactics the instructors had taught us in the police academy seemed to have scattered and fled deep into my memory banks. I closed my eyes and gripped my baton with both hands as if I could squeeze answers from it.

  The baton did not disappoint. The fragmented data in my mind slid back into place, my training returning to me.

  I knew this much:

  (1) A baton was no match for a suspect with a pistol.

  (2) I’d have to use my gun.

  (3) My accuracy was on par with a carnival game rigged to ensure no shot quite hit its mark. Maybe I’d get lucky and Nadine would surrender or suffer a heart attack while my bullets sailed past her.

  Transferring my baton to my left hand, I pulled my gun from the holster with my right and darted out from behind the beam. Tara’s head popped up from behind the sleigh, her Glock at the ready, too.

  With Brigit coming at her again, Nadine instinctively backed up, toward the candy canes and mistletoe. She aimed he
r gun at the dog while Tara and I aimed our weapons at her. Fortunately, Tara and I were quicker on the trigger.

  BLAM!

  BLAM!

  Before she could get off another shot, Nadine’s gun sailed out of her hand. Thank God! An unarmed woman I could manage.

  As much as I’d like to think it was my shot that had disarmed Nadine, that particular bullet had been fired by Agent Holloway. Mine had taken the haloed head off the glittering angel on top of the twenty-foot Christmas tree. The headless corpse dived backwards from its lofty perch, the shimmery wings useless to stop the angel’s plunge to earth.

  Nadine’s head whipped around as she desperately sought something else to use as a weapon. When the angel crashed to the floor, she seemed to notice the tree and ran behind it.

  As Tara and I ran toward the tree, it began to teeter on its base, rocking forward then back, then forward again.

  Timber!

  “Look out!” I yelled, instinctively pushing Tara to one side and lunging in the other as the tree fell at us.

  WHOOSH!

  CRASH!

  TINKLE-TINKLE!

  The tree hit the tile, sending up a spray of trumpet ornaments that arced through the air before smashing to golden bits on the floor.

  Nadine now exposed, Brigit attempted to leap over the tree, overestimating her ability to hurdle the wide foliage. It was fir versus fur as Brigit sank between branches, struggling for paw-holds among the flexible limbs.

  Nadine took advantage of the moment to scramble onto the low platform nearby, grab one of the oversized foam candy canes, and wrench it from its mooring. She swung it at me and Agent Holloway as we rushed her, managing to whack us both. Lucky for us, the candy cane was made of relatively lightweight material and caused no injury, though we’d both been knocked to the ground and lost our guns. My weapon had slid somewhere under the Christmas tree, while Tara’s Glock slid a good fifteen feet toward the food court.

  I still had my trusty baton, though.

  My partner having freed herself from the tree now joined us in the fray, rushing directly at Nadine. The woman swung the candy cane again. Luckily, Brigit’s reflexes were quick. She ducked and the candy cane sailed over her without making impact.