Santa's Little Helper (The Charlie Davies Mysteries Book 5)

by Clare Kauter

  “I don’t mean to imply anything by this...”

  “Of course not, Bob. You’re a saint. Please go on.”

  He shifted on the bed. “I have heard that some of the other Santas weren’t very happy that I was being given more shifts than they were.”

  “But you’re the best Santa by far. It’s no wonder you got more shifts.”

  He shrugged. “That’s all I can think of.”

  “Thanks, Bob,” I said. It wasn’t much to go on, but at least now I had something. “I’d better go, anyway. I don’t want to run into that police chief I told you about. Don’t worry – you’ll be out soon!”

  I made my way back down the corridor to where Joe was waiting for me by the sign-in desk. Would one of the other Santas really have set Bob up? It was possible, but if so then there were still only two other suspects: Garry and Randy. All the other Santas had had shifts during one or more of the flashing incidents, which meant they had solid alibis. Unless it was some sort of elaborate framing set up by a group of Santas taking it in turn to flash in order to frame Bob (which sounds a little far fetched, let’s be honest), then we were back to Garry and Randy. But how could either of them be responsible?

  I was so lost in thought that I didn’t even notice that Joe had been joined at the desk by James.

  “Oh, hi,” I said when I saw him.

  He turned to face me. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Talking to Bob,” I said. “I just wanted to check –”

  “It doesn’t matter,” James whispered. “You need to get out of here. Harcourt’s on his way down and –”

  But it was too late.

  “Charlotte,” came a voice from the end of the corridor. “How delightful to see you. Are you here to speak to me?”

  “I’m sure you’re busy,” I said. “I’ll come back later.”

  I tried to push past him, but he blocked my exit. “Never too busy for you,” he said, pushing open a door to his left and gesturing that I should enter.

  I took a deep breath and looked into the interrogation room. There were no windows where other police could watch what was happening. My heart began to race.

  “I should go,” I said.

  “Don’t be silly,” said Harcourt. “Please, take a seat. I insist.” He smiled slowly. “Promise I won’t bite.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Joe and James weren’t going to step in and help. This was their boss, after all, and if they tried to help me leave without Harcourt questioning me, he’d become immediately suspicious of them. That would make it very difficult for them to find out more information about the investigation into Topher, which they were probably both trying to do if they really were on my side in all this. Either way, they weren’t going to help me get out of this. I was on my own.

  I took a gulp. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice. I couldn’t get past Harcourt and all that lay behind me was the cellblock. It was go into that room or stay where I was. Breathing deep, I tried to slow my heart rate. It was going to be fine. I could do this. Harcourt had questioned me alone last time he investigated my brother’s case and I’d stood up OK. Now I was six years older and at least slightly smarter. Alright, so maybe I wasn’t that much smarter, but I was smarter-arsed. Even though I wouldn’t have any backup, I was sure I could irritate him into stopping his interrogation.

  I took a deep breath and walked into the room, sitting down on a chair by the table. Harcourt shut the door and sat opposite me, placing a folder on the desk between us.

  “I’ll cut straight to the chase. I’d like a DNA sample from you,” said Harcourt.

  “You want a DNA sample?” I repeated. “That might be the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said. “I want to compare it to a saliva sample we found at a crime scene.”

  “What crime scene?”

  “A murder.”

  “Wait, did you say a saliva sample?” I said, now properly disgusted. “You think I licked a corpse?”

  “No, I don’t think you were there at all,” said Harcourt. “I think your brother was.”

  That shouldn’t have thrown me, I know – after all, I knew I was being brought in to answer questions about my brother. But for some reason I was still surprised. Was this about the woman in that building that burnt down? Maybe they had found some new evidence.

  I folded my arms. “Now, it’s been a while since I’ve seen my brother, but as far as I can recall he wasn’t much into licking dead bodies either.”

  “We found a cup at the crime scene.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “That’s where we found the saliva,” said Harcourt, ignoring me. “We were able to extract some DNA from it, and I have reason to believe it’s your brother’s.”

  “What reason?” I asked. “Your personal vendetta against him?”

  “Now, Charlie, I don’t want to bother your parents with this. They’ve been put through enough by your brother. If you give me a sample, we can keep this on the down low. Your poor mother couldn’t take the stress.”

  “You’re just too scared to tell my mother that her son’s a suspect in a murder because she’d gut you for it.”

  It was true. My mother made me look personable.

  “Charlie, if you give me that sample, you may well be able to clear your brother’s name. This doesn’t have to go any further.”

  “I’m not giving you my DNA, Harcourt,” I said. “I’ve seen Making A Murderer. You can fuck right off with that request.”

  His jaw tensed and I could see that he was working to not lose his temper with me. Wait, that was a brilliant idea – if I could get him to punch me then he’d be fired for sure, right?

  “Charlotte...”

  “You’re the only person other than my high school maths teacher who calls me Charlotte,” I said. “You also happen to both be at the top of my ‘People I Hate’ list. Do you think there’s some correlation there?”

  “Stop trying to antagonise me.”

  I laughed. “You think this is me trying? I haven’t started yet.”

  “Your brother is a suspect in a murder investigation!” he yelled. “I’d expect you to take this more seriously.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You think my brother killed someone and managed to cover it up when he was sixteen? Please, you clearly haven’t thought this –”

  “This murder happened two weeks ago.”

  That shut me up. Briefly. “It – what?”

  “I think your brother’s back in town and I think he killed someone.”

  “That’s a lot of thinking,” I said. “Especially for you.”

  “You don’t seem to understand how serious this is.”

  But I did. Was Topher really back? I knew he hadn’t murdered this person, whoever it was, but if Harcourt was bothering to try and frame him for it, there must be a reason. If Topher was still missing, what was the point of trying to pin a crime on him? I suppose it would make sense if Harcourt was trying to keep him away, but somehow that didn’t seem right. I studied Harcourt’s face, growing more and more certain that for whatever reason, Harcourt thought Topher was back in Gerongate.

  “What makes you think it was him?” I asked. “You said you had DNA evidence, but seeing as you’re asking for my DNA to compare I’m assuming you haven’t been able to find out whether it’s his.”

  “I have my reasons,” said Harcourt.

  “Great, well, you’ve cleared that up.”

  “I’m a cop. I know what I’m doing.”

  “I don’t think those two things necessarily go hand in hand.”

  He glared at me. “Do you know something about this murder? Are you trying to cover for your brother? Because that’s what it looks like to me.”

  I cocked my head. “That’s funny, because what it looks like to me is you clutching at straws.”

  “If you don’t give me that sample –” he began, but he was cut off by the door opening.<
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  Adam Baxter strode in and took a seat beside me. “I hope you weren’t planning on leaving me out of this conversation,” he said.

  “Of course not,” said Harcourt through gritted teeth.

  “He’s trying to steal my blood,” I told Adam.

  “What are you – I am not trying to steal anything!” said Harcourt. “I simply asked her for a DNA sample.”

  “Why?” asked Adam.

  “We have reason to believe that her brother may have perpetrated a crime recently. We were hoping Charlie would be able to give us her DNA to see if it’s a familial match for the evidence found at the scene of the crime.”

  “Why do you think her brother is responsible?”

  “Witness testimony,” said Harcourt. “A man matching Topher’s description was seen fleeing the scene of the crime.”

  “What description?” I asked. “No one’s seen him for six years. Even I probably wouldn’t recognise him now. How would you know what he looks like?”

  “An excellent point, Charlie,” said Adam. “I hope you have a more compelling reason than that for wasting my client’s time.”

  “There was evidence found at the scene that we believe might be related to her brother.”

  “What evidence?” Adam asked.

  Harcourt opened his mouth to answer, but didn’t seem to want to say the words, so I did it for him.

  “A cup,” I said.

  “A cup?” Adam repeated.

  “Yep. Just a cup.”

  “Right,” said Adam. “I don’t think I even need to say anything. Let’s go.”

  With that, we stood and exited the room. Harcourt stayed behind, fuming.

  Adam walked me out of the building. Once we were outside, he turned to me. “What were you thinking?”

  “I was there to visit Bob,” I said. “I didn’t think Harcourt would know I was there. Speaking of which, how did you know I was there?”

  Adam led me away from the door to the station and said, “James called me.”

  “He did?” I asked, surprised that he would have risked it.

  “If I had to hazard a guess right at this moment, I would say that James is not on Harcourt’s side in all this, but I still think you should be careful.”

  “My brother didn’t kill that person.”

  “Do you know who the victim was?”

  I shook my head. “No,” I said. “Harcourt didn’t get that far.”

  Adam nodded. “Ask James. But not over the phone, just in case.”

  “In case what?” I asked, my heart speeding up.

  “I wouldn’t put it past Harcourt to listen in on your phone conversations if he thinks you know where your brother is. You need to be careful.”

  This just kept getting better and better.

  “Why do you think he was trying to get my DNA?”

  Adam shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure. If I had to guess, I’d say he has a sample of what he knows is your brother’s DNA. On that cup, probably.”

  “My brother didn’t do it!”

  “I’m not saying he did it,” said Adam. “I’m saying Harcourt got that cup from somewhere knowing your brother had used it and he planted it at the crime scene.”

  “You think Harcourt killed that person?”

  “It’s a possibility.”

  I took a deep breath and said, “I think Harcourt thinks Topher’s back in Gerongate.”

  Nodding, Adam said, “That makes sense. I don’t know why else he’d suddenly try to pin something on your brother.”

  “You believe me, don’t you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “About Harcourt and my brother,” I said. “Topher didn’t kill anyone.”

  Adam put his arm around my shoulder and gave me a gentle squeeze.

  “Of course I believe you, Charlie. And I would even if I didn’t already know that Harcourt was completely bent.”

  I smiled at him. “Thanks.”

  “I have to get back to the hospital,” he said. Even though Adam had a full-time job at Baxter & Co. as a legal advisor, investigator and on-site doctor, he still did a couple of shifts at the local hospital every week to help out when they were short staffed. Overachiever. “Are you still going to work on the Santa case?”

  I nodded. “That’s the plan, although I’ve kind of hit a wall.”

  “I’ll call Tim and tell him what just happened with Harcourt and see if he can find out more about the murder.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Seeing as you’re stalled in the Santa case, I think there’s one other thing you could do,” he said. “It’s not exactly going to help you take your mind off your brother, though.”

  I sighed. “I don’t think anything’s really going to help with that at this point.”

  Adam smiled. “I’d imagine not,” he said.

  “What should I do?”

  “You should see if James will show you that letter Topher left him,” said Adam. “I know he was reluctant last time you asked, but the game has kind of changed now.”

  I nodded. He was right, as usual. That was exactly what I needed to do.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Since I was still at a loss as to what to do about Bob, and seeing as James wouldn’t be home until the end of his shift that afternoon, I decided to drop in and visit my friend Will, James’s brother. He was one of my best friends, and while I hadn’t told him that James and I were kind of a thing, I was pretty sure he suspected as much. I parked in the visitor parking space outside his block of flats and walked up the stairs to his front door. I knocked and Will answered wearing only boxer shorts.

  “Did I wake you?” I asked.

  He laughed. “No,” he said. “I don’t have air-conditioning and it’s too hot in here for clothes.”

  “Can I come in?” I asked. “Or are you busy entertaining someone?”

  Ever since I’d overheard Will say he had a boyfriend (I was hiding in his wardrobe at the time, although Will hadn’t known I was there – long story) I’d become obsessed with finding out who this mystery man was. Of course, Will didn’t know that I’d heard that conversation so I couldn’t exactly come out and ask. Instead I just dropped the least subtle hints I could manage and hoped that he would tell me.

  “Alas, I’m alone,” said Will. “But if you would like to walk into the furnace that is my humble abode, by all means come in.” He stepped aside and I walked past him.

  “Jesus,” I said as a wall of heat hit me. “This place is like an oven.”

  “I did warn you,” he said, closing the door and walking back over to sit on the couch. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you meant to be at work?”

  “I was doing undercover work over the weekend so the boss gave me the day off.”

  “And are you making the most of it?”

  “Obviously. I’ve come to visit you.”

  Will laughed. “Next time you should invite me over to your house instead,” he said. “You’re the one with the pool.”

  “An excellent idea, Will. Get your swimmers,” I said. “We’ll go now.”

  He grinned. “Really?”

  “Of course,” I said. “You don’t have to ask, you know. You can just rock up. God knows I’ve sponged enough free food off you over the years. I probably owe you a few laps of my pool.”

  Half an hour later, I was in a black and white striped bikini (and a ten millimetre thick layer of sunscreen), lazing about in the pool. Arnold had joined us and was having a grand old time paddling about. (If you haven’t seen a pig swim before, you really should YouTube it.)

  “This is so nice,” said Will, floating past me on his back like Baloo from The Jungle Book. “I’m so jealous of you getting to live here.”

  “You should move in,” I said.

  He laughed. “That’d be nice.”

  “I’m serious!” I said. “There’s plenty of room. We have air-conditioning and a pool, plus there are so many bathrooms you could have your own.”
>
  Will opened his eyes and stood up, looking at me. “Are you actually serious?”

  “Totally. You’ve been living in your flat forever. I think it’s time you got an upgrade. Plus you do actual important work for a living – you kind of deserve to live somewhere nice.”

  He looked like he was considering it. Please say yes. Please please please. I wasn’t only hoping he’d move in so I could meet his mysterious boyfriend and maybe search his room for the letter my brother had left him, but I won’t pretend they didn’t factor in at all.

  “Stacey organises craft and movie nights all the time.”

  “I do love craft.”

  “Will, there are no downsides to you moving in. It’s brilliant! I can’t believe I haven’t thought of this before.”

  “What do you get out of it, though?” he asked, suddenly suspicious that I might have some ulterior motive.

  “Nothing!” I replied. “Except, you know, reduced rent and a personal chef.”

  Will grinned again. “OK. I would love to move in – if your housemates are alright with it, obviously.”

  “They will be,” I said. “You’re so tidy you’ll probably subtract some of the mess I leave around the place.”

  He laughed. “When can I move in?”

  “I can help you pick up some stuff from your house after we’ve had pool time, if you like.”

  “Today?”

  “Of course. Why not?”

  He sighed happily. “Today went from average to amazing really quickly.”

  My stomach sank when he said that as I realised I hadn’t actually talked to him about what I’d wanted to discuss with him.

  “Oh dear,” he said. “Your face just fell. What is it? Did you remember that one of your housemates hates me or something?”

  “No one hates you, Will. You’re the most universally liked person I know,” I replied. “You can still move in. It’s not related to that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  I sighed. “It doesn’t really feel like pool conversation.”

  “But maybe the joy of the pool will make the bad news more bearable.”

  Grimacing, I said, “I don’t think this news will be bearable unless we imbibe some fermented fruit products first.”

  “OK,” he said. “You wait here and I’ll fix us some drinks. Pool plus alcohol should fix anything, right?”