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

by Clare Kauter

  He tried to chase me as I drove off, but he couldn’t keep up – the single pony on his leg was no match for the horsepower of my Mustang.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  When I reached the main road, I pulled over and called the cops, explaining that I’d caught the real flasher and that he was waiting, naked, at a nature reserve out of town. I gave the desk sergeant detailed directions to the ‘scenic area’ – although to be honest, the way Caleb was looking at the moment would probably detract from the serenity.

  I drove back to the police station to give them a copy of the audio file of Caleb’s confession as well as my statement. (I don’t know how his clothes ended up in my car, officer!) When the officers who’d been sent out to pick up Caleb returned, Caleb was taken into custody and Bob was released. I gave him a hug.

  “Told you I’d get you out, Bob,” I said.

  He smiled at me, tears in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said. “I...”

  His voice cracked and he didn’t say anything more.

  “You’re probably keen to get home after spending a few days here,” I said.

  “Yes, I’d better be going,” he said. “I don’t want to keep you.”

  We said goodbye, making plans to grab a coffee together sometime soon. Since I’d made my statement and the case was about to be wrapped up, I was free to go. Just before I left, I noticed James McKenzie standing across the foyer. We made eye contact and I noticed him tip his head slightly, indicating the doorway. He wanted me to meet him outside. I took a deep breath and a gulp. It was time to talk things through with him. Like my weird reaction to the letter yesterday. OK, I’d brought this on myself, but it was still going to suck. I walked outside waited down the road a little in case Harcourt noticed that I was hanging around the station. The sun beat down on me in full force and I wished I’d remembered to wear sunscreen that morning. Luckily I wasn’t waiting for too long. A few minutes after I left the station, James also exited the building and we walked into a side alley so we could talk away from prying eyes.

  He didn’t say anything for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. He sounded hurt. I guess that wasn’t all that surprising.

  “Why don’t you trust me, Charlie?”

  I opened my mouth and then shut it without saying anything. The truth was that I didn’t know why.

  “When have I lied to you?” he said. “Ever?”

  I shrugged. “Probably sometime,” I said lamely. “Like, statistically, it’s unlikely that you’ve never lied to me.”

  “I don’t know where to go from here,” he said. His voice was quiet, gentle. He wasn’t trying to start an argument. “I showed you the letter he wrote me. I don’t know what more I can do, but clearly we have a problem and I want to sort it out.”

  “It’s not – I just...” I sighed. “I’m sorry. I was just shaken up after being interviewed by Harcourt and everything. I trust you. I do.”

  “Really?” he said, eyebrows raised.

  “Really,” I confirmed, sounding much more confident in that fact than I felt. “I’m sorry.”

  “Just like that?” James said quizzically. “Because you seemed pretty certain yesterday that I’d somehow faked that note.”

  “I know it’s real,” I said.

  He crossed his arms. “What, did you get it authenticated?” When I didn’t answer immediately, he scoffed. “You’re unbelievable. You really went to all that trouble?”

  I shrugged. “I just had to make sure,” I said. “Trust but verify.”

  James shook his head. “And it passed your test?”

  “It did,” I said. “Look, I know I’m an idiot. I know that you’re the nicest and most trustworthy person I know. I also know that you work for a psychopath and I guess I was just worried that he might have convinced you... I don’t know...”

  “What, you thought he might have convinced me that my best friend’s a murderer and I should woo his sister for information?” he said. “You think this whole thing between us has been a year long con?”

  I sighed. “That’s not –”

  “Because if that’s what you think, I’m doing a terrible job of it. I haven’t found out anything from you,” he said. “Other than that you’re incapable of trust, I guess.”

  “Yes, OK, I’m an idiot!” I said. “You’ve made that perfectly clear. I’m sorry.” I paused. “Will you forgive me?”

  James took a deep breath and gave me a resigned smile. “Of course I will,” he said, pulling me in for a hug. “’Tis the season, after all.”

  “God, yeah,” I mumbled into his chest. “It’s almost Christmas, isn’t it? All this time spent talking about and investigating Santa and I’d almost forgotten.”

  James pulled back from the hug a little and frowned down at me, concerned. “It’s Christmas Eve, Charlie.”

  My jaw dropped. “It can’t be.”

  He nodded slowly. “It is.”

  “But – but –” I spluttered. My eyes widened. “Oh my god.”

  “What is it?” James asked, stroking the side of my face with the back of his hand. Ordinarily I would have found that distracting in a sort of ‘quick, let’s taste each others’ tongues for a while’ kind of way, but right now I was too panicked.

  “Christmas Eve,” I repeated, trying to calm my breathing.

  “Yes?”

  I brought my eyes up to meet his, trying not to whimper.

  He looked deeply concerned. “Oh my god, Charlie, are you OK?”

  I shook my head. “Nope. Not at all,” I said. “It’s Christmas Eve and I haven’t done any Christmas shopping.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  We will not speak of the horror that was my afternoon of Christmas Eve shopping madness. I’m considering finding a therapist purely to deal with that trauma. (And, OK, maybe I had a couple of other issues that could use some attention.) To be honest, I’ve blocked most of it out of my memory for self-preservation purposes. What I do know is that I emerged a few hours later with presents for everyone (gift-wrapped by one of my elven contacts) which I promptly took home and dumped under the Christmas tree before rushing upstairs to get changed.

  Tonight, for what felt like the first time in decades, I was not going to an evening class. No, tonight was the night of the Baxter & Co. Christmas Party, which was one of the few excuses Stacey had deemed acceptable for me to use to get out of her advent calendar of activities. Of course, she had insisted that I find out Old Sport’s real name while I was there, but that was a small price to pay for relative freedom for a night. I was hoping that after Christmas she’d go back to normal, or at least that Will would take some of the brunt of her enthusiasm. He had a secret boyfriend too, but unless he admitted it, he (like me) would have no excuse to get out of Stacey’s schedule. Either way, it was a win for me.

  I pulled on a short, bright red dress and put on lipstick to match, then I added my elf hat for an extra festive twist. (I decided to give the shorts and curly-toed shoes a miss, though.)

  Rather than drive, I took an Uber – after the week I was having, I decided that I could definitely do with a drink. Although it was an office Christmas party, it wasn’t being held at B-Co but at a bar downtown. I hadn’t been to the bar before but it looked fancy from the outside – all blue lights and plush lounges. The Uber dropped me off right outside and I headed in, searching for a familiar face. The first person I spotted was Old Sport, getting a drink from the bar. He was leaning on the counter, and thanks to his tight jeans I could see the outline of a lump in his back pocket. His wallet.

  Without really stopping to think about what I was doing, I walked right up to him. “Hi!”

  “Hi, Charlie,” he replied.

  I pulled him into a hug, slipping his wallet out of his pocket and into my bag while he was distracted by the sudden invasion of his personal space.

  “How are you?” I asked as we broke apart from the hug.

  “Good,” he said, looking a little shell-shocked. I couldn�
��t blame him – I wasn’t exactly known for being an affectionate person. But it was the fastest way I could think of to find out his name. I’d check the ID in his wallet, then pretend I’d found the wallet on the floor or something and give it back to him.

  “Thirsty?” Old Sport asked. “I’ll get you a drink.”

  Crap!

  “Oh, I can get it,” I said. I didn’t want him to go reaching for his wallet.

  Old Sport smiled. “Don’t worry about it. It’s on the tab.”

  Phew. “Oh, right. Well in that case, then...” I chewed my lip, wondering what to order.

  “Shots,” said Old Sport. “That’s what I’m getting.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not much of a shots girl.”

  Old Sport ordered four anyway. “You sure you don’t want one?”

  I was about to refuse, but then John walked in. He was dressed in a purple tie-dye shirt, flowing three-quarter length pants and sandals. Frankly, I was surprised they’d let him into the bar at all. What was he, a weekend hippie? It was too much to deal with, and I turned back to Old Sport.

  “On second thoughts...”

  I did the shots. All four of them.

  After speaking to Old Sport for a while, I excused myself and wobbled to the bathroom. Lord, those shots had worked their magic quickly. Shutting myself in a cubicle I sat on the toilet, taking Old Sport’s wallet out of my bag. I fished out his licence, which told me his name was Ronald Green. I snapped a picture and sent it through to Stacey before checking what else he had in there. Nothing particularly incriminating. There were a couple of condoms that had expired so I replaced them with fresh ones from the vending machine in the bathroom. Then I slipped the wallet back in my bag and walked out into the bar.

  How was I going to get this wallet back to Ronald? I couldn’t just slip it back into his pocket – what if he caught me midway through and thought I was just having a feel of his arse? No, pretending I found it on the floor was a much better idea. I scanned the room looking for him, but instead I spotted Tim and Adam sitting together at the bar and walked towards them.

  “You two are going to be so proud of me,” I announced, interrupting their conversation. It wasn’t until I spoke – a little louder than was strictly necessary – that I realised I’d maybe had a drink too many.

  Tim and Adam stopped their conversation and turned to me with almost identical expressions of mild curiosity and annoyance on their faces.

  “Ronald,” I announced.

  They each smiled and shook their head at me before Tim dragged over another seat and invited me to sit with them.

  “So, what’s up?” I asked.

  “Adam’s just told me that I’ll be going back into the field,” said Tim, beaming.

  “Timmy, that’s so exciting!” I turned to Adam. “About time.”

  He just shrugged at me.

  “So I guess that means you’ll get all the elf and flasher cases from now on?” I said.

  Tim shook his head. “Nah, I think somehow you’ll be keeping those ones.”

  I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. (I knew that I’d always end up with the crappy cases.) Rolling my eyes turned out to be a mistake, because although my eyeballs only revolved once, the room didn’t stop spinning.

  “I think I need to eat something,” I said.

  Tim ordered me a bowl of wedges with sweet chilli sauce and mashed avocado and I started shovelling it into my mouth as soon as it arrived.

  “I would call you a pig,” said Adam, “but I think your pet pig actually has better table manners than you.”

  “Of course she does,” I said through a mouthful of potato. “She has better everything than me.”

  Shortly after that, in typical form, Adam spotted a woman across the bar and excused himself from our conversation to go and introduce himself. Tim and eye each rolled our eyes at him. Before he walked away, Adam turned to me.

  “If you say so much as one word to her, I’ll make your life a living hell.”

  “Even worse than it is now?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll promote John to reception coordinator,” Adam said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Then he’ll be your boss.”

  My jaw dropped. “You’re sick,” I said.

  Adam just winked and walked across the bar to chat to the woman.

  “He’s unbelievable,” said Tim.

  “You’re not here in the hopes of picking up, are you?” I asked.

  Tim shook his head. “No,” he said with a smile.

  “Good,” I said. “If you were then I might actually have to make another work friend.” I paused. “Is Maurice here? We could discuss shoes with arch support.”

  Tim laughed at the joke, but I frowned. It had just occurred to me that I didn’t actually know anything about Tim’s love life at all.

  “So, are you seeing anyone at the moment?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. He was still smiling, but I thought I detected a hint of sadness in his eyes and decided that maybe it was best if I didn’t pursue that line of inquiry. Maybe the reason I didn’t know about Tim’s love life was because he wanted it that way.

  “You’re not being the best conversationalist tonight, Tim,” I said. “You haven’t even asked how I found out Ronald’s name.”

  He took a sip of his beer. “I figured it would spoil the magic if I asked.”

  “Maybe,” I said. I’d finished the wedges by now and noticed that my mouth was a little dry. “I could use another drink.”

  Tim flagged down the bartender, who informed us that the bar tab had already run out. I offered to pay for the drinks, but Tim ended up footing the bill.

  He took his wallet from his pocket. “I might not be getting any amazing cases at the moment, but I’m still getting paid a helluva lot more than you, honey,” he said. “You save your pennies.”

  I crossed my arms. “Thanks for that, Tim.”

  He shrugged. “Sorry. It’s the truth.”

  I poked my tongue out at him and then took a sip of the cocktail he’d ordered me. It was some sort of limited edition seasonal cocktail with ginger beer and cranberries in it and it was delicious. So delicious that I grew a little concerned about what state I was going to leave this party in. Why did all the nice drinks have to be so damn alcoholic?

  Over Tim’s shoulder, I noticed Old Sport (or Ronald, I guess, although somehow Old Sport seemed like the cooler name) approach the bar. Oh, shit. The bar tab had run out now, which meant he was going to have to pay for his drink. That was going to be a problem, what with me having his wallet and all. I gulped.

  Tim followed my gaze and we both watched as Old Sport patted down his pockets and gradually grew more distraught at the absence of his wallet.

  “I think I just figured out how you discovered his name,” Tim commented. “Just some constructive criticism – next time you might want to put it back before things progress to this stage.”

  “I didn’t get a chance,” I said. “Besides, I didn’t want him to think I was grabbing his arse.”

  “No, you’re right,” he said with a smirk. “This is much better.”

  Ron-Old Sport was now in full-on panic mode.

  “Someone’s taken my wallet!” he cried. “Someone’s picked my fucking pocket!”

  “Calm down, McDonald,” said his friend Hugh, who was standing next to him at the bar.

  I leaned towards Tim and whispered, “Now I know his nickname, too.”

  Tim shook his head at me.

  “It has to be someone here,” Ronald said loudly. “Someone at this party. We need to search everyone!”

  Hugh tried to placate his friend again. “You’ve probably just dropped it, mate. Come on, let’s have a look for it.”

  Tim went off to ‘help look for the wallet’ while I tried to figure out what to do now. The wallet was in my bag, and if Ron-Old did decide to search everyone, I was screwed. I could throw it on th
e floor, but what if someone saw me doing that? I was in a room full of security professionals and PIs, after all. Everyone here was so frigging observant that someone was bound to notice. Plus there was the chance that someone who didn’t work at Baxter & Co. would find the wallet on the ground and nick it.

  Just as I was really starting to panic, an opportunity too good to pass up presented itself.

  I saw John emerge from the bathroom. Suddenly the appropriate course of action seemed very clear.

  “Johnny!” I called, running across the room towards him. “We haven’t even had a chance to talk tonight. How are you?”

  When I’d closed the space between us, I pulled him into a hug. It was repulsive and I hated every second of it, but I told myself that the end result would be worth it. I reached into my bag and retrieved the wallet, slipping it into the pocket of his loose-fitting, flowy pants. He didn’t feel a thing. (It was his own fault for dressing in such ridiculous clothing.)

  “Uh...” he replied.

  Behind him, I could see Adam sitting with the woman who’d caught his eye earlier, but he wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was staring straight at me. There was no doubt in my mind – he’d seen what I’d done. And somewhat unsurprisingly, he did not look impressed.

  Gulp.

  “I have to go,” I said to John. “Nice knowing you. Seeing you! Nice seeing you!”

  I spun around, intending to scurry away as fast as I could, but when I turned I bumped into Ron, Hugh and Tim.

  “Charlie, you wouldn’t mind if we had a look in your bag, would you?” Ron asked. “My wallet’s gone missing, and it’s not that I think you would have taken it, but...”

  “Um, I –”

  “I can check your bag if you’ve got something embarrassing in there that you don’t want the others to see,” said Tim, trying to hide his smile. He was obviously finding this amusing.

  “No, that’s fine,” I said. “I don’t have anything to hide.”

  I thrust my bag at Ron and he opened it, rifling through it. “No, there’s nothing in here except Charlie’s wallet, phone and –”