Not So Merry Murder

by Amabel Daniels

  NOT SO

  MERRY

  MURDER

  AMABEL DANIELS

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 Amabel Daniels

  Chapter One

  If this woman doesn’t back the hell up…

  “Ex-cuse me.” She jutted out her jaw like a bulldog could have popped up in her ancestry. One hand punched to her hip, her too-shiny, manicured red nails flashing with reflections from the string of Christmas lights overhead. In fact, as she stood underneath the fake garland looped around the arbor at the Santa’s North Pole photo area, the blinking yuletide bulbs cast her in a flickering spotlight. Green made her look ghoulish and sickly despite her layers of makeup. Wait…wait…now the white lights highlighted the wrinkles bracketing her scowling lips. And…yup. Here came the red, showing this prima donna mama in full devilish glory—

  “Are you going to just stand there? Get out of the way.” She raised her free hand and snapped her fingers. Leaning even closer, she narrowed her beady glare at me. “Hello? Do you speak English? Are you deaf? Move.” As she barked out her complaints, she shot out her hand to grab the signage post in another attempt to drag it out of her way.

  I didn’t budge. Therefore, that wooden sign stayed exactly where it was. I never thought I’d be a Christmas elf-slash-line guard, but I knew what I was signing up for when I took the job.

  But I did force a smile. Well, I hoped it wasn’t a snarl, at least.

  “Yes.” I drew in a deep breath for patience. Big mistake. The pine-scented sticks Marlena had crammed onto damn near every fake tree branch were nauseating. “I am going to stand here.”

  And block your whiny, petulant ass from stepping out of line.

  “Well, stand over there, elf.” She pointed one of her festive-painted talons to my left. Again, she grabbed for the sign post, but I held it firm. “And move this damn thing out. Of. My. Way. Come on, Kayden. Stand by them Christmas trees. Mama wants a picture. I can see Santa through the branches.”

  A little boy winced as the mother propelled him by the sleeve of his puffy coat toward the decorative scenery.

  I sidestepped, blocking the kid, and smacked my white velvet-gloved hand to the sign this woman was clearly dismissing. I said, for the hundredth time that day in my most neutral tone, “Please refrain from taking personal photos.”

  In my mind, I wanted to grip my hair and scream, “Read this damn sign and put your fucking phone away!”

  How hard was it? Really. In clear, black engraved letters, it read Welcome to Santa’s North Pole. No personal photography allowed.

  She reared back, crossing her arms. A scoff escaped her dark-glossed lips. “Are you telling me I can’t use my phone? It’s mine. I can do whatever the hell I want with it.”

  I sighed, deflating yet again at another trial of customer service. True. She could do as she pleased with her cell…elsewhere. I didn’t care what she did with the rhinestone-covered device. But she was not permitted to take pics of the photo hut’s setup.

  I wasn’t about to let her take some stupid pictures of her kid in front of the scenery surrounding Santa on his throne. The last time I’d slacked in my elven duties, Marlena cut my pay. Mrs. Claus wasn’t sugary and sweet here. Nope. My boss was a stickler on rules. If she said customers weren’t allowed to take pictures of the scenery and Santa, then that was it. Rules were rules. And, it made sense, actually. If everyone was allowed to whip out their cells and take their own pics, then no one would pay for the ordeal of our photographer doing the same thing with a better camera.

  Although it was pretty shitty of her to withhold some of my paycheck for not being able to stop these shoppers from breaking the rules. Especially when the line of people wanting a picture of their kid sitting on Santa’s lap could grow to fifty-some deep. I was a goddamn Christmas elf at a seasonal photo hut. Not a security expert.

  Regardless, there was no way I was going to give Marlena an excuse to cut my check again.

  I held back the scorn in my voice as I replied. “You can, but you cannot take pictures while in this line.”

  “The hell I can’t,” she sassed back. “Kayden. I said get your ass over there.”

  The little boy glanced up at me. I kept my lips pressed in a firm line and shook my head. “There is no personal photography allowed—”

  She shoved at my shoulder, setting the bells sewn into the hem of my vest tinkling. I stumbled back but didn’t fall. Shove? That was more like a punch from a tall giant. “I ain’t listening to no goddamn elf.”

  I stood up straight, to all the mighty power my measly five feet offered me, and gritted my teeth. I’d be damned if I rubbed the skin she’d likely bruised. I wasn’t giving her that satisfaction. “You want a picture, you get it when the photographer takes it.”

  “I don’t have no twenty bucks for a picture.”

  Ohmigod. I swear, I’m going insane. “Then why are you in this line?” I didn’t care that I’d whined that question. There was no mistaking how much Marlena charged. The signs, while artistically painted and glittered, stated the prices on posts spaced every three feet of the line.

  “To get a damn picture of my kid near Santa.” She wrenched the boy’s coat forward. “Kayden, get your ass over there.”

  “Hey, what’s the holdup?” a man asked a few customers back in line. He leaned over to face me, his long coat draped over his arm and his scarf dangling from his neck.

  I held up my hand. “Just a moment—”

  “Kayden. Now.” The mother at the front of the line snapped her fingers, and again, the boy checked a worried look at me.

  “But, Mama, the elf says—”

  “You listen to me? Or to a frigging elf?” She gripped his hand and he sucked in a hiss like she’d hurt him.

  I frowned and stepped forward to defend him. “Hey, ease up on him.”

  She hadn’t even heard me as she ordered the boy again. “Now, I said get over there. Hurry.”

  I stood in front of the boy once more. “If you don’t want to pay for a picture, please leave the line.” And stop wasting everyone’s time!

  “Why’s this taking so long?” someone called from further in line.

  “What’s the wait for?”

  “We don’t have all day. Come on, elf lady.”

  Oh, like it’s all my fault. I huffed a breath and coached myself not to glower.

  “If you’re not paying for a picture, please exit the line,” I repeated to the woman before a mob grew against me.

  “Kiss my ass.” She punctuated her reply with a nod of her head between each word. As she shoved her boy forward, I caught him from falling and fisted my free hand.

  Where the hell is Marlena?

  I didn’t enjoy one second of my boss’s company, but I was surprised she wasn’t clearing her throat behind me, giving me that stapled-on fake grin that really said WTF. I wasn’t a people-pleaser by nature, but she signed my paychecks. For that matter, I could mostly tolerate her attitude of thinking I was her personal minion.

  If there was ever a snafu with the line, if she ever deemed me too slow in hustling the customers through to Santa, she would show up to drill sergeant everyone along. The more people who sat on Santa’s lap, the more money she made. And Marlena was all about the dollar signs. I doubted anyone who supervised a Santa photo hut did it for kicks.

  Who would willingly want to put up with individuals like this woman trying to skimp out of paying? Who got a thrill from listening to count
less toddlers shrieking in fear at having to sit on some stranger’s lap? Who desired the agony of parents bribing their offspring to just smile at the camera?

  No one, that’s who.

  “Hey, up there. We’ve been waiting forever,” another person yelled out.

  I tuned out the complaints, the same as I’d blocked out the repeating loop of Mariah Carey’s holiday song they blared nonstop from the mall speakers.

  “Please leave. Now,” I told the woman stalling the line.

  She grimaced a smug expression at me. “You gonna call security on me?”

  For the love of fucking Christmas hell… Screw being polite. I didn’t flinch as I stated, “Exit the line.”

  “Make me.”

  I flapped my arms out to the sides, whipping up some of the fluffy fake snow with my momentum. “Seriously? You get off on this or something? Just get out of the line!” I leaned around her and gestured for the next parent-and-kid pair. “Come on. Who’s next?”

  “Oh, no you don’t.” The mother thrust her arm out to hold them back.

  “Move, lady!” another customer hollered out.

  “Hey, hey, hey!” a man crooned from behind me.

  I exhaled at the approaching jovial greeting.

  Backup, finally.

  I hoped it was help, at least. It wasn’t Marlena stepping up toward me to see what the holdup was, but my coworker. Dressed in velvet, just like me, Seth Wesley walked from his designated spot behind the camera. Bells jingled from the toes of his elven slipper-shoes. As he neared us, the abundance of lights reflected off the silver threaded through his fur-lined hem.

  I still didn’t understand why he didn’t have to wear the hot-as-hell velvet elf cap like I did. All damn day I had to tug it back down over my riotous brown curls.

  “Who’s ready to sit on Santa’s lap?” he sing-songed in such a fake, deep voice I couldn’t help but huff a laugh. He crouched over to smile at Kayden. “You?”

  “I ain’t paying no twenty bucks,” the mother snapped.

  Seth stood, his smile frozen on his lips. “Then get out of the way.” All his festive fun was gone from his order, resembling his normal, nasally demanding voice.

  The mother snorted and dragged her son away.

  Why the hell couldn’t she listen to me? Seth and I were equally ridiculous in our damn elf outfits.

  “Well, come on, girlie.” He grinned at the next child in line, beckoning for her to continue along the red-carpeted path to Santa on his throne. As she skipped along and out of sight, Seth turned his back to the line and leaned closer to me. “What the fuck, Jade?”

  I shrugged. “That woman was being a complete bitch about it all and wouldn’t leave—”

  “Jesus. We had a long enough wait for the next kid that Garth even got up and asked me to see what the hell was going on.”

  I ran my hand over my forehead, feeling the start of a headache creeping on. “Sorry.” Welcome to my world. It’s piss on Christmas elves day.

  Still, Garth normally stayed seated in his Santa throne and made a big fuss about when he had to leave his post. Like it was a momentous hardship to get off his ass. That was where Marlena came in. They were married—in real life as Mr. and Mrs. Ridge, owners of this photo crap, and as the fake Mr. and Mrs. Claus. He played the part of the Santa and she played the part of harping on Seth and me to keep this operation running as fast as we could.

  Seth frowned at me. “He got up ho-ho-hoing, keeping up the act, and came up to me, cussing me out.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I said I was sorry.” Sorry I took this job, maybe.

  Seth rolled his bloodshot eyes at me. Probably stayed out partying too much last night again. Poor baby. “Well, don’t hold up the line again.”

  I smirked at the nineteen-year-old. “Just go back to the camera, all right?” I wasn’t in the mood for his attitude too.

  He laughed once. “Yeah, before Marlena sees I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”

  I peered around him, eyeing the area surrounding Garth’s—Santa’s—throne. A huge golden chair, a stack of fake presents in bright wrappings, pretend snow at foot, and the small red and green shingled shed. No Mrs. Claus. Marlena wasn’t anywhere in sight. It wasn’t like her to be absent. It seemed she enjoyed being at hand to count how many people she was suckering in to get a picture. Besides, she was the one who took the money.

  “Where is she?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “I haven’t seen her since we started back up after lunch. Just keep these brats coming so Garth doesn’t get on my ass again. You know, I’ve been cashing the people out too.”

  “Multi-tasking. Look at you. You’re practically an adult.”

  Seth towered closer and sneered. His breath stunk of weed and candy canes. “And look at you. All you gotta do is manage the line, Jade. Too much for a little lady like you to handle?”

  What, like this is easy? Did he forget about that woman already? I massaged the tender skin from where she’d smacked me.

  “Hey, Seth?” I whispered back, loathing the guy as much as he probably did me. We didn’t have anything personal against each other. He was simply a prick. “Get out of my sight.”

  “Fuck you, too,” he muttered before he left.

  I faced the line again and smiled. Parents stared at me with impatience in their eyes. Kids fidgeted next to them.

  “So…”

  … I hate this job. I’d only taken because I needed the money so desperately. Legal bills and past-due notices weren’t fun at any time of the year. But Christmastime meant more people spending money in general. I would have been a fool not to take this seasonally available position.

  I have a job. And it was something to be grateful for.

  I sighed and relaxed into a smile. I crouched lower to the little boy at the front of the line and asked, “So, what’s on your Christmas list, buddy?”

  For the next hour, children passed through the line without a problem. I even waved on a couple of dressed-up Yorkies who looked as miserable as the kids decked out in their Sunday best. There weren’t any more holdups from the line, but it was still a slow-moving process. Each time I heard Seth ring the bell—his signal for me to usher someone else to Santa—I did.

  Just before I sent a couple of infant twins and their parents to Garth’s throne, someone cut through the line. Not another Satan woman like before. She was familiar, though. I’d seen this blonde at the mall, at least.

  “Excuse me, please,” she said as she weaved around people. Sporting a fashionably trendy ugly Christmas sweater and a short black skirt, she seemed to be intent on reaching me at the head of the line. “Excuse me.” She flashed a quick, professional smile to a parent who frowned at the intrusion.

  “Hey, no cutting.” A man held up his hand to stop her.

  She nodded at me. “I’m with mall management. It’ll be just a moment.” Then she bypassed him, striding quickly through the narrow space between those in line and the pine posts that marked the edge of the waiting space. Her heels made no noise as she hastened toward me over the red carpet.

  “Excuse me,” she said again to the customers next in line to see Santa.

  “Just a moment,” I said to them, gesturing for them to make room. Mall management. Huh. I had no idea why she’d need to come to the North Pole, but it explained why this woman seemed familiar. The plastic corner of a nametag peeked from behind the floppy Santa hat sewn onto her garment, but her name was hidden past the letters El. Ellen? Eloise? Elena? It didn’t matter what her name was. Franklin Mall’s logo was there. This blondie was legit enough for me.

  “Can I help you?” I asked.

  She faced me then and exhaled through her nose. No smile. Displeased impatience oozed from her. Man, were crappy attitudes selling fast today, or what? “This line is ridiculous.”

  It was still piss on Christmas elves day.

  I didn’t even care that I dropped my smile. Hell, my shoulders probably slouched too. If I heard one more per
son bitch about the line, I was going to lose it. I couldn’t let people go to Santa any faster than I already was. If anything, it was Seth’s fault for taking too long to snap a picture. Or it was Garth’s fault for getting too into his role as Santa.

  “We’re moving as fast as we can.”

  She smirked and narrowed her bright blue eyes at me. I’d met someone else with that kind of unusually pale-colored eyes before. I’d thought they were contacts. “Security is going to show up soon.”

  I frowned at her. Is that a threat? If it was, it sure felt empty to me. In fact, bring them on. As long as they were just rent-a-cops, sure. I’d love some help managing these impatient shoppers. Real cops, now that was a different issue. I wasn’t a fan of them, especially one asshat, Officer Knox James, the man who’d arrested my nephew Damon earlier in the fall. But mall security sounded like a gift right about then.

  “Okay?” I shrugged.

  She pressed her lips into the start of a frown and narrowed her eyes even more. Shimmery browns and golds showed tastefully on her lids—a smart, professional amount of makeup that did a very good job of masking her age. If she was upper-level mall management, she must have climbed the ranks of supervision quickly. Hell, she appeared younger than me and I was just shy of hitting twenty-four.

  “The store managers are complaining that there are too many solicitors blocking their entrances.” She waved a hand in a general circle. “Perhaps you can warn your supervisor that if this crowd can’t be controlled, we’ll need to reduce operation hours.”

  Oooh. Okay. Now she was talking. Cutting the photo hut hours? That wouldn’t make Marlena happy. Less time meant less pictures, which meant less money. Also, it was news I didn’t want. It’d be cutting into my paychecks too. Hate it as I may, I needed all the hours I could get.

  “I’ll tell her right now. Thanks.”

  She nodded once, primly, and left the way she’d come.

  “Just one minute,” I told the parents of the adorably dressed twins in reindeer onesies. I wasn’t sure that the dad needed to don the same pajamas. I mean, the mother kind of pulls it off and makes the matching PJs idea cute, but dude, those are some skintight garments. Not everyone needs to see your junk—and more.