by Liliana Hart
“Somebody’s got to pay for that brand new Harley Davidson Santa is bringing me for Christmas.”
“I’ll tell you what you can do with that bike,” she muttered under her breath.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Have you ever owned a bike?”
“Nope.”
“Have you even ridden one?”
“Nope.”
“Then why in the world would you want a motorcycle?”
“I need a hobby. I’m middle aged. And I’m retired. Those seem to be the prerequisites for owning a bike.”
“I hope you ride that bike better than you cast a fishing rod,” she snapped. “A hook in your lip will be the least of your problems.”
“You don’t know anything about my problems,” he said.
Hank dropped Agatha off in front of Bucky’s, so she could meet Heather for dinner. then drove home. His house was dark inside, and he’d forgotten to leave a few lights on. He hadn’t planned on getting back as late as they had.
He drew his weapon as he went silently through the house. He didn’t suspect an intruder, but in his line of work, it was when you didn’t expect one that you usually ended up dead. He’d made a lot of enemies in his career.
Being a serial killer hunter looked great on paper, but in reality, it was a lonely life. He’d become so paranoid about others tracking him, that the feeling of being a target became his new normal. At least as a cop he’d had a degree of protection. Now, as a civilian, he was on his own. That was okay with him, but it meant being much more cautious, or maybe the right word was paranoid.
He flipped on lights as he moved through and everything checked out. He replaced his weapon in his holster. At the same time, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket.
“Hey, Coil,” he said.
“Just passed by and saw you were home. Mind if I stop by?”
“Sure. The door’s unlocked.”
Hank hurried to change clothes, searching for his favorite Eagles sweatshirt. He thought it was stashed away in the closet, but he found it shoved in the back of his bottom dresser drawer. He grabbed the sweatshirt and saw the dark brown, wooden box. He dropped to a knee, hesitant to touch it, but he gently traced a finger over the etching. He opened it briefly, pulled out one of the items inside, and closed it again.
Sweet had mentioned his wife, but he hadn’t mentioned that she’d also been his partner. Tammy had been one of the best partners he’d ever had the privilege of working with. He missed her. The box was something she’d bought him as a thank you after their first big case together.
There was a knock at the front door, so he tried to collect his thoughts. He pushed to his feet and went to greet Coil.
“Hi Hank” Coil said.
“Come on in.” Hank hurried back through the house.
“Wow, looks like you seen a ghost,” he said. “You okay?”
“I guess I kind of did see one. I’ll be fine.”
“Tammy?” Coil asked.
Hank nodded, because it was all he could do without choking up. “Yeah. Saw Dr. Sweet today in Fort Worth. He mentioned her. It brought it all back, that’s all.”
“Does Agatha know?”
“No one knows. Except you. Let’s keep it that way, okay?” Hank asked while he grabbed two beers from the fridge. He handed one to Coil.
“I respect that,” Coil said. “It’s been a long time, but I know there are moments it can feel like yesterday.” Coil set his Stetson on the coffee table before falling back onto Hank’s couch and stretching out his long legs. “How ‘bout you tell me what’s up with Santa Claus?”
“You know, Coil, I think Aggie is onto something. We’ve got no labs or mass spec analysis to go off of, but there are enough similarities in photographs that it’s a logical conclusion that these men didn’t die from natural causes.
“Like what?” Coil’s eyes drew narrow.
“All have typical cardiac arrest signs, but each has a rash across their throats that might or might not have been caused by wearing cheap wigs and scraggly beards. The thing that confounds me is that each one of them has a blue discoloration around their mouths. Without testing, it’s hard to tell what it is or isn’t.”
“Exhumations?”
Hank chuckled. “Only if it were Jesus calling Lazarus out from the grave. Nowhere near enough evidence to go to that extreme. A month before Christmas and asking to pull grandpa from the ground would get us all on the naughty list.”
“Looks like it’s time to beat the street. Videos, witnesses, who had contact with them. You might find a common denominator.” Coil slid easy into the investigative mode. He was a natural at his craft.
“One step ahead, buddy. We start tomorrow morning.”
Coil’s phone buzzed, and he glared at it. “It’s the office. Karl needs help on a report, and somebody’s bull is walking through town like it owns the place.” Coil stood up with a half laugh, half groan, “I’m officially off duty, so I’m not going to feel guilty about having this beer. My deputies have to learn to be a little more independent when I’m not there. Be careful if you head downtown. I know you and livestock don’t mix.”
“Unless it’s on my plate,” he said, grinning.
Coil laughed and headed for the door, saluting goodbye and closing it behind him.
Hank didn’t know how long he stood staring at the empty space, but when he reached his hand up to touch his cheek, it was wet. He slipped his fingers into his pocket and pulled out a gold wedding band. He slipped it on his pinky, but it stopped short of his first knuckle.
“I miss you, Tammy.”
Chapter Nine
Wednesday
Agatha stared out her front window as Hank pulled up the next morning fifteen minutes early.
“Like clockwork,” she said. “That man drives me nuts.”
She put on her red trench coat and slung her yellow bag over her shoulder, then she locked the house up tight.
Hank pushed the door open for her and she slid in, enjoying the heated leather seats. He handed her a cup of hot tea.
“You’re a good man, you know that?”
He looked a little taken aback, and she felt bad she hadn’t told him sooner. As partners went, he was excellent. He was smart and methodical, and he always kept a level head. He was also thoughtful and did little things like warm her seat and bring her tea.
The tension hadn’t lessened since they’d parted ways the night before, and neither of them knew quite what to say.
“That’s a lot of color first thing in the morning,” Hank said, eyeing her coat and bag.
“You should see my underwear,” she said. “Cold and gloomy weather depresses me. The colors help me stay happy.”
“Good to know,” he said. “I figured we’d stop at the mall first, then head to the strip mall where the second Santa went down. I’m guessing they have a decent security force and surveillance system. Maybe we’ll identify someone suspicious from the tapes.”
Agatha rustled through her reports, and the information she gathered about the shopping mall. The security company was a firm local to Fort Worth whose website said they prided themselves on working closely with law enforcement and community leaders. She wasn’t sure she or Hank fit either description, but it was worth a try.
“We need to talk about what happened yesterday,” Hank said. “We’re not going to be able to accomplish much with whatever this is between us. You’re clearly upset about something.”
“You think?” she asked.
“And I don’t really have any interest in your attitude. I’m not a mind reader.” Hank retorted.
“You’re right,” she said. “I’ve never been one to hold my tongue. I don’t know why I’d start now. For starters, I did not appreciate your comments yesterday about me grading English papers. I was successful and hitting the New York Times list long before you came into my life, and I can promise you I’ll be successful long after you’re out of it. You’re a big help, b
ut you’re not a necessity. You’ve read my work, so you know I’ve managed to do quite well with others I’ve worked with. So for you to assert my contract was because of you is a slap in the face for everything I’ve ever worked for.”
Agatha took in a deep breath and looked at him for a reaction.
“That’s fair,” he said, shrugging. “And I didn’t mean it to be hurtful. I guess when you balked at my comment about a raise, it hit me in the gut, so I struck out. I was just kidding, but you sure let me know how you felt about the work I’m doing.”
“That’s a load of bull. There’s nothing wrong with the work you’re doing. You got a bee in your bonnet for whatever reason when we met with Sweet. I was just collateral damage.”
He ignored her, obviously getting all riled up for a fight. “And if you really want to know the truth, I don’t need your permission or approval to buy a motorcycle. You’re not my mother.”
She felt the hot flash of anger consume her. “That’s enough,” she snapped. “Just let me out right here.”
Hank hit his palm against the steering wheel. “Who are you to tell me that’s enough, Tammy. You’re dead. You don’t get to tell me what’s enough anymore.”
Agatha stared wide-eyed at Hank as he completely fell apart, sobbing quietly. She hadn’t realized she’d backed as far as she could go into the passenger door, and she felt her lungs burn as she held her breath. He pulled the BMW to a stop on the shoulder.
Agatha reached out slowly, not sure how receptive he’d be to her touch, and placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Hank,” she said softly. ‘I’m so sorry. So sorry. I didn’t see something else was bothering you.”
He laid his head down on the steering wheel. “It’s not yours to see. I’ve got to handle this. I shouldn’t have taken this out on you. I shouldn’t have even come today.”
Agatha rubbed her hand over his shoulder and back. She didn’t have a clue what to say to him, or how to make it better. All she knew was he was hurting, and she wished she could make it stop. She didn’t know who Tammy was, but she was obviously someone who’d meant a great deal to Hank. Apparently, she was dead.
“I guess I owe you an explanation,” he said.
“Only if you want to. We’re friends. Forget the pay and the books and all the other stuff. We’re friends. I’m here for as much or as little as you need to tell me. I respect your privacy. You can trust me.”
“The heck with my privacy,” he said. “Everybody wants to be so freaking respectful. Why doesn’t anyone care enough to ask?”
“Okay,” she said, trying to feel her way on boggy ground. “Would you like to tell me about Tammy?” Agatha asked carefully.
He sniffled, “Are you asking because I complained about no one asking, or are you asking because you care?”
“Okay, Hank. Enough bull, I want to know about Tammy, because I care about you, my partner and my friend.”
“She was my partner,” he said. “We’d tracked this killer, The Bonekeeper for years. He was one of the most vicious I’d ever seen, but we had no choice but to move in for the arrest when we had the chance. We didn’t have backup. He wasn’t known to be armed while he cruised for victims. That night he was. Murdering her was the last thing he’d do. I killed him with my bare hands.”
Hank stared at his hands as if he could still see the blood on them. Agatha sat breathless.
“What kind of man does that make me that I chose to choke the life out of The Bonekeeper instead of holding my wife while she died.”
“Your wife?”
“Tammy was my wife. She’s dead because of me.”
“How?” Agatha asked. “You said The Bonekeeper did it.”
He shook his head, lost in another world. “I should’ve protected her. I failed to anticipate the weapon. He’d evolved his killing style. He’d moved from being a meticulous serial killer to no more than a mass killing machine.”
“How could you have known, Hank?”
“I was supposed to be better than that. Better than him. It was my job to know the mind of a killer. Tammy paid the price because I failed.”
“What brought it all back?” she asked.
“I always suffer with the guilt, but bringing justice for others helped me keep it under control. It’s why I struggled after retirement. There was no one to fight for, so I felt like I was failing Tammy all over again, but then you came along and gave me the means to serve in that role once again. I appreciate what you did. I don’t want us to be mad at each other. You mean more to me than I let on. You’ve helped save me. I’m sorry I haven’t told you so.”
“I’m sorry, too.” She wiped the tears that had begun to fall from her eyes. “I think we’ve helped save each other.”
“When Sweet asked if I’d gotten remarried it triggered something, and it just sort of set me off. ”
Agatha nodded, “I thought I’d missed something. Makes sense now.”
“I should’ve told you about it once I felt the darkness setting in.”
“We don’t have to do this Fort Worth thing today. How about we take the day off?” Agatha suggested.
“No way.” Hank looked at her through blurry eyes. “And let another Santa bite the dust? We’ve got to save Christmas.”
“Can we at least talk with your supervisor?” Agatha asked the mall’s security guard.
“No ma’am. This is our busy season, and she can’t be bothered with customers, reporters or lawyers.”
The young security guard recited what sounded like a rehearsed brush off response. Agatha’s initial reaction was to jerk the stained clip-on tie from around his neck and strangle him with it.
She took a breath instead.
The security guard stood his ground. He looked to be about nineteen and still uncomfortable with shaving his face by the looks of the spotty patches of ginger and blonde hairs. His ears bulged from beneath his dark cap like open Volkswagen doors as tuffs of red hair curled around the back brim strap.
He had to have been new because he hadn’t received his nametag yet, and the uniform looked borrowed because it didn’t fit quite right. Agatha guessed he was seasonal help. Probably working outside of classes at a community college, so no need busting his balls over following orders.
“Lenny is it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you planning on working in this mall the rest of your life?” Agatha asked.
“Oh, no way. This is just holiday stuff. You know, extra cash to buy my girlfriend a nice present.”
“What’s her name?”
“Claire Marie. She works over at Foot Locker.”
“Did she know about the old Santa Claus that died last week?”
“Oh yeah, she was really broken up about that. It was on her floor’s wing.”
“How would she like it if you helped us prove it was a murder?” Agatha asked, and she knew she’d gotten him.
“Murder?” he asked, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
“Yes, murder.” Agatha whispered.
Lenny dug out a ring of keys and waved them back. “Come on, follow me.”
Chapter Ten
“This is a nice set up,” Hank said as they stared at the wall of CCTV camera screens.
“Yeah, we just upgraded last year. You see a whole lot of interesting things on these babies.”
Agatha leaned over his shoulder to watch the buttons he was pushing. “I don’t suppose you saw anything interesting a week ago Tuesday.”
“I did go back to watch when that old man died,” he said. “So I know what you’re talking about. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen anything like that, but I’ve been told it happens a couple times a year. Poor guy was just sitting there and fell over. There weren’t many kids waiting, but the elf staff started screaming and running all over the place.” He manipulated buttons, “It was kinda funny. Except for the death, I mean.”
“Any of the elves run off and not return?” Hank asked.
“No. There were just four of them and they all came back. Even the sketchy one. We call him Bobby the Bumbler because he always drops the kids when trying to set them on Santa’s lap.”
“Okay, how about clients leading up to the time he died? Were there long lines?”
“No. It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. The grocery stores were full, but not the mall.”
“Can you run a recording for us, about three hours before he died?” Agatha asked.
“Don’t you need a warrant or something?” Lenny asked, scratching the top of his head.
“Only if you want to go to court,” she said.
“No way.” He got busy on the monitors and knew exactly what day and time to punch up on the screen, then he copied a disc for them. “Here you go, but you didn’t get it from me. Okay?”
“Thanks, Lenny. If you remember anything else about that day, here’s my cell number,” Hank said. “Your girlfriend is a lucky woman. Make sure you get her something nice.”
Agatha saw the hundred-dollar bill Hank passed him.
They said goodbye to Lenny and headed toward The North Pole, the area they’d set up for Santa and his elves right in the middle of the mall. They moved past the short line of parents and kids over to the side near Santa’s workshop. Hank covered his laughter as the chubby elf dropped the young kid.
“Bobby the Bumbler,” he said to Agatha.
“Third one today,” huffed a woman dressed like an elf. She could’ve been sixty or she could’ve been a hundred, it was hard to tell. She had a smoker’s voice and the glimpse of a faded tattoo on her wrinkled décolletage. The elves all wore green spandex and green and white striped leggings. Her hair was short and gray, and pointy ears stuck out from a pointy hat.
“I heard I shouldn’t let him handle my kids,” Agatha said. “I wanted to see it for myself though.”
