"What kinds of protests did you go on when you were a kid?"
He snorted, then grimaced. "My folks were into all kinds of stuff. Save the Redwoods. Protect the Wolves. You name it, they did it. So did I, thanks to them." He glared at me.
"Santa?"
"What, Holly?"
"You don't look good." She eyed me. "You're really red. I mean, like, all over."
Unless the kid had x-ray vision, she didn't know how right she was. I glanced down at my hands. Even my fingers felt red and swollen beneath these gloves.
Nicky grinned at me with one of those I-hope-you-suffer gazes.
I'd bet anything he knew what was going on with this suit. I could see it in his eyes, but wasn't about to let him get the better of me. A little rash would not keep me from getting to the bottom of this mess. "What went wrong?"
"With what, man?" He glanced sideways, avoided my gaze, and yawned. "I dunno what you're talking about."
Did he really think he could stonewall me? Make me give in that easily? I didn't hesitate with my retort. "You overcompensate with your dependability because of something in your childhood."
He gave me a black look. "What's with you, man?"
"It could be why you get stoned a lot."
"How do you know I do that?"
"Bloodshot eyes. Unusually secretive. Chance told me you always have a severe case of the munchies. And the whole thing with having Kass supply your marijuana. How many other suppliers like her do you have?"
"What's it to you?"
"Because I can't figure out why you care so much." I held his gaze.
After a long pause and a few moments of fidgeting with the flashlight, he seemed to get it. I was not going to back off. "You wanna know? Sure. There was this protest when I was ten. My mom told me to run back to the car. She wanted this paper to prove they had the right to be there. I got stopped on the way by a group of jerks. I guess they got real brave because I was all alone. They beat me up pretty good while the cops hauled my parents away. The cops knocked my mom around because she wouldn't go quietly. They gave her a concussion. She was never the same after that."
"So you've felt this urge to be Mr. Dependable ever since."
"Yeah, man. Thing like that, it weighs on a kid. A lot." His eyes hardened, and he took a step toward me. "I been screwed up my whole life because of one stupid day. Ain't never letting nobody else down, man. It cost me my mom. So, yeah, I'm super-dependable. It's just the way it is, dude."
He jabbed a finger in the air. It was in the general direction of where Chance and the cast waited. "The guy who plays Jack Frost, he ain't reliable at all. He's a flake. All he does is take advantage of people. And then there's his thing with the chick playing Joy. The only reason she's here is because he blackmailed the director to let her in. She's a barista, dude, not an actor. She ain't got no talent, but she's a wannabe. She's all hot for him, too, but he don't give a crap for her—except to keep her from turning him in. The guy's a klepto and she knows it, so she traded her silence for a role in the play. There you go, man, that's what I know about them. The whole rotten group."
Holly's jaw hung open as she stared at us. I couldn't tell if she was appalled or excited by all the dirt. I knew one thing for sure. This had turned into my worst nightmare.
I gestured at Kass. "Did she OD or something?"
"Nah, Santa, she's just feeling no pain. But, I'll bet you are, huh?"
Had he just confessed to tampering with this suit? He didn't seem the least bit concerned about much of anything. Was he a psychopath? Maybe he was the real killer—he hadn't been around, and he could have gotten Kass so wasted she didn't realize he'd left her. Was I reaching too far? Probably.
I shook my head and gazed at Kass. "I think she's going to need medical attention."
"Kass is gonna be okay." Nicky sneered at me. "Ain't so sure about you, Santa."
12
ARLENE - REDUX
So many thoughts ran through my head. Why did I itch everywhere? Was I allergic to something in this suit? Had Nicky somehow doctored it? If he had, it could account for the previous Santa's sudden departure. Maybe I wasn't the target at all. I gritted my teeth, determined to push through the distractions my body was throwing at me. "What did you think of the last Santa?"
Nicky shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Couldn't stand the guy."
Oh great, a vendetta. "What did you do to the suit?"
He smirked. "I didn't do nothing to it. Ask Kass. She's in charge of wardrobe."
"She's not in any condition to answer questions." Of that I was sure. Nor would this guy say anything. Whatever his beef, my best option was to continue the investigation. At least it helped to take my mind off the pervasive itching. "Look, Nicky, I don't really care if Jack Frost or whatever he wants to call himself is a thief or not."
The hard clicking of heels on wood filled the air. I sighed and looked to see who was joining us. It was Arlene. Couldn't I catch a break? Was this Let's Ruin Santa's Day or something? First a murder. Then the suit. Now, Manic Mama.
"I've just about had it with you, young lady." Arlene marched forward until she stood a few feet from Holly. "You go to the back of the theater with the rest of the actors right this minute." She glared at her daughter and planted her hands on her hips.
All she got from Holly—after the tween eye roll—was a passive gaze. And a snicker from Nicky.
"I'm telling you to get off that chair and do as I say." Arlene's voice was moving into the stratosphere. She sounded almost frantic.
I stepped forward and placed one hand on her arm. "She's been helping me, Arlene."
She fixed me with an icy stare. "You, Santa, are corrupting my daughter." She jerked her arm away from mine. "What's with your face. You're breaking out in a rash. You're the same color as that stupid suit. Are you contagious?"
Nicky smiled again, and this time, he winked at me.
I put a hand on my chest. "My face is this color?" I needed a mirror. Or maybe not.
Arlene nodded. "You should be concerned."
"I'm Santa's Chief Assistant Elf Investigator, Mom. He saves me in the play, and now it's my turn to help him." Holly continued to sit and gaze at her mother as though the fate of the universe depended on her seeing this venture through.
I buried my little chuckle in my beard. The kid had given herself a promotion from Temporary Investigator to Chief. At this rate, she'd soon have my job. The standoff looked like it could go on until Holly graduated high school. Neither one of them was going to give in anytime soon from what I could see. It was Arlene who "blinked first." She sputtered something unintelligible, and I had a feeling this was the norm in the family.
"Santa looks real bad, huh Mom?"
"All she's been doing is taking notes," I said.
Kass moaned and her head lolled against Holly's shoulder.
"And she dealt with Kass for me."
"You're exposing my daughter to drug addicts? How dare you!"
"Oh, stuff it, Arlene," Nicky shot back. "Kid's got a good head on her shoulders. She's more stable than you. I know all about you, everything including the six-month bender and time in rehab."
Arlene's jaw worked. "You have no right!"
I buried my beard in my hands. "What happened to the Christmas spirit?"
"Shut up, Santa," Nicky said.
"Yeah, Santa, shut up." Arlene fixed Holly with a rather well-done I'm-in-charge stare. "Are you coming or not?"
"Santa needs me." Holly shifted as Kass slumped forward.
The kid had nailed it. Santa needed a helper…along with a sturdy backscratcher. "Please, Arlene, let her stay. I won't let anything happen to her."
Arlene let out a huff and looked around, but didn't move. Her hard exterior suddenly cracked. "I can't take it. Brooke is dead. Our crew members are stoners. Mrs. Claus is back there having hot flashes. Miller is quoting his lines like he's Hamlet. The whole cast has gone off the deep end. I'm taking my daughter and getting out of
here this instant!"
If Arlene thought she could leave the theater, she was so wrong. We had a dead body and a bunch of loonies running around. Why was I classifying her differently? She herself wasn't exactly a model of stability.
I rested a gloved hand on her shoulder and scrutinized her face. Tears tracked down her cheeks, leaving black trails and smudges where she'd tried to wipe them away. She looked more like a Halloween ghoul than Holly's mother—real or stage. To my left, Nicky caught my attention with a click of his tongue. He winked as he strolled away. What did he think I was? A horse?
"See ya, slick."
I was unable to do anything other than watch him go. Between the strain of my first so-called stage appearance, the interviews, and a body laden with itchy skin, I could barely summon the will to stay here myself. Holly gazed at me with growing concern, and Arlene finally seemed interested in someone's needs other than her own.
"Is there something I can get you?" she asked.
"You could tell me where he went." I pointed to Nicky's now vacant spot, then rubbed my side and neck. The rash had to be everywhere by now. "You don't have any kind of antihistamine, do you?"
Arlene shook her head. "My daughter can't take over-the-counter medications. She has allergies and I was…"
"Right. No worries. I'll just tough it out." With tough being the operative word. "Arlene, look, this is not going well. One of my witnesses just walked off. Getting information out of these people is a battle of wills. Is there something…anything…you can tell me that would be of help? You stumbled over the body. Did you see Brooke…at all? Anybody?"
She shook her head. "Wait. I wasn't facing Brooke, so I can't say."
"What about Miller? Kass? Were they in their places?"
"I'm sure Kass was doing a last-minute check on my makeup. But Miller, he's always on his mark."
"Mom," Holly said, "You're wrong. Miller was avoiding Brooke. He wasn't on his mark. And Kass was outside with Nicky getting loaded."
Arlene's jaw dropped, and she stared at her daughter. A moment later, she started and said, "She's right, now that I think about it, I was in such shock. Anyway, she's exaggerating about Miller being afraid of Brooke." She smiled weakly. "You know how children are."
The way Holly bristled, it was obvious she didn't see herself as a child. But, at least she held her tongue and didn't start another argument.
"Maybe," I said. "But Miller does have something he's hiding. I'm with your daughter; it could be why he was keeping his distance. Maybe she had something he wanted? Or needed?"
"Could it be a picture?" Holly asked.
I peered at her. Narrowed my gaze. What did she know? "Did you see something?"
Holly shrugged. "I didn't think it was important before, but he got all weird a few rehearsals ago when Brooke showed him a piece of paper. It looked like it had a picture on one side."
"How big was it?" I asked.
The kid's brow creased, her jaw puckered, then she raised her hands in a rectangle about three inches by five. About the size of an old photograph. "Did you see the other side? Was it glossy?"
Holly scrunched up her face in another show of facial gymnastics before she came to her conclusion. "Kinda. Yeah, I think so. I still couldn't see what was on it."
"It's got to be an old picture. If we assume Miller was hiding something and Brooke knew about it, it stands to reason that's the key."
"To what?" Arlene didn't look the least bit convinced.
"To the murder, Mom. If Brooke was blackmailing Miller and somebody found out about it, they could have killed her for the money."
Arlene sighed. "Oh, baby girl. You and your imagination."
"Look, Arlene, we have to find that picture. It could have been the motive. We won't know for sure until we have both the photo and confirmation of who killed Brooke. But, let's start with the most likely person, the husband."
Arlene pressed against her cheeks, took a deep breath, and looked at her daughter. "You really like this Santa, don't you?"
An enthusiastic nod. A sheepish smile. "I feel like I'm doing something important."
Holly and I both waited for her mother to respond. There were so many ways this could go wrong, but I had to admit; I wasn't at the top of my game. Call it my Santa's Sixth Sense, but tempting as it was to exert influence over Arlene's decision, something told me this was one of those silence-is-golden moments.
"Tell you what, I'll go along with this for now." Arlene knelt in front of her daughter. She held her gaze for a long moment. "As much as I hate to say it, if I stop you now, you'll be angry with me for a very long time." She shot a black look in my direction. "Don't you let anything happen to my little girl. You understand me, Santa?"
"No worries," I said. "Chance and I will protect her." The problem was, my attempt at sounding confident failed and came out more the way I really felt, worried.
"Forget about Chance, he's ramrodding a pack of wild coyotes." Arlene gestured at the back of the theater. "This is on you. Are we clear?"
"Got it." I paused for a second, then asked, "Would you do me a favor?"
"What?"
"Would you have our fearless leader send Miller to see me and help Kass return to the rest of the group?"
She grabbed the young woman's arm and helped her stand. "Come on, Kass, time for you to sober up." Together, they wove a crooked path away from the stage.
13
HOLLY - ACT 1
Holly stood next to me, tugging on my black belt. "It's gonna be okay. Isn't it, Santa?"
I gazed down at her. Good grief, so young to be seeing this sort of thing. Even worse, I didn't know if I really could keep her safe. "Your mom's the protective sort, isn't she?"
"Are you kidding? She puts on this big show, but she's a total pushover. I usually get whatever I want. I think Mom's got a guilty conscience." Darkness clouded her expression for a few seconds longer, then lifted. She beamed at me and asked, "What are we asking Miller about?"
I pointed a white glove at her. I was afraid to remove the gloves for fear of what condition the skin on my fingers might be in. Right now, it was better if I didn't know. "We are not asking Miller anything. You are the assistant. Your job is to lay low, take notes, and help me stay on track. I can't involve you in the questioning. It's too dangerous."
She stomped her foot on the stage. "For who?"
"Me. Your mother will kill me if I don't keep you at arm's length."
Holly might only be nine, but she had the tween's answer to All Things Not Liked down pat. It was a cultivated expression incorporating elements of impatience, denial, and dismissal. The equivalent of a visual "whatever" with three exclamation points. She followed The Look with a heavy sigh. "Santa, can I at least make a suggestion?"
Why not? "Sure, kid."
Her face lit up like Christmas morning and I wondered if she was bipolar.
"Ask him if he stole it while he was kneeling over Brooke's body. That would be so cool if he took it right in front of everybody!"
"Ahem."
I whirled around. Rats, Miller. Standing right behind me. How much had he heard?
Miller Huxley's five-o'clock shadow was moving into overtime. And, at six-foot-two, he towered over me, deepening the intimidation factor.
"Stole what?" he demanded.
I chose not to answer, but to let him chew on his curiosity for a while and help to cement the power structure. "Thanks for coming back, Miller. How are you doing?"
He shook his head and glanced at the tree on the opposite side of the stage. The brightly colored lights belied the seriousness of our situation.
"Not good," he said.
"Let's begin with something simple. Does Wendy the Elf work at your shelter?"
"It's not ours anymore, but she did…does…work there. Why?"
"Just curious. So why did you give Scrooge a pool cue instead of his staff?"
"It was a joke," he huffed. "He's such a pompous jerk. And he keeps leaving his stuf
f around like it's his own personal dressing room. I was tired of it and wanted to take him down a peg or two."
"Do you know where the real staff is?" I asked.
"Yeah, it's in the corner of the dressing room." He did a double take. "Wait. Did you think I stole a stupid prop?"
Once again, I ignored his question. It was time to break Miller Huxley. "Did Mrs. Claus get through to the police yet?"
"She's having hot flashes. I'm sure she forgot all about it. It's chaos back there—a madhouse. Stole what?" He glared at me.
"What was going on between you and your wife?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. Brooke and I got along just fine."
I stared at him, straight-faced. Waited. Silence hung in the air like death.
He began to fidget, then cleared his throat. "Well, we might have been having some problems, but we were working them out."
"It will all come out sooner or later. Better to tell the truth now—before you look like you're trying to hide something."
Miller fingered the velvet collar of his costume. His breathing ramped up along with his general twitchiness. This was like watching the pressure build in a warm bottle of champagne. "Look, this could ruin me. I can't…"
"Sure you can," I said.
A little voice behind me shot out the accusation. "Brooke caught you having an affair. She had a picture and you killed her to get it back." Holly's eyes were filled with fire. Her neck craned forward and she was jabbing one finger in the air at Miller.
"No…no…" he stammered.
I bit my tongue and grabbed the girl's hand, pressing down gently until she let her arm hang at her side. "Holly, you need to cool your jets. Okay?"
Miller's red-rimmed eyes filled with moisture. It was entirely possible Holly had the right conclusion, but the direct accusation had probably put Miller on the defensive.
"You're saying you didn't have an affair?" I asked.
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