Trouble Under the Tree (A Nina Quinn Mystery)

  “Mom!”

  “What, chérie?”

  “What’s so terrible?”

  “Oh! I awoke to the most horrendous sight this morning.”

  “I’m sure Dad wouldn’t appreciate you saying so.”

  She laughed. I loved her laugh—warm and genuine.

  “Not your father, though some mornings that would be an apt description. Did I ever tell you how he sleeps with his mouth open? The drool alone would scare most wom—”

  “Mom!”

  “Oh. Right. It’s my lawn.”

  “What’s wrong with your lawn?”

  “There’s a—” she took a deep breath “—a giant inflatable snow globe out there. Snoopy, I believe. And that little bird friend of his.”

  “Woodstock?”

  “That’s him.”

  “Cute,” I said, squinting to see if I could spot Riley amongst the elves in Santa’s Cottage. Honestly, even up close they tended to look alike.

  “Not cute! Not even close.”

  “Then why’d you put it out there?” I shouldn’t have answered the phone. I still had a checklist of items to cross off before the doors opened at eleven. I really didn’t even have the time to talk to Riley, but sometimes my nosiness got the better of me.

  “I didn’t. That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” she said with more condescension than I thought necessary. “Someone put it out there while I was sleeping.”

  I held in a laugh. “Who would do that?”

  “As if I would know. Hooligans, no doubt. I’ve unplugged the thing, but I don’t know what to do with it. It. Has. To. Go.”

  Ah. The real reason she called. She needed my truck.

  “I’ll take it.” I’d always had a fondness for that cute little Woodstock.

  “You do not need another lawn decoration. Perhaps you can donate it.”

  “There’s always room for more,” I said.

  “Whose child are you?”

  “I ask myself that often.”

  “Fresh.”

  “I’ll be over after the big tree-lighting.”

  “What do I do with it until then? I can’t leave it out there on the lawn. The neighbors might see.”

  “They probably already saw it.”

  “Lord have mercy,” she murmured. “How am I going to explain?”

  I laughed. “Have Dad drag it into the garage. I’ll be there soon.”

  I hung up before she could sneak in another word and walked over to Santa’s Cottage. Here, Jenny’s ingenuity really came to life. She literally had a cottage built inside Christmastowne. It was a small one-story cabin, decked out in Christmas lights, faux snow, and even faux smoke coming out of the faux chimney. It was absolutely adorable.

  Outside the cottage, a small picket fence cordoned off the area and also provided a queue for eager little kids waiting their turn to see the big guy. There was a reindeer pen off to one side, and Jenny was still trying to get real reindeer to put in it for a petting zoo along with a few other barnyard animals.

  A copse of faux snow-dusted pine trees, holly bushes, and dozens and dozens of (kill me now) poinsettias added a nice touch of outdoors. Through a snow-crusted picture window, I caught a glimpse of Santa’s big velvet chair—which was empty.

  During the off-season Jenny planned to turn the space into Santa’s workshop and have Santa hang around all-year, so kids would still be eager to come to the village to get a peek at the toys he was making. It was genius.

  I followed the empty queue to the open front door of the cottage. I peeked in and saw Nancy Davidson, Christmastowne’s photographer, fussing with her camera equipment, which was set up next to a fireplace that had stockings hung (embroidered with “Mr. Claus” and “Mrs. Claus”) by the faux fire with care. Riley stood next to a toy chest—another of Jenny’s brilliant ideas. Families who wanted their pictures taken with Santa could spend a fortune on the photos—or they could drop an unwrapped present into the chest and have the shot for free. The toys were then donated to a local children’s charity.

  Even though most of the donated presents cost more than the picture fee, it fostered the spirit of giving and Riley commented this morning that people had responded enthusiastically. He had to empty the toy chest hourly to keep up with the flow.

  Across the room, I noticed Jenny had taken a wobbly Santa aside and was giving him a talking-to. Mrs. Claus, dressed in a pretty red dress with green sash, gray curly wig, cute hat and sensible red pumps, had latched onto a poor male elf. Her hand encircled his arm, and she cooed appreciatively over his muscles.

  Nancy headed toward me, and I moved out of the doorway to let her pass.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I had to get some fresh air. The fumes...” She fanned her face.

  “What fumes?” Had there been another mishap?

  “Like Santa has been swimming in a vat of whisky. My eyes are watering.”

  “That bad?” I asked, peeking over her shoulder as Jenny’s face turned redder and redder during her lecture. Hopefully she wouldn’t attack her uncle the way she’d gone after Glory.

  “Worse, Nina. Blech. Prepare yourself.”

  I’d come to know a lot of the employees here over the past two weeks. Nancy was older, maybe mid-fifties, with brown hair that looked streaked from natural sun and kind, wise bright blue eyes. She’d taken this job part-time to supplement running her dairy goat farm—freelance photography was her hobby.

  Holding up her camera, she said, “I’m going to take some snapshots. I’ll see you later.”

  I supposed Santa couldn’t be much worse than me last night after too many spiked eggnogs, so I ventured inside after Nancy headed off toward the atrium.

  I took a gleeful moment to absorb the picture that was Riley. Almost six feet tall, he wore green- and red-striped tights, a velvet green tunic, a green and red Santa-style hat with attached pointy elf ears, and green booties with jingle bells and a curled-up toe. It was almost too much for me for me to handle—I wanted to roll with laughter. But I managed to keep a (somewhat) straight face as I walked over to him. He, on the other hand, grinned from ear to pointy ear. “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “Just enjoying the show.”

  “What show?”

  He nodded toward Mrs. Claus. Fairlane had pressed her impressive chest against the elf. Poor guy. It was blatant sexual harassment if I ever saw it. “That’s really not funny,” I said. “I’m embarrassed for her.”

  Riley looked down at me (I really hated that his growth spurt now had him a good six inches taller). “Well, I’m amused.”

  I was about to give him a lecture when I took a good look at the elf. Suddenly, I was amused, too.

  The elf was Kevin.

  Chapter Three

  After Kevin extricated himself from Fairlane’s iron grasp, he tried to sneak out the back door of the cottage without me noticing.

  I was on to his tactics, though, and went out the front and circled around. I came face to face with his elfish self near the faux stone chimney.

  “I don’t know where to begin,” I said.

  The bells on his sleeve jingled when he folded his arms across his chest. “You can stop grinning like that, for one.”

  “I can’t help it. There are just some memories I want imprinted on my brain forever. This is one of them. I wish I had my camera. I could use this image on my Christmas cards. I wonder if Nancy would be willing to—”

  “Stop. Stop it right now.”

  My smile stretched so wide it hurt my cheeks. “Unless you want this—” I gestured to his outfit “—sent to one hundred of our nearest and dearest, I suggest you tell me what you’re doing here? Dressed like that?”

  “Stooping to blackmail, Nina?”

  “It’s not the first time.”

  He rolled his eyes, took my elbow, and pulled me toward the pine trees. “I’m kind of working.”

  “Kind of?” He was a homicide detective, and unless there was a body hidden in Santa’s toy ch
est, I was pretty sure there hadn’t been a murder. News like that was sure to get around.

  “Remember how Riley wanted to talk to me last night?”

  How could I forget? I was dying to know why. “Yeah?”

  Kevin glanced left, then right. “He thinks someone is stealing the toys from the donation chest and asked for my help. I talked to Jenny this morning, and she agreed to let me work here, unofficially, for a few days to see what I can find out.”

  A few days of Kevin in an elf outfit. This was a present that was going to keep on giving. Even though I was done with Christmastowne after this afternoon, I was going to have to come back.

  With a camera.

  “Why does Ry think someone’s stealing?” I asked.

  “One of his jobs yesterday was to empty the toy chest that’s inside Santa’s Cottage. He saw toys go in, like Game Boy games and those dolls everyone’s so crazy about this year, but when he emptied the chest, those toys were gone. He’s afraid that because he’s in charge of the toys, someone is going to think he’s stealing them.”

  I was outraged on his behalf. “That’s crazy.”

  “You know that. I know that. But someone else might be trying to frame him.”

  “Well, we have to figure out who and stop them.”

  It was his turn to grin. “I have to figure out who.” Placing strong hands on my shoulders, he spun me around. “You have to leave now.”

  “Hey!”

  He brushed against the tree and glittery snow sprinkled onto his shoulders. “You being over here is only going to call more attention to me. I’m trying to blend in.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, because a tall, dark, handsome, sparkly elf is the norm around these parts.”

  His eyebrows waggled. “Handsome?”

  “Get over yourself.”

  “You’re the one who said it.”

  “I’m leaving now.”

  “It’s about time.”

  Shaking my head, I turned and headed toward the atrium. Kevin was on my heels (I was pretty sure he wanted see for himself that I really left) as Fairlane came running out of the cottage, nearly knocking us both down.

  Her Mrs. Claus wig was askew as Kevin reached out to steady her. Tears streamed down her face in dark rivulets. Mucus dripped from her nose.

  “What’s wrong, Fairlane?” I asked.

  “I—I’ve been fired!” she wailed.

  “Why?” Kevin asked.

  I had a fairly good idea.

  Using her sleeve, she wiped her nose. “An incident between me and Mr. Claus, is all. Jenny misunderstood.”

  “Did that incident have anything to do with you touching him inappropriately?” I asked. Hey, it seemed like a reasonable question to me.

  She stomped her foot. “We were under the mistletoe! And it was consenting, I might add.”

  “Isn’t Santa married?” Benny had said something about Santa being married to Jenny’s aunt.

  Fairlane waved a dismissive hand. “Hardly anyone can resist my charms. Especially under the mistletoe. I’m a fantastic kisser.”

  Ugh. I was starting to feel queasy.

  Kevin said, “This just happened?”

  “Yes. In there.” Nodding, she motioned to the cottage.

  His eyebrows dipped. “There’s no mistletoe in there.”

  With cheeks bright red, she pulled a sprig from her pocket. “I might have been holding it.”

  “Oh, Fairlane,” I said.

  She wiped her nose again. I took a step away from her sleeve. Gross.

  “A misunderstanding,” she mumbled.

  Kevin said, “Who’s going to take over as Mrs. Claus?” He threw a look my way. “You might have to fill in, Nina.”

  “I’m not touching that costume,” I said. “No offense, Fairlane.”

  She glanced at her snot-covered sleeve and looked sheepish. “There is another costume, but you don’t have to worry. Lele will take over.” Watery eyes blinked, and Fairlane’s lips curved into a tremulous pout. “I can’t believe Jenny fired me.” Fairlane tipped her head. “I’m a fantastic worker. A people person. People love me.”

  Modest, too.

  “I just don’t understand,” she said, trying to frown but the face-filler wouldn’t let her. “Lele never gets fired.”

  Maybe because Lele could keep her hands to herself? But there was no point in rubbing salt in Fairlane’s wounds. “Something else will come along.”

  “There won’t be a need. All I have to do is talk to Benny. He’ll fix this.”

  I rather doubted Benny would win that argument with Jenny.

  “How can you be so sure?” Kevin asked.

  Batting her eyelashes, she patted her hair and realized that her wig was off-kilter. She hurriedly straightened it. “Like I said, hardly anyone can resist my charms.”

  I wanted to gag.

  Kevin goaded her. “I can understand why.”

  I frowned at him—no plastic surgery for me, so he got the full effect.

  He winked.

  Ugh.

  “I better go change and find Benny.” Fairlane again batted her eyelashes at Kevin. “A hug would make me feel so much better. It’s been a traumatic morning.”

  “Go ahead, Nina,” he said, nudging me. “Hug her.”

  Before I could retort, Fairlane had thrown herself into his arms.

  Ha! Had to love karma.

  Horrified, he stood there stiffly while her hands roamed his back. “You’re so strong,” she cooed.

  I bit back a laugh as he patted her back twice and pushed her away.

  She pulled the mistletoe out and waved it above her head.

  “I’ve got to get back inside,” he said and ran for the door, jingling all the way.

  Fairlane glanced at me, tucked the sprig back into her pocket, and hurried off.

  I didn’t take it personally.

  ***

  Two hours later all the employees of Christmastowne had gathered round the Christmas tree in the atrium. The doors were set to open in fifteen minutes, and Jenny and Benny were giving a last minute pep-talk.

  I stood off to the side with Kit and Jean-Claude Reaux, another long-time employee, who had just finished installing yew bushes in decorative planters around the food court. With that, we were done with our work at Christmastowne.

  “I think Riley is avoiding me,” Kit said.

  “That’s because you threatened to videotape him and put it on You Tube.”

  Jean-Claude said, “Do you think they sell those tights here? The red and green ones? With stripes?”

  Kit and I looked at him. He was serious.

  Pink filled his cheeks. “I’m just curious.” He watched the elves for a few seconds and said, “Do they?”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Sell them here?”

  “Probably,” I said. I’d found myself a pair of antlers and a red nose for my truck. I couldn’t wait to put them on it.

  He nodded, his gaze hopping from one shop to the next, as if trying to figure out which one would stock the tights.

  To Kit, I said, “Should I ask him why he wants them?”

  “No.”

  That was probably wise. With Jean-Claude, sometimes denial was best. Like the time I found out he’d been working as an exotic dancer under the name JC Rock.

  Kit squinted, blinked, then squinted again. “Is that Kevin?”

  My ex lurked near a column, trying to blend in. As if. “If you can get a video of him, I’ll give you a big Christmas bonus.”

  Kit whipped out his smart phone and stalked off. He stalked well for such a big guy. I was impressed.

  Benny shouted, “Everyone take your places, it’s time!”

  Workers scattered to their shops and kiosks, while the elves and a somewhat sober-looking Santa headed to greet the guests.

  At exactly eleven o’clock, Jenny opened the front doors. The elves launched into a rousing rendition of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” as shoppers streamed inside, o
ohing and ahhing.

  Kit, I noticed, was still stalking Kevin, who was doing his best to hide.

  I spotted Brickhouse Krauss and my neighbor Flash Leonard come inside, as well as a brightly-dressed Mr. Cabrera. Really, there was no missing him with his vivid red knit cardigan with galloping reindeer stitched across the chest.

  Brickhouse and Flash found their way over to me, and Flash said, “What a place!”

  Flash was one of my favorite people in the neighborhood. At ninety, and wracked with arthritis, he always had a smile and managed to stay active.

  Even grumpy Brickhouse agreed. “It makes me want to buy something.”

  “And that’s saying something,” I said.

  She gave me an evil eye—not quite as good as my mother’s but close. “What are you trying to say? Are you saying I’m cheap?”

  “Yes.”

  Her pursed lips gave way to a smile. “I prefer frugal.”

  “Are you feeling any better?” I asked.

  “Much,” she said. “I should be back to work on Tuesday.”

  I’d given my crew Sunday and Monday off—they deserved it. This had been a tough job. Brickhouse had started working for me part-time as my office manager a couple of months ago, sharing the job with Tam so that she could spend more time at home with baby Niki. It was a solution that had worked out quite well.

  Brickhouse’s face hardened, and I followed her gaze to see Mr. Cabrera standing on the other side of the atrium.

  She caught my eye and clucked. “I don’t miss him.”

  “I didn’t say you did.”

  “You were thinking it,” she said.

  “Maybe,” I admitted.

  She folded her arms across her big chest. “Well, I don’t.”

  “I’m glad we settled that.” Shifting the conversation, I said, “What have you got there, Flash?”

  He had something in his hand. Proudly, he held it up, which was quite the struggle. His arthritis made dexterity almost impossible. “One of my old baseballs.”

  Once upon a time, Flash had been a semi-pro pitcher. “Did you bring it to get signed today?” Benny had brought in local sports personalities, including Reds baseball players, for the opening and there were already big crowds at their booths.