Sean leaned in close to Sara and bobbed his head toward the other side of the street. “Guess who I see?”
“Oh, and he sees us too.”
Stan’s head was turning left and right as though he was getting ready to run. Somehow he must have known they were looking into the Wilsons’ deaths and he clearly figured he was their next person of interest. Guilty consciences often initiated the urge to flee.
Sean slipped behind Sara.
“Where are you going?” Sara gave a nervous glance at her parents. “Right now?”
“He’s guilty of something, and I’m going to find out what.”
“Oh.” Sara appeared conflicted about whether she should shut off her cop instinct or pursue Stan Carpenter, but she followed Sean through the crowd.
“He already knows we want to talk to him or he wouldn’t be trying to get out of here,” Sean said.
“Agree, but how are we supposed to get over there?”
The procession was thickening. A float full of elves at the North Pole was approaching. Jimmy would be on that one.
“I’ve got to go through the parade.”
“Through? Nope. No way. Sean, you’ll be arrested.”
“You’re forgetting these men were our brothers, darling.”
“Let’s hope it holds out.”
“Agree.” He pecked her cheek and set off into a run—straight through a middle school choir singing “Silent Night.”
He scrunched down, hoping to suppress his height and not stand out too much, but he heard cries from the sidelines about a man ruining the parade.
A young girl with a mouthful of braces smiled at him and watched him go by.
So far, he was fortunate that no cops had noticed him. He regained his balance, and as his eyes set across the street, he decided that maybe he had spoken too soon. Officer Foster stood there shaking his head.
Instead of taking it as a bad sign, Sean saw it as confirmation that the wall of blue still held strong, if not, Foster would have pursued him. Still, Sean didn’t want to put too much faith in the officer remaining immobile.
Sean scanned the mass of people and spotted Stan. His head would bob up periodically, and his mullet and rattail couldn’t be missed, even in the receding light of day.
With effective maneuvers, Sean eventually made it through the choir and reached a clear patch of road.
Some woman cried out, “Officer!”
Obviously it was an attempt to get Foster moving, but Sean wasn’t going to waste time turning around to see if he’d followed her advice. He had Stan within his sights. Now, if only he could do something about the crowd.
SARA WASN’T GOING TO STAND around and wait for her parents’ reactions. If Stan was running, he was guilty of something—but was it guilt over killing the Wilsons?
There was only one way to find out.
People were closing in around her. She was still working her way to the back of the crowd when Sean shot out from a side street and made his way through the parade. She couldn’t see her mom and dad from here, but was certain they hadn’t missed Sean going through the choir.
She would go around the parade at the tail end. That was the direction Stan was running. They’d trap him between them.
She started to run, but her feet slid out from beneath her. She almost fell to the ground but was able to steady her balance. The heeled boots she wore were beautiful, but not meant for pursuit.
“Lady, are you all right?” A man came over and cupped her elbow.
“Yes, thank you.” She spotted exactly what she needed—not that she had a clue how to operate one, but she wouldn’t have to worry about traction anymore.
Sara hopped into the snowplow like she had done it many times before. With quick looks around, no one seemed to be paying her any attention. Even the man who had helped her up had melted back into the mass of people.
Once behind the wheel of the big rig, she realized it was all computerized. There were too many options, too many buttons and levers. She was relieved to see the keys in the ignition and viewed it as a good sign.
-
Chapter 23
“FROSTY THE SNOWMAN”
“HEY, MISTER.” SOME LITTLE BOY whipped candy canes at him, and a group of four he was with followed his lead.
Sean held up his arms to shelter the onslaught. Still, a flying piece of candy smacked his cheekbone, close to his eye and had him wanting to cry out in pain.
“You’re wrecking everything.” This came from a man.
Sean kept running and made it to a side street. He could see Stan ahead, but he must have still been at least fifty people away. He had to close the distance.
Juking left to right, up and down, he braved the mass of angry onlookers and darted into an alley. Based on the direction Stan was running, Sean would end up catching him by surprise. He only hoped that Stan was predictable.
He willed his muscles to propel him faster and, as he did, he took his first look back. Foster hadn’t moved, but he was still shaking his head. Sean was certain he’d have to fill the officer in later if for nothing more than entertainment.
The music drifted between the buildings but dissipated the farther Sean ran. When he reached the end of the alley, it was quiet and easy to pretend that there wasn’t a celebration going on behind him.
He came to the next street and turned right. If he’d predicted correctly, Stan would be making an appearance soon. Sean’s breath came out in white puffs, and the cold air was starting to impact his lungs. He needed to hold out a little longer…at least until he caught up with Stan.
EITHER JIMMY’S EYES WERE FAILING him or he saw Sean running through the school choir and Sara getting into a snowplow. What were those two up to?
Jimmy kept waving as if a member of the royal family. He pasted the smile on his face as he looked around at all the little children.
The beard was making him itch like crazy, and the extra stuffing around his torso had him sweating, even in the cold evening air. With the hat, there wasn’t anywhere for the heat to escape. He was roasting to death in a Santa suit.
One of the children from a local hospital sat on his knee, so even though his first instinct was to ditch the float, the hat and the beard, he had to stay put for now.
Jimmy did his best to balance his attention between the crowd and the kids while still searching for Sean. He had lost sight of him after he’d ducked down an alleyway. Jimmy did see the person Sean was pursuing. He had gone up to someone dressed as Frosty and was haggling him outside of a coffee shop. The two men went inside.
What the heck was going on? His gut told him the man had something to do with the McKinleys’ odd behavior. He had to get off this float.
He peered down at the little girl on his lap.
She looked up at him. “Santa?”
Jimmy lifted her off him and fit in a quick wave to the crowd.
“Sorry, kid, I’ve got to go back to the North Pole.”
“But, Santa, I haven’t got my wish yet.” Her chin quivered and tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. “What about my drum set? And my wish for my mother?”
This kid was going to break his heart. “There’s been an emergency.” He hated to lie, but if it was going to ease her disappointment, he could validate it.
“Emergency?” She had a hard time pronouncing the word.
He put his hands on her small shoulders. “Yes, and I need you to be a brave girl and keep smiling and waving. Can you do that?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
He was a few feet away from her and about to jump off the float.
“Santa, take your sleigh,” the girl cried out as she pointed at the creation that was wedged into a fake snow bank.
“No time.” Hopefully, he’d forgive himself for lying to a little girl—one
fighting cancer, no less. He promised himself he’d make it up to her somehow, yet he still felt despicable.
He spotted Frosty coming out of the coffee shop. As soon as he hit the sidewalk, he started into a jog. The guy wasn’t too smart in the head. Of course, the same could be true for a lot of criminals.
-
Chapter 24
“SLEIGH RIDE”
THE RUMBLE OF THE PLOW’S engine was overshadowed by the marching band and the music being pumped through the speakers along the street. To Sara, it was loud, but maybe it was her conscience over commandeering a city vehicle. She was just borrowing it, though. It wasn’t like she was stealing it or anything.
She adjusted the seat and put it into gear and must have hit something wrong because the plow lowered. How was she going to manage this now? She hit the gas, the large steel blade scraping against the ground—metal to the pavement. She’d be drawing attention, but it was too late to look back. Sean needed her help and she wasn’t going to be as effectual running in her boots—maybe at breaking a leg, but not at catching up to Stan Carpenter.
She assessed the width of the vehicle against the width of the road. For a skilled driver, there would be plenty of room to drive between the cars parked on either side of the street. The only problem was, she wasn’t a skilled driver, at least not with this vehicle.
A family stepped out in front of her. She tapped the break while waving her arms frantically.
The father grabbed his family’s arms and yanked them to the safety of the sidewalk—or at least he thought it was safe.
Sara had taken her eyes off the road as she watched them, and she careened to the left and was coming up on parked vehicles. The plow scuffed against them, sparks flew, but it was the noise that made Sara nauseous.
“Sorry,” she cried out in her wake as if the cars were animate and could somehow feel the desolation she had inflicted on them. She glanced in a rearview mirror. The entire side of a Mazda was buckled in. She consoled herself with the fact that no one was hurt. The car could be repaired or replaced. She’d make sure Sean took care of it afterward.
At the next street, she took a left. Now, where was Stan?
SEAN PAUSED TO BREATHE. If he didn’t, he’d pass out on the ground. The several minutes of continuous running were affecting him more than he cared to acknowledge. He had lost track of Stan when he’d rounded the bend of the alley a bit ago and hadn’t been able to find him since. Sean had to convince his body to pick back up again, despite the searing cold piercing into his lungs.
Running, he came out at the end of the alley where it met the street. The sound of a blaring horn had him jumping.
A city plow out? During a parade? When it wasn’t even snowing? Sean strained to get a good look at the driver.
Sara?
It came to a full stop and he hopped up into the cab. “You don’t do anything small do you, darling?”
“And why should I?” There was the hint of a smile. “We have a lot of people to pay back.”
“Pay back?”
“Uh-huh.” She pressed her lips and nodded. “What? It’s not as easy to drive this thing as you’d think it would—”
“It’s got to be Stan!” Sean pointed out the windshield at a jogging Frosty. “That’s probably why I lost him for a bit. He was convincing someone to give him the costume.”
“And still he runs? Criminals aren’t too smart, are they? Hang on, I’ve got him.” She revved the gas.
“This might help.” Sean leaned over, pushed something on the dash and the plow raised.
“Bless you for that.”
He looked over at her again. Sara was at the wheel of this big rig. It was impressive. He’d lodge this image into his mind.
She followed a bend in the road, right on Frosty’s tail. “He’s heading into a dead end. We’ve got him now.”
Then Santa darted out from between two buildings, right in front of them.
“Uh-oh, I think that’s Jimmy.” Sara stopped the plow, but before they could get out, Santa Claus had Frosty pinned against a fence.
Sean was laughing. “Now, that’s something you don’t see every day.”
-
Chapter 25
“HAPPY HOLIDAYS”
“I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE HOW it turned out. Every time I think about Santa handcuffing Frosty—” Sara’s laughter made it necessary to pause talking for a bit. “I just wish we would have introduced that little boy to Jimmy, or should I say Santa.” She placed a strand of gold tinsel on the tree.
She and Sean were putting the finishing touches on it so it would be ready when their company arrived. It was the day after the parade, and her parents and Jimmy were coming over. She could hardly wait to see all of them.
Sean hung an ornament. “I find it sad that someone would endanger the lives of others because they never liked their Christmas lights. What is this world coming to, Sara?”
“I don’t know, darling, but it’s headed in a bad direction. Sadly, it doesn’t seem to take much to make some people violent these days.”
He adjusted the lay of one strand of lighting. “There. What do you think?”
“Turn it on, Sean.”
She watched him maneuver behind the tree to the outlet. The lights came to life and glistened.
“It’s beautiful.” She smiled, blissfully content at this moment.
“And so are you.” Sean kissed her lips and then pulled back, taking a box from his pocket.
It was about three by five inches and wrapped in gold with a red bow. He placed it beneath the tree.
“Dee Dee’s Diamonds?” Earlier in the week, he’d indicated he had bought something for her there.
“Guess you’ll have to wait until Christmas day to find out.”
“Oh, Sean, you’re such a tease.” She gestured to her gift. “And you beat me.” She left the room and came back with a two-foot-square box.
“Now, your gift for me might be bigger, but size doesn’t always matter.” He grinned.
“Hey, now.” Inside she was smiling…as the saying goes, you can’t always judge a book by its cover. “As long as your mind is on gift giving.”
He seemed to pick up flawlessly on her line of thought. “I think tonight would be the perfect occasion.”
“Excellent.”
Sara saw her parents arrive and welcomed each of them into the house with a tight embrace. “I’m so sorry about yesterday, and the parade.”
“Nonsense, sweetheart. You got the guy, right? That’s all that matters,” her mother said, taking off her coat and passing it to Sean. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.” Sean put it on a hanger and did the same with Sara’s father’s jacket.
“I still can’t believe the Wilsons were killed over their Christmas display.” Her dad ran a hand down his sweater.
“We were just talking about that ourselves. He claimed he never intended to kill anyone,” Sara said.
“Yet, he was all right with burning their house down,” Sean interjected. “He actually confessed to modifying the ornament. Apparently, he broke down and said he just wanted to ruin the tree, not kill anyone.”
“Very sad, indeed.” Her dad took a seat on the sofa. “Dinner smells wonderful, Sara.”
“Thank you, Dad.” She hoped that she would pull it off tonight. On the menu were garlic and rosemary Cornish hens, served with a mixed green salad and light balsamic dressing, and a crusty loaf of garlic bread. It was an ambitious endeavor, considering she wasn’t the most confident cook in the first place. She soothed her self-doubt by resigning to the fact they could order in if she ruined dinner.
The doorbell rang again.
“I’ll get it, darling. Why don’t you see if your parents would like something to drink?”
She asked them what they’d like and was on her
way back with her mother’s white wine and a glass of Scotch for her father, but took a detour when she saw Jimmy in the front entryway. He wasn’t alone. There was a woman with him. Sara smiled, to the side, and approached them.
“Hey, Sara. I hope you don’t mind that I brought someone.”
It was all making sense now. Sean had been insistent that she cook an extra hen. Jimmy had run this by him beforehand, and Sean had managed to keep the secret.
“Of course not.”
Jimmy gestured to his date. “This is Meredith Lynch.”
“Nice to meet you.” She was certain her smile had transformed from pleasant to borderline goofy. She was just so happy for Jimmy. He always protested that he was too old for love, declaring that, in his life, the time for that had passed. “I’m Sara and this is Sean. I’m sorry, I’d shake your hand, but—” Sara raised the glasses.
Meredith smiled pleasantly. Her blond hair was almost white and cut to chin length. Her gray eyes were electric yet warm. She seemed familiar, and not just because of her Hollywood looks, which reminded Sara of the actress Helen Mirren. This woman was the one Sara had encouraged Jimmy to speak to at the mall earlier in the week.
“It’s nice to meet you two, as well.” Meredith shook Sean’s hand.
He gestured toward the sitting area. “Please, make yourself at home.”
Sara led the way and handed off the drinks to her parents.
“Would either of you care for a beverage? You name it, we’ll likely have it.” Sean smiled at their two new arrivals.
“What would you like, Meredith?” Jimmy asked.
She put her hand in Jimmy’s. “The white wine looks good.”
Jimmy nodded. “And I’ll have a cognac, please.”
“I never would have guessed.” Sean set off to get their drinks, and when he returned the couple had made themselves comfortable and the rest of the introductions had been carried out. He handed Meredith her wine and then Jimmy his cognac.
Christmas is Murder Page 8