Hot Coffee Iced Santa

by Cam Larson

  He pulled the box toward him and reached for the delicacy. "What do you want to know? I may be able to give you something." He leaned back, and after ripping a paper towel from the roll on his credenza, he took a bite of truffle. I doubted the rest of his staff would get to try any of the delicacies. In spite of his enjoyment of sweet morsels, Donald Hayes was top of the line when it came to leadership of his department. West River was lucky to have him. It was easy to like him, too. He had that kind of personality.

  "I want to find out if you have any suspects yet," I said.

  "We have one very viable one. We're looking at others, but most of the ones we have talked to have been cleared."

  I knew his one was Steven. "What makes you think Steven Landers is the killer?"

  "Did I say Steven Landers?" The twinkle in his eyes told me we both knew who he meant.

  "I know he must be your prime suspect. Personally, I think you have the wrong person. Do you know if Frank was having money problems?"

  The grin that spread across the Chief's face told me I may be on the right track. "We have looked into his financial situation. I'll tell you what we have found out, but it can't leave this room. If you talk to Landers, don't tell him anything of our conversation. Is that clear?"

  I nodded yes. "It's not like Steven Landers and I are best friends, anyway. I'm only looking into it all for Daniel's sake. He is so worried about Steven being accused that he is having a hard time enjoying the holidays with his family."

  "All right, then. We found out that Frank Duvall was putting substantial funds into his account at the bank. He deposited large amounts the first of every month for several months. At first, he deposited $1000.00 each month and then $2000.00 in the months after.”

  "What was the date he started the first deposits?" I wanted to see if the date coincided around the same time he told Cassie he no longer needed her tip money.

  The Chief stood up and went to a file cabinet. Sifting through his bundle of keys, he fingered the right one. "I'm behind times in here. I don't have the patience to keep up with Excel or whatever Susan uses on her computer out there. I'm a believer that paper tracking can't be hacked as easily as a computer." He thumbed through several file folders and stopped at the one he wanted. I saw the tab which read ‘Duvall, Frank.' Under his name was the word ‘Victim.' Chief Hayes told me the date of the first deposit. The dates were close enough to when Frank told Cassie he didn't need her tips any more.

  I explained to him about Frank's demand for Cassie's tips, and didn't leave out the reasons. I let him know how relieved Cassie was when Frank finally left her alone. I hoped by telling him all of the details, she would be cleared.

  "Where did all that money come from?" I asked. "That's a lot for a dishwasher to deposit on a regular basis. Did you track it down?"

  The humor appeared again. "Yes, we did our job in that regard. The problem is he deposited in cash only. There is no way to trace where it came from. At least, no way yet but we will get to the bottom of it all." My mind switched to Jared Freedman. The thoughts were interrupted when Chief Hayes remarked, "Maybe he was dealing in drugs or something else illegal that brought in a lot of cash. It's not like anyone in that profession deals with checks or credit cards."

  "If that's the case, then a drug dealer could have killed Frank. He could have been dealing drugs out of the Steakhouse kitchen after everyone left. Steven said Frank often locked up when he finished work."

  "I have thought about that. Have you considered Steven and the victim were into drug dealing together? There is no one to say the owner wasn't there with Frank that night. Maybe Frank was double-crossing Steven and they got into an argument. Things got out of hand."

  I stared at him. The shortcomings noted in the owner of the Steakhouse didn't include doing drugs. I knew it didn't rule out dealing drugs.

  "That hadn't crossed my mind. There is another matter," I said. "Frank Duvall had put his Santa suit back on at some point after washing the evening dishes. What is the explanation for that?"

  Donald shrugged his shoulders. "That's another part of the mystery. Why was he in that Santa suit? We are inquiring as to whether he played Santa someplace else when he finished at Steven's Steakhouse. If so, what made him come back? We don't have those answers yet."

  "I'm sure Steven had nothing to do with it," I said. "Daniel has known him since their college days. He would have seen an evil side to him before now."

  "If you are right, time will tell whether he is innocent or not."

  I decided not to mention Jason Miller or Jared Freedman at this point. I needed more time on my own to find out more about both of them. When I left the office, I saw the Chief reach for a decorated mitten and snap off the thumb. I glanced at my watch. There was still plenty enough time to get to the high school and meet Jason Miller.

  Chapter Ten

  I had printed an image of the teenager off his social media page. He was a skinny kid with coal black hair. One thick string of it hung over his right eye. His hands were on his hips and he tried to give the impression he was big man on campus. Apparently, females on the media site agreed, if I took into consideration their remarks.

  The parking lot was filled with students' cars. Buses lined up on the opposite side for those who weren't lucky enough to have their own wheels, or not old enough to drive. I hurried inside and showed my identification to the person at the door. I told the guard I was here to see Jason Miller if he hadn't left for home yet. He told me to wait as he handed my drivers' license to a lady nearby. She went into the office to make a copy. After a few minutes, she returned and swept me through. I was shocked at first at the security measures and presumed I had been checked out electronically while I waited for clearance. The detector said I had no firearms on my person and the guard directed me to the senior locker hall.

  Jason Miller stood out. He was a head taller than the students who clustered around him. I shivered when he glanced in my direction. His arrogant attitude was evident.

  "Jason? Hi, I wanted to chat with you for a minute," I said.

  I didn't appreciate the way he looked me up and down. He turned to his friends. "Look, everyone, a good-looking chick wants to talk to me." One boy slapped him on the back. He sauntered a few steps toward me. His egotistical confidence hit me the wrong way and I decided two could play his game.

  "You may be interested to know Police Chief Hayes is a good friend of mine. I just left his office. It seems he knows you quite well," I said. "I understand you've been in trouble with the law before. In fact, you are on his list for investigating vandalism at a local coffee shop recently."

  It wasn't beyond me to stretch things a little, if I could shake the narcissistic kid in front of me. It worked.

  "I haven't been close to any coffee house." His voice rose. "They can't pin that on me, too."

  "Oh, you mean like the murder of someone who used to play Santa to the kids. That is, before he was found dead in a freezer. Maybe you've been too busy at Steven's Steakhouse to vandalize the coffee house, too. Yeah, that must be it. It was someone else."

  Jason's friends drew closer. They were very interested in hearing more of the conversation. Two of them turned and walked away as if happy to separate from their friend. Jason moved from the group. He gestured to his friends to stay back. Flashing dark eyes and a flushed face indicated that I succeeded in pushing the right buttons.

  "I know about the fake Santa's murder. Word got around fast about that. I didn't have anything to do with it. There is a restraining order on me to stay away from the Steakhouse restaurant. I wasn't anywhere near any coffee shop, either. I have more important things to do."

  "Do you mean like tormenting children who want to see Santa?"

  He brushed back the drooping shaft of hair from his eye. His feet shifted from one to the other. I figured he needed something to calm him down but thought he surely wasn't stupid enough to have drugs on school property. It hit me that maybe he and Frank dealt drugs together.
That would have gotten Jason inside the Steakhouse kitchen.

  "Where were you the night Frank Duvall was killed?" I asked.

  I had to remind him of the exact date when he asked. He thought a few seconds and came up with his alibi. "I was at dance class that night," he replied.

  I almost laughed out loud when he told me that he was at his dance class. I caught myself since I wanted to stay in the interrogator mode. "You were at dance class? What kind of dance?"

  "Right now we are learning Jazz/Hip Hop. If you don't believe me, I can get the card that tells you the name of the studio. You can check it out. We sign in and out of every class."

  Jason went to his locker and pulled out a card. Then he opened his wallet to show me his membership number. The classes were given at the YMCA. I was surprised that someone with a reputation like Jason's was interested in dance lessons. Maybe there was hope for him after all.

  I took the business card and tucked it in my pocket.

  "Instead of looking at me, they should be looking at the owner of the Steakhouse. He had more reasons than I did to kill Duvall. I just liked to harass the old man when he pretended to be Santa. Kids shouldn't be told a man in a red suit can give them anything they want. It just gives parents an excuse to lie to their kids."

  I got to the point. "What reason would Steven Landers have to murder his dishwasher?" I asked.

  Jason opened his mouth to answer just when a loud bell shrilled through the hallways. "That's the signal everyone has to leave the school grounds," he yelled above the clanging noise. "Come on out with me and I'll tell you plenty."

  I followed him to the parking lot. We agreed to meet at an ice cream shop a block from school. When we got to the destination, I got into his car after parking next to his. He kept the heater running. I kept myself aware of the door handle in case I needed a fast escape.

  "So tell me why you think Steven Landers killed Santa," I said.

  Jason scowled at the mention of Santa but he looked me in the eye. "The owner had a thing going with one of his servers. Cassie Johnson and he were pretty close if you get my drift."

  I got his drift. "How do you know that?"

  "Before I was banned from the restaurant, I ate there once in a while. It was a good place to take a date if you wanted to impress her. Everyone knew Cassie Johnson dated the old man. None of us could figure that one out. Then the next thing I knew she and Steven Landers had it going. The looks they gave each other couldn't be missed."

  It could mean nothing. Steven Landers was a womanizer. "That doesn't mean he killed Frank."

  "He is someone who should be a suspect. I heard him argue one night with the old Santa guy over something when they left the restaurant. He accused Steven of hanging out with Cassie on his break times. Steven yelled back that it was none of his business since the old man and Cassie had broken up."

  "What were you doing at that time of the night near the restaurant?"

  "Some friends of mine were with me and we were just walking around. Most of the stores were closed by then. We went to the back of the employee parking area to hang out. They were the only two out there and getting ready to go home, I guess. From the sounds of things, I would say they didn't get along well."

  Here was someone who had a reputation for getting into trouble more than once with the law. At the same time, Jason Miller studied dance, which said there might be a little substance to the kid. I believed him when he said he had nothing to do with murder. He was a mixed up teenager, but I didn't get the impression he would stoop to killing anyone. The tale he told me about Cassie and Steven was something new.

  "There were plenty of times when the old man and Steven glared at each other. I guess the dishwasher wasn't so happy about his boss dating his young girlfriend. I don't think that sat well with him."

  "Okay, thanks for the information. Keep out of trouble so you won't be a suspect again," I said as I opened the car door. "This talk doesn't get you completely off the hook, though."

  I had to keep the fear going in him. I meant to keep him on his toes if nothing else. It was time for me to get back to Roasted Love and finish my workday.

  "Yeah, all right," said Jason. The last I saw him he sauntered into the ice cream shop. I watched him wave to a group of his friends. When he sat down in the booth, his long legs sprawled into the aisle for anyone to trip over his feet. I doubted that mattered to him.

  I was pretty sure I could eliminate Jason Miller as the killer. He didn't have the best of reputations when it came to getting into trouble, but I decided a lot of his antics were for show. His status as suspect fed his ego in front of his friends.

  I wished Daniel and I could get together. There was too much to tell him in a phone call. Facial expressions and body language were important in our conversations. Sometimes we read each other like a book.

  I tried to imagine Daniel with his family. From what he told me, his extended family gathered daily throughout the holidays. I wondered what that would be like. I was an only child. I had a few cousins but none lived closed to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.

  I reran the talk with Jason Miller in my head. I came up with nothing that pointed to him. Steven Landers loomed big as a possible suspect. It was news to me that he dated Frank's former girlfriend, and it all happened right under the dishwasher's nose. That surely rattled the atmosphere and fed the animosity between them.

  Jared Freedman wasn't far behind. I had to learn more about my increasing suspect list.

  Chapter Eleven

  Later that evening, I called Daniel to let him know the latest in regard to Jason Miller and the news he gave me.

  "Did you know Steven was the younger person Cassie dropped Frank for?"

  "I had no idea it was Cassie. I knew he was dating someone," said Daniel, "but he didn't tell me who she was. Until you and I went to eat there I hadn't seen Steven for a few weeks."

  "I guess we should remember that it was Jason Miller who gave me that information. He may be trying to implicate someone so the police will leave him alone," I said. "Do you think Frank could have been blackmailing someone else? It wasn't beyond him to do that to Cassie Johnson."

  "From what you have told me, there is no doubt his murder had something to do with money," said Daniel. "We just have to figure out what that involved."

  I agreed with that. While we talked, I watched Thor running through the snow. I stood inside looking out my kitchen window. Thor and I lived in one of the old but cute bungalows that lined the street. Several times the dog looked up at me as if taunting me to come out into the cold air. I finally gave in.

  "Let me put the phone down for a minute," I said to Daniel. "Thor keeps looking at me as if I should be out there with him. I have to get my coat on."

  Daniel laughed. "That dog has you wrapped around his paws."

  I mumbled ‘maybe.' Once outside I divided my time between throwing a ball for Thor and talking with Daniel.

  "When I see Steven again, I plan to ask him about his relationship with his server," I said. "I think Frank would have a real problem with that. He wouldn't want Steven to know he had blackmailed Cassie either."

  "Laila, sometimes I get the impression you don't fully believe in Steven's innocence."

  Again, he read my thoughts, even from a distance.

  "I think I should look into all sides. If he is guilty, then he should be proven so. You don't have to worry, Daniel. I will look into every possibility it takes to find him innocent. If you have any ideas of your own, call me right away."

  "I see where you are coming from, Laila. It's okay. You are looking at it the way the cops are and it's the best way."

  We told each other goodnight. My teeth were chattering but Thor was in his element. The stars were trying to peek through the night sky. Snow had stopped falling several hours earlier. It was a crisp winter night in West River, New York. When I finally convinced Thor to come inside for the night, I headed for my favorite mug and heated water to a boil. Dropping spoonfuls o
f cocoa in the water, I stirred absentmindedly. Thor nuzzled against my leg. I pulled a bone from his cabinet. He lurched for it and I sat down at the table while he chewed away. The hot chocolate tasted delicious and it warmed me up.

  "I think I'll finish up on Christmas shopping tomorrow, Thor." I didn't think he heard me. Thor focused on his treat.

  The next day I made a short list of things to do. I still had to get something for my boss at Roasted Love and for Lily, too. I had noticed some unusual shops near Steven's Steakhouse. Thor wanted to go with me but I knew most businesses wouldn't let him come inside. He reluctantly stood back at my command when I opened the front door to leave.

  When I got to the now familiar street, I parked a few cars down from Steven's Steakhouse. I window shopped at first. I had no idea of the perfect gifts. The day was sunny and cold. At least there was no wind to put up with. The Christmas spirit around me meant I wasn't the only one doing last minute holiday shopping. I noticed a sporting goods store at the end of the block and remembered Jacob loved to fish. I decided it was worth going in, though doubted they sold fishing stuff in the middle of winter.

  "We sell everything a fisherman desires," said the young clerk. "People who are addicted to fishing will find anything they want right here."

  "I'm surprised you sell it off-season," I said.

  "A lot of people like to fish in the winter, even ice-fish. And, Christmastime is a good time to buy for anyone who likes the sport. Seasons don't matter."

  I had no idea what Jacob would like. Nor did I have any idea what he already had. Besides, there weren't very many items I recognized. The clerk pointed to items he thought made good gifts. I had no idea, but his pressure steered me clear of choosing. Fishing was big business.

  "I'll settle for a gift card," I told the clerk. "I have no idea what he already owns." I was satisfied with my solution and tucked the card inside my purse. Just then, the front door opened and a rush of cold wind swept into the store.