The Santa Sleuth

by Heather MacAllister

  "May I help you?" asked a woman who could have been standing behind the cosmetics counter at a department store.

  Amanda felt windblown and a bit limp. "I'm Amanda Donnelly with Hello Houston. Kirk McEnery, please."

  "Mr. McEnery is out of the office with a client," the woman said smoothly. "Could I help you?"

  Amanda shook her head. "We've missed each other all day. Will he be checking in soon?"

  "Possibly." The woman regarded her with undisguised curiosity. After a moment, she gestured to a seating nook. "Would you like to wait?"

  "Thank you." Amanda had planned to wait, anyway.

  The mirror opposite the chairs confirmed her windblown appearance and the fact that she'd chewed off her lipstick. Tucking her chin-length hair behind her ears, she sank into a large plush chair and picked up the telephone on the lamp table. When she was put on hold, she closed her eyes, thinking that it would be easy to fall asleep in such a chair.

  "Amanda!"

  Amanda's eyes snapped open. "Yes, Kay?"

  "What are you doing? You've spent hours trying to find a kid. There're a million kids in Houston. What's your problem?"

  "Finding the right kid. I did. Now I'm getting permission from her father."

  "Still?"

  Amanda sighed.

  "If it's that much trouble, go to the next kid on your list."

  "The list is real short."

  "So's lead time."

  "Tell you what, Kay. Give this piece to somebody else. Maybe Maria Alvarez. I've got a great new idea I'd like to develop--"

  "Oh, no. I specifically picked you for this assignment, Scroogette. You need some Christmas cheer."

  "Cheer, shmeer. I'm saving it for Arbor Day. That's the time to decorate trees."

  "Amanda--" Kay sighed her name. "--what am I going to do with you?"

  "Promote me to producer," Amanda suggested promptly. I’m already doing producer work, she thought but didn’t say. They'd had this conversation before, and Kay was well aware of Amanda's ambition.

  "Be patient. Maria's been with Hello Houston longer than you. She's paid her dues."

  And Maria was already a senior producer. Amanda made a face and shifted in the chair. She knew for a fact that she and Maria Alvarez were the same age. But Maria had started working at the station right after college. Amanda's career had been delayed a few years.

  "I know," she said now. "Listen, I'll stop back by the station before I go home. This shouldn't take too long."

  Amanda hung up the phone, hoping she spoke the truth. She refused to consider the possibility that Kirk McEnery would deny permission. What doting parent wouldn't be thrilled to have his child singled out for an appearance on television?

  After a few minutes, Amanda began wiggling her toes in her shoes. She hated inactivity. She'd already wasted enough time in her life. There were other phone calls she could make, but there wasn't much privacy, even though the receptionist was diligently ignoring her.

  Carefully fanned out on the low coffee table were real-estate magazines and wonderful new listings in the local housing market.

  Amanda wasn't in the market for a house. Amanda was in the market for a small girl to rate Santa Clauses.

  Her gaze darted around the open area, fastening on a wall full of plaques. Listing Leader of the Month, Listing Leader of the Year, Sales Leader, Million-Dollar Club and others. She searched for and found Kirk McEnery's name, engraved more than once. So, was he just a member of the family firm, or did he own it?

  She found her answer almost immediately under a photograph of a baseball team in uniform. That plaque thanked sponsor Kirk McEnery, owner of McEnery Realtors. It also appeared that Kirk McEnery was a past president of the Houston Board of Realtors. Well, she'd already figured out that he was a busy man.

  At five-thirty, there was a mass exodus from the building. The receptionist approached Amanda. "I'm going home. Would you like to leave a message or continue waiting? Some of the brokers will be here for a while yet."

  Amanda hesitated. She'd already invested half a day in this project and had nothing concrete to show for it. She hated to quit now. "I'll wait," she said just as the door opened and a dark-haired man rushed in.

  Equally dark eyes swept the entire reception area before a vaguely familiar voice demanded, "Where's Virginia?"

  CHAPTER TWO

  This could only be the elusive Kirk McEnery. Amanda caught herself searching the reception area for Virginia.

  The receptionist looked startled. "She's not here. Was one of us supposed to pick her up today?"

  "Someone did pick her up. But I don't know who." Completely ignoring Amanda, Virginia's father strode to the nearest desk and grabbed a telephone, jabbing at the buttons before even bringing the handset to his ear.

  "This is Kirk McEnery. Virginia isn't at my office. I want to know who took her."

  Fascinated by someone even more impatient than she was, Amanda watched the unfolding drama.

  "I can't believe you didn't get a name," he snapped. "Give me a complete description."

  He waited, his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw immobile. "What color hair did this woman have? Was she old? Young? What was she wearing?"

  Amanda felt prickles of alarm. This was more than mere impatience. Had Virginia been kidnapped? It looked like the How safe are your children? story was long overdue.

  "So you just assumed it was a woman? No one there saw who Virginia left with?" Kirk exploded in anger. "That's no way to run a day-care center!"

  There was utter silence in the agency. The few people who remained stood unmoving in doorways, unapologetically eavesdropping.

  Kirk paced as far as the telephone cord would allow. "I'm going to put you on hold and call my home. You'd better hope Virginia's there." He jabbed more buttons and shoved his hand into his pocket. "Eleanor? Kirk. Is Virginia with you?"

  Kirk's body sagged and his sigh of relief was echoed by everyone there. "No, everything's fine. Don't hold dinner for me." He leaned against the desk and pressed another button. "Hello? She's at home. My housekeeper picked her up." Nodding, he rubbed his temple. "Yes, I'm aware that she's on the list of people approved to remove Virginia from the premises. No, I don't want Mrs. Webster's name taken off the list. Sure. Thanks."

  Quietly replacing the telephone, Kirk rubbed his temple a moment more. People withdrew from the doorways. The receptionist looked as though she'd like to slip out unnoticed, but caught Amanda's eye.

  "Kirk?" the woman began softly. "The Hello Houston woman is here." She gestured toward Amanda.

  "Hmm?" He swiveled toward the club chairs and noticed Amanda, apparently for the first time.

  For just a moment, Amanda saw the real Kirk McEnery, unguarded, still recovering from the tense seconds that had just passed. Relief mingled with the remnants of worry on his face, before his expression changed into a professional mask, and he slipped into his salesman persona.

  "Ms. Donnelly?" He advanced toward her, hand outstretched. "Kirk McEnery."

  "Amanda, please."

  "Amanda." He took her hand in his, holding it just the correct amount of time, grasping it with just the correct pressure. It was a calculated handshake, assuring the other person that he was a strong, competent, but not overpowering man.

  It was, in fact, identical to the handshake Amanda used. Perhaps Kirk realized it, because he hesitated briefly after breaking contact.

  The funny thing was that several moments passed before Amanda realized they were no longer touching. Vibrancy hummed in the air around them. In Kirk, Amanda recognized a person who was driven to make things happen. On the outside, he might appear calm, but inside, thoughts flew. She detected the impatience he struggled to conceal.

  Smiling, she realized he didn't do any better a job of hiding impatience than she did. She decided to dispense with time-wasting preliminaries. "I wanted to speak to you about a project involving your daughter, Virginia."

  "My office is in the back." He guided her down
the hall after waving off the receptionist. "I suppose you overheard the mix-up."

  Amanda could hardly help but hear, and he must have known it. "One side, anyway. I imagine it's hard to be a single parent."

  Kirk darted a sharp glance at her.

  "The school told me," Amanda explained.

  Opening the glass door to his office, Kirk stepped back to allow her to enter first. "The day-care center closes at six. It's difficult to get there by six, and if I'm showing houses, one of the gals here usually drives over and gets Virginia."

  Amanda heard "gals," but decided not to hold it against him.

  He shrugged as he sat in a chair on the same side of the desk as she was. "Actually, I'd forgotten my housekeeper was picking her up this afternoon. Virginia had a dental appointment."

  "When did you remember?"

  Kirk gave her a rueful grin. "As soon as Mrs. Webster answered the phone."

  Amanda couldn't help responding to the grin. "You covered well."

  "This time," he responded, sitting back in the chair and regarding her.

  His intense dark eyes reminded Amanda that the feature that had initially drawn her to Virginia had been her blue eyes. Virginia must be the living image of her dead mother. Amanda glanced at the cabinet behind Kirk's desk to see if there were any family photographs. None. Just an astonishingly large bowl of candy-coated chocolates.

  His silence told Amanda that chitchat time was over. She studied him as she thought about the best way to voice her request. She guessed that he wasn't the type of parent who would be gushingly thrilled to have his child on television. He had no need to bask in reflected glory.

  A raised eyebrow prompted her.

  "Hello Houston is doing a feature rating the Santa Clauses in area malls. We decided to consult with the experts--kids. I visited Cameron Elementary, and Virginia's teachers recommended her."

  "They did?"

  She couldn't lie. "Well ... I interviewed Virginia and they have no objections, if you'll grant permission."

  The corner of his mouth hinted at a smile. "How long did you speak with Virginia?"

  "A few minutes. Frankly, I don't want a child who'll be intimidated by the camera."

  "According to her teachers, Virginia isn't intimidated by anything."

  Amanda cleared her throat. "They mentioned their concerns."

  "I'll bet they did." Kirk chuckled, his face relaxing into attractive lines. "Tell me what this Santa business entails and what Virginia's part in it would be."

  "For our kids’ segment, we thought we’d rate the local Santas. We want footage of Virginia talking with two or three of them. The rest she can visit off camera. We’d have to see how it goes." As she outlined her plans for the story, Amanda studied Kirk’s face for his reaction. She liked to be flexible and was cautious about promising too much or being too specific, especially when children were involved.

  She wasn’t certain what Kirk’s thoughts were, but got the impression that he would be an easy parent to work with. "The piece should air at the end of the week and might be repeated on the local news."

  Kirk nodded. Amanda was right; he wasn’t overly awed by the thought of his daughter being on television.

  "The principal isn't eager for Virginia to miss school, so we'd have to spread the taping out over several afternoons. I think crowds will be smaller on a weekday than on a Saturday. Would that be a problem?"

  He shrugged. "Not that I can see."

  Amanda breathed easier. Considering how much trouble she'd already gone to, this part was easy. "Great. Let's start with Woodbrook Mall. It's the closest one to the studio. Is tomorrow all right?"

  "It's fine with me if it's fine with Virginia."

  Virginia. "Oh. We haven't told Virginia. We didn't want to disappoint her if we had to use someone else."

  "I'll tell her this evening." He leaned forward. Amanda recognized it as her cue to hurry up. He was ready to move on to something else.

  "Here's my card." She pulled one from the case she kept within easy reach. "Contact me if you have any questions. And if Virginia has a Christmas outfit, or just something red or green, could she wear that tomorrow?"

  Kirk's face was blank. "I'll look in her closet," he offered cautiously.

  "I'm sure you'll find something." Amanda stood and smiled. "I'll meet you at the west entrance to the mall around three o'clock."

  "Hold it." Kirk was in the act of standing, too. "You'll meet me at the mall?"

  "Yes. You're bringing Virginia."

  Kirk inhaled deeply. "I assumed you'd drive her there."

  Amanda was taken aback. She was a virtual stranger, and he was trusting her with his daughter. After all the protection--such as it was--the school had insisted upon, it seemed rather cavalier.

  But that was it. He obviously assumed that she'd been checked out by the school. He'd be shocked to discover how wrong he was. She'd heard the concern in his voice when he was trying to locate his daughter. She'd seen a shaken father collect himself after hanging up the phone.

  Amanda's heart beat faster as idea after idea popped into her mind. She'd propose that her story on child safety stretch at least a week. It was amazing how an innocuous piece like this Santa thing could lead to something truly big.

  "I could drive Virginia to the mall if you like," Amanda managed to answer Kirk. "But I thought you'd want to be there."

  "Hmm." He walked around to his desk to consult a large calendar.

  Amanda took the opportunity to study him. His dark hair was businessman short and only a few silver threads glinted in the fluorescent light. He was good-looking, on the lean side, and would appear to advantage on camera.

  And Amanda definitely intended to return and interview him for her child-safety report. Working parents--who takes your place? Single parents--how do you cope? She mentally rubbed her hands together in anticipation. Just as soon as she was finished with this Santa bit--

  "I don't have anything formally scheduled after two o'clock tomorrow. However, I don't have unlimited time at my disposal. How long will this session take?" he asked, his voice crisp.

  A vague "Not too long" response wouldn't do here. "That depends on the crowds, equipment set-up time and Virginia, herself. I'll have to coach her, clip on her mike, and then we'll do a couple of takes from different angles." Amanda hesitated. Time was obviously a concern to him. "Realistically, you should allow at least two hours."

  Kirk's brows drew together as he ran his finger down the blocks of time on his calendar. "And you want to do this at each mall?" he murmured.

  "As I said, I doubt we'll tape Virginia with every Santa, but she’ll have to visit them all."

  "That's asking rather a lot, isn't it?"

  Most parents would be thrilled, Amanda grumbled to herself. Trust her to find that one parent in a hundred who was unimpressed by the idea of his little darling on television.

  "Why don't we see how tomorrow goes before we make more plans?" she offered, never doubting that he'd succumb to the lure of television like everyone else.

  "All right then, Amanda. I'll see you tomorrow," Kirk said, reaching over his desk to shake her hand.

  "West entrance, three o'clock," Amanda reiterated, thinking that she'd looked forward to it.

  ***

  "I know I told him the west entrance at three." Amanda examined her watch again, her action mirrored by the lighting/audio technician and the cameraman.

  "It's ten after. You think we should set up?" Ron, the cameraman, shifted the strap on his equipment.

  Biting her lip, Amanda nodded. "Get some mall footage. We can use it for filler. Keep an eye out for a man and a little blond girl. Maybe they're waiting down at Santa's house."

  Could she have missed them? Amanda scanned the parking lot, which was crowded, but by no means full. Traffic hadn't been that bad on the freeways.

  She was torn between waiting by the entrance and going to a phone to call her office and check for a message.

  Or
call Kirk's office and leave a message.

  She reached into the right pocket of her black pants, closing her fingers over a smooth oval stone with an indentation in its center. A worry stone. It was either that, or bite her fingernails, and Amanda was desperately trying to grow them. Maria Alvarez had perfect medium-length nails, which were always professionally manicured.

  Amanda was aware that it was possible to have acrylic nails, but what would be the point until she conquered her nail-biting habit? She couldn't run off to the manicurist every day.

  Scanning the parking lot again, Amanda rubbed her thumb back and forth across the smooth stone. Her other pocket contained a similar stone, but her left hand held a clipboard, and that ought to keep her fingers out of her mouth.

  Where are they? It was three-twenty and the stone in her pocket was warm from the constant rubbing.

  She couldn't stand this inactivity.

  Abruptly turning away from the west entrance, Amanda headed for the mall crossroads and the poinsettia mountain growing at the center. Benches circled the area under the skylights. Amanda positioned herself so she could stare at the mall entrance and monitor the Santa line on the north end at the same time.

  Ron was already attracting attention, though he hadn't even set up all his equipment.

  Christmas music resonated from the sound system. If she listened carefully, Amanda could hear the different music some of the individual stores piped in. The battle of the Christmas carols. Not to mention those stupid electric bells that clanged out a never-changing series of holiday songs played with the same twelve notes.

  Amanda hated Christmas. Oh, not the real Christmas, the religious one, not even the commercialism of the holiday. Stores were just trying to make a buck. It was the frantic "biggerness" of it all. More lights, more decorations, more parties, more television specials, more giving, more getting.

  More perfection. True perfection could never be attained because each year people expected more. And it was never enough.