Killing Santa

by Stacey Alabaster

  But that was a quick job, get in and get out. Now I was going to have to stay there for the next few hours, trapped, with flashing lights and no escape. I glanced around, looking for any signs of death, blood, a discarded Santa hat.

  “Won’t some of the parents know what happened?” I whispered to Santa as he settled in to his favorite seat. “Wont they be creeped out?”

  “They know this room has the best lighting,” he said, setting his sack down on the ground. “So they won’t care about anything else. All they care about is getting a good photo of their kids.”

  So true. My next customer was a bossy woman who didn’t want a good photo, she wanted a perfect photo, and was demanding to look through every single one of the fifty that I had taken. “And I don’t care how long it takes.” This woman was making Gilda look like a Christmas angel.

  “It just takes a few moments for the photos to load,” I said, while she grew more and more agitated. Poor little Keegan, her two-year-old son, kept screaming while she bounced him on her hip

  I just shot Santa a look.

  He reached out for Keegan and said, “There, there, little one.” But it only made Keegan scream louder. He was screaming blue murder now.

  Well, there were some miracles Santa couldn’t perform. Not this one, at least. Finally, the photos loaded. I wished I hadn’t taken so many and given her so many choices. This was going to drag on and on.

  “Not that one…not that one…not that one…” Finally, she unhappily said, “We need to take some more.”

  I looked at Keegan, who had completely lost it. All I could see was gums when he opened his mouth and let out another ear-piercing scream.

  “Look, at least he’s not crying in those first few,” I said, trying to reason with her. There were plenty of okay-ish ones to choose from. If we tried to start again, he would be as red as a tomato in the rest of them. And he was growing more and more distressed. I didn’t want to put him through it. Plus, there was the matter of the growing line.

  She shook her head. “I don’t like the color of them,” she said. “The reds are too faded.”

  I just stopped and glared at Santa. Was he hearing this?

  He seemed to have developed selective hearing and looked away as though nothing had been said.

  When she was finally gone, I could no longer keep my cool. Santa was going to bear my wrath.

  “You forced me to come into this cave and the lighting isn’t even any better!” I exclaimed. “Who do you think you are! You aren’t a king or a president! You’re just a fake Santa, for crying out loud!”

  It was at this moment that everything went so silent that you could hear a pin drop. The music, which had been playing on a constant loop for months, had gone off and everything I’d said had been heard by the families coming down the hallway. And the curtain was wide open.

  The only noise was the gasp from the children who had heard everything. “Mommy… Santa is fake?”

  Great. I really had ruined Christmas.

  Chapter 10

  Gilda came back later that night and my stomach felt sick when I saw her. I thought she was coming over to blame me for Sandy’s sprained wrist, but this time, she was contrite.

  “I’m sorry for everything that happened,” she said. “I’m just so grateful that the injury wasn’t anything worse. I want to thank you, Rachael.”

  I glanced around, feeling shocked. “Where is Sandy now?” I asked.

  “Pippa is sitting in my car with her,” Gilda said with relief. “She’s really good with her. I never knew that Pippa was a mother herself.”

  “And she is a really good mother,” I added.

  Gilda nodded. “I know. I was too harsh on her.”

  I still had to wonder what she was doing here at Christmas Village. I shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “So, is there something I can help you with, Gilda?”

  “There is, actually. I still don’t have a great Santa photo to give to my parents—Sandy’s grandparents—tomorrow. And now that she’s got her arm in a cast, I won’t be able to get them re-done.”

  I knew there must be a way to solve this problem. “What was wrong with the first lot of photos, just out of interest?” I asked curiously. “I remember Sandy was crying in some of them, but was there another issue?” There were always some in every batch where the children weren’t crying.

  She sighed. “The color was all wrong. Faded.”

  She sounded like it was the end of the world, but I was relieved to find out that was all it was. Taking new photos was going to be close to impossible with it being Christmas Eve the following day. But adjusting the color? That was something I could do.

  “It’s okay, I can correct the color,” I said to her. “That’s an easy fix! I’ll just have to go back into the cave and find the photos for you again.”

  The caves seemed awfully dark now that everyone had gone home for the night. The lights in the main part of the mall had been turned off and although there were still the lanterns and fairy lights in Christmas Village, it was a little like walking into a forest at night with only the moonlight to guide us. And it was about to get worse, because I’d just remembered where it was that Gilda had her shots taken.

  “It was…it was Cave Two that you had your photos taken in originally, wasn’t it?” I asked Gilda as we edged toward the door. This was a room I really, really didn’t want to go into at night. I mean, you’ve heard of the ghosts of Christmas, right? I shivered. What if the ghost of Santa was haunting these caves?

  Gilda replied, “I don’t know,” which made sense. The whole point of the setup was that the parents and children were all supposed to think that there was only one true Santa. Except, thanks to me, that illusion had been ruined several times. I just told Gilda that it was and kept creeping toward the door, feeling the felt walls of the caves, hoping to find a light switch, or hoping to bump into someone who might make the whole thing feel a little bit safer.

  But Jarod was already gone

  “Is everything all right?” Gilda asked

  “Of course,” I said, then realized I had been holding my breath the entire walk.

  “It takes a moment for these things to load,” I said, expecting to be met with frustration, just as I had been every other time I’d told a parent that they needed to wait for their photos. But Gilda just seemed grateful that I was helping her out at all.

  “Take your time,” she said with a sweet smile before I turned my back to her.

  The photos of Marcello and Lolly were still the most recent batch on the computer and I quickly flicked through them, not wanting to linger, but I had to notice that most of them were very nice. If only Pippa had stopped and looked at them, she might have even wanted to print some out.

  Gilda eventually grew impatient. “Is there anything wrong?” she asked. “It’s getting late. Perhaps I should come back tomorrow…”

  On Christmas Eve? That would be crazy. She’d be waiting in line for hours. And that was if she was lucky.

  But I was having trouble finding her photos. On the date she had been in, all I could see was an empty folder. “That’s strange,” I said. “The photos from the day that you were in here all seem to be deleted.” I frowned at the empty folder icon. “Hang on a moment, just let me check something…”

  I opened the folder that held all the photos of Marcello and Lolly again, and that was when I realized. Even though they seemed to be the most recent batch, the time stamp on them was actually from the day previous. All the photos from the day of the murder had been deleted.

  I grabbed my phone out of my pocket to text Pippa. You don’t need to worry. Marcello is innocent. The photos were from the day before.

  “What’s wrong?” Gilda asked again.

  “Your photos are missing,” I said, trying to hide my excitement. “Gone. Actually, all the photos from that day are gone…”

  Gilda crept toward me, her shadow hovering. I could see her ghostly reflection in the computer monitor
before me.

  “Could the police have taken them?” Gilda asked.

  I shook my head. That didn’t make any sense. They could have taken copies, but they wouldn’t have removed them from the computer. “Unless the police were trying to hide something,” I said, almost laughing.

  But then it suddenly didn’t seem so funny.

  “Gilda, you might be onto something!” I said, the adrenaline pumping through my blood as I quickly pulled up the roster for that day. And found the deleted file. Whoever had done it should have done a better job.

  “Huh? I am?” Gilda asked, sounding as surprised as I was.

  The only person who would remove the files was someone trying to hide something.

  Someone who had access to the computers. Someone who worked here.

  Someone who was the killer.

  Jarod was not picking up his phone. I had to leave a message. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, okay? Please call me when you get this message.”

  “What are you trying to do?” Gilda was growing frustrated. “Am I going to get my photos any time tonight?” I could understand that the long night and wait had finally worn her down. She just wanted to go home.

  “I’ll check with Pippa and make sure that Sandy is okay,” I said helpfully, sending off a quick text before I put the phone back in my pocket, sighing when I saw that Jarod had still not responded.

  “Oh, if I can figure this out, you’ll get your photos AND we’ll catch Santa’s killer,” I said with newfound gusto.

  Gilda seemed less impressed about the last thing.

  “I just need to catch him in the act,” I said, bringing up the deleted photos. It wasn’t Marcello and Lolly who had been the last family in Cave Number Two. It was a mom and a newborn baby. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that I knew, if I just kept flicking through them, I would find our Diva Santa sneak in and kill the original Santa Number Two.

  It was all starting to make sense now. It must have been why he’d wanted so badly to be in Cave Number Two that evening, so he could cover his tracks. Make sure no one else was looking through the files.

  I sucked in a breath. Yes, this was it. My eyes widened as I saw two Santas on screen at the same time, and a look of shock on the face of the new mother. “He must have thought that they were permanently deleted,” I said, a grin spreading across my face. I was just about to catch Santa Number Two in the act.

  But the set of photos ended. “Oh,” I said, still flicking through. The two Santas were having an argument, it was all caught on still frames. The next set of photos came up.

  “Here he is,” I said, pointing to the screen, while a stunned Gilda watched behind me.

  “And here you are,” I said, surprised when we finally found Gilda’s photos of her and Sandy.

  Oh my goodness. Gilda looked so angry in the files that she looked positively homicidal. And very unimpressed about being confronted with two Santas at once, ruining the magic for Sandy.

  On screen, Gilda looked like she was about to strangle Santa Number Two.

  And right then, she was standing right behind me.

  I turned around slowly. Gilda’s face was awash with the blue from the computer screen, which made her look ever more menacing

  Was I trapped in the cave with the ghost of Christmas past?

  “I…I don’t think you should be looking through these,” Gilda said, trying to turn the screen off. She was battling me for control of the computer. First, she tried to turn off the monitor, but when I batted her hand away, she ducked down and went for the power outlet. She was about to unplug the whole computer. Darn. If she did that, it would take at least fifteen minutes for the whole thing to reload, and I wasn’t about to let that happen. Not on my watch.

  I got down on the floor with her and pushed her away from the outlet, making sure the cord stayed firmly plugged in.

  “No. We are looking at them. End of story.”

  She got up, her usually perfectly coifed hair all messed up.

  I started flipping through the pictures again, keeping a careful eye on her in case she decided to pounce again.

  “I just didn’t realize how much got captured on the film,” she said, her voice heavy with shame as she saw her own reflection in the screen. She was angry, all right. But at the end of her set of photos, both Santas were still alive.

  “It depends on the photographer,” I explained. “How many they take. For instance, when I am taking the photos, I just take a snap every few seconds. But some of the other elves and photographers snap, snap, snap.”

  Gilda nodded. “I had that professional photographer in with us that day…”

  I glanced at her over my shoulder and frowned. “I thought Pippa was the elf in Cave Two that day?”

  “She was. She was filling in for that other girl during her lunchbreak. But that other guy, Andrew, came in to help out.”

  “Right.”

  Gilda was still hanging her head. “I didn’t realize I behaved that badly. Is there any way we can delete these?” she pleaded.

  “They’re evidence now,” I replied quietly. “I’m sorry to say this, Gilda, but the best way to avoid things like this being captured on film is just not to do them in the first place.”

  She closed her eyes and nodded, ashamed.

  “Aha! This is where the other Santa comes back into the cave. I knew he wasn’t done yet,” I said, shaking my head as I looked at the shot. I finally had him. The killer.

  Here he was. Santa behaving badly. Coming at the first one, ready to hit him over the head with a giant candy cane from his sack.

  I had him.

  Hang on! What was this? Santa Number One left with Santa Number Two still alive. But Santa Number Two had a terrified look on his face as he stared into the lens of the camera.

  It was the last shot he would ever have taken. And he knew it.

  It wasn’t Santa who killed Santa.

  It was Andrew.

  I checked my phone.

  Pippa had texted me. All good here. Guess what! We bumped into a friend in the mall parking lot — Andrew. He’s here now, making Sandy laugh and forget all about her wrist. He’s so good with kids.

  Pippa, I texted back frantically. You need to get away from him! Take Sandy and run!

  Chapter 11

  Pippa was frantic as she handed Sandy back to a very distressed Gilda. By the time we got out to the parking lot, Andrew was long gone.

  But had he seen the text I’d sent to Pippa?

  “I’m so sorry,” Pippa said. “I should never have invited him into the car.”

  “It’s okay,” Gilda said. “None of us could have known that he was such a maniac. It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting when I came to get Santa photos.”

  Pippa kept calm until Gilda left, but then she turned to me, looking helpless. “Now what are we going to do?”

  She had reason to be worried. With Andrew on the run, and only a day left before Christmas, and with no photographer, how were we going to catch the killer AND keep all the parents of Belldale happy?

  “This is a disaster in more ways than one,” Pippa said, staring up into clear sky filled with stars that shone and sparkled like there was nothing wrong with the world below. “I guess Christmas Village is going to have to shut down now.”

  “Shut down?” I asked, snapping my head to stare up at her. Surely things weren’t that drastic. But she was right—we had no Santas left, and no professional photographer. There was only Pippa and I, and how were we supposed to run a whole village?

  I knew what I was going to have to do. I was going to have to grovel.

  “Jarod isn’t answering any of my texts or calls,” I said, sliding to the ground as I sat down in the gutter in the snow. With the snow around my feet, it was really far too cold to be out there. “Not that I blame him in the slightest.”

  Pippa was being reasonable, though. “Look, he might not be a killer, but he had some other flaws, remember? You di
d catch him breaking and entering.”

  I shook my head. “He said he had an explanation for that. I should have listened to him, Pippa. I made a snap judgment.”

  Finally, after midnight, Jarod picked up his phone. “Where are you?” I said, standing up, my hand growing numb as I clutched the cell phone and held it to my ear. It was going to freeze up like a claw if I had to hold that position for too long.

  “I’m at the bus stop,” he finally said after a long pause.

  “The bus stop?” I asked. “What are you doing there?”

  “I’m going home,” he said softly. “To Florida.”

  “You mean…to be with your family for Christmas?” I asked, my stomach dropping.

  He hesitated a moment before answering again and I heard the squeal of brakes in the background. The bus had arrived. “Not just for Christmas. For good.”

  “Please, Jarod, don’t get on the bus. At least not yet!” I called out. I could hear his footsteps and I could hear the bus driver calling for tickets.

  “Rachael, if I don’t leave now, I won’t be home in time for Christmas.”

  “Please,” I said, waving for Pippa as I ran toward my car. “Just don’t get on that bus.”

  “Oh, thank goodness,” I murmured as I climbed out of the car and saw that Jarod was still sitting at the empty bus stop, his backpack at his feet.

  “So, what is this huge favor you need from me?” he said, looking at me skeptically. “I assume that is the only reason you called me and begged me to stay.”

  I couldn’t help feeling a little ashamed. Luckily, it was freezing cold, so my face didn’t heat up too much and turn too red.

  “I should have listened to you,” I said, sitting next to him. Pippa was still waiting by the car, shivering. It was late and we were reaching the coldest part of the night. “I should have at least let you explain yourself.”

  Jarod just stared at me. “You still haven’t answered me,” he said. “What is it you need?”

  I hung my head. “We don’t have enough Santas for tomorrow at Christmas Village.”