Death, Taxes, and Mistletoe Mayhem: A Holiday Novella
Page 9
Taking a different tack, Nadine hurled the candy cane at my partner as if it were a red and white striped spear. While Brigit scrambled aside, Nadine darted toward the exit doors.
Santa dashed out from behind his sleigh, grabbed the long, striped pole, and ran with it, quickly catching up with Nadine and hooking her around the waist before she could escape. Chris hadn’t achieved third place in the high school state pole vault championships for nothing.
Momentum carrying her forward, Nadine doubled over the hooked end. While I thought our chase was now at an end, Nadine proved me wrong. In a maneuver that would’ve made a gymnastics coach proud, Nadine rolled over the hook, retrieved her gun from where it had landed when Tara shot it out of her hand, and sprang to her feet. She made it to the door and yanked it open, leading our chase back onto the mall sidewalk, which was full of shoppers.
Nadine has to be stopped.
Now.
A baton might be useless against an active shooter, but a woman on the run was another story. In a split second, my subconscious estimated her speed. Drawing all my strength, I swung my baton downward then up, sending it sailing in a beautiful, twirling arc into the sky.
Swish-swish-swish!
The spinning stick reflected the winter sunlight, flashing like a low-slung quasar in the sky, seeming to hover for an instant as it reached a pinnacle before surrendering to gravity. The stick spun back to earth, setting its sights on Nadine Gramercy’s skull.
THUNK!
Stunned and semiconscious, Nadine fell to the walkway. I ran to retrieve my baton while Tara scurried up, grabbed Nadine’s gun from the ground, and held her Glock trained on the woman. I gave Brigit the order to return to my side.
Once Nadine had gathered her wits, she rolled onto her back and struggled to get to her feet. “You bitches! You could’ve killed me!”
We could’ve killed her? What an egomaniac.
“Sit down!” I barked. “Put your hands up!”
Next to me, Brigit issued a steady, low growl, her lips pulled back.
Nadine looked from the baton in my hand to the gun in Tara’s to the teeth in Brigit’s mouth. She chose to obey, though it was clear from her narrowed eyes, pursed lips, and clamped jaw that it was the last thing she wanted to do.
Tara looked down at Nadine before turning to me. “This was fun, huh?”
Brigit woofed in agreement.
I forced a smile. Fun? Agent Holloway and my partner were certifiably nuts, more loopy than hard Christmas candy. This wasn’t fun. But this was my job.
Santa jogged up, followed by Phil Freitag.
Charlotte came running out of the courtyard and hurled herself at Santa, nearly knocking him over. “Chris! Are you okay?”
He grabbed her by the arms to keep her from falling. “There’s a hole in my baby bump, but I’ll be fine.”
Deidre burst through the courtyard doors and came out, stopping by us and bending over, her hands on her knees as she huffed and puffed and glared at her stepsister. “Good!” she said when she finally caught her breath. “You got her.”
*
An hour later, Nadine sat handcuffed and scowling in the security office, an emergency medical tech tending to the bloody knot on the back of her head. Although she emitted an occasional “ow!” when the tech touched a tender spot, she otherwise exercised her right to remain silent. Brigit lay at the floor at my feet, keeping a watchful eye on Nadine.
Tara interrogated Deidre, learning that Nadine had been a thorn in Deidre’s side since their parents married all those years ago. Deidre had suspected that Nadine stole her allowance several times when they were young, but Nadine had always feigned innocence and their parents had taken the younger daughter’s side, suggesting that perhaps Deidre had lost the money or forgotten that she’d spent it. Deidre had placed occasional jewelry orders with Nadine only to maintain goodwill within the family.
Phil frowned. “The prices that woman charged us were outrageous. I kept telling Deidre we should refuse to order from her, but Deidre didn’t want to stir up trouble.”
A search of Nadine’s wallet turned up a driver’s license that had disappeared from Deidre’s purse several years ago. Nadine had excised Deidre’s photo with a small cutting tool and replaced it with her own.
Deidre looked the altered license over, shaking her head. “When I couldn’t find my license I figured I must’ve forgotten it at a store. I went back to every place I’d written a check but nobody could find it. I had no idea Nadine had taken it from me.”
Obviously Nadine had used Deidre’s license to rent the storage units in Deidre’s name. No doubt she’d moved the stolen jewelry into the second units, where they wouldn’t be discovered by the police.
Tara thanked Nadine and Phil for their cooperation and released them to get back to their busy store. Once federal marshals had taken Nadine away, my partner, Agent Holloway, and I headed back into the mall’s courtyard.
While shoppers were allowed into the food court, Fort Worth PD had taped off the area containing Santa’s sleigh, the prone Christmas tree, and the wayward candy canes as a crime scene.
Brigit tugged at her leash, sticking her nose just inside the yellow crime scene tape and attempting to latch on to the mistletoe that lay there. I yanked her back. “No. It’s poisonous.”
Tara squinted at the mistletoe and bent down to pick it up. “No worries,” she said. “It’s fake.”
As I went to take the plastic plant from Tara, Brigit jumped up and grabbed it out of Tara’s hand. The dog turned and pulled on her leash, dragging me toward the food court.
“What’s she doing?” Tara asked, following along.
“Beats me,” I replied.
Not one to leave the children disappointed, Chris, still dressed in his bullet-riddled Santa suit, had relocated to a table in the food court and currently had a dark-haired little girl on his lap. When she reached up to tug on his beard, Chris gave a playful, “Ouch!”
Brigit pulled me over to Santa, where she dropped the mistletoe onto his lap as soon as the little girl climbed down.
“What’s this?” he asked, picking it up. “Mistletoe?”
Charlotte stood at the one of the food counters, waiting in line to order lunch. Brigit dragged me over to Charlotte next. My partner pawed gently at Charlotte’s leg until the woman looked down. “Hi, Brigit.”
Brigit woofed.
Charlotte looked at me. “What does that mean?”
I shrugged. The dog seemed to have a plan, but heck if I knew what it was.
Brigit took the hem of Charlotte’s skirt between her teeth and gently tugged.
Charlotte’s eyes went from the dog to me. “I think she wants me to follow her.”
While I held her leash loosely, Brigit led Charlotte through the food court and over to Chris’s table. His lap was empty, no children in line at the moment, but his hand still held the mistletoe.
Tara and I exchanged hopeful glances. Had our matchmaking plan worked? Now would be the moment of truth.
When Chris stood, Brigit woofed again, as if ordering the two to put the mistletoe to good use.
Chris looked down at Brigit, then back at Charlotte, a smile playing about his lips. “She may be a dog, but she’s a cop, too. We better do what she says.” With a broad grin, he raised the mistletoe over his head.
Chapter Eighteen
Reindeer Game
Brigit
The man in the funny suit and the woman from the store that smelled like flowers put their mouths together.
Brigit’s work here was done.
She pulled on her leash. It was lunchtime and, after the busy morning they’d had, the dog was starved. She was in the mood for something different today.
Did the food court serve reindeer?
Catch more of Officer Megan Lutz and Sergeant Brigit in PAW ENFORCEMENT, the start of an all-new series, coming in June 2014 from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
And don’t miss Diane Kelly’s hilario
us Tara Holloway series
DEATH, TAXES, AND A FRENCH MANICURE
DEATH, TAXES, AND A SKINNY NO-WHIP LATTE
DEATH, TAXES, AND EXTRA-HOLD HAIRSPRAY
DEATH, TAXES, AND PEACH SANGRIA
DEATH, TAXES, AND HOT-PINK LEG WARMERS
DEATH, TAXES, AND GREEN TEA ICE CREAM
Coming in August 2014
DEATH, TAXES, AND SILVER SPURS
Available from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Diane Kelly is a former state assistant attorney general who spent much of her career fighting, or inadvertently working for, white-collar criminals. A recipient of the 2009 Romance Writers of America Golden Heart Award for Best Novel with Strong Romantic Elements, she has received more than two dozen RWA chapter awards. Diane’s fiction, tax and humor pieces have appeared in True Love Magazine, Writer’s Digest Yearbook, Romance Writers Report, Byline Magazine, and other publications.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
“Death, Taxes, and Mistletoe Mayhem” copyright © 2013 by Diane Kelly
All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover: mistletoe © Natalie Aggiato/Shutterstock.com, dog biscuits © Mackey Creations/Shutterstock.com
Author Photo: Kyle Cavener ©
eISBN 978-1-4668-4708-8
First eBook Edition: October 2013