by Clare Kauter
I sighed loudly and dragged my eyes to the woman. She had short brown hair with blonde highlights cut in the ‘can I speak to your manager?’ style – short at the back, long at the front. She looked to be in her thirties, in the stage of her life when she hadn’t quite realised that the rest of the world wasn’t as fascinated by her children as she was.
“No, I wasn’t listening to you,” I said. “I was busy thinking about something a little more important than your gift-wrapping specifications.”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re a very rude young woman,” she said.
“And you’re a very rude old woman,” I replied.
Her eyes turned to slits and she hissed, “I would like to speak to your manager.”
Did I call it or did I call it?
“Go for it,” I said, picking up my bag and exiting the counter. The other elf had returned by that point and frowned at me in confusion.
“Where are you going?” she asked. “I thought you were working a double-shift.”
“A Christmas Miracle has occurred,” I said. “I’ve escaped retail.”
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing –” the customer began.
“Shh,” I said, cutting her off and holding up my hand to keep her quiet. “I’ve got places to be. Like nowhere near you.”
As I made my way to the car park, I thought over what Adam had said. Garry had arthritis. He couldn’t have done it. I’d seen myself that Randy was in no fit state to run from the cops. That left Bob. It was a logical conclusion to come to – except that there was no way Bob had done it. But what was the alternative? And how would I prove him innocent? When he wasn’t playing Santa at Westgarden, Bob ran community events for disadvantaged children around town. He wouldn’t be able to work with kids with a flashing conviction on his record. I needed to clear his name. Somehow.
Otherwise who would deliver the presents to all the children on Christmas Eve?
CHAPTER NINE
I drove to the offices, deciding that talking to Adam was a good idea. Maybe I’d be able to convince him that Bob was innocent after all. Sure, it didn’t look good, but he’d bought me a $7.50 chai latte. He was the kindest person I knew. (Even billionaire James thought that was a ridiculous price to pay for a non-alcoholic drink.)
Unfortunately, Adam didn’t seem to think that was incontrovertible evidence of Bob’s decent moral character.
“Charlie, it couldn’t have been the other two. You proved that yourself. All the other Santas had alibis. It’s a simple process of elimination and Bob was the only one left. You’re just going to have to come to terms with it.”
Adam hadn’t looked up at me the entire time he’d been speaking. He’d just kept typing away on his computer. I had no idea how he’d managed to hold a conversation and email someone at the same time, but then he was a genius. Us mere mortals couldn’t aspire to such dizzying heights of productivity.
“But –”
“Go home, Charlie. Rejoice in the fact that you don’t have to work for the rest of the day.”
“Adam...”
He finally looked up at me and said, “What?”
“Can I have tomorrow and Tuesday to keep looking into the case? Just to tie up the loose ends and whatever.”
He sighed. “There are no loose ends.”
“There are!” I said.
“So what, you want to keep playing elf?”
“No!” I said quickly. “I just, uh, think that if Bob did it, we should try to find some evidence of that fact rather than just saying he did it because the other guys didn’t. It’s not like you need me here in the office anyway – you’ve got John.”
Adam sighed. “Fine, whatever. Just get out of my office. I’m busy.”
“Do you ever take a day off?” I asked.
He looked back at me. “I’m taking Christmas and Boxing Day off. That’s why I’ve got so much to sort out now. Which is why I need you to leave.”
“What are you doing for Christmas?”
“Are you annoying me on purpose?”
“Just curious.”
He sighed. “Eli’s coming to stay with me for a couple of nights.”
Eli was Adam’s twin brother. “Oh, is he out of the clinic?” Eli was currently in rehab recovering from a meth addiction.
“No,” said Adam. “He’s just staying for those two nights and then he’s going back in. Is there a reason you’re still hanging around, Charlie? I would have thought you’d be keen to have your day off. Why don’t you go and annoy James?”
“He’s at work,” I said. Not to mention that I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to him at the moment. What if he tried to make me talk to Harcourt again?
“Then go and play with Arnold. I’m busy.”
I didn’t want to go home yet, though. As soon as I went home, I’d just start thinking about James and my brother and the building that burned down. I needed a distraction.
“Charlie, if you have something to say, say it. Otherwise I’m kicking you out.”
I sighed. “I just... Have you heard any more about my brother’s case?”
Adam stopped typing and looked up at me, although he looked less annoyed with me this time. He shook his head. “Not yet.”
I nodded. “OK.”
“You’re stressing out about it, aren’t you?”
I took a deep breath and nodded again. “The flashing Santa was the only thing keeping my mind off it.”
He gave me a small smile. “I get it,” he said. “The first time Eli ended up in hospital I was the same – if I wasn’t working, I couldn’t think about anything else.”
“But you’re always working anyway.”
He smiled. “You can stay here and look into the other Santas if you think it will help distract you.”
I smiled back, but the smile faded when I thought of sharing my desk with John. (He always took the weekend reception shifts. He’d probably sleep in the offices if he could.)
Adam caught the look on my face and said, “You can use Tim’s office. He’s not in today.”
I grinned at him. He handed me a swipe card to unlock Tim’s door with instructions to return it before I left for the day. I went into the office and logged into Tim’s computer. First up I did background searches on Randy and Garry. Nothing came up, not that I’d been expecting much. No way Westgarden would have hired a convicted criminal as their Santa.
Next I looked up the witnesses who’d seen the flasher. I grabbed their addresses (a few pages’ worth), deciding to drive around town and ask them questions. Maybe one of them would remember a fact that somehow excluded Bob and I’d be able to get him out of prison.
My phone buzzed and I looked at the screen. It was a message from Stacey.
Have you found out my husband’s name yet??
I sighed and shook my head. She was ridiculous. I logged out of the computer and went to Adam’s office to return the key. While I was there, I tried to casually ask him about Old Sport.
“Hey, there’s a guy who works here and I couldn’t find him on Facebook,” I said. “Stacey has a crush on him and she just wanted to check up on him before asking him out on a date. You know, with her track record and all.”
“What’s his name?”
I grimaced. “Well, that’s the thing...”
“Oh my god, you’re a PI,” said Adam, looking disgusted. “Please tell me you can find out someone’s name without having to ask me.”
“Please just tell me!” I pleaded. “It’s important.”
Adam frowned. “Is this the same guy whose name you didn’t know six months ago that you asked Tim about?”
I paused. Tim had told him about that? “No.”
Adam sighed. “I don’t know why I’m even surprised anymore. You’ve had six months to figure it out and you’re still struggling?”
“It’s not like I’ve been actively trying to find his name out that entire time,” I said.
“Surely you’ve overheard someone els
e talking to him. Seen him sign your exercise log. Something.”
“Everyone calls him ‘mate’ and his signature is illegible!”
“I thought you hadn’t been trying to figure out his name?”
I narrowed my eyes at Adam. “Fine. I don’t need you to tell me. I can find out for myself.”
“I really hope that’s true,” he replied. “Because if not, that’s embarrassing for both you and the company at large.”
I poked my tongue out at him and left.
CHAPTER TEN
Before heading out to talk to witnesses, I went home to change out of my elf costume and picked Arnold up so that we could spend some time together. The first couple of witnesses I spoke to weren’t a lot of help. They were an elderly couple, Lou and Doris, who’d been at the markets the day Santa had come running through the park. They confirmed that he’d run reasonably fast.
“Especially with his junk flying around like that,” said Doris.
I considered asking her if she’d be able to pick his junk out of a line-up, but I wasn’t sure how I’d set that up so I decided to leave it for now. Lou and Doris both patted Arnold and told me how cute she was.
“Such a lovely dog,” said Lou. Right. So maybe his eyesight wasn’t to be trusted. Good to know.
The next few addresses I visited seemed to be unoccupied as no one answered when I knocked. In fact, I was on a losing streak until I visited one of the residential colleges at the university where one of the witnesses lived. After telling Arnold to wait for me out the front, I slipped past the security doors by following one of the students in before proceeding upstairs to the rooms. Thanks to my age, I looked like I belonged here and no one stopped me. Eventually I found the room I was looking for and knocked on the door. A guy with shoulder length curly red hair answered.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”
He was frowning, clearly trying to figure out who I was.
“Hey,” I said. “You’re Josh, right? I work for the university magazine. I heard you saw that flasher who ran through campus the other day.”
He nodded. “Right, yeah. He was insane. I’ve never seen an old guy run so fast.”
There it was again – he’d been a fast runner. I didn’t know for sure that Bob wasn’t a secret sprinter, but somehow I doubted it.
“Did you get a look at his face?”
“Nah, he had a fake beard on so I couldn’t really see what he looked like,” Josh replied. His eyes lit up. “Hey, I actually got a photo of him on my phone! Do you want to run it in your magazine?”
A photo?
“I’d love to,” I said. “Can you send it to me?”
I gave him my email address and he sent it to me on the spot. I thanked him and left before picking up Arnold and getting back into my car. I opened the email and studied the blurry photograph. With a sigh, I said, “I don’t know if this photo is going to do us any good, Arnold. It’s too blurry to make anything out.”
She snuffled in response.
“I guess I’ll check it on my computer and see if I can clean it up with some photo editing software, but we probably shouldn’t hold our breath. Still, I’m sick of driving around questioning people. It’s a good excuse to go home.”
Arnold snuffled some more.
“Yeah, it’s definitely time for snacks. Let’s head home.”
It was late afternoon by now, but Stacey still hadn’t arrived home to drag me off to whatever torturous activity she had planned for tonight. Surely it couldn’t be worse than the dance class, though. I was fairly certain the embarrassment had peaked there. Arnold and I raided the fridge for leftovers (napolitana pasta today) and then headed up to my room. I put a towel on the ground to catch any spillage from Arnold’s eating and sat at my desk, opening up my laptop.
I opened the photo Josh had sent me in an editing program and got to work. I corrected the brightness so it was easier to see details in the picture. The photograph was taken from behind, so all that was visible was a pair of bare legs. Well, you could kind of see the bum cheeks as well, but they were mostly covered by the coat. Looking closer at the coat, it seemed to me to be a little too long for the wearer. His hands were half hidden by the sleeves. I frowned, trying to recall how Bob’s Santa coat fitted him. As far as I could recall, it had been the perfect size. I envisioned his hand passing me a soy chai. In my mental image, his wristwatch was visible. If anything, the sleeves were a little short on him. Excellent! I had proof – however small – that Bob hadn’t been the flasher. Of course, I doubted this would be enough for the police to let him go. Still, now I knew for a fact he was innocent. That was good enough for me to keep trying to clear his name. We couldn’t have Santa locked up over Christmas.
Next, I decided to zoom in on the legs. They were really the only other distinctive things visible in the photograph. I made them as large as I could on the screen, trying to see if there was anything notable about them. The photo was out of focus, but at this magnification I could see that one of the legs had a dark smudge on it. What was that – a bruise? Dirt? No, I realised. It was a tattoo. I tried to sharpen the image to see if I could make it clearer, but nothing I did seemed to help. In fact, I grew less and less certain that it was a tattoo at all. I imagined what Adam would say if I came to him with this.
Well done, Charlie. You’ve found an out of focus picture with a smudge on it. Oh, and the sleeves on the coat are too long? Amazing. I don’t know how you managed to find such conclusive evidence. You’ll be bringing down the mob next.
OK, I needed more. How about the shoes? Maybe there was something distinctive about them. I zoomed in on them. They were white, and while I couldn’t see a brand or anything, there seemed to be a thin stripe of orange down one side.
Great. So I just needed to find someone with a leg tattoo and white joggers. That narrowed it down. Brilliant. No trouble whatsoever.
Sigh.
I was almost relieved when Stacey arrived home. Almost. I’d hit what felt like a brick wall in the flasher case, and now that I wasn’t sure what to do next my mind was wandering back to my brother and Harcourt, which was not what I wanted at all. Stacey called out to Arnold and made her way upstairs. When I thought I’d be working a double shift, I told Stacey I wouldn’t be able to make tonight’s class and asked her to feed Arnold when she arrived home from work. That excuse was out the window now, though.
“Oh!” said Stacey when she walked into my room and saw me. “You’re home early.”
I explained what had happened with Santa collapsing and another Santa being arrested, hoping she’d take the hint that I’d had kind of a big day and could really do with a night off. Instead, she said, “Well, it sounds like you could really use a night out to take your mind off things, then!”
I sighed. I should have known.
Once she approved my outfit – shorts and a T-shirt, but nice ones – she then picked out some shoes (faux leather sandals) and led me downstairs, off to whatever tonight’s activity was. Arnold shot me a sympathetic look as I was led away and I gave her a sad smile. I knew that if there was some way she could have bailed me out, she would have.
When I got downstairs, I found Lea, Celia, Gina and Jo waiting.
“You’re all coming tonight?” I asked, surprised.
They nodded in unison. This was big. Gina hardly ever hung out with our group of friends – at least while I was around.
“Of course,” said Jo. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Something in her eye concerned me. She had a certain maniacal glint that I hadn’t seen since her pre-marriage days when she’d spent her free time stalking James. Now I was worried.
“What is it?” I asked. “What haven’t you told me?”
“This is going to be the most fun yet,” said Lea.
Oh god. “C?” I said, sounding a little panicked. She refused to make eye contact.
Oh no. What was I in for?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Carol s
inging? Really?” I hissed. “You guys thought this would be a fun way to spend an evening?”
“We’re going to be amazing,” said Stacey. “I think we should start a band.”
The others murmured their agreement.
“That’s a horrible idea,” I said. “We’re all going to be terrible. Please tell me you’re self-aware enough to know that.”
“Singing is ninety per cent confidence anyway,” said Jo.
I shook my head. “No. That’s a lie. That’s just completely untrue.”
“The other ten per cent is volume,” Lea added. She didn’t appear to be joking.
My god, and to think Lea was my second most sane friend.
The instructor began to speak and all my friends (and Gina) listened intently, soaking up every word. Then she asked us to sing the first verse of the song and my friends appeared to have forgotten all the instruction they’d just received and instead defaulted back to the confidence and volume rules they’d told me earlier.
Part way through the chorus, my phone rang and I took it outside to answer it, relieved to have a break from listening to my very enthusiastic but entirely tone-deaf friends singing Santa Baby in various levels of creep. (If I opened my door to that group of girls thrusting their pelvises and shouting at me about how good they’d been this year, I’d definitely call the police.)
The number on my phone was private, so I wasn’t sure who was calling until I answered.
“Hello?”
“Good evening, Charlotte.”
My skin began to crawl. Not just a little, either – it crawled so violently I was worried it might escape my body and run away. I knew that voice. Unfortunately.
“Harcourt. My lawyer told me you might call.”
“Ah, yes. Adam Baxter. I’m surprised at you, Charlotte. I wouldn’t have thought you’d be scared to talk to me alone.”
“Not scared,” I said through gritted teeth. I knew that he was just trying to rile me up. I needed to keep a level head and not let him get to me. Threatening a high-ranking police officer was not a good idea, even if he did deserve it. “I just find you repulsive, that’s all. Anything I can do to put more distance between us is a good thing in my books.”