A Damsel for Santa

by Terry Ambrose

  "Anything else?" I asked.

  Wendy pursed her lips. "She said she was hopeful about some new guy, but wanted to keep it on the down low. The way she kept looking at Mr. Attorney over there, I kinda thought it might be him. She never did say, though. Anyway, that's where she knew Brooke from." She turned her pointed stare on Miller. "The Better Days Shelter wasn't a good experience for her. Your wife almost destroyed that poor girl. You and your attorney can stew on that when it goes public."

  Jack Frost let out a howl as he climbed over the back of the seat and rushed Miller. They went down in the aisle, a tangle of flailing arms and legs, with Miller begging for mercy and someone to help him.

  18

  HOLLY - ACT 3

  The other actors backed away from the fight, but Chance jumped right in. He pulled Jack Frost off Miller, who lay in the aisle moaning and clutching the back of his head. He rolled to one side to rise, and with the exception of Wendy, the others avoided him. Of everyone there, the woman with multiple personalities was the only one who offered any assistance. She went to Miller and helped him stand. He seemed dazed, and in a way, so was I. While Helpful Wendy escorted him to a nearby chair, I wondered how long it would take for one of her other personas to emerge. Poor Miller.

  He gazed up at his attorney. "What was that for?"

  Jack struggled against Chance's grip for a few seconds, then seemed to compose himself. He gritted his teeth and spat at Miller's feet. "For being oblivious to what your wife did to those poor women. She demeaned and degraded them."

  "Give up the attorney-client privilege crap, Jack." I demanded. "Right now. Was there something between you and Joy?"

  "No," he sneered.

  "Then why are you so angry?"

  He closed his eyes for a second, then took a deep breath. "Because of the injustice. I'm an attorney. I fight for the rights of others. I thought Miller was a good guy, but he's no better than his wife."

  "I'm not buying it." I gestured at Chance. "Don't let him go."

  "No worries. I've got him."

  "Good," I said. "I have a question for Wendy. What else do you know?"

  Chance had Jack's arm pinned behind his back, and it appeared the attorney understood he could do nothing except remain docile.

  The still-helpful elf shook her head. "Not much. Only that Joy isn't all goody-goody herself. She was pretty smug when she talked about getting into this play. I thought she'd used her feminine wiles, but she said something about getting the upper hand in life. I put two-and-two together when I saw how she was eyeing this loser." She pointed at Jack and wrinkled her nose.

  To the side, I heard Nicky chuckle. "Makes sense now, dude. She had a thing for him, all right. It's called money. She was blackmailing him." He pointed at Jack Frost. "I heard them arguing." He looked Jack in the eye, and snickered. "He's a klepto, man. Joy caught him lifting some products from the store. Big shot attorney with his money and he steals two-buck items. He's sick. He's not ticked off cause of some big social injustice; he don't like his secret being out."

  I glared at the man accused. "Is that true? Is that why you got her this role? Don't waste our time with the fight for justice crap, either. You didn't want her to expose you—is that it?"

  "Christ," he said. "I'm so screwed. Okay, yes. I didn't ask her to join the play, she demanded I get her in. She said there was some guy she wanted to meet, but when I told her it wasn't going to happen she accused me of stealing from the store. I denied it, but it would have been a royal pain to deal with. I figured it meant a lot to her. So, yeah, I got her the role. Big deal."

  "He's lying," Mrs. Claus said. "I know his firm. It's very competitive. He'd never make partner with that kind of complaint on his record."

  "Would it be enough to ruin his career?" I asked.

  Mrs. Claus fanned herself absently, almost as though it had become an automatic behavior. "In his firm, probably. He'd be in the mail room in mine. He couldn't afford to take the chance."

  "Was Miller the guy Joy wanted to meet?" I asked.

  Jack shrugged. "I don't know. She never said. But, the way she kept finding ways to bump into him, I suspected he might be the one."

  Wendy nodded at the stage. "Santa, I think your little helper needs you."

  I looked in the direction she pointed. Holly was waving frantically for me to join her. Now what?

  I hoped Chance could keep the mob under control for a while longer while I hustled to the front. Where were the cops, anyway? Mrs. Claus had gotten through to them at least fifteen minutes ago. Then again, with this storm, maybe the streets really were snarled. In that case, it was anybody's guess as to how long it would take for them to arrive.

  The padding in the suit felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. It had been heavy when I'd slipped it on, but now it was like a saturated sponge dripping my own sweat.

  When I arrived at the stage, Holly whispered, "She's up to something. She never went for water."

  "Good job, kid. I'll take it from here. Where is she?"

  "Dressing room."

  What the actors called a dressing room, I likened to a costume triage center. A couple of partitioned curtains created the sole source of privacy. In short, modesty was a laughable commodity with this group. I pushed past Holly, hoping she'd wait for me to return. A few steps later, I realized how foolish my hope had been. I had a shadow. I stopped and turned on her.

  "You can't come with me."

  She planted her feet shoulder-width apart and crossed her arms over her chest. "No way, I'm going. This is my case, too."

  Her case? Since when? Who was I kidding? Since I'd promoted her, that's when. I'd asked her to tail Joy, and if we stood here arguing, the woman would be back before we found out what she was up to. "Fine. Stay back." I scowled at Holly. She looked unimpressed.

  I turned around and almost bumped into Joy. She had a paper cup filled with water in one hand, a wet washcloth in the other. "It took me longer than I expected to find this." She sounded almost apologetic as she held up the damp cloth.

  "I'm not sure Mrs. Claus still needs them, but she seems to change minute-by-minute. I'm sure she'll appreciate the effort." I looked into her eyes. "You were gone a long time. What else did you find?"

  She bit her lower lip, cocked her head to one side, and whispered. "I got curious. I think I came across the photograph you were talking about." She set the cup and washcloth on the prop table. "Follow me."

  Holly brought up the rear in our little procession. I cursed myself. Whatever advantage we'd had, we'd lost. I should have followed Joy myself.

  We went into the dressing room, and Joy headed straight to Miller's box of clothing. She reached into the bottom and pulled out the rest of the missing photo. There was no mistake; this was the one. The torn edge was a perfect match to the piece under Brooke's hand.

  "This is so messed up," Holly groaned.

  I couldn't agree more. "How'd you find this?"

  "With all the talk about Miller's troubles with his wife, I started wondering if maybe he might have killed her. When I came to get the water, I looked in here. I figured you could be right, you know? Whoever had the photo would be the one who killed Brooke. You're really a smart detective, Santa. Good job."

  Good job in pinning the guilt on the wrong guy. My chief suspect now had an excuse for her fingerprints being all over the key evidence. We had no proof of when, or how, they'd gotten there. She'd just framed Miller by using my own logic against me. "I'm impressed," I said. "I didn't think you were listening."

  "I'm always listening, Santa. We have to work together, right?"

  "Good point." I wanted to scratch so bad I could taste it. "I forgot to ask how you met Miller. Was it here?"

  "Yes, this was the first time. I don't remember who introduced us."

  "Jack Frost?" I asked.

  Her lower lip puckered. "Maybe. I'm not exactly sure."

  "And you were homeless for a while, weren't you?"

  "Yes."


  The concern I'd seen growing was now in full swing, her willingness to answer questions waning.

  "I've got a job now, and a safe place to stay." She smiled. "Life's good."

  "Life hasn't always been that way, has it?" I rubbed my neck. It felt like tree bark. "This wasn't the first time you met Miller, either. Was it?"

  "Are you always this persistent? I don't think I like your tone."

  "The first time you met him was when you were in the shelter. But, you told Jack Frost you wanted a role in this play so you could meet some guy. It was Miller, wasn't it?"

  She sucked in a breath and glanced away, then pasted on a smile. "You're having a reaction to something in your suit. Let me help you out of it." She chattered on as she reached for the top button on my coat. "I've had my share of hard times. But, I'm past that. Look, don't you want to get this photo to the cops? You've wrapped up the case and found the killer."

  Wrong. I'd let the killer go. How was I going to turn this around? I put my hand on hers. Her sudden change of attitude had convinced me she was hiding her involvement in Brooke's death, but how was I going to prove it? "Thanks for your concern, Joy. I kind of thought you didn't like Santa."

  "Oh, no, it was nothing like that." She averted her gaze, then faced me and smiled.

  It was the same polite smile you see in a store when a clerk you don't know gives you a warm welcome. Sometimes the greeting is genuine, but not always. In this case, her smile looked pasted on. She was well-practiced. "In fact, the only person you've been pleasant to since I've been here is this little girl. And that was while she was having a panic attack. Right when you needed an alibi."

  "What are you saying? You can't badger me like this."

  She started to turn away, but I seized her elbow. "You didn't find that photo in Miller's things, did you?"

  "She put it there. I saw her do it." Holly stepped forward, her eyes filled with determination.

  "How can you say that? You saw me do no such thing!"

  "You're lying. Miller always folds and stacks his clothes. He's a neat freak."

  I looked into the box. The clothing had been thrown in, as though someone had been in a hurry.

  "You little brat. You are such a liar."

  Holly returned Joy's dark stare with the practiced ease of someone who'd felt deep anger or resentment. Her voice was stern, the same tone I'd heard her mother use. "I was standing in the doorway, watching. I saw you put it there."

  What? She'd said she hadn't seen anything. Was she ad libbing again? "It's easy enough to check. Holly, go get Miller."

  Joy bit her lower lip and tried to stare the girl down, but Holly remained resolute. The older woman shook her head. "Well, that doesn't prove anything. So what if I did?"

  "You're admitting you put the photo in with Miller's clothes?"

  "So what?" She grimaced. "I…I don't have to stand for this."

  Chance walked by me and approached Joy. He gazed down at her with cold eyes. "Did you do it or not?"

  Wow. I'd never seen him so intense. He was getting really good at turning up the heat when he wanted. I reached out to touch her arm. "Santa says, tell the truth."

  She shook my gloved hand away. "Fine. I found the photo and was returning it to Miller. I messed up his precious little pile of clothes. Who cares?"

  "So you were just doing a good deed?" I asked. "Then why did you try to frame him for murder?"

  "I wasn't. You're the one who said whoever had the photo…" Her lower lip trembled. Her eyes darted around the room, but there was nowhere to hide.

  "Why, Joy?" My voice was soft. Coaxing. Just like Santa soothing a small child.

  Slowly, Joy's confidence eroded. She looked past me and began to sob. "I did it for you, Miller. That woman was just evil. I wanted to help you get away from her. You know, so we could be together."

  19

  MCKENNA

  A collective gasp went up around us. I spun in a quick circle. We were surrounded. Rats. I hadn't even noticed. I gave Chance stink eye. "What are all these people doing here?"

  He put a hand on his chest and blinked innocently. "I thought you might need some help to get the confession, so I put Willow in charge."

  I turned my wrath on Mrs. Claus, but she threw her hands in the air. "Hey, don't get mad at me, this whole thing has me…oh, gawd." She gasped and fanned herself.

  "You're right," Miller said, "Brooke was evil. She hurt so many people. I argued with her about how she treated others and she always blocked me out."

  I massaged my temples. Why me? Under my beard, I muttered, "Shut up, Miller." He must have heard me because he stopped talking. I turned back to Joy. "Tell me why she was so bad."

  "Brooke was in the shelter the first day I got there." She gazed at Miller. "My boyfriend had dumped me, stolen all my stuff, and left me with a pile of bills. Brooke was telling me it was all my fault. She said I deserved to be treated 'shabbily,' as she put it. She called me weak and pathetic. I tried to argue with her, but she threatened to put me back on the street. I didn't have a choice, I had to listen to her."

  "Did this go on the entire time you were in the shelter?"

  "Not constantly, just enough to keep all us girls off balance. She might have been a bit nicer to the ones with kids, but she'd catch us at vulnerable moments. She said she was making us stronger. All she did was make us feel worse. A few of us started talking and decided we were getting out. The next thing we knew, she evicted one of them without any warning. She must have heard what we were up to. The woman had eyes and ears everywhere. I was never so glad as the day I got the barista job. It felt good to tell her what she could do with her shelter."

  It sounded an awful lot like Joy had hated Brooke. And maybe she thought she loved Miller, but murder? It also didn't look like she was going to be giving a full-blown confession anytime soon. The other problem was, with the entire scene from before the power outage nothing but a big blur, I had no other option than to try a little act of my own. "Holly told me you were on your mark when the lights went out, but she was wrong. She's remembering where she wanted you to be because you helped calm her down while she was freaking out. Where were you?"

  Joy gazed at Jack Frost with pleading eyes. "I was with you. Remember?"

  He started to say something, but I cut him off. "Your secret's out. She's got nothing on you now, so you might as well not add perjury to your resume."

  "What? What do you mean?" Joy smiled weakly. "Jack and I are just friends. He talked me into joining the play."

  "No," I said. "He didn't. You blackmailed him to get you this role. He's already confessed his sins."

  Joy's cheeks reddened and her shoulders sagged. "You can't prove anything. Besides, I remember now, I was in the dressing room." She sucked in a breath and winced.

  Thank goodness, one step closer. She'd just confessed to being in the right area. Still, this wasn't going to be easy.

  "She passed me a few seconds before all the chaos," Jack Frost said. "She was coming from backstage."

  I pushed past a couple of the actors and went to where the body lay. "So you saw her in this spot?"

  Jack nodded. "Right. I was about two feet left of where you're standing. I couldn't miss her. That's when the power went off." He glanced at Arlene and Scrooge. "She would have walked right past you two."

  Arlene nodded absently. "Someone bumped into me. I didn't know who it was."

  "Yeah, man, it was her. She muttered she was sorry and I recognized her voice. I just thought everybody was freaking out."

  "I heard them before the power outage." Mrs. Claus sighed. "It was brutal. Must be the stress. Anyway, I came back here for some water and…I saw something purple…it was your hair. You were watching Brooke and Miller go at it. You were there, plain as day."

  "When we met, you told me you were left-handed."

  "So?"

  "Brooke was hit on the left side of the head. It's consistent with her being struck from behind by a lefty. The cops can te
st for blood and prints, but I'll bet you used Scrooge's staff as the murder weapon. You would have held it with your left hand above your right and swung like this." I made a swooping motion with my arms in an arc. It was all one big deception, but Holly had made it work so why couldn't I?

  Joy closed her eyes and sobbed. When she looked at Miller, she covered her mouth with a trembling hand. "That woman—she treated you like dirt. Miller, you should have been rid of her long ago. You deserved much better. You should have been able to follow your heart."

  "What are you saying?" Miller stared at Joy, his jaw hanging slack.

  "Nothing. Just that you…well…you didn't love her."

  "But you're in love with Miller, aren't you?" I looked at both of them, and recognition dawned on Miller's face.

  "Oh, my God. I didn't love…" Miller's face screwed up with loathing and his eyes cut toward Joy. "Her. She's…she's a coffee girl. A waitress."

  Joy's tenderness hardened, and she glared at Miller. "I'm beneath you? After what I did for you? You spineless…" She took a menacing step, then her knees gave out, and she collapsed. She lay on the floor sobbing with her face buried in the crook of her arm.

  "Show's over, folks," Chance said.

  Most of the others backed away, but Nicky and Arlene didn't budge. Chance's voice hardened as he spoke.

  "Everybody take a seat in the front row. I don't want anyone talking until the police arrive." Chance looked at Mrs. Claus. "You did get through, right?"

  "They're on their way. They said there were all sorts of problems. Traffic lights are out. Streets jammed. But, they're coming."

  About ten minutes later, we heard sirens out front. A pair of uniformed officers entered. Chance and I both rolled our eyes. These guys might be the first responders, but they were going to need all sorts of help. I just hoped they knew what they were in for.