Trouble Under the Tree (A Nina Quinn Mystery) (9 page)

Then I came to my senses and realized I was
freezing. I quickly finished dragging the trash to the Dumpster and
heaved it over the side. On the way back, I saw that my footprints
had already been covered up with snow. At the rate it was falling,
Jenny wouldn’t have to worry about opening on time—because no one
would be going out in this weather.

I needed to herd my ragtag crew together and
send them home before roads became too treacherous to travel.
Picking up my pace, I frowned when I saw the door I left ajar
firmly closed. I tugged on the handle, but it didn’t budge. The
makeshift door stopper I’d used had been dislodged by the wind.

Wonderful
.

I banged on the metal door for a few minutes,
the sound jarring in the snowy silence.

No one answered.

I glanced around. It was a long, frigid walk
around the building. I grabbed for my cell phone and groaned when I
saw it wasn’t working. The screen had scrambled, and I realized it
must have been damaged when the sprinklers went off.

As I stomped off, I realized how much I must
have looked like my mother had this morning. It actually made me
smile, which was a good thing, because I had a feeling that for a
second there I had also shared my mother’s going-to-kill-someone
mentality.

Kicking into a jog, I silently thanked Duke,
my trainer (who would love this story when I told him). His
ceaseless treadmill training had finally come in handy. I jogged
around the building and noticed a car parked at the edge of the
lot, closest to me. The back windows were open, and the front ones
were steamed.

What on earth?

As I drew closer, I heard a giggle, and the
front windows powered down.

A flushed Santa, complete with beard and hat,
said, “Ho ho ho!” when he saw me. “Who have we got here?”

A head popped up beside his and peered
out.

Ho, ho, ho, indeed.

“Nina!” Fairlane exclaimed. “What are you
doing out there? You’ll catch a death!”

I cringed at the phrase, but it didn’t seem
to faze Fairlane. In fact, she didn’t seem the least bit bothered
that she was completely naked, either.

Santa, aka Drunk Dave, too.

I was going to need a therapist after all
this.

“Locked out of the back door.” I couldn’t
help but add, “What are you doing out here?”

As if it wasn’t fairly obvious, with the
nakedness and steamed windows. I just wanted to hear what she had
to say for herself. I certainly wasn’t looking at a grieving
sister.

“Baby, it’s cold outside,” Santa said,
slurring his words.

Fairlane giggled and said, “Santa, here, is
just helping me celebrate!” She placed her hands on Dave’s
shoulders, and I noticed her fingernails had been painted a flaming
red color. “I was rehired this morning.”

This had to be Benny’s doing. “Does Jenny
know?”

“She doesn’t call the shots around this
place,” Fairlane said, an arch to her eyebrow.

Santa made kissy noises at Fairlane. “Maybe
you can put in a good word for me with Ben. Get me my job back. My
wife ain’t gonna be happy that I got fired.”

“I’ll try, Santa, baby,” she cooed.

I thought I might be sick. I wiped snowflakes
from my eyelashes. My rising temper counterbalanced the cold air.
“I doubt your wife would be happy about
this
.” I gestured to
the car, the steamed windows, the
nakedness
.
Ick
.

“Ooh,” Santa said. “The little lady wouldn’t
be happy. Oh no, sirree. That one has a temper, let me tell you.
Best we keep this to ourselves,” he said, winking.

Fairlane snuggled against him. “Nina’s a
party pooper, isn’t she, Santa?”

I groaned and stomped away.

Fairlane called after me. “You’ll keep this
to yourself, right, Nina? Right?”

I pretended I didn’t hear. It was a vastly
better option that flipping her the bird, which was my first
inclination.

As I pulled open the door to Christmastowne,
I threw a look back at their car. It was rocking.

I was suddenly queasy and regretting that
Krispy Kreme I ate this morning.

But I also wondered what Drunk Dave’s wife
would do
if
she found out that Fairlane had been boinking
Santa?

Would she be mad enough to murder the faux
Mrs. Claus?

Chapter Eight

"You’re looking a little green around the
gills, Abominable,” Kevin said as I dripped melting snow all over
Santa’s Cottage.

Once back inside Christmastowne, I’d thanked
my crew, told them I owed them all, and sent them home before they
were all stranded here. Then I tracked Kevin to Santa’s Cottage,
eager to tell him about what I’d seen in the parking lot.

I borrowed a table cloth to dry off. “The
things I’ve seen...”

Kevin sat in Santa’s chair, taking notes in a
tiny steno notebook. I knew he didn’t need the information down on
paper—his memory was impeccable, but he said writing things down
helped him think more clearly. There was a furrow between his brows
and as he looked at me, I saw troubled eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“More toys are missing.”

“But the building’s been closed—there haven’t
been any donations in days.”

A corner of his lip quirked. “I set a little
trap in Santa’s chest. Someone bit.”

“Who?”

There was an electric fire going in the faux
fireplace. It emitted little heat, but enough that I wanted to
climb onto the hearth and toast my tuchus. Nancy Davidson’s camera
bag and equipment was set up, ready to snap shots with Santa, but I
didn’t see her around.

“I don’t know. Yet.” He stretched a long leg.
Pointing above the door, he said, “See that exit sign?”

“Am I blind?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s a hidden video
camera, one that senses motion. Nancy Davidson helped me rig it up
yesterday.” He held up a tiny camera card. “As soon as I get home
and load this onto my computer, our thief will be revealed.”

Relieved, I sagged a bit. Riley was at
school—he would be completely in the clear. But I also realized
that whoever the thief was must work at Christmastowne. “How do you
know the thief isn’t Nancy?”

Kevin said, “I took a risk in asking for her
help, but I figured if she was the thief she’d be smart enough to
know she would be on camera if she stole the toys.”

Nancy didn’t seem like a thief to me. She
seemed more like the Neighborhood Watch leader, with her keen eyes
and seemingly boundless energy. “True enough.”

Kevin raised one eyebrow and added casually,
“You should get out of those soaked clothes right away, before you
catch a cold.”

I shivered, too cold to care about his
not-so-subtle innuendo. “Gee, I forgot my change of clothes when I
came to work to dig up some dead poinsettias and first got rained
on by a sprinkler system, then when I was locked out in a
blizzard.”

“What’s this about getting locked out?” He
tucked his pencil into the spirals of the notepad and slipped it
into his coat pocket.

“I went out back to the Dumpster and left the
door propped behind me. The wind blew it shut.”

His lip twitched.

“You better not laugh at me,” I warned.

“Or what?”

I shoved a dripping lock of hair off my
forehead. “Or you’re going to see one seriously ticked-off
Ninacicle.”

He stood and crossed over to me in two long
strides. He pushed my nose with his index finger. “No one wants to
see that, but really, you need to get out of those clothes. You can
borrow my elf costume.”

“I’d rather pneumonia.” I cozied by backside
up to the electric flames.

He shrugged out of his blazer and draped it
over my shoulders. His shoulder holster fit snug against his white
button down, outlining his muscles. “Don’t blame you. Those tights
are enough to make a grown man cry.”

“Now you know how women feel about nylons.” I
huddled into the warmth of the fabric and tried to ignore how his
scent suddenly enveloped me. “As I traipsed around the building to
get back inside, you’ll never believe who I came across in the
front parking lot.”

“At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if
Rudolph was out there.”

“No, he’s on my mother’s roof.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Probably. It’s good for a laugh, but maybe
another time. I saw Santa.”

“Drunk Dave?”

“The very same. And he wasn’t alone. He was
with Fairlane.”

“McCorkle?”

As if there was another. “She doesn’t seem
all that broken up by her sister’s death, does she?”

“What makes you say so?”

“She was naked and playing with Santa’s
jingle bells.” I explained about the steamed-up car.

He went to sit back down in Santa’s chair,
gave it a second look, and remained standing. “Just so you know,
you’re ruining Christmas for me.”

“What I want to know is what might have
happened if Drunk Dave’s wife found out he couldn’t keep his hands
to himself. This probably wasn’t the first time he and Fairlane
hooked up.”

Kevin smirked. “I’m not sure it’s
Dave’s
hands his wife has to worry about.”

Truer words might never have been spoken. As
Brickhouse had so eloquently put it, Fairlane was a hussy. “Either
way,” I said, “Dave’s wife might have a desire to see Fairlane
dead.”

***

Before I left Christmastowne, I went in
search of Jenny. I passed through the empty reception area of the
third floor office space—Jenny hadn’t hired an assistant yet—and I
found her sitting behind her desk, staring at a forty inch plasma
TV. The local weatherman was predicting snowmaggedon.

I thought that a big dramatic of him. It was
a snow storm, not the white death.

As I sat down, I noticed tears in Jenny’s
eyes. Outside the tinted windows, heavy snow fell. I couldn’t even
see my truck in the parking lot, which meant it was going to be a
fun ride home.
Not
.

“I’m going to have to stay closed today,” she
said.

A ticker at the bottom of the TV screen
listed all the local closings, including Riley’s school. I wondered
how he would get back to Kevin’s and tried not to worry.

“It’s probably best.” It would certainly
allow the place time to dry out. I glanced around. The divided
office was spacious but sparse. Jenny’s desk was neat as could be,
without a stray paperclip to be seen. “The forecast calls for a
warm-up tomorrow. All this snow will be gone by the weekend.”

Letting out a deep breath, she leaned back in
her chair. “I kind of wish the fire this morning burned this whole
place down.”

She seemed perfectly serious. “Really?”

“It’s been nothing but a nightmare.” She
rubbed her temples.

Benny’s desk was a mess, heaped with papers
and files, old coffee cups and take-out containers. His side of the
office was filled with pictures of himself in his old uniform,
getting awards, and at media events. There were no other people in
the shots. Only Benny.

Jenny’s side only had one picture. Her
wedding photo. She and Benny stood side by side, dressed in their
finery. Jenny gazed adoringly up at Benny, while he gazed adoringly
at the camera.

“Benny’s not exactly camera-shy, is he?” I
asked, standing to look at his pictures.

She smiled weakly. “There’s no one he likes
looking at more.”

“Even you?”

“Even me, Nina.” She sighed. “Now, what
brings you up to my dungeon?”

Snowflakes flecked the windows. “All the dead
poinsettias have been removed, but only half have been replanted.
My crew will be back tomorrow to finish the job.”

She narrowed her eyes on her watch. “Surely
there’s enough time to finish planting today.”

“I sent my crew home already. The roads are
getting dangerous.”

Angry eyes flashed at me. “Unacceptable.”

I stood up. I’d had enough of her abuse.
“Technically, I don’t have to be here at all, Jenny. The deaths of
those plants don’t fall under my warranty. Someone killed them on
purpose. So I suggest you start taking a good look at your
employees and try to figure out who’s sabotaging this place.
Because someone is. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She said nothing as I left, and as I walked
out, I nearly bumped into Benny.

By the guilty blush licking at his cheeks, it
was clear he’d been eavesdropping.

Chapter Nine

The roads were a disaster. Cars in ditches,
crawling traffic, and low visibility. I’d white-knuckled my
steering wheel the whole way home. Not even the Christmas carols on
the radio—or my new reindeer antlers—could relieve my anxiety.

I was never so glad to pull into my driveway
in all my life, but was a little surprised to see ruts of tire
tracks in the snow. Someone had been here recently.

Candy cane pathway lights led up to my front
porch, which had been decked out as gaudily as possible with
multiple strings of lights, dangling snowflakes, and icicles.
Several light-up snowmen and painted ornaments were staked in my
front yard. My mother’s pawned-off snow globe was in my side yard
but not currently inflated. It was a Christmas wonderland, and I
loved it.

Bracing myself for the cold, I shouldered
open the truck door and trudged through the blowing snow and
ankle-high drifts. I skirted the house to go in the side door and
noticed that the Snoopy snow globe would have to be dug out if I
wanted to use it tonight.

I pushed open the door leading into the
mud-slash-laundry room, and immediately a
yip
ping,
yap
ping ruckus started.

A tiny black ratlike creature barreled toward
me, skidded on the linoleum, and knocked into my legs. As it
continued its noisy welcome, I kicked off my boots and shrugged out
of my coat. Bending over, I picked it up the black blob. “Hi,
Gracie.”