Mall Santa Murder: A Cozy Christmas Mystery (Gemma Stone Cozy Mystery Book 1) (5 page)

In all the excitement Gemma had totally forgotten all about her coffee. With shaking hands she reached for the cup, opened the little flap on the white plastic lid and took a sip. It was cold. She made a face, swallowed it down, and answered, “Well, it’s not every day that you find Santa dead.”

“You got that right,” Ferguson said with a little chuckle. “How did you find him, by the way?”

“I heard crying, and when I went to investigate there was a little girl standing just inside Santa Land.”

“A little girl?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What was she doing here?”

Gemma took a deep breath. “Waiting for her mom. The babysitter dropped her off and she was supposed to wait with Santa until her mom showed up.”

“Jesus!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too, until her mom showed up. She was Santa’s ex-wife, Rosalie McLear. The little girl was his step-daughter.”

Now she had Detective Ferguson’s full attention. “So the kid almost found her step-dad’s body?”

Gemma took a deep breath and another sip of the cold coffee. It tasted nasty but she could almost feel the caffeine shooting down her arms and legs. In the background she watched Nick talking to people and furiously taking notes. She knew that a camera man would be here soon from the paper. Bill Chandler had barely moved from his place at the entrance to his kiosk and Ralph the Elf was on his cell phone again, pacing madly. Grady Jackson was nowhere to be seen which Gemma thought was unusual. She figured he’d be glued to the detective’s coat tails.

The sad little mall did not need this kind of attention, nor did the other artisans who were just getting geared up for the big holiday shopping season. Ferguson interrupted her thoughts.

“And then her mother showed up. Santa’s ex-wife?”

His deep voice brought Gemma’s attention back to the handsome man in front of her. “Yes, sir. We both thought he had just passed out or something.”

The detective looked confused.

“Um, Santa seemed to hit the bottle on a pretty regular basis,” Gemma explained. “I just didn’t want the little girl to see her dad like that.”

“So she just left with the child?”

“Yes, I...,” Gemma stopped talking, struck completely mute by a thought. “You don’t think she did it? Killed him, I mean? Do you?"

Detective Ferguson remained as cool as ever. “First of all, I don’t know that he was killed.”

“Sorry,” Gemma said, shaking her head.

“And I’m not jumping to any conclusions until I’ve talked with everyone.”

“It just dawned on me that she...” Gemma finished with a shrug.

“She what?”

“She was here the other day. They got into a huge fight,” Gemma told him.

The notebook appeared in his hand again. “Argued over what?”

“Child support mostly, I think, but he told her he had a plan. I don’t think she really believed him,” Gemma explained.

“What was the plan?”

Gemma shrugged. “I don’t know. They went over there by the boutique behind Santa Land to talk privately about it.”

“Do you know of anyone else who might have not been happy with Santa?”

“Everyone except the children. They all loved him,” Gemma said sadly.

“What about you?”

“He was obnoxious and always hitting on me, but I think he was harmless,” Gemma explained with a shrug.

The detective made more notes in his notebook and then turned that engaging smile on her again. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Stone. I’ll be in touch. In the meantime, here’s one of my cards,” he said and wrote a phone number on the back. “This is my personal cell. Call me if you think of anything else at all.”

“I will,” Gemma promised.

Just as he was moving away, Holly came flying into the kiosk behind her. “Oh, God, are they questioning you? They don’t think you did it? Do you need an attorney? Should we call Mitch?”

Gemma had never seen her normally level-headed friend like this. “No, he was just asking me questions and they really aren’t calling it a murder investigation yet.”

“There are plenty of policemen here. And I saw Nick,” Holly told her.

“He’s covering this for the paper. Detective Ferguson is going to interview everyone else that was around when I found the...him. Santa,” Gemma tried to soothe her friend’s nerves. “Again, they’re not calling it murder yet.”

“What do you think?”

“I certainly don’t think Santa wrapped that garland around his own neck and committed suicide here at the mall,” Gemma said, watching the detective’s broad back as he questioned Bill Chambers.

T
he two women worked together quietly for the next few hours, with Holly double checking Gemma’s order numbers and then, at the last minute, showing her a sketch of a beautiful pendant she had come up with the night before. Then Holly’s mother Brenda came to take over. Brenda was just a more mature version of her daughter, with the same bright eyes, dark hair and quick mind.

“You really should go home,” Brenda told Gemma kindly. “You look exhausted.”

“Yeah, this morning shook me up a little bit,” Gemma confessed.

“I’m not surprised,” Brenda said, concern showing on her pretty face.

Even as they talked, Gemma glanced at Santa Land. It was still surrounded by crime scene tape and pretty much deserted. Nick had gone back to the paper to do some research for his story. Bill worked quietly alone in his kiosk. Ralph the Elf was nowhere to be seen. The only other people Gemma saw was Grady Jackson and several of his security crew, all of them in their neatly pressed khaki uniforms. Evidently, they had suddenly decided that they needed to be more visible.

Too late for Santa, Gemma thought.

In reality she just wanted to go home and collapse for a while before coming back to work the evening shift with Holly.

Jingle Bells rang through the PA system as Gemma stepped out into the parking lot. It was early afternoon. The sky was leaden and snow was coming down, not fast or heavy but light, fluffy flakes that the wind blew this way and that. She pulled her coat tighter around her and tip-tapped across the parking lot to her car. Turning the key in the ignition, she smiled when it started right up. She turned the heat on high and then the wipers to brush away the accumulated snow. All she could think about was getting home to her comfortable pajamas, a cup of hot cocoa and a nap.

Holding her breath, she put the car in drive. Nothing. She shifted the transmission back into park, gave it ten more minutes and tried again. The car didn’t budge.

“Rosie, what am I going to do with you?” Gemma whined, resting her head on the steering wheel. She swore softly under her breath. Movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she saw Detective Ferguson walking slowly past her, head down, like he was deep in thought. She was surprised he was still at the mall, especially since he had been so interested in talking to Rosalie right away. His questioning of the others must have been thorough.

Holly’s words came back to Gemma about needing a lawyer. “Am I a suspect?” she asked her reflection in the side mirror. Her red-gold curls were totally out of control due to the humidity, making her look like a madwoman. Oh, well.

On impulse, she turned the engine off, pulled out the key and opened the door.

“Hello, Detective,” she called out, giving her car door an extra - hard slam and a dirty look.

He turned, realized who had called his name, and waved. “Ms. Stone. I thought you’d gone home,” he said as she made her way over to where he stood with the wind blowing his dark hair and his coat flapping around his legs.

“Please call me Gemma,” she said a bit breathlessly when she reached him.

His gaze immediately went to her high heeled boots and then he smiled at her and shook his head. His eyes were even darker than she remembered from that morning. “And you can call me Ross,” he told her.

“How is the investigation going?” she asked.

“Too soon to tell,” he answered. There was that dimple again.

“Have you talked to his ex-wife yet?” she asked.

“An officer went to her house earlier to let her know about her loss. I was just going to talk to her to see if she had any idea who might want her husband dead,” he answered.

“So you are calling this a murder investigation?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a tired sounding sigh. “As bad as I hate to, that’s what we’re calling it. Coroner did a preliminary examination and, yes, it looks like he was strangled.”

“Any other suspects yet?” she asked.

He laughed and shook his head. “A whole mall full.”

Gemma thought his laughter sounded coarse, rusty, as if he didn’t use it much. She liked the sound. “This might be a little unorthodox,” she began, “but could I come along with you?”

“Now why would you want to do that?”

“I’ve met Mrs. McLear before. Having a woman with you might make her feel more comfortable. It also might make her relax a little, so she'll share any information,” Gemma suggested with a shrug. “You could deputize me or something.”

Ross Ferguson seemed to consider her statement for a moment and finally he said, “Why not? You want to ride with me or follow me?”

“Um, I have to ride with you,” she said with an apologetic smile. “My car doesn’t always cooperate with me.”

He laughed again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Yeah, Gemma thought, it was nice to see him laugh, too.

“Come on,” he said and unlocked the big, black Crown Vic.

Gemma slid inside the unmarked police car clutching her purse in her lap. She wanted to at least make sure she wasn’t under suspicion and maybe she could shed some light on the other people she thought might be suspects.

“Do you want coffee?” he asked after he’d started the engine and the heat was circulating around Gemma’s legs.

“That would be great,” she told him.

He stopped at the closest drive-through and got two coffees. Rather than fiddle with cream or sugar, Gemma just sipped hers. It wasn’t as bad as she thought it might be and she settled in for the ride.

The detective’s cell phone buzzed in his coat pocket. He ignored it, checked the address he had for Rosalie McLear and pulled out into light midday traffic. The snow came down a bit harder and Gemma watched the flakes swirl and dance in the wind. It struck her as odd that such a terrible day looked so cheerful.

“Is Mrs. McLear a suspect?” Gemma asked eventually, trying hard not to sound too interested in the answer.

“She was closest to the victim, as far as his relationships. I have to start there and work my way out,” he answered, keeping his eyes on the road.

Gemma thought for a moment. Rosalie McLear had been at there early that morning to pick up her child. She could have killed him in a fit of passion, but that just didn’t sit right with Gemma. And she wouldn’t have left him for her child to find. No mother would do that to her child. Would they?

“So you said you had a whole mall full of suspects,” Gemma prompted, taking a quick glance at the detective. His profile was classic - a strong jaw line, a firm chin and a regal nose.

“Well, I’ve actually narrowed it down to a few,” he answered.

“Besides Mrs. McLear?”

“Yes, besides her,” he said with a chuckle. "She was closest, but not the only person with a motive."

“Let me guess. Ralph the Elf would be first on my list. He really hated Santa,” she said.

Ross nodded. “He really, really hated Santa and made no bones about it in our interview. And he was there early this morning.”

“Why did he hate Santa so much?”

“Two reasons,” Ross said, holding up two long fingers. “He thought that this year he was going to get to be Santa. He’s tried every year but never makes it,” he explained and then used both hands to expertly steer the car through a busy intersection. “And then they choose someone like Sam whose moral character is, shall we say, questionable.”

Gemma could see why Ralph would never be Santa. The short little guy with the pointy ears was an elf, not a Santa. Then it dawned on her what Detective Ferguson had said. “Questionable?”

The cell phone in his pocket buzzed again, sounding insistent. “Sam McLear got the job this year because of his legal problems,” he said.

Gemma looked at him in confusion. "What does that mean?"

“He was doing community service for his latest arrest.”

“For?”

“Public intoxication and shoplifting.”

“Ross, he could barely stand up half the time, much less steal from someone,” Gemma argued.

“I searched his locker, Gemma.”

“Oh.” That made sense. Wait. "And?"

He nodded. “It was full of stolen goods.”

Gemma’s mouth dropped open. She remembered Bill Chandler being so angry with Santa for stealing from him. She tried to remember what he did with his hands when he was near her kiosk. She’d been so busy dodging his advances and the smell of his breath, she just couldn’t remember anything else. “What was in his locker?”

Detective Ferguson didn’t reply right away. He stared out the windshield and concentrated on his driving. He adjusted the heat, his seatbelt, even tugged at his tie. His cell vibrated and whirred but he continued to ignore it.

Now Gemma was really curious. “Well?”

“Male enhancement products from the GNC,” he finally said, working hard to keep the smile off of his face.

Gemma put a hand over her mouth and giggled. She couldn’t help it. The thought of Santa chasing women all over the place and then stealing male enhancement products was just plain silly. When she looked up Detective Ferguson was smiling, too and then they both burst into laughter.

“Maybe Bill Chambers was right,” Gemma told him when their laughter had subsided. “He was really angry about it.”

“You were missing items as well, according to your partner, Holly,” he added.

Gemma nodded. “We were.”

“My question is, why didn’t someone report it?” he asked, glancing at her.

Before she could answer, he parked on the street in front of a small bungalow with an even smaller yard that was full of children’s toys. The house looked slightly dreary under the gray sky. The wind was getting colder but the snow had stopped temporarily. They climbed out of the car and she followed him up the cracked walk.