The Santa Slaughter - A Very Merry Murder Mystery

Chapter 4

The morning passes in a riot of children giddy on sugar and excited to see Santa - or one of his authorized "helpers", as one particularly serious-looking little boy informs me in a low enough voice that it won't reach his toddler sister, who is so busy ogling Fred Astaire she's oblivious to everything.

"That's right," I tell him, with a wink. "Just like me. We all work for the real Santa."

The little boy's eyes widen and I can see a hundred questions welling up in his little brain, so I'm only too happy when he reaches the front of the queue and I can usher him deeper into the grotto, past Zany and Nutella - I still haven't got a handle on their non-elf names - who are involved in the sort of whispered conversation that has nothing to do with the North Pole.

"The queue could do with some managing," I say, trying not to come over all Mom on them. They both execute perfectly timed eye-rolls but do at least step outside the cozy interior of the grotto and I turn to smile at Bill. "This young man has been waiting ever so patiently to see you, Santa!"

"Ho ho ho!" Bill beams at me, then beckons the little boy closer. "And what's your name, young man?"

"Matthew." The boy pushes his glasses a little further up his nose and looks as if he's coming up with a question or two that even the real Santa might struggle to satisfactorily answer.

"Why don't you tell Santa what you want for Christmas, Matthew? I'm going to go grab our camera and then we can take a nice photo to show Mommy and Daddy. Did you want your sister to be in it with you?"

Matthew shrugs in a way that wouldn't have looked out of place on my teenaged non-helpers, and I decide to see if I can tempt his tiny twin away from the reindeer with the promise of a candy cane.

"Nutella!" I call to the taller of the two elves, the one who's got our camera slung over one shoulder, oblivious to the fact that it really ought to stay inside the grotto. "Nutella!" It takes me three tries before I realize that isn't her name, and hiding my embarrassment I tap her lightly on the shoulder. She lets out a shriek and I feel a hundred pairs of eyes turn my way. "Can I - can I get the camera?" I ask, pointing to it. The teenager laughs awkwardly, embarrassed at her overreaction, and slides it off her shoulder, holding it out to me. Her eyes are still a little wide and I can see, despite her laughter, that she'd been properly frightened. She blinks, and her old blank expression is back in place. I frown, wondering if I'd imagined it. "Are you alright?" I ask, but Bill's voice makes its way out of the grotto, calling me back.

"Now where has that Icey Sprinklecakes got to?" A pause. "Icey!"

"That's my cue!" I say, turning towards Fred Astaire, who's still standing there enjoying the admiration of a little crowd of toddlers and their moms. My eyes narrow until I spot the handsome reindeer handler and I realize Fred Astaire isn't the only thing the moms are admiring.

"So, do they take a lot of care?" One mom asks, tugging thoughtfully on a silver snowman earring. "The reindeer, I mean." She giggles.

"Well, we only have one." The handler reaches into a leather pouch he has slung around his hips and pulls out half a carrot he holds in the flat of his hand for Fred to take. "He's living with my sister in Monroe Cove until she can find him a more permanent home." He winks. "But she was happy to loan him to me to spread a little Christmas cheer, and I'm never one to look a gift-horse in the mouth. Or in this case, a gift-reindeer."

There's a chorus of enthusiastic laughter and I swallow a groan, spotting Matthew's little sister and crouching down next to her.

"Hey, honey!" I pass her a candy cane. "Your big brother is about to have his photograph taken with Santa. Want to join him?" I look around, trying to match the little girl to one of the mothers in the crowd but nobody seems to be paying us the slightest bit of attention. I straighten, but a quick survey of the Hot Chocolate Hut doesn't seem to have any stray parents. I feel a tug on my lycra knees and bend down to see that the little girl is clinging to me, holding her hands out in an imploring gesture to be picked up. Fairly sure I'm about to be accused of child abduction and determined to fight it with my just doing my duty as an elf defense, I scoop the little girl up, holding her neatly against my hip. "Where's your Mommy?" I ask her, but she's far more interested in my camera. I frown, but as nobody's come hollering at me to put their daughter down, I decide the very least I can do is get this photograph taken. Maybe Matthew will know where his parents have got to. "Come on, sweetie. Let's go see Santa."

I hurry back into the grotto, and Matthew's sister starts squirming right as we reach Santa's throne. I frown. There's something wrong with this picture. There's Matthew, patiently hanging on to his pick from the present barrel. I put his sister down on her own two feet and she wobbles towards him. But Bill? He's nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Santa?" I ask, checking sticky toddler fingers didn't do any lasting damage to the camera.

"He just stepped outside for a minute," Matthew says, in the kind of voice that suggests he's quoting Bill verbatim on that.

Just stepped outside for a minute? I inwardly rage. When you have a child in here with you and a dozen more still queuing up outside? Our lunch break isn't for another quarter-hour yet.

"Are you two ok to wait here for a moment?" I ask, looking at Matthew for confirmation. He's tilted the present barrel onto its edge so his sister can reach inside and get her gift, but when he catches my eye he hurriedly straightens it. "Here," I say, reaching down into the box next to Santa's throne. "Have a candy cane." I grin. "I'll be right back, and then we'll get this photo!" My smile slips as soon as I turn away, and by the time I fight my way into the outdoors, I'm ready to really tell Bill off. Matthew might be weirdly grown up for a little kid, but he's still just that. A little kid, who waited patiently to see Santa, and doesn't deserve to be ditched so Bill can take a phone call, or...

Thump.

My foot catches on something that sends me sprawling onto the ground. I scramble back upright, my palms stinging, and look down to see what tripped me. I don't remember any obstacles lining the path earlier. My heart stops as I see Santa - Bill - stretched out on the ground in front of me. For one crazy moment, I think he just stepped outside for a minute to take a nap and I open my mouth to tell him he shouldn't be lying in the street but then I realise he isn't napping at all. His eyes are wide open, staring up at the sky but seeing nothing. And the pool of red that's spreading out from underneath him isn't his coat. It's blood.

Bill is dead.

***

A/N - I hope you are enjoying this fun little Christmas mystery! I will be updating chapters regularly here but if you want to read the whole thing in its entirety for free it is available on my Ream page (see link on my profile page) - sign up as a follower (for free) to keep reading and find out about all my other projects :)