Chasing Tinsel (Miranda Vaughn Mysteries) by Ellie Ashe Read Free Book Online Page A

 
    He nodded and waved at another blue-jacketed agent, then helped me to my feet. “Miss Vaughn, we’ll need you to get a statement from you. Are you okay?”  
    I nodded, then groaned at the pain in my head.  
    “Hey!” The agent’s shout hurt my head. He helped me to a bench and then waved toward another man and yelled out to him. “Hey, we’ve got an injury here.”  
    The man gave a curt nod, turned, and ran in the opposite direction.  
    “No, I’m fine.” I blinked to clear my vision and tried to find Murph in the melee. “How did you all get here so fast?”
    The man grinned again. “It helped that we were already here.”  
    I took in the scene and saw other FBI agents helping three men to their feet, their hands cuffed behind their backs—and one of them was Murph. I jumped to my feet.  
    “Oh, no! Not that Santa!”  
    The ground swayed beneath my feet, and the agent guided me back down to the bench. “You. Stay put,” he said firmly. “We’ll get everything sorted out downtown. Just stay here until the paramedics arrive.”  
    “But you’ve cuffed Murph! He’s one of the good guys!”  
    The agent’s puzzled expression was the last thing I saw as my vision dimmed at the edges, then went completely dark.  

CHAPTER FIVE

    I pressed the ice pack to the back of my head and squinted through the one-way mirror at the lineup of men wearing red suits. The three men standing behind me filled the room, which was no bigger than a walk-in closet.  
    “Miss Vaughn, do you recognize any of these, uh, Santas?” FBI Special Agent Barker asked.  
    The five men stood in a line, all wearing red Santa coats. I looked at each face in turn, wondering the whole time where the police department had found two extra Santa uniforms for the line-up.  
    “Santa Number One is the guy who was hanging out in front of the jewelry store a lot in December. He was there with the woman. They looked like they were shopping for engagement rings. I thought he must have worked at Prospect Point because they were there so often.”  
    “Why not her?” one of the men asked.  
    “Pardon?”  
    “Why did you think he worked there, but not her?”  
    “Oh, I guess because I saw him in the parking garage last night, getting into a white van. It was driven by Santa Number Five,” I said.  
    Agent Barker sat in the chair next to me, took out a notepad and jotted a few notes.  
    “You’re sure about Number Five?” he asked.  
    I nodded. “I got a good look at him in the parking garage. That nose is distinct.”  
    “That it is,” Agent Barker said. “Did you see him at the jewelry store today?”
    I frowned. “No. I mean, I didn’t get a good look at his face during the robbery.”  
    “Do you see anyone else in the line-up involved in the theft?”  
    “No, I told you already. Santa Number Three is Murph, uh, John Murphy. He’s just one of the mall Santas. He wasn’t involved. He was trying to help because Pete was chasing the elves.”  
    There was a long silence in the room and Agent Barker gave me a long stare. “What did you say his name was?”  
    “John Murphy.”  
    “Uh huh,” Agent Barker said, scratching more notes in his pad.  
    “You’re going to let Murph go now, right?”  
    “No.”  
    My head pounded, and I took a deep breath. “Okay, let me explain again. Murph works for the mall—”
    Agent Barker shook his head. “His name’s not Murph or John Murphy, any more than it’s Santa Claus or Saint Nick.”  
    “What?”  
    I turned and looked behind me at the local police detective and the other man, who had introduced himself as Deputy U.S. Marshal Frank Smith. The detective looked down, a small smile on his lips.
    The marshal frowned. “Miss Vaughn, that’s Gianni Soldano.”  
    I tilted my head. “Who?”
    Deputy Smith and Agent Barker exchanged another look and Barker cleared his throat before answering. “Gianni ‘Irish John’ Soldano. He’s the