Tags:
detective,
Crime,
series,
Holiday Season,
santa claus,
santa,
homicide,
nick spinelli,
valerie j clarizio,
social services,
santa clause,
mall santa,
child services,
clientele,
cookies for santa,
covert exposure,
dead santa,
santas little helper
attention
back to him. “I’m sorry but I meant to call you before you came up
here this afternoon. Our home visit for this afternoon has been
rescheduled for next week so I don’t have anything for you on the
docket for the remainder of the day.”
A blanket of relief fell over Spinelli. He
wouldn’t have to go on another one of these awful calls for a
couple of days but the relief was quickly chased off by
disappointment. He found himself wanting to spend time with her but
now that opportunity disappeared as well. He stood. “No problem,
I’ll be downstairs working on the Santa and Elf case. Call if you
need me.”
“Okay.”
Spinelli stepped into the hall outside her
office before he heard her loud gasp. He spun on his heel and
stepped back into her office to find her staring down at what
appeared to be an eight by ten photo. She held the photo in her
right hand and the legal sized envelope in her left hand. He
watched as she dropped the envelope and used her left hand to help
steady the shaking photo. She pulled the photo closer to her
eyes.
“What is it a picture of?” he asked as he
stepped around her desk and behind her to get a better look.
Spinelli stared down at a glossy of Shannon and Santa, and several
elves, including Aaron Reed. In the photo, Santa sat on a large red
velvet chair. The elves and Shannon surrounded him.
Shannon shifted her attention from the photo
to Spinelli who stood behind her, looking over her shoulder. “It’s
a promotional photo we took at the mall last week.”
Spinelli could easily see the sadness flood
her bright emerald green eyes. She turned her attention back to the
photo. Her shoulders slumped. “Seven of us in the photo, and now
two are gone,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry, Shannon.”
Shannon set the photo on her desk and picked
up the small yellow square sticky note stuck to her desktop
calendar. She reached up and handed it to Spinelli. “This was stuck
to the photo.”
He took the note from her. The note read,
“ Shannon, Be careful of the company you keep, things are not
always as they seem. Roland.”
He scanned the note again and then looked
down at Shannon.
“I don’t know what he’s talking about. I
don’t know who he means,” Shannon blurted in an unsteady voice,
shaking her head.
Spinelli glanced at the envelope the photo
came in. The envelope showed no return address and the date stamp
happened to be the same day Roland Hudson’s body was found. He
placed the note in front of her. “Shannon, do you recognize this
handwriting? Is it Roland’s?” he asked in a calm controlled voice
in effort to not rattle her any more than she already was.
She studied the note. “I don’t know. I don’t
recall if I ever saw anything Roland wrote.”
“Had you spent time with Roland?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, were you friends? Did you do
anything together? How well did you know him?”
Shannon thought for a moment. “I really
didn’t know him all that well. He was just a nice old man who
played Santa Claus at the mall. I only ever saw him when we worked
together the past couple of seasons.”
Spinelli shifted his eyes back to the photo.
“How about the other people in the photo? Who are they and how well
do you know them?”
Shannon stared at the photo for a moment.
“Outside of working with them I never see them. All I know about
them is their names and the fact they are college students.”
A monstrous wave of adrenaline rippled
through Spinelli’s veins moving his senses into “full alert” mode
and a tsunami of questions flooded his mind. Did Roland really send
the photo and message? If so, who, and what, exactly was he trying
to warn her about? If Roland didn’t send the package, who did? And,
how much danger was she really in?
Spinelli looked down and stared into
Shannon’s big innocent naïve eyes. Unfortunately, he knew the
answer to the most pertinent question. Two murders equal a lot
of
Learning to Kill: Stories