Death, Taxes, and Mistletoe Mayhem by Diane Kelly - Tara Holloway 6.50 - Death Taxes & Mistletoe Mayhem

Author:Diane Kelly - Tara Holloway 6.50 - Death, Taxes & Mistletoe Mayhem [Kelly, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781466847088
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 18111032
Publisher: St. Martin's Paperbacks
Published: 2012-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Operation: Secret Santa

Megan

Thursday morning, after cruising through the neighborhoods and Forest Park, Brigit and I headed to the mall. I waited a few feet from Santa’s throne while an adorable but greedy redheaded girl shared an exhaustive list of Christmas wishes with Chris. She’d been on the man’s lap yakking nonstop for nearly ten minutes before she began to wrap things up.

“… and roller skates, and an iPad, and a kitten. An orange one. One that’s a girl.” She scrunched her shoulders and raised her palms. “That’s all!”

Chris gestured toward Brigit. “Sure you don’t want a dog instead?”

Brigit wagged her tail and woofed.

The little girl shook her head. “That dog would take up my whole bed!”

Tell me about it.

When the girl climbed down from Santa’s lap, I held up a hand, signaling the next mother and child to wait. “Official police business. I have intel on naughties.”

Chris patted his knee as I approached. “Want to climb aboard?”

I was definitely tempted but declined with a smile. I pulled several pieces of folded paper from my breast pocket, removed my hat, and dropped them inside. I made a pretext of mixing the papers around, though it was of no consequence. Each folded noted contained the same name. Officer Megan Luz. Holding the hat out to Santa, I said, “Pick one.”

Chris extended a white-gloved hand. “What’s this?”

“The Secret Santa drawing.”

He chuckled. “Not much of a secret where I’m concerned, is it?” He chose a piece of paper and unfolded it for a quick peek.

I leaned toward him and whispered. “Who’d you get?”

He held the paper over his head out of my reach and grinned. “I’ll never tell.”

I pulled my baton from my belt, extending it with a quick flick of my wrist—snap!—and twirling it between my fingers. “I have ways to make you talk, old man.”

He tucked the paper into his glove and wagged a finger at me. “Now, now. Do you want to end up on my naughty list?”

Definitely.

I returned my baton to my belt, scooped the remaining pieces of paper out of my hat, and put my hat back on my head. “A group of us are meeting for drinks after work at the Flying Saucer. Interested?”

“Count me in.”

Perfect. The plans Tara and I had made to play matchmaker were falling into place.

“Later on, Chris Kringle.”

Step one of Operation Secret Santa now complete, my partner and I headed out of the center section and down the extension to the Victoria’s Secret store. I repeated the name-drawing process with Charlotte, though I pulled the folded name slips from my pants pocket instead. Every one of this set read Tara Holloway.

Charlotte selected one of the slips, unfolded the paper, and smiled when she saw the name inside. “This will be easy.”

I leaned toward her and whispered. “Who’d you get?”

She held the paper close to her chest. “I’m not saying.”

I gathered up the extra slips of paper and stuck them back into my pants pocket, returning my hat to my head. “A bunch of us are meeting at the Flying Saucer after work.

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