12 Days Read Free Page B

father gave him for his eighteenth birthday so many years ago. The tie was bothering him. In a flash, it was undone. He couldn’t have that thing around his neck. Then he smiled. I wonder , he thought, if the queer from last night felt the same way. No, that was different. That was the end of that stupid man’s story, but for me, this is just the beginning.
    He let the tie hang unfurled about his neck, giving him an air of European insouciance; over-sized Gucci knockoff sunglasses made the look complete. There now, confident and successful. He smiled. Showtime!
     
    Day One: 1:30 p.m.
    Janette McDermott, looking like the first lady of Pasadena in a sharp green dress with tasteful pearls, exited the steps of St. Ignatius Loyola church after the 12:30 Christmas mass, with her picture perfect family in line. It was a pleasant experience even though Father Rogan, who presided, was getting a little long in the tooth for the Eucharistic miracle. The good father would celebrate mass in an odd half-English, half-Latin variant that left everyone in the congregation confused. But not even Father Logan could ruin this glorious day. Janette and Bill had taken two cars to church that morning, as she had to stop by the office to meet a potential client before returning home for Christmas dinner. Despite the family’s protestations, she reminded them that they owed their current good fortune to Pasadena real estate and that she had a big one on the hook. An Italian gentleman wanted to see only the high-end stuff and she was not about to turn down the possibility of a six-figure commission. Bill had volunteered to take the client, but Janette demurred. She always took the rich old men and Bill would get the women; a little flirting went a long way in the sales business. She waved to her kids as they piled into the Hummer and kissed Bill before he drove away. Janette started her Lexus and began the drive to her office. She looked forward to her encounter with the Italian professor.
     
    Day One: 1:45 p.m.
    Lisa entered the editor’s room with two very large frappacinos from the Seattle coffee chain that seemed to have a store on every block in Hollywood. The studio was quiet during the early afternoon hours most days and especially so today. Lisa produced the “Ten O’clock News Hour” and most of the staff didn’t show until three in the afternoon. That meant she and Milt had the run of the studio for another hour.
    She handed Milt his coffee.
    “Drink this,”
    “Thanks, boss lady.”
    She glanced at the monitor.
    “Anything good?”
    “Pretty routine stuff. Sycamore tree, police tape, concerned neighbors. Oh wait, we have exclusive footage of a dead Santa silhouetted against the rising sun, swinging from a tree on Christmas morning. But we can’t use that, because you made a deal with Officer Jovial.”
    “Jovian,” Lisa corrected.
    “Who cares? I can’t believe you cut that deal. This is amazing; I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it.”
    “Milt…”
    “What?”
    Lisa smiled.
    “We’ve worked together a long time. Do you trust me?”
    “Yes, Lisa.”
    “Do I not always have a plan?”
    “Yes, Lisa, you do.”
    “Then let’s take a look at the footage and leave Officer Jovian to me.”
    Lisa patted Milt on the head playfully.
    “Okay,” Milt agreed reluctantly.
    “What have we got?”
    Milt turned to his keyboard.
    “We can start with the body bag being loaded into the coroner’s wagon and then show some shots of the tree. Look, you can see where the branch almost broke. And then I thought we could add an interview with the jogger who spotted him…”
    Lisa was looking at the video while Milt talked, half–listening, when she spotted something on the sycamore.
    “Stop there,” she said.
    “Lisa, we have to interview you…”
    “No, the frame. Go back to the tree.”
    Milt rolled back the dial and the tape jumped in compliance. “Okay, where…”
    “Right there.”
    She pointed to a spot