waiting in line to meet their holiday hero.
"Go try to find a security guard or mall cop or something," I said quietly. "Tell him who we are and what we've found. I'll call the police. I don't want to draw any attention to dead Santa over there. Do you know how badly that would ruin Christmas for these kids?"
"What a nightmare," Kelly groaned. "I'll be back as soon as I can." She shook her head as she hurried away to find security.
She was right. This was one heck of a holiday discovery. I pinched my nose when I realized that I'd just sent Kelly in search of a competent mall cop. Competent being the key word. I remember locking my purse in my car a few months back. The lanky mall cop I'd found then had acted like he hadn't a clue what to do when all I'd really needed him to do was call a locksmith.
The fleeting image of Kelly leading Paul Blart on his Segway to the crime scene flitted through my mind, and I cringed.
I kept my back to the dead body beneath the tree with the hope that my body would block the view so no one else would spot poor, dead Santa. I was surprised that they hadn't already, but he was shoved under there pretty good. My spotting him had been a sheer stroke of bad luck.
I pulled my cell phone from my jeans pocket and dialed 9-1-1.
The dispatcher answered, took down the information, then told me that a squad car was on the way and to stay calm. The joke was on her. This wasn't my first dead body. The last dead guy I'd found was floating face down in a hotel pool when I was still training to be a private investigator, but that was a story for another day.
I thanked the dispatcher and hung up.
I spotted Kelly and a rather large, handsome security guard hurrying toward me. Not a mall cop. A security guard, thank goodness.
I had to blink to make sure I wasn't seeing things.
Nope.
Tall. Handsome. Security guard.
Score one for Kelly.
Once they reached me, the guard shook my hand. "I'm Eric Weidman of Weidman Security. We were hired on as extra help for the holiday season." That explained so much. Like why he was so calm, cool, collected, and hot , with his muscular build, salt and pepper hair, and dazzling blue eyes.
Did I mention that I have a thing for older men? "I'm Barb Jackson of Jackson Investigations. Pleased to meet you." I shook the man's hand.
"I don't want to alarm anyone," he continued, "especially all of those kids. Are you sure the guy is dead?" he asked in a hushed voice as he leaned close to me.
"Definitely." I nodded subtly at the tree behind me.
He nodded once then glanced over my shoulder again. "Oh, he's dead all right."
I raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. Did he think I was kidding? Who made jokes about a dead guy under the Christmas tree?
He glanced behind me at the tree, then back to me. "Are you all right?"
"This isn't my first dead guy," I admitted. "And to be honest, he looks even deader than my last. I called the police, and a squad car is on its way."
He pressed a button on the radio attached to his shoulder. "It wasn't a joke," he said into the speaker. "We need to get all of these people out of here before someone else sees the body. I'm not into ruining Christmas for a bunch of little kids. The police are on their way, so let's clear this place out before they arrive."
The radio crackled to life. "We'll take care of it."
A few moments later, a rather rotund man with cocoa-colored skin hopped up onto the pedestal in front of the tree and waved his arms to get everyone's attention. He reminded me of the dad on that television show with Steve Urkel. It was the wrong time and place, but I couldn't help cracking a smile at the resemblance.
"On behalf of everyone here at the East Wing Mall, I must apologize, but Winter Wonderland with Santa has been cancelled tonight due to unforeseen circumstances."
Using the term unforeseen circumstance to describe the dead Santa beneath the tree was a bit of an understatement, but whatever it took to get the innocent
"Go try to find a security guard or mall cop or something," I said quietly. "Tell him who we are and what we've found. I'll call the police. I don't want to draw any attention to dead Santa over there. Do you know how badly that would ruin Christmas for these kids?"
"What a nightmare," Kelly groaned. "I'll be back as soon as I can." She shook her head as she hurried away to find security.
She was right. This was one heck of a holiday discovery. I pinched my nose when I realized that I'd just sent Kelly in search of a competent mall cop. Competent being the key word. I remember locking my purse in my car a few months back. The lanky mall cop I'd found then had acted like he hadn't a clue what to do when all I'd really needed him to do was call a locksmith.
The fleeting image of Kelly leading Paul Blart on his Segway to the crime scene flitted through my mind, and I cringed.
I kept my back to the dead body beneath the tree with the hope that my body would block the view so no one else would spot poor, dead Santa. I was surprised that they hadn't already, but he was shoved under there pretty good. My spotting him had been a sheer stroke of bad luck.
I pulled my cell phone from my jeans pocket and dialed 9-1-1.
The dispatcher answered, took down the information, then told me that a squad car was on the way and to stay calm. The joke was on her. This wasn't my first dead body. The last dead guy I'd found was floating face down in a hotel pool when I was still training to be a private investigator, but that was a story for another day.
I thanked the dispatcher and hung up.
I spotted Kelly and a rather large, handsome security guard hurrying toward me. Not a mall cop. A security guard, thank goodness.
I had to blink to make sure I wasn't seeing things.
Nope.
Tall. Handsome. Security guard.
Score one for Kelly.
Once they reached me, the guard shook my hand. "I'm Eric Weidman of Weidman Security. We were hired on as extra help for the holiday season." That explained so much. Like why he was so calm, cool, collected, and hot , with his muscular build, salt and pepper hair, and dazzling blue eyes.
Did I mention that I have a thing for older men? "I'm Barb Jackson of Jackson Investigations. Pleased to meet you." I shook the man's hand.
"I don't want to alarm anyone," he continued, "especially all of those kids. Are you sure the guy is dead?" he asked in a hushed voice as he leaned close to me.
"Definitely." I nodded subtly at the tree behind me.
He nodded once then glanced over my shoulder again. "Oh, he's dead all right."
I raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. Did he think I was kidding? Who made jokes about a dead guy under the Christmas tree?
He glanced behind me at the tree, then back to me. "Are you all right?"
"This isn't my first dead guy," I admitted. "And to be honest, he looks even deader than my last. I called the police, and a squad car is on its way."
He pressed a button on the radio attached to his shoulder. "It wasn't a joke," he said into the speaker. "We need to get all of these people out of here before someone else sees the body. I'm not into ruining Christmas for a bunch of little kids. The police are on their way, so let's clear this place out before they arrive."
The radio crackled to life. "We'll take care of it."
A few moments later, a rather rotund man with cocoa-colored skin hopped up onto the pedestal in front of the tree and waved his arms to get everyone's attention. He reminded me of the dad on that television show with Steve Urkel. It was the wrong time and place, but I couldn't help cracking a smile at the resemblance.
"On behalf of everyone here at the East Wing Mall, I must apologize, but Winter Wonderland with Santa has been cancelled tonight due to unforeseen circumstances."
Using the term unforeseen circumstance to describe the dead Santa beneath the tree was a bit of an understatement, but whatever it took to get the innocent
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