Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

“ A switchblade?” I muse.

It must be at least ten inches long in its entirety as an entire room full of people keep their eyes on Santa.

“You’d be surprised how many guys actually want a switchblade for Christmas,” Jasper says.

“Are you hinting?” I tease.

He sheds a smile my way. “Spending time with you is the only gift I need. That, and a little more quiet time before the baby arrives. But I’m already counting down the days until he or she gets here.” And I mean it.

I bite down on a smile and nod because I’m counting down the days myself. This sweet babe in my belly can’t come soon enough.

“Next up is”—Santa does his own little drumroll—“our fearless leader, Virginia Brighton herself .”

The room belts out a riotous cheer once again and Virginia heads up, pinning the man with a serious look.

“I think she’s afraid of what he might give her,” I say with a slight laugh buried in my chest.

“It’s all in good fun,” Jasper says. I hope.

I hope so, too.

Virginia opens her gift, same lux paper and gilded bow, and pulls an ornate handheld mirror out. It’s dark silver and looks like it could be an antique.

“I hope you enjoy it, Virginia,” Santa says with marked sincerity. “Not only are you blessed with something beautiful to look at, but it’s good for us each to hold the mirror up to ourselves now and again.”

A thick silence envelops the room.

That can’t be good.

The woman clears her throat. “Why, thank you, Santa.” She offers a short-lived smile before turning to the crowd. “And how about a hearty round of applause for our own Nick Bell for playing the part of Santa tonight. He’s a true mischievous elf if ever there was one.”

A lively applause breaks out upon her command.

“All right, everybody,” Santa wails. “Let’s load up on cookies, refuel with eggnog, and lose our cool on the dance floor. I’ll be ready to pose for pictures in about twenty minutes. If you’ve been waiting all year long to sit on my lap, now’s your chance.” He touches his finger to the side of his nose and the room lights up with laughter again.

The music turns up several notches. “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)” thunders over the speakers, and instantly the room is in an uber-jovial mood once again. Bodies are gyrating, the dessert table looks as if it’s under attack—and speaking of the dessert table…

“Oh, great,” I say. “I don’t see Sherlock or Fish anywhere.” I sigh as I crane my neck every which way. “I can’t help but worry that they’ve gotten themselves in a pickle.”

“More like a Christmas cookie,” Jasper says. “They made a new friend. They’re probably just showing him around. I’ll go look for them. Hang tight, I’ll be right back. Maybe start a conga line.”

“Not on your life.” I laugh as he takes off.

I turn back around and spot Ember, the brunette with the snow globe, speaking to Santa near the back side of that bejeweled evergreen. I bet she’s thanking him for that gift.

Her hands slap over his chest and he stumbles backward, nearly knocking the entire tree down.

So much for being thankful.

She takes off running and he laughs it off with a ho, ho, ho .

That was strange.

Virginia and Noel step over to him and Virginia seems to be saying something to the man.

Now I bet she’s probably thanking him.

She digs a finger in his chest while saying something that looks more than a little aggressive before stalking off.

Huh. That’s interesting, too.

Noel, the redhead with the Rudolph sweater, says something to the man and he gives a solemn nod her way before they part ways.

At least that looked amicable.

Another conga line starts up, and just my luck, they’re headed right in my direction.

I’d better help Jasper find our pets before I’m conscripted to prance around the room and forced to pretend to like it.

It’s not easy being an elf.

I quickly look in every nook and cranny the ballroom has to offer but no such luck finding my little four-footed cuties.

It feels as if an hour has drifted by as I do another thorough sweep of the area. There’s no sign of Jasper, Sherlock Bones, Fish, or Jingle.

Clearly, the time has come to broaden my search. I note the side exit just behind the tree is slightly ajar and breathe a sigh of relief.

Now that’s probably where I’ll find them, out in the courtyard. Although it does butt up to the woods behind the inn, and even though Fish and Sherlock know better than to dive into the labyrinth of evergreens at this time of night, Jingle doesn’t. I bet there’s a good chance he took off in the woods and they went after him.

Good grief.

No wonder I had a bad feeling about this night.

I step outside and immediately the frozen air envelops me. Snow is coming down, and the sky is striated in shades of lavender and navy as every star in the sky makes its presence known.

I give a quick visual sweep of the area. The snow is falling so fast, if there were any footprints—or pawprints —they’ve long since been dusted over.

“ Fish ?” I call out as I head toward the woods.

No sooner do I get five feet out than I nearly trip over something short and black sticking straight up in the air.

“Ugh,” I grunt, struggling to right myself.

Doing the faceplant of the century wasn’t on my holiday bingo card tonight, and thankfully for the baby, I’ve managed to avoid it.

“Oh my word,” I say, kicking the log that almost made me eat a mouthful of snow. But the thing refuses to move.

I give it another jab before dusting the snow off the tip, only to discover it’s not a log at all—it’s a big black boot.

To my horror, that boot just so happens to be attached to a man in a red velvet suit, and if I’m not mistaken, there’s a knife sticking right out of his chest.

A gasp escapes me. I recognize the suit and the man in it.

Jolly old St. Nick won’t be giving out any more gifts tonight or ever again.

Nick Bell is dead.