12 Tennyson

It was all-systems go the next morning. All of the kids were excited for Christmas Eve and wanted to go to River’s house as soon as they all woke up. It hadn’t been easy wrangling them into eating breakfast and spending the morning at the rental house. Jude and Ronan had taken the kids on a beach walk to look for shells, which freed Ten and Cope up to take showers and get ready for the day.

It was Ten’s plan to make a batch of his tomato sauce. After he was clean, he gathered all of the ingredients and put them in bags to bring with him to River’s house. Cope did the same thing with the ingredients to make Running Eagle’s famous Navajo Fry Bread. He used to make the bread for Jude all the time when he was growing up and had taught Cope how to make it last Christmas when he’d come to Massachusetts.

“Hey, Ten?” Ronan called from the back deck. “Did you hear my phone ring at all while we were gone?”

Ten headed for the sliding door after picking up Ronan’s phone. “No one called. Why, who are you expecting to hear from?”

“Shane,” Ronan said. He tapped the phone and seconds later the kitchen was filled with the sound of Shane’s voicemail message. “Hey, man, it’s Ronan. Just checking in to see how things went yesterday with Mabel and with the surveillance on the Marsh house. Call me later.” Ronan disconnected the call and handed his phone back to Tennyson.

“You said he was going to stakeout the Marsh home last night. He’s probably just sleeping in this morning. I’m sure he’ll get back to you when he wakes up.” Ten didn’t want to say the words out loud, but there were people who didn’t put their jobs above everything else in their lives. Maybe Shane was one of them. He’d been with the Boston Police Department for his entire career and Ten, for one, wouldn’t blame him if Shane took a more easygoing approach to private detective work. He wished Ronan had done the same, but unfortunately it had only ramped up his obsession with cold cases over the years.

“You’re right,” Ronan agreed. “I’m gonna call in our lunch order, so we can pick it up on the way to River’s house. The kids are beyond excited to bake with Barb today.”

“Same here,” Ten agreed. Usually their Christmas Eves were spent trying to keep the kids busy and out of trouble. This year, the kids were going to bake cookies and spend the afternoon playing in the pool. Life didn’t get any better than this.

Ten closed the glass door after Ronan ducked back outside. There were still a few ingredients he needed to add to the bag for his tomato sauce. A breaking news banner on the muted television caught his attention. The shot cut to news anchors at a desk with a live shot behind them. The scene featured a large building being shot from above, most likely from a helicopter.

“Hey, I know that place,” Cope said, moving toward the coffee table and the remote control.

“You do?” Ten asked. It didn’t look familiar to him at all.

“Yeah, it’s the mall where we got our Santa pics taken there the other day.” Cope hit the volume button on the remote. The smooth voice of one of the news anchors filled the room.

“If you’re just joining us, we’re covering breaking news out at the Orange Grove Mall where a body has been discovered in a parked car,” a blonde news anchor said. The banner beneath her name identified her as Martha Peel. “A shopper returning to her car reported seeing Santa Claus asleep in his car and called the police. When St. Pete police arrived on scene they found Santa wasn’t sleeping. He was dead. Let’s go out to Kristin Blue, who’s reporting live for us on the scene.”

The shot switched from an aerial view of the mall to one of a brunette reporter standing with her back to a silver chevy that was surrounded by bright yellow crime scene tape. “Martha, we’re live at the Orange Grove Mall where a man dressed as Santa was found dead this morning. My source within the St. Pete Police Department has revealed the man was shot once in the chest. His name has not yet been revealed, pending notification of next of kin.”

“What else can you tell us about the crime scene itself?” Martha Peel asked.

“The driver’s side window of the Chevy behind me was down with the glass intact, indicating the victim may have rolled down the window to speak with his killer. It is unknown at this time if this was a random or targeting killing. The St. Pete Police have scheduled a news conference for later this afternoon, which we’ll bring to you live. Reporting from the Orange Grove Mall, Kristin Blue reporting.”

Cope hit the mut button to silence the television, which had gone back to the anchors in the studio. “What an awful thing to have happen the day before Christmas. I wonder if Ronan’s PI friend knew the man who was killed? All of the mall Santas seemed to have known each other.”

A vision flashed through Tennyson’s mind. It was so sharp and detailed that he gasped out loud and collapsed to the kitchen floor.

“Jesus, Ten, are you okay?” Cope ran to his side and helped Tennyson into one of the dining room chairs.

Ten felt his entire body shaking. “No, I’m not okay.” He tried to take a deep breath, but found he could only take shallow ones with his heart pounding like a sledgehammer.

“What did you see?” Cope asked, bringing Ten a bottle of cold water.

“Santa Claus walking to his car. He had his hat and beard in his hands. He was thinking about getting a strawberry cheesecake shake from Sonic on the way home. Santa got into the car and was about to fasten his seatbelt when there was a knock at the window. He pushed the button to roll it down and that’s when the shot was fired. Quick and fast.”

“Could you see who it was that shot the man?” Cope asked.

Ten nodded. “Santa Claus.”

“Holy shit. Another Santa shot the man dead?” Cope wore a stunned look. “Jesus, our kids could have sat on the killer’s lap the other day.”

“Yeah, but that’s not all.” Ten gulped for fresh air. Visions always made him feel off balance, but at the moment, up felt like down.

“Were you able to see the killer’s face?”

“No, but I was able to see the victim’s.” Ten felt his emotions getting the best of him. Tears streaked down his cheeks. He grabbed a napkin and blotted at them.

“Who was it, Ten?”

“Shane Matheson.” The floodgates opened and Tennyson cried harder than he had in months.

“Oh, no,” Cope whispered. “Are you sure?”

Ten nodded. “Yeah, I am.” How the hell was Ten going to tell Ronan his friend and former partner was dead. Before he had a chance to figure it out, the sliding glass door opened. Jude, Ronan, and Fitz walked into the kitchen laughing at something Ronan had said.

“Where are the kids?” Cope asked.

“On the beach with Jace. They found a live horse conch shell and the kids wanted to see what the critter looked like,” Ronan said, the smile slid from his face when he looked at his husband. “What’s wrong?”

Ten opened his mouth to tell Ronan about the news report, but started crying again instead. He needed to get himself together. His husband was the one who was going to need comforting.

“Are you hurt?” Ronan knelt down in front of Ten, taking his hands and brushing a kiss over his knuckles.

“We were talking about our Christmas Eve plans when breaking news came on the television.”

Ten turned back to the tv to see a contestant spinning the wheel on The Price is Right. Thankfully, Ronan wouldn’t have to see the live shot of Shane’s car at the mall. “A man was found dead in his car at the mall,” Ten managed to say.

“Did you have a vision of what happened to him?” Ronan asked, looking calmer than he had moments before.

“I did.” Ten steeled his spine. “The man was shot in the chest.”

“I’m so sorry you had to see that.” Ronan wrapped his arms around Ten and held on tight.

“That’s not all I saw,” Ten said, gently pushing Ronan back from him. “The dead man was wearing a Santa suit.”

“Holy shit! Someone murdered a mall Santa?” Jude asked. “I can’t believe it.”

“Do you know who killed him?” Fitzgibbon asked.

Ten nodded, feeling miserable. “Another Santa.”

“What?” Ronan got back to his feet and stumbled for a few steps before Jude caught him. “Shane had a Santa shift last night. Please don’t tell me Shane was the killer you saw.”

“No, he wasn’t the killer.” Ten took a deep breath. “Ronan, Shane was the man who was killed.”

“What? No, that’s not possible. Shane isn’t dead. You’re vision must have been wrong.” Ronan sagged against Jude who thankfully was still holding onto him.

Jude led Ronan to a chair at the table and went back for Fitzgibbon. “Cap, come sit.”

“Are you sure, Ten?” Fitz asked. “I hate to ask or even question your gift, but this man is a former police officer. A brother.”

“I’m sure,” Ten said softly.

“What can you tell me about the killer?” Fitz had his notebook out, along with a pen.

“Nothing much really. It was dark when Shane walked out of the mall.”

“Was he alone?” Jude asked.

“Yeah, he was alone and thinking about getting a milkshake. He was in the car, ready to put on his seatbelt, when there was a knock on the driver’s side window. Shane rolled it down and that’s when the shot came. The other Santa didn’t say a word. Neither did Shane. He died almost instantly. I saw through his eyes as he was about to die. The person who shot him was dressed as Santa and was still wearing his hat and beard. Shane had taken his off when he left the mall.”

“It was hot last night,” Fitz said. “Definitely too warm to walk through a parking lot with fake whiskers and a velour hat. I’m guessing the killer kept his Santa outfit on in order to hide his identity.”

“Did Shane say anything to you about having enemies he needed to watch out for?” Jude asked.

Ronan shook his head. “He never said anything like that.” He looked like he had more to say, but paused when his phone rang. “Shit, it’s Captain Davidson.” Taking a deep breath, Ronan pressed the button to take the call and put it on speaker. “Hey, Cap.”

“I’m sorry to call out of the blue like this, but I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news. Shane Matheson was murdered this morning.” Davidson sounded on the verge of tears.

“I know. I’m actually down in St. Pete with my family and Fitzgibbon. There was a breaking news bulletin on television about the murder.”

“They haven’t released Shane’s name to the press. How could you possibly know he was the man killed?”

“My husband had a vision.” Ronan sighed. “He said the person who murdered Shane was also dressed as Santa Claus.”

“Damn,” Davidson muttered. “The St. Pete police have video surveillance footage of the crime, but it was dark and the quality isn’t the best. There’s no way to identify the killer. Was Tennyson able to see the killer’s face? Maybe he could work with a sketch artist?”

“All Ten could see was what the man was wearing. He couldn’t see any facial features.”

“Captain Davidson, this is Kevin Fitzgibbon. You should know that Shane was working on a cold case with us.”

“Christ, Fitz, which one?”

“Jillian Marsh. She was murdered in Salem ten years ago. Allegedly by her husband, Patrick, but there was never enough evidence to arrest him,” Fitzgibbon said.

“I remember hearing about that. The woman was killed on Christmas morning, right?” Davidson asked.

“Yeah, that’s the case. It turns out that Shane was already working for Marsh’s second wife. She suspected he was poisoning her.”

“Was he working for the second wife before or after you asked him to help with the case?”

“Before,” Ronan said. “Shane told us the bloodwork had come back on the second wife and she tested positive for arsenic.”

“Shane had planned to visit with the second wife yesterday and was going to stakeout the Marsh house after his Santa shift was over. We were supposed to meet with him today to talk about what he’d learned.” Fitzgibbon sighed. “I’ve got a friend who works as a homicide captain. I’m going to give him a call to let him in on what we know.”

“Call me if there’s anything I can do, Fitz. Got it?” Davidson asked.

“I do. Thank you for calling us, Captain. I know calls like this aren’t easy.”

“They certainly are not. Keep me posted on the investigation. I want to know when you nail this asshole.”

“You got it, Captain Davidson,” Ronan said, before disconnecting the call. “Fuck me. I don’t envy him having to call all the guys in our old unit.”

“Me either,” Fitz agreed. “I’m gonna call Mark Richmond.” He pulled out his phone and left the room.

“Are you okay?” Ten asked.

Ronan shook his head. “No. I feel absolutely sick to my stomach that getting Shane involved in the Marsh case got him killed.”

“We don’t know that. One of the other mall Santas or the husband of one of his clients could have been responsible for Shane’s death.” Ten wouldn’t say it out loud, but he’d worked enough cases with Ronan to know that the Marsh case was most likely what got Shane killed. If Patrick Marsh had gotten wind that he was being investigated, it could have caused him to take matters into his own hands, which made Ten realized if Ronan’s name was associated with the case then Marsh could be coming for him next.

“Richmond wants us to come into the station to give our statements,” Fitzgibbon said, walking back into the kitchen. “We’ll drop you guys off at River’s on our way.”

Ronan got up from his seat and pulled Ten into his arms. “I’m so sorry, Ten. You know I didn’t plan to work today, but we can’t refuse an order from Captain Richmond.”

“I know.” Ten couldn’t keep Ronan from running off to do his duty. “Just be careful, okay? If Patrick Marsh is behind Shane’s murder, he could be coming for you next.”

Nodding, Ronan hugged Ten tighter.

Ten felt absolutely powerless. His gift wasn’t giving him anything else about Shane’s murder. All they could do now was tell the St. Pete police what they knew and hoped the cops could catch the killer, sooner, rather than later.