Cowabunga Christmas Read Online Free Page B

moment. ‘Flat’ Brien would
have said, but it could kick it at other times as it had done this morning.
There wasn’t a surfer to be seen right now. A few people wandered along the
beach. The Pacific Ocean is cold and this time of year the weather is often cool,
too. Even though it was sunny and in the low 70s right now, most of the
swimming was being done in the heated resort pools.
    “So
where do you figure Santa was when he fell?” My eyes moved up, scanning rows of
balconies. Each balcony featured beautifully crafted ironwork, like the veranda
outside our suite on the sixth floor. The top floor—the hotel club penthouse,
seemed to have an extra-long wraparound lanai with baskets of blooms hanging
from it, as on the balconies below.
    “It’s
hard to tell—that hanging plant is tilted—see? Maybe Santa hit it going over
the rail or on his way down, but who knows for sure?”
    “Good
eyes, Brien.” I really am impressed by how observant Brien can be. “I don’t
suppose they could have seen that last night, in the dark. Too bad, it might
have helped Detective Mitchum focus his search a little more. I bet the pressure
was on to get matters squared away out here in the more public space.”
    I
located our room off to my right as I searched the rows of balconies. That
pressure must have taken its toll on the detective. How could he have believed our
room was the scene of the crime? Santa would have needed his sleigh and at
least a couple tiny reindeer to cover the distance from our balcony to the pool
below.
    The
fact that no one was occupying any of the comfy lounge chairs in the gorgeous patio
area suggested to me that word had gotten around about trouble. Despite what
must have been a near-record crime scene investigation and clean-up, keeping a
lid on a story like this one would have required a miracle.
    “I
wonder what buzz there is about a dead Santa.”
    “Let’s
find out, Kim. You want to have a drink? Maybe we can get our server to give us
the scope.” Why not? Even though it hadn’t been long since we’d eaten breakfast,
the noon hour bells sounded by the monastery tower meant a drink wouldn’t be
odd at this hour.
    “Scoop,”
I said. “You mean ‘give us the scoop ,’ don’t you Brien?”
    “Yeah,
that too,” he replied, with such sincerity on his face I said no more.
    “Can
we go find a spot to have that drink that doesn’t have a view of Santa’s last
stand—his downfall—his Waterloo? Whatever.” I gave up searching for the right
term to describe the awful fate Santa had met. I felt bad the poor schmuck had
ended up like that. I also couldn’t help thinking, what if we had still been
swimming when that happened? I shuddered at the close call.
    “Sure,
Kim, if you explain what you mean by Waterloo... ” Brien is so concrete in his
thinking I often have to stop and explain myself. I don’t mind. I reached for
his hand as we left the terrace area and I tried to convey to him what I meant
about Santa having met his Waterloo.
    “Oh I
get it, it’s like Santa was hit by this gigantic wave, just like the massive
wipe out that smacked down that Napoleon dude at Waterloo.”
    “Yes,
Brien, that’s it.” He beamed. I squeezed his hand. “Let’s hope our efforts to find
out who killed Santa don’t include any more close calls, and no smack downs or
wipe outs.”
    “Don’t
worry, Kim. I won’t let our honeymoon be our Waterloo.”
    Aw,
what a guy! I sure hope he’s right, I thought. I didn’t want to
dampen the spirit of conviction in that vow he made. I kept my doubts to
myself.
    “I
know, Moondoggie. I’m counting on it!” Brien’s eyes sparkled as he placed a
protective arm around my shoulders.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

5 A Herd of Santas
     
     
    I felt
better as soon as we left that terrace. It was hard to believe a murder had taken
place as we wandered down one of the exterior corridors that had a monastic vibe
to it. Columns placed at regular