Jolly Dead St. Nicholas Read Online Free Page B

property owners? Are you that inept, McBride? Stake the place out for a few nights, for God’s sake!”
    Daniel tamped down his anger. After taking a deep breath he said, “We don’t have the manpower to do that, Lloyd. Remember, our budget got cut. In fact, didn’t you spearhead the movement to make those cuts?”
    “Don’t get smart with me, McBride! I never was in favor of you getting this job. Now I see I was right!” His eyes turned nearly black with fury.
    “I’ll beef up patrols around that neighborhood for a while. Let’s see if we can’t catch those…vandals.” Daniel stood, indicating the meeting was over.
    Lloyd didn’t move. “You seem to have influence with certain council members, McBride. You’d be wise to make them see the wisdom of allowing that casino to be built here. You know as well as I do that this town will die without a new income source. If you want your department to grow—well, that takes money. Real money.”
    At that moment, Daniel realized that Lloyd’s visit had as much to do with strong-arming him into backing the casino deal as it did with the vandalism of his stone lions.
    Walking to the door, Daniel opened it wide. “We’ll do our best to get those vandals with the resources we now have, Lloyd, don’t worry. Have a nice day.” He smiled as Lloyd strode out of his office in a snit.
     

Chapter Five
     
     
    After an uncomfortably silent meal with his wife Susan, Jerry Hatfield went into the den of the Victorian home they shared, closing the door behind him. The room had a cozy, intimate feel, with built in bookshelves lining two walls. The desk, a large ornately carved heirloom made of mahogany, sat in the center of an exquisitely detailed Oriental rug. The deeply tufted desk chair had belonged to his father. The rich aroma of old leather combined with lemon oil permeated the air.
    They’d purchased the house at the corner of Hawthorne Avenue and Buckeye Street eight years ago. Before that they’d lived in one of the small tract houses on the other end of Buckeye Street near Falls Way. The area was respectable and well kept, but couldn’t compare to what they had now.
    Sitting down in the desk chair, Jerry leaned back, closing his eyes. Something was definitely off with Susan lately. Not only had she been moody, she hadn’t been interested in making love for weeks.
    As he sat there, rocking back and forth in the supple leather chair, he recalled his glory days at Crescent Falls High School where he’d played football and earned a place on the Honor Society, therefore debunking the theory that all jocks were dumb. After high school he’d attended Ohio State University. Upon graduation he went to work for a large insurance company in Marietta, learning all he could until he felt confident enough to open his own office in Crescent Falls. Now, he brokered policies for clients, hooking them up with whichever company met their needs at a price they could afford.
    He’d missed the twenty-year high school reunion in May because he was out of town at a convention. Susan had attended, though, stating that it was boring since the same people she saw weekly in town were practically the only ones who attended.
    Success felt good. His life was on track. He was on the town council, chairman of the Crescent Falls United Methodist Church finance committee, treasurer of the local historical society as well as a member in good standing of the Marietta Lion’s Club. The only problem he could see on the horizon was Susan’s sudden coldness. Of course, he had a pretty good idea who was to blame for that. He’d been debating with himself for several days about how to handle the situation. Up until now, he’d avoided a direct confrontation with his wife, but tonight was the last straw.
    Leaving the den, he walked through the dining room. All remnants of the meal were gone. The kitchen was empty, although the dish washer purred quietly from underneath the counter. “Susan?” he