Trouble Under the Tree (A Nina Quinn Mystery) Read Online Free Page A

had escaped from the straining clip.
    “Just so long as it doesn’t happen again,”
Jenny said, reaching out and cupping Benny’s jaw. She squeezed his
cheeks and narrowed her intense eyes. “I’ve got enough to deal with
right now thanks to a drunken Santa and a horny Mrs. Claus. Get a
handle on this, Benny. Hear me?” She spun around and stormed
off.
    I held back a smile at the Mrs. Claus
comment—I recognized a reference to Fairlane when I heard one.
    “Good riddance,” Glory exclaimed when Jenny
was out of earshot, then dumped the rest of the gingerbread men in
a trash can.
    Benny dragged a hand down his face. His looks
hadn’t changed at all since high school. Big, tall, beefy. A
blond-haired, brown-eyed boy next door—but one who knew how
good-looking he was and used it to his every advantage. “Glory,
you’ve got to stop setting those alarms off. I’m reconnecting the
sprinkler system this afternoon.”
    She lifted a thinly plucked eyebrow. “Maybe
if I didn’t have so many distractions.”
    Distractions? What distractions? “What
distractions?” I asked.
    They both looked at me as if wondering why I
was still there.
    “Never you mind, Nina. How about a cookie?”
Glory plucked a frosted gingerbread man from a rack nearby.
    My mouth watered, and I bit off his head (and
didn’t feel so much as a blip on my guilt-o-meter).
“Delicious.”
    Glory smiled like a proud mama.
    One thing Jenny said on her way out was
bothering me. “Is Santa really drunk?” Was an inebriated Santa why
Riley had called Kevin? After all, Riley worked closely with Santa
yesterday—had he picked up on it?
    Benny gave me a weak smile. “Shades of Miracle on 34th Street , don’t you think?”
    Glory tittered as if his comment was the
funniest she’d ever heard.
    “Why not fire him?” I asked.
    “No backup. Besides, Santa is Jenny’s uncle
Dave. Drunk Dave as we call him in the family. If Jenny fired her
aunt Olive’s husband, holidays would be really awkward.”
    Glory tipped her head. “I thought his name
was Kris Kringle?”
    Oh boy. “I’ve got to go check on my crew and
make sure everything’s set for the opening.”
    As I walked out, I heard Glory say, “Really,
isn’t it Kris Kringle?”
    I went in search of Riley. I wanted to find
out what he had told Kevin last night. Curiosity was killing
me.
    Crossing over the Santa Express train tracks
that circled the bottom floor of Christmastowne, I headed for
Santa’s Cottage. I was halfway there when my cell phone rang. I
checked the readout and wavered on whether to answer.
    It was my mother. Again.
    It was the sixth call this morning. I’d
ignored all the others—and she hadn’t left any messages. There was
only so far I could push my luck—ignoring a seventh call might
prove hazardous to my health.
    I decided to finally find out what she
wanted. “Hi, Mom.”
    “Don’t ‘ Hi Mom ,’ me, young lady.
You’ve been ignoring my calls.”
    I couldn’t argue with that. I ignored her
calls a lot. “I’m working.”
    “Something terrible has happened!”
    My chest tightened. “Is Dad okay?”
    “He’s fine.”
    “Maria? Nate?” Maria was my baby sister—the
drama queen of the family. Nate was her husband—they were still
newlyweds.
    “Fine. Just fine. Though, now that you
mention it Maria has been acting strangely lately.”
    “Mom!”
    “What, chérie ?”
    “What’s so terrible?”
    “Oh! I awoke to the most horrendous sight
this morning.”
    “I’m sure Dad wouldn’t appreciate you saying
so.”
    She laughed. I loved her laugh—warm and
genuine.
    “Not your father, though some mornings that
would be an apt description. Did I ever tell you how he sleeps with
his mouth open? The drool alone would scare most wom—”
    “Mom!”
    “Oh. Right. It’s my lawn.”
    “What’s wrong with your lawn?”
    “There’s a—” she took a deep breath “—a giant
inflatable snow globe out there. Snoopy, I believe. And that little
bird friend