The sun was just starting to rise when we pulled up to the house. We had heavy snow two nights before, none of which had melted, and the first light of dawn glistening off every individual pearl of frost was a site to see. It glared back at me as if it was trying to send me a message, but that early in the morning, I wasn’t decoding any signals.

The house was incredibly nice. Two stories, a good-sized yard, and a flat roof that was bordered by white Christmas lights – the lovely, gold-white, not the hideous blue variant. The building’s many windows had candles burning on the inside and wreaths hung on the outside. With that many windows, they probably spend a fortune on candles alone. By the door was a miniature nativity, complete with a partnering sign saying “Christ is born today!” in large, red, letters. The cherry trees in the yard were carefully wrapped, so each string of lights was symmetrical. It was kind of magical – minus the dead body inside.

“Do you think they celebrate Christmas?” I asked Jay as I parked the car. “I wouldn’t want to make any incorrect assumptions."

He opened the car door and turned around. His sapphire blue eyes had lost their sparkle and his gaze was almost as cold as the breeze that instantly filled my 2008 Honda Civic. 

“This is why I said you couldn’t come."

“Next time, take a cab,” I retorted. No matter how much he complained, I wasn’t going anywhere. Every crime scene needs a Knight, after all. 

I stepped out of my car and started to walk up the path leading to the front door. After about 10 seconds, it hit me that I was alone. Jay had remained next to the Civic and appeared to be scanning the property. Either that, or he was enjoying the lights.

“Found any clues?” I snarled. I didn’t mean to come across that way, but I just can’t stand the cold. Even with my five layers, I still was counting down the seconds before I rushed back to the artificial warmth of the modern world. 

“Now, here’s something they don’t teach you in the Police Academy: everything is a clue, Awsten. So right now, I’m just looking around the house to see how it settled after the crime. Look here for example.”

He extended a long finger to the ground beneath us. The snow hadn’t been shoveled, and in it was a clear, small line. It started around the path to the front door, and it carried on till the end of the block, where it merged with the snow. Next to the path was a small, circular hole in the snow. 

“Little things like this,” Jay remarked. “Do they have meaning? Who knows. But good to pick up on these things.” 

“Oh, I can play this game. Ok, well, the garage is not attached to the house, it has no decorations, unlike the house, meaning someone had to climb up onto the house to set it up. The garage also has one door which appears to be closed. The house’s door is open, but I assume that’s from the police.”

“Maybe you’re not as helpless as I thought.” Jay grinned a little. I hoped he was warming up to me. Also, the man wasn’t wearing any gloves. There is snow everywhere. Some people scare me.

“Should we go around the driveway?” I asked. It was the one part of the house that the owners had bothered to shovel, and I didn’t want to ruin any evidence in the snow.

“If you’re interested in seeing the backyard, go ahead. If you’re worried about stepping on the snow, it's much too late. As you can see from the footprints, the police took no such precaution. It's honestly sad that you have more intuition than they do.”

I couldn’t tell if that was an insult or a compliment, but I didn't care. It was freezing. I waddled towards the door with my many layers (three coats, a hoodie, and a t-shirt), and ducked under the bright yellow police tape. It was like the movies.

Directly across from the front door was a staircase. To my right was a coat rack, and then further right was what appeared to be the living room. I could see the Christmas tree, which, surprisingly, was fully stocked with presents. To my left was a joint dining room and kitchen, which appeared to have a bathroom in it. 

The house was a mess. Five men were creeping around, four of them in police uniforms. I could only assume they were the police Jay disliked so much.

Jay joined me inside and proceeded to take off his coat. I kept mine on. 

Before he had time to join the action, a boy no older than eight rushed up to Jay and grabbed his legs. He looked up at Jay, tears streaming down his face. He started punching Jay in the thigh, shouting, “Why’d you do it? Why did you have to kill Uncle Atticus?” over and over again.

Jay was frozen. He had no idea what to do. He clearly wasn’t used to kids, let alone traumatized kids. 

“Hey, hey, hey, it's ok,” I whispered to the boy. “We didn’t kill your uncle. We’re only here to help find who did. Can you stop hitting my friend, little guy?” 

The boy stared at me, and I got down on one knee to hug him. He really needed one.

“What’s your name, man?”

“Sebastian”

“Hi Sebastian. My name is Awsten. This here is my friend Jay. Everything is going to be okay, I promise. Right now, Jay and I are here to help all the nice policemen."

“Did Santa kill Uncle Atticus?” he asked. I was stunned. This wasn’t exactly where I expected his mind to go.

“No, no, of course not. Santa only brings good things."

“But I saw Santa last night. I did. Mommy won’t listen, but I swear I did! Did he kill Uncle?” 

Jay had started to drift away, obviously bothered by Sebastian's emotions, but he quickly turned around and walked back over to us. I didn’t know what to say, so I just hugged Sebastian. 

“Hey kid,” Jay said. He really is such an empath. “Are you sure you saw Santa last night?”

The kid nodded.

“Where did you see him?”

“He was outside the house, by the front door. I wasn’t supposed to see him. Santa doesn’t like it when kids see him. Some of my friends say that if you see Santa, he’ll eat you. Did he eat Uncle Atticus?”

“No, of course not. And you’re sure this was Santa?”

“He had the hat and the boots and the red suit. He was a little skinny though. I thought Santa would be fatter. He eats so many cookies!”

This questioning wasn’t exactly a traditional form of therapy, but Sebastian had stopped crying. Jay also seemed to have gathered a valuable piece of information from this kid’s imagination, but I couldn’t gather what it was. Everyone knows that a kid's dreams mean nothing.

“Thanks, kid. Merry Christmas.” Jay abruptly turned and walked into the living room. Not wanting to be left behind, I waved goodbye and jogged after him.

Jay was already shaking someone's hand. The man was short, plump, and had pitch-black eyes that conveniently matched his combed-back hair. He seemed to be with the police, which surprised me, considering Jay’s distaste for cops.

“Who is the cherry tomato behind you?” I heard the man say. My red hair gets people every time.

“This is Awsten. Awsten Knight. He’s my…,” Jay trailed off here. Roommate? Cab driver? Plenty of routes he could take here. “He’s my partner for the day. Anything you say to me, you can say to him. I give you my word."

That I wasn’t expecting. Partner. Has a nice ring to it. He must have loved my work with Sebastian. I’ll pretend that was intentional for the rest of the week, and see how far it takes me.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Knight. The name's Tony Gianfranco. I’m a medical examiner for the NYPD."

“Awsten is fine. And the pleasure’s all mine."

Tony Gianfranco. It doesn’t get any more Italian. Detective work like that is why I’m Jay’s new partner. Twenty seconds and it already went to my head, huh?

“Here’s everything you’ve missed about the crime. The victim is named Atticus Wingington. He’s the brother of Geoff Wingington, who owns this house. I’d assume he was home for the holidays. We got the call that he was dead around 4:00 am, and I called you about 10 minutes later. The cause of death seems to be a stab wound, and there is a small puncture near his heart. Bud Light bottles were all over the place when we came, so I’d assume he was drinking heavily. Lots of things are headed to the lab, but no prints other than the immediate family are on the scene. It's a doozy of a case.”

“What a wonderful Christmas morning,” I muttered. They both stared at me with unfeeling eyes. For once, Jay wasn’t the odd one out.

“Do you mind if I inspect the body, Gianfranco?” Jay asked. 

“Go for it. Just don’t screw anything up this time. Otherwise, you aren’t coming back."

This must be who keeps Jay so busy. I wonder what happened last time. Hopefully, we won’t see a repeat today, a murder is enough excitement for a lifetime. Excitement isn’t the right word. But you get the point.

Tony cleared the cops out and gave Jay five minutes to work his magic. The cops joined me at a distance, as we stared on in amazement and disgust as Jay got down on the ground, and inspected the body. He felt his pockets, sniffed his mouth, analyzed the stab wound, and so many things I can’t even begin to describe.

I’m not even really sure how to describe the body, as this is the first corpse I’ve stumbled across. Nothing was extraordinarily off about it. Atticus was wearing dress pants, a Hawaiian shirt, and a heavy winter coat. There was a lot of blood near his heart, but it seemed to have been entirely absorbed by the surrounding fabric. His eyes were closed, hands clenched, and he was lying on his back. 

“Talk about a wannabe Sherlock,” one of the cops remarked. I guess the dislike between them and Jay is mutual.

Fascinating as the scene was, the smell was making me sick. I’ve never actually been in a room with a dead body, and they don’t bring up the stench on television. It was terrible. 

I turned around, and headed for the bathroom I briefly saw in the kitchen. 

We can skip over what exactly happened while I was in there, but as I walked out, I was met by an unfamiliar woman. She was tall and muscular, with gray eyes and a look of panic on her face. The look had spread beyond her cheeks, as her gray hair was frazzled, her pants were unbuttoned, and I sincerely doubt she was wearing a bra. 

“Have you met the children?”

“Hi, I’m Awsten Knight, it's a pleasure to meet you.” Just because someone was murdered doesn’t mean she didn’t have to introduce herself.

“Oh, yeah. Uh, I’m Grace Wingington. Sister-in-law of the victim. Have you met the children”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Grace. Yes, I met Sebastian. We had a brief exchange. I don’t know if there are more, but he’s the only one I’ve seen.”

“Did you talk about Santa?”

She must’ve had the same conversation about Santa I had with him. Why is everyone so obsessed with that story? 

“Yes,” I replied. “He told me he saw Santa last night.”

“You didn’t tell him Santa isn’t real, right?”

“No, of course not.” The boy’s uncle was murdered. Of course, I wasn’t gonna tell him Santa wasn’t real. Why was his mother so infatuated with the fairy tale of Santa?

“Promise me, Justin-”

“Awsten."

“Yeah, whatever. Promise me that you won’t tell the kids Santa isn’t real.” She grabbed my arm tightly and gave it an unwelcome squeeze. “They can’t know. Not now.”

“Ok, I promise. I’ve got to get back to…to my partner, I guess. Nice meeting you.” I grabbed her hand and lifted her fingers off my arm, before walking back to the living room. Usually, I would be creeped out by a conversation like that, but her brother-in-law just died. Who can blame her?

Jay seemed to be done with his research, as he was standing next to the coat rack, looking out into the living room. 

“Odds are it was Santa, huh. I mean, the tree is loaded with presents, so he was clearly here. Maybe he got tired of just leaving presents.”

Jay wasn’t amused. I’d guess whatever he found, it led him to believe that Santa hadn’t killed Uncle Atticus.

“Enough with the jokes,” Jay barked. “I actually need you for this next phase. I hope you have legible handwriting.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an orange miniature spiral notebook, with a bright yellow mechanical pencil nestled in the spiral. 

“Gianfranco and I are about to interview Geoff, Atticus’s brother. I want you to take notes of the conversation.”

“Roger that, sir.” I was hoping to see the good cop/bad cop routine between the two of them. Jay couldn’t really pull off either role.

“Oh, and don’t forget to write down the questions. Everyone forgets how important the questions are in an interview. Just write down what you can. As long as I can read it, it’s fine.” 

“Sounds good, but on one condition. We interviewed him away from the body. The stench is gonna kill me, Jay.”

He let out a long sigh and turned around without a word. He must have been annoyed, but I’m still here, so I’ll take victories whenever I can. I followed him up the stairs. At the top were four wooden plates with red and black designs on them, likely from China or Japan. Asian art wasn’t my area of expertise, and while fancy at first glance, the more I looked, the emptier they seemed. But who am I to judge, the only piece of art in my apartment is a replica of Van Gogh’s Starry Night that I made in 4th grade. 

After reaching the top, I turned left into a small bedroom. The room was entirely green, and honestly, quite ugly. There was a bed in the center of the room, on top of which a tall, bald man was lying down. He looked up when we walked in, and listlessly stared us down with his brown eyes. He was wearing Christmas pajamas, Christmas slippers, and even a little Santa hat. A surprising outfit, considering the atmosphere.

Across from him were a sofa, a chair, and a television. On the screen, a Knicks game was playing, which must have been recorded from a previous night. Tony was already sitting down on the sofa, where Jay joined him. Jay quickly grabbed the remote and turned the game off. I internally laughed and took the chair.

“Mr. Wingington, I am Tony Gianfranco, a medical examiner of the NYPD. This here is private detective Walker, and his partner Awsten Knight. We are going to ask you a few questions about the previous evening’s events if that's alright with you.” He didn’t seem to be asking. 

“A private detective, aye?,” Mr. Wingington snarled. “Don’t see many of you around these days. Only in books and movies.” I had the same thought. It was also nice to finally have a name for Jay’s work. Even if nothing else came out of today, at least I learned he was a private detective.

“Before we get going, just a reminder that if you know how this Knicks game ends, don’t spoil it. I’ve been so busy these past few days, I haven’t been able to watch. And trust me, I never miss a Knicks game.” 

“As long as you cooperate, then our lips are sealed,” responded Gianfranco. It was for the best that he responded instead of Jay, who, without a doubt, had nothing pleasant to say. Instead, Jay jumped right into his questions

“For starters, Mr. Wingington-”

“Geoff is fine. We’re all pals, aren’t we guys?”

“As I was saying,”  Jay gritted his teeth, “when and where did you first find Atticus's body?”

“Jeez, right into it, huh? Do you want the short story or the long story?”

“Just tell us a story sir, we don’t have all day,” Tony exclaimed.

 “Okay, okay. So this year, I got a little lazy with Christmas gifts. I bought them all, but never got around to wrapping them. Instead of staying up late, I decided I’d get up early and wrap the gifts downstairs. I wanted to make sure I got up before the little monsters did, so they didn’t catch their old man doing Santa’s job. I set my alarm for 3:00 am, but when I got up and went downstairs, I found his body next to the fireplace, with beer bottles all over the place."

Jay interrupted him here. I was thankful he did, too, as I was struggling to scribble down everything the man was saying. “Was he drinking by himself last night, or were either you, your wife, or outside friends with him?”

“By himself, I believe. I went to bed pretty early last night, so I’m not sure. There’s a full slate of NBA games today, and I need energy to watch them all. Anyway, I assumed he was simply passed out, and called my wife down to help me wrap presents. She’s a lovely woman, isn’t she."

That, I may have to question. But my judgment is probably the reason I’m single and he isn’t, so who’s to say.

“After we wrapped them all, and carefully arranged them around the tree, I decided it was time to wake Atticus, so he could clean up after himself. But he didn’t wake up. I called the cops pretty quickly after that, and I spent the time between my discovery and your arrival filling the two buzzards’ stockings. Sebastian and JP are so cute, aren’t they.”

What is with him and rhetorical questions? He’s even got me asking them!

“Grace insisted we keep the Santa narrative up. She really loves the kids. Such a good mother. Can we put the game back on?

“No,” Jay instinctively responded.

“I don’t mean to butt in, Jay, but Grace Wingington asked me the same thing: to tell her kids that Santa was real. Meant to tell you earlier, but it slipped my mind."

He thought for a moment. “Thank you.” I lit up. Gratitude from Jay was unheard of to me. Likely a fleeting moment of weakness. He resumed his line of questioning. 

“Why was Atticus here for Christmas?”

“Oh, he lives here. He used to live in Brooklyn, doing gosh knows what, but was recently evicted from his apartment and moved in with us. He’s been working at Roosevelt Field Mall, I think, but I’m not exactly sure what he did. I never really cared enough to ask. Clearly, you guys can’t relate.” He leaned back and let out a hearty laugh. His yellow teeth were razor sharp, and he was in dire need of a nose hair trim.

“Anyway, the mall was just a gig to make some money and move out. I didn’t really care either way. We weren’t that close, and his residence didn’t affect me at all. Grace didn’t like it, though. He was an alcoholic, and she was worried he was a bad influence on the kids. She’s such a good mother.” 

All of a sudden, Geoff leaped out of the bed and speedily reached for the television remote. Jay wasn’t quick enough, and before either of us could react, the Knicks game was back on at full volume. 

“Alright, you guys, enough talk. I’ve answered your questions, let me watch the damn game. We need this win.”

Tony and Jay looked at each other and seemed to agree that the interview was over. They both got up and turned to leave. I assumed I was supposed to follow, and as all good partners do, I did as I was told. 

With one foot already out the door, Jay suddenly turned around and walked back towards Geoff Wingington. I didn’t register the change in direction, and we crashed into each other, which sent me sprawling down onto the green carpet. It was laced with lint and crumbs and smelt like cherry coke. A very strange carpet. 

“One last question before I leave you alone,” Jay said to Geoff. “Are you a big biker?” The question took both me and Geoff by surprise. Tony seemed to have disappeared back downstairs, but I doubt he would have expected it either.

“Uh, no. Not anymore. I used to bike a lot, but I screwed up my back about a decade ago, and haven’t been able to ride since. Why’d you ask? Trying to lose some weight?” He chuckled and reached to slap Jay’s belly. He was in pretty good shape, but he still had a bit of a belly. Jay grabbed Geoff’s arm before he got there, and put it back on the bed.

“I was simply wondering who the bike downstairs was for. Such a wonderful Christmas present.” Is Jay being nice? That’s not something you see every day. 

“Oh, that! That’s a present for Sebastian. He’s wanted one forever, and finally, I caved. I loved riding so much, and I wanted to pass that joy onto him.”

“Has he used it yet?”

“No…and don’t get any funny ideas. The bike is strictly for him.”

“Not to worry. I wouldn’t dream of touching it.”

With that, Jay turned around and left. The whole line of questioning was off. I assume Geoff Wingington is a potential murderer, and the lead detective is chit-chatting with him? I know, America runs off innocent until proven guilty, but that’s a little extreme. That being said, I tucked the notebook into my coat pocket, and shamelessly followed Jay back downstairs, like a cat follows his owner.

As soon as I reached the first floor, the stench hit me once again. It came like a wave, crashing into me until I was completely submerged by its might. All my other senses were completely overwhelmed. All I could do was smell the same sickly smell of death.

I didn’t have time to wallow in my pity, as Tony was waiting for the two of us by the bottom of the stairs. “Okay, Jay, what do you have for me? Anything special I should take note of?” he asked.

“Not for now."

“What do you mean not for now? Part of the deal is, you tell me what you find out. Don’t double-cross me, Jay Walker."

I usually assumed Tony’s banter was playful, but this was harsh. For the first time, there was serious tension between the two leaders of the operation.

“I have some ideas, but I need to cement them first. Go back to the station with your goons, let me do some final snooping, and we can meet up for dinner to discuss clues and potential culprits. Sounds good?”

The cops clearly heard Jay call them “goons,” and they did not take kindly to it. If stares could kill, he’d be stabbed more times than Caesar. I probably shouldn’t make that joke with a stab victim in the next room. But it’s too late now.

“Alright. Meet me at the Papa John's near my office at 6:00 sharp. Do not be late, Jay. This case is getting on my nerves, and I really don’t want to drag it out much longer."

With a wave, the cops all filed out. Once they were out of earshot, I turned to Jay. “We’re gonna find more evidence against Atticus’s brother, right?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, he’s clearly guilty. He answered so many questions about his own brother’s death in the most nonchalant way possible. The asshole was more worried about the Knicks losing, and the Knicks always lose! Even Columbia’s basketball team is better than them! He’s got to be guilty."

“This is your first case, so I won’t hold it against you. But it’s too early to make the call, Awsten. Let's see what evidence comes up, and then we can decide."

“If Tony is mad at you for dragging this out, that’s on you, buddy. Just remember that I told you so.” 

He was silent. His calculating blue eyes stared deep into mine. 

“You’re forgetting one thing, Awsten”

“And what would that be?”

“You said it before. The killer could be Santa."

We stood by the living room window and watched the cops drive off, one by one. I saw what Jay meant about their disregard for evidence in the snow. Between Tony Gianfranco and his four goons, it was impossible to make out which footprint came from whom. 

Jay’s face rarely shows emotion. His thoughts are guarded by his pale cheeks and icy blue eyes. His mysterious persona makes me feel like I could stare at him for hours, but the fear of being caught prevents me from any such act. However, I could see his disgust for the NYPD steaming off his face. With every passing second, the anger in the air grew, until he finally blinked and turned away from the window.

“Stupid bastards,” he muttered.

“Jay,” I called out. “I can pretty safely say by now that you don’t like policemen. Do you mind explaining why?”

“Everyone glorifies the police as if they’re an all-protective agency. Yet everywhere they go, they make matters worse. They take all clues at face value, and once they make up their minds about a case, their ego prevents them from admitting a mistake.” 

That sounds just like me. Great! 

“Shitheads can’t put pieces together to save a life, let alone avenge one."

Before I had time to respond, he abruptly marched toward the fireplace. Not wanting to be left behind, I jogged after him and joined him.

A fire was burning in the chimney, but it was on its last leg. Occasionally there was a flicker of light, but its warmth barely reached my legs. The smell of burning wood was a nice mask for the smell of the body, which had surprisingly gotten better in the past few minutes. I returned around and realized that Tony had taken Atticus’s corpse with him when he left. Good riddance.

Flipping back around to the fireplace, Jay was holding two cookies in his hands, each with a bite in it. The milk and cookies were very strange. The milk had barely been drunk, and the two cookies each had a bite taken out of them. Santa was probably full.

“Do these cookies look different to you?” Jay asked, without turning his head. I forgot he was talking to me and didn’t respond.

“Awsten.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Uh, they look a little different I guess. The bite taken out of the right cookie is a lot bigger than the left one. But I’m not super educated on cookie bites, so I couldn't say more than that.”

“I had the same thought.”

“Are you gonna take them back to a lab and have the DNA tested?” I asked. It seemed the logical course of action.

“No. Science is great for proving a case, but not for solving it. Especially if Gianfranco is in a time crunch.”

The logic made no sense to me, but he wasn’t exactly asking my opinion. He probably figured he could solve the mystery and find the killer before the DNA samples were sent back. Either that or he didn’t want to deal with bureaucracy. 

Jay put the cookies back down, picked up the glass of milk, and threw it into the fire. The flame vanished in an instant, and a small wisp of smoke rose from the logs. 

I gasped. I couldn’t help it. The man literally threw evidence into the fire. I don’t know if Jay heard my shock, but if so, he ignored me. At this point, I’d decided that Jay Walker was either a superb, or a terrible, detective. Which of the two, I couldn’t tell.

“Find anything interesting in there?” I struggled to hide the sarcasm.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Jay grabbed the fire poker next to the chimney and pulled out a melted ring of metal. The ring had likely once been a keychain, but had been molded almost into a ball-like shape by the fire. I assumed this meant it had been burnt very recently.

Jay tossed the ball up in the chimney and quickly pulled his hand out. The ball didn’t make a sound and came back down with a thud. 

“It's open,” Jay exclaimed, as a glowing look emerged on his face. He stood up and turned to leave, but I grabbed his arm and said, “Wait, Jay. Look.” In between, two logs were a melted, white piece of plastic. The black ink on it had run down through the flames, making it impossible to read what was on it. 

I should be scared to tell Jay to look at evidence, but I was so sure this was important that I had to. The tiny white card was my chance at glory.

“Good catch, Awsten.” He patted my shoulder. I attempted to keep a serious face, but inside, I was squealing with joy. “It appears to be a scan card of some kind. I’d assume the key ring was Atticus’, as he didn’t have any keys on him when I felt his pockets, so that’s probably his too. Considering his job at the mall, I’d guess it's a mall employee card.”

I nodded. I felt like the pieces were finally starting to fall into place. Atticus's keys and work card in the fire were interesting discoveries. But I had no time to formulate the clues into an educated guess. Jay was already walking out the door.

The cold hit me as soon as I stepped through the front door. My excitement and curiosity were instantly forgotten, as my body shriveled up into itself. The sky had mustered up clouds while we were inside, so the slight warmth provided by the sun had vanished. To say the least, I was struggling.

Jay didn’t seem to mind. If I discover that he is a robot one day, I don’t think I’d bat an eye. He strode toward my car and appeared to be enjoying the scenery. When he was about five feet away from the Civic, he abruptly stopped and turned around. 

“You know, Awsten, before we leave, I’d like to test your theory.”

“What theory? That Geoff killed his brother?”

“I told you, we can jump to conclusions later. I’m more concerned about jolly Saint Nick right now.”

I stared at him. He had to be joking. Right? But his blue eyes remained frozen, urging me to turn around.

“Jay…are you feeling okay?”

“Help me find the ladder, will you, Awsten? It should be in the garage, as I didn’t spot one inside.” 

Of course, he had looked for the ladder. That man notices everything. Before I realized it, he had passed me and was heading for the garage. I quickly followed suit.

The side door to the garage was closed, but Jay swung it open and strutted in. We were lucky that the Wingingtons didn’t lock it last night. Lying directly across the door was a ladder, which I grumpily headed for. It was impossible to tell if Jay was pulling my leg, and the thought that he was making fun of me didn’t exactly fill me with Christmas cheer. Either way, I figured I’d humor him. 

I bent over to help Jay lift the ladder, and recoiled as soon as it touched my hand. 

“Holy shit, this is freezing!” 

Jay said nothing. He gave me the same blank stare.

“Just our luck that the one thing we need to get on the roof is the coldest item in here. The rakes are fine, and the pots are fine, but this stupid ladder is literally the same temperature as the snow. Merry freaking Christmas to us!”

“Yes…that is interesting,” Jay murmured. “But the more you complain about the cold, the longer we’re gonna be in it. So let's get a move on it.”

I braced for impact, and we lifted the ladder. As we carried it over to the side of the house, I reminded myself to order new gloves. I’ve used the same pair for almost a decade, and they were well-worn out. I started to get serious concerns about frostbite.

“You hold the ladder, I’ll climb,” Jay said. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

I grabbed the base and steadied it as he climbed to the top. The ladder seemed to perfectly match the roof’s height, and was pretty stable on the shoveled driveway. Thankfully, the Wingington’s roof was flat, so Jay wasn’t in any impending doom.

“Your turn.”

“What?,” I replied. As you saw, I zoned out for a second there, as I assumed Jay would be the only one on the roof. 

“You’ve seen everything so far. You might as well see this if you’re going to be my partner for the day.”

I couldn’t argue with that logic. Well, actually, I could.

“Are you sure it's stable? I don’t have anyone holding it down for me.”

“I’ll hold it from the top. Trust me; I won’t let you fall. Even if you do, you’re wearing so many coats, you won’t feel a thing.”

Begrudgingly, I start to climb. I had almost reached the top when the ladder slipped, and collapsed from under me. I was momentarily frozen in fear (ironic, I know), while my arms were snagged from above. 

Jay grabbed both my arms, and slowly pulled me up to the roof. He kicked snow in my face while doing so, but I could forgive him for that blunder, considering the gruesome fall he saved me from.

“I didn’t know you had that type of strength in you,” I sighed.

“You pick up certain skills in police training. You aren’t the first, and likely aren’t the last.”

Police training? Did Jay use to be a policeman? 

He must have noticed my confusion, and clearly wasn’t in the mood to answer any questions, so he quickly turned around and began inspecting footprints on the roof.

“Footprints, eh? Any hooves too?”

“Sarcastic as you may be, these are serious prints. What’s strange about them is the sole. It's the sole that only Santa boots typically have. The type any mall Santa, or maybe even, real Santa would wear. The same print is actually in the yard, amongst the thousand police prints, so possibly the crying boy did see Santa. He probably just fell off his Sleigh.”

I was starting to get worried the killer actually was Santa. Nervously, I asked, “Are you sure the footprints aren’t just from someone decorating the roof with Christmas lights?”

“Definitely not. Notice how the lights have snow on top of them. That means the snowfall must’ve come after the lights were hung. So whoever left these boots came in the past two nights, and didn’t hang any lights.”

I tiptoed my way to the chimney, not wanting to disrupt the prints. If it was really Santa, perhaps some evidence would be there.

Jay had the same idea, and walked speedily toward it, stepping all over prints. “Look here, Awsten. There’s a handprint next to the chimney’s opening. Just one, but that’s all it takes''.

“Any idea what it means, Jay?”

“I don’t like to jump to conclusions, so I’ll get back to you on that. But we’ve seen all there is up here, so let's head back down. I’d like to say goodbye to Mr. Wingington before we depart."

“Are you sure you don’t want to slide down the chimney?”

“How you want to get down is your choice. I’m simply going to jump."

He may not be jumping to conclusions, but he was still jumping. But it was my fault for knocking the ladder down when climbing up, so I wasn’t going to complain.

“Here, join me on this part of the roof. The snow below us looks thick and should break our fall. We aren’t super high up.”

“Just tell me when.”

“Now.”

With that, he took my hand and leaped off the roof. I closed my eyes and did the same. One moment, I was flying. Next, I was submerged in snow. Somehow that was worse than having a tough fall on the concrete driveway.

Jay and I silently put the ladder away, closed the garage door, and headed back inside to say goodbye to Geoff. Unsurprisingly, the front door was still open.

I followed Jay back upstairs, to find Geoff lying on his bed. He slowly turned his head toward us and looked absolutely pitiful. His hair was matted, his eyes were swollen, and his hands were red. I don’t think he was crying, but he was definitely grieving.

“Are you doing ok, Geoff?”

“No. The damn Knicks choked again. They were up nine points with 26 seconds left. How do you lose that game?”

Oh. He didn’t care about his brother. Just the Knicks. I audibly sighed, but he didn’t seem to mind. I noticed the corpse stench had risen to the second floor. A sick feeling started to wash over me.

“I came up to say goodbye, Mr. Wingington,” Jay chimed in. “Thank you for all your help today. I hope to let you know who the culprit is very soon.”

“Yes, yes, you’re welcome I guess. Reach out whenever you find something out. The Italian guy has my number.”

“Will do. And I must say, Mr. Wingington, the outdoor lights are magnificent. You have one of the most festive houses I’ve seen.”

“Oh, none of that was me. Atticus did that about a month ago, right when he moved in. The two things he’s always loved the most have been bright lights and music. That’s probably why we never got along. I’ve always been more of a sports guy."

“Clearly,” I said under my breath. Jay gave me a dirty look, and thankfully, the Knicks fan didn’t hear. 

Jay continued his updates, “I also wanted to let you know that the two of us entered your garage to use the ladder. The side door was open, so we just walked in. Everything is back as we found it."

“The door was unlocked? We usually keep it locked. I think Atticus was the last one in there, as that’s where we store our Christmas lights, so he probably has the key."

I really hope he has a spare.

At that point, the stench became too overwhelming. “Jay – I’m gonna vomit,” I stammered, and rushed downstairs, heading for the front door. As soon as I stepped outside, I turned to the left and retched on the snow. On the bright side, I didn’t have to waste my time on pleasantries with Geoff. Why be nice to a likely murderer? Even if he didn’t kill Atticus, he should show some damn compassion.

After about a minute, Jay joined me outside the door. The twinkle had returned to his eyes, and he had a slight grin on his face.

“You really are a rookie, huh?” 

I snorted.  “Don’t worry, I have water in the car. Although I’m sure it's ice now.”

We filed into my Civic.  As Jay shut his door, I rushed to turn on the heat, and sat back in my chair. It was a quarter before 9:00 am. What a couple of hours. 

“Before we head home-.” 

“Before?,” I cut in. “Come on Jay. What more can we possibly do right now.”

“Nothing massive. Just a short trip to the Roosevelt Field Mall.”

“So, how exactly does Tony know you?”

We had been sitting in silence for the past 20 minutes. The mall is roughly an hour away from the Wingington residence, and I didn’t want to go the whole car ride in silence. Throughout the day, I’d picked up bits about Jay’s life, but couldn’t fit them together. This moment was one of the few times I would ever have him to myself, and I wasn’t gonna waste it.

“You mean Gianfranco?”

“Yeah. The dude who was with the police. You hated them, but you seemed to be buddies with him. I’m just trying to wrap my head around some things.”

“Fair enough. I met Gianfranco while working for the police. As you can tell, I don’t have many fond memories of the NYPD. But he was one of the more enjoyable parts of the job. I was a detective while he was a medical examiner, but we always got along. Honest, trusting, focused guy.”

“Ok, that’s another thing. You used to work for the police, and now you don’t? Yet you haven’t exactly left that line of work. What's the deal?”

“Without going into too much detail, I left the police force after an act of…reckless behavior. I was going through a rough time, and took it out on someone I was interrogating. Part of the reason I keep in touch with Tony is he never let that incident sour my reputation in his head. With almost every other person, it did. But police always feel threatened by a private detective. You see it in every crime fiction book. I’m no different.”

 I took a crime fiction class in my senior year of high school, so I had some knowledge of what he meant. For the first time, it hit me that I was the stereotypical “partner” in this adventure. The Watson to Jay’s Sherlock. The Hastings to Hay’s Poirot. I don’t remember any other books, but two is enough. Perhaps one day, someone will write down our story and make millions from it. Hopefully, they include the red hair. If I tell everyone it's natural and not dyed, they’ll believe me. That’s my best trait if I’m being honest.

“So then, why are you here right now?”

“Tony trusts me a lot, so when a case is hard, he asks me to investigate.”

“Is he paying you?”

“No.”

“Then how do you make money?”

“You’ve really had a lot of questions on your chest, huh? I don’t exactly do it for the money. But the reason I’m rarely home is that these cases arise at unholy hours.” 

Now, New York City apartments aren’t exactly cheap, and he was paying the rent just fine. Trust me, that I knew for sure. I was about to pry even further, but he jumped in with another topic, and there went my chance.

“Can you write down some more notes for me, Awsten? Use the same notepad as before if possible. I’ll collect it at the end.”

I reached into my coat pocket and retrieved my notebook. The pencil was about to fall out of the spine, as if awaiting this very moment. 

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“Let's run through some clues. Just jot down what I say in bullet point style.”

“Got it.” This was perfect for me. So much information had been thrown at me in the past few hours, and I wasn’t sure what was important, and what was gibberish. Hopefully, Jay didn’t have that problem. 

“For starters, the bike trail in front of the house.”

“Bike trail? What bike trail?” I asked. I was sure we hadn’t seen one all day.

“The little line in the snow near the pathway that led to the front door of the house. The line was about the size of a bike wheel, and the cylindrical hole in the snow indicates that it was laid down on the snow. Since it snowed the night before, it must’ve come sometime on the 24th or early the 25th.”

I had no idea that it was a bike trail. I mustered up an, “Okay, makes sense,” but was a little embarrassed. Jay didn’t seem to notice.

“Next was the stab wound. It was very tiny and appeared to be one single puncture by the heart. The hole went through the polo shirt, but not through the coat. It's the most plausible cause of death. Note that the wound was circular.”

That one I did pick up on, from all the blood stains near Atticus’s heart. 

“Then there is his breath. It was a mixture of booze and peppermint. Judging by the Bud Light cans surrounding the body, I’d guess the two scents have two different sources. Also, note that his pockets were empty.”

This clue I’d have to take his word for, as no one else was crazy enough to smell the mouth of a corpse. The police officers might be right on this one: he is a bit of a wannabe Sherlock. Without the classy British accent, of course.

“Now to the fireplace. The milk was half drunk, and the two large cookies each had one bite taken out of them. The bite marks were two different shapes. The fire was burning, and it appeared to have recently melted Atticus's key ring and his mall scan card. As for the outside, note that the garage door was open and that the ladder was surprisingly cold.”

I’m glad the ladder temperature wasn’t just in my head. That shit was freezing. I don’t really see how it's a clue, but I put it down anyway. Jay continued.

“Then there are the footprints on the roof, which matched a pair of footprints on the ground. There is also a handprint on the chimney, which has an opening on the top.”

“Got it all down. Anything I should add about family members?”

“Uh, I mean, if you want to. What do you think stood out about them?”

“Geoff was weirdly apathetic, his wife, who I don’t think you met, was obsessed with ensuring that her kids still believed in Santa Claus, and the little boy had convinced himself he saw Santa last night. This sounds peculiar to me. And this list is already full of peculiarities.”

“Yes, yes, the kid! I forgot about him. Put down the Santa bit.”

I wrote it all down. He can thank me later.

“So Jay, any suspects high on your list?”

“You first, Awsten.”

“Clearly, I think it's Geoff. How could it not be? I don’t care if he wasn’t close to his brother, no one is that apathetic to their brother’s brutal murder. And it's not like he just doesn’t show emotion, he was practically crying at the Knicks game!”

“Very possible. I think your Santa theory is interesting…”

“Oh, shut up, Jay. Don’t feed me that bullshit.”

We rode in silence for the remainder of the trip.

When we finally arrived at Roosevelt Field Mall, I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Finally! A break. This morning has been exhausting, Jay. I don’t know how you keep this up constantly.”

“One thing you should know about being a detective, Awsten. There is never a break. This is the mall Atticus worked at. First, we eat, because we skipped breakfast this morning. Then, we dig deeper.”

Holy crap, he was driving me insane. 

Our meal was uneventful. We stumbled across Auntie Anne’s, where I got their cinnamon pretzel bites and Jay got the pizza pretzel. It was exactly what you would expect from mall food: average. The silence from our car ride carried throughout the meal. I tried to ask Jay a couple of questions: where he was from, where he went to college, and all the usual icebreakers. He ignored all my attempts.

We then walked through the mall in hopes of finding any form of manager. Most stores were closed, and I was honestly a little surprised the mall was open, but I definitely wasn’t complaining. Better to get this over with now than make the drive tomorrow. Eventually, we stumbled across an active customer service desk, which directed us to the manager's office. 

Nya Smith was the current manager. She was tall and athletic, with a dark bowl cut. I’d guess she was about the same age as Jay (30ish), but with an added air of dominance about her. When we entered the room, she briskly stood up, shook both of our hands with a firm grip, and invited us to sit down.

Her office, despite being cramped, was really cozy. It smelt of orange and lavender and had L.E.D. lights strung around the top of the ceiling that alternate between red and green. She was in a festive mood. 

“For starters, happy holidays, gentlemen. How can I help you today?”

Her voice was low and crisp. Cozy as her room was, she wanted us out as soon as possible.

“Happy holidays to you too, Ms. Smith,” Jay chimed in. “We are here on serious detective business. Although we are not cops, we are working closely with the NYPD, and this particular case has led us to Roosevelt Fields today. I am Montgomery Walker – although many call me Jay – and this here is my partner, Awsten Knight.”

“Howdy,” I chirped. I forgot to mention this earlier, but I was born and raised in Houston before moving to New York. Sometimes the Texas in me comes out. Nya was not amused, as she promptly ignored me and directed her response only to Jay.

“What do you like to go by, hot stuff?”

“Jay is fine.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Jay. Your work sounds important, so I will be as helpful as possible. What do you need from me today?”

She wasted no time flirting with him. Must be a slow day today. I wonder why?

“Do you know Atticus Wingington?”

“Yes, he’s a former employee of the mall.”

“Former? I was under the impression he still worked here.”

Glad that wasn't just me. Geoff had definitely told us Atticus still worked here. So either Atticus hadn’t told Geoff he was fired, or it happened so recently that he never got the chance to.

“No, he was fired earlier this week for insubordination. Atticus worked as an elf in our Santa setup, where kids went to take pictures with Santa. However, he constantly had problems completing his tasks, because he was always wandering off to the musical section. According to coworkers, he was practicing piano incessantly. I’ve heard him play a couple of times, and I can safely say, there’s a reason it wasn’t his full-time job.” 

That was something Geoff mentioned: Atticus loved music. At least we can confirm we’re talking about the same person. 

“Yesterday, after a particularly long bout with the piano, Atticus's boss fired him out of sheer annoyance. I don’t blame the man.”

Jay interrupted her, asking, “How did Atticus take being fired?”

“Very, very poorly. He charged up to our resident Santa, ripped off his beard, and informed all the children in line that Santa wasn’t real. Kids were crying, parents were yelling, and the rest of the day was pure chaos. We finally had to close our Santa setup and let all employees included in the event go. At least Christmas came the day after. If you come back later, I can go into deeper detail.”

Her black eyes gazed seductively into his. I don’t know if he noticed her advances, but he didn’t seem to care either way. Jay, per usual, moved on to the next question.

“What happened to the other employees?”

“We had to fire them all. When the Christmas event shut down, all employees were let go, as they only worked seasonally. It was honestly really sad to see. We had our best Santa in years this year. Maybe a little skinny, but nothing a fake belly couldn’t fix.” You know he cried when he was fired? I’ve never seen someone so committed to the role of mall Santa. Same with a lot of the elves. But what can you do?

“Do you know where the other employees are now?”

“Like, their addresses? I can’t legally disclose where they live, not even for you. I do know that a lot of our seasonal employees also picked up hours at the Applebee’s down the road, but I’m not exactly sure.”

“Thank you, Ms. Smith”

“Nya is fine. Any chance I can take your number down, so we can chat about this at a later date? I actually have a meeting about this at 11:45 with our lawyers and a couple of people who were fired, so I may have updates within the next few hours. I’d be happy to discuss it over a cup of coffee.”

“No need. If you have any new information, simply contact the NYPD and say it’s about the Atticus Wingington case. I don’t work for hire, so you’ll not need to reach out. Thank you once again, Ms. Smith. Have a Merry Christmas.”

He stood up and left the room, leaving me rooted in the chair.

“Yeah, uh, happy holidays Nya!,” She glared at me and started viciously typing away on her computer. She clearly wasn’t happy with the way Jay had ended things. Being called Ms. Smith twice, especially after she corrected him, isn’t exactly a flirtatious move.

I stood up and ran after Jay. I feel like I’ve done that a lot today.

“You were not feeling her, huh?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on, Jay. You’re a good enough detective to know when someone is flirting with you. She was obviously into you! Were you really not digging Nya?”

“When I’m working a case, flirting isn’t at the top of my mind.”

“Whatever you say, pal. As your roommate, I wouldn’t be upset if you brought her home one night. We all get lonely, no shame in it.”

“Whether you mind or not, you have nothing to worry about. Odds are, I won’t flirtatiously bring someone back to the apartment for a long time.”

“And why is that?” The man clearly had luck with women, so I didn’t think his confidence was that low. But with Jay, it's hard to tell.

“I doubt I’d make it through the night once I was left alone with my thoughts.”

We walked in silence for a minute. I wasn’t sure how to respond. Perhaps Jay had a darker past than I realized. Either that or he was pulling my leg.

“Pick up the pace, Awsten. We have places to be.”

I sighed. “Where do we have to go now, Jay? We’re going all over Long Island for no reason. What, are we going to Atticus's childhood home next?”

Jay stopped dead in his tracks and turned to me. He put both his arms on my shoulder. His hands were warm, his eyes were cold, and  yet again, his breath was terrible. 

“Awsten, I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anyone.” He took a deep breath in. “We need to go to Applebee’s.”

“Gianfranco? Hi, it's Jay. I need you to meet me at the Applebee’s by Roosevelt Field Mall as soon as possible. Awsten and I will be there.”

It probably was about 11 o’clock, although I couldn’t tell for sure, because my watch was buried under so many layers. The sun had been buried even further in the clouds while we were inside, and it looked as if a heavy snow was imminent. The parking lot was covered with brown slush, and I couldn’t wait to get out of it. Malls have always bothered me: too many people, too many stores, too much noise.

Jay called Tony as soon as we stepped outside. He motioned toward my Civic, and we briskly walked toward it. Tony didn’t pick up at first, but after several more calls from Jay, he finally answered.

I couldn’t hear Tony’s response, and the look on Jay’s face gave nothing away. 

“Oh, and Gianfranco? Bring a couple of cops with you. The stronger, the better.” Jay? Asking for the police? Now I’ve seen everything.

We filed into my car and headed for Applebee’s. Jay instructed me where to drive, and within a couple of minutes, we were parked outside.

The moment I shut off the ignition, he leaped out of his seat and entered the restaurant. At a much slower pace, I followed suit. 

Unsurprisingly, it was a slow day for Applebee’s. In fact, it appeared we were the only customers in the place. After all, who’s going to Applebee’s on Christmas day? Jay headed for a table near the door and motioned for me to sit down next to him.

The restaurant had no decorations of any sort. All screens were flipped to the Christmas Day NBA Games, and the brightness was blinding. A middle-aged man, who I could only assume was a waiter, headed toward our table. He made up for the lack of festive spirit in the restaurant, as he was wearing a Santa hat and Santa pants – which were a little loose on him, as he was skinnier than the average Santa. His shirt, however, was a typical Applebee’s polo – a little less exciting. It featured a bright red logo and a name tag with print too small to read from a distance.

“Welcome to Applebee’s,” the waiter grumpily exclaimed. He clearly did not want to be there, as demonstrated by his multiple glances at the clock on his walk over. He was practically racing to leave. “My name is Otto, and I’ll be your server for the day. Can I get you started with anything to drink?”

“I’ll have a Shirley Temple,” I responded. I haven’t had a Shirley Temple in months, and I miss them. They match my hair and are so damn good. 

“I’m okay for now,” Jay replied. “We’re expecting guests, so we’re going to wait until everyone’s here to order, so don’t ask us about food until more people arrive.”

“Alright. My shift ends in twenty minutes, so if they show up after that, another waiter will serve you.”

As Otto turned around to walk away, I noticed a handful of candy canes sticking out of his back pocket. I couldn’t help myself.

“Do the candy canes come with the meal?” I inquired. Although I assumed the answer was no, it never hurts to ask. 

Before our waiter had the chance to answer, I saw Jay’s eyes light up. “Great question, Awsten!,” he whispered. I couldn’t tell if he appreciated the joke, or if he really wanted a candy cane. Jay isn’t very easy to read.

Otto, on the other hand, was not amused. “No sir, they merely serve to put me in a holiday spirit. If you would like candy canes, I suggest heading over to Roosevelt Field Mall. That’s where I obtained these.” He then rotated and quickly left. 

Then came the waiting game. I assumed the police were on their way, but their station wasn’t super close to us, so I expected at least a 10 to 15-minute wait. I wasn’t interested in silence this time. 

“I have a question, Jay. Why are you always in such a rush? It seems as though you never take any time off. You’re never home, and now that I’m out with you, you’ve yet to pause for even a moment. What gives?”

He glared at me. His eyes darkened, almost as if stone lay underneath their icy layer. 

“I feel as though I deserve an honest answer. I rent you my apartment, I drive you around, and I’ve been nothing but a loyal partner.”

“That I can’t argue with.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. I turned my head. I wasn’t in the mood to beg, and it didn’t seem like he was going anywhere. So much for thinking my insane roommate would trust me.

“I had a wife once.”

I turned around so quickly, I fell out of the chair. Picking myself back up, I sat back down and apologized for the fall.

“No worries,” he stammered. I could tell he was nervous. Odds are he didn’t open up to many people. At least that made me feel special.

“We started dating right when I joined the police academy. Her name was Melinda. She was my light, my rock, my everything. No matter the task, she always encouraged me to pursue my detective work. Said I was making a difference in the world.”

He looked down at the table. In what was barely a whisper, he continued, “then came the disease. Cancer. I didn’t know what to do. And before I knew it, she-”

He paused. I reached out and held his hand. I had speculated all day about why Jay was so busy, and I never, NEVER expected this conversation. A single tear streamed down his cheek. No more followed.

“She died. I didn’t know what to do. It was around that time I was fired by the NYPD. Since then, I’ve worked every day. Whenever I take a moment to sit and reflect, I-”

He looked me dead in the eyes. His pupils were so large I could barely see the blue surrounding them.

“There they are,” Jay said, as he pointed out the window. Turning around, I saw Tony Gianfranco and three cops heading toward the front door. I was amazed by how quickly Jay reverted to his usual self. But from what he told me, he’s extremely practiced at it.

“You better have a good reason for dragging us down to bloody Applebee’s on such short notice, Jay.”

“What time is it, Gianfranco?”

Gianfranco glared at him. “11:25. Now answer the damn question.”

“Give me about five minutes. Then you’ll be happy I called you down.”

“The shit you put me through.” He shook his head. “Grab a seat, boys. It's gonna be a couple of minutes,” he said to the cops. 

A new waitress approached the table. She was short, blonde, and wearing a bright green elf hat. The hat had a bell on top, which provided her walk toward us with a festive Christmas soundtrack.

She opened her mouth, presumably to welcome us to Applebee’s, but Jay jumped in once again. “Thank you for your help, miss, but we are already being served by Otto. Please let him know we are ready to order.”

“I can take your order, sir,” the waitress replied, obviously very confused.

“I would prefer Otto. Thank you, ma’am.” He looked away, as if to insinuate the conversion was over, and asked me, “What are you thinking of ordering?”

“I’m not quite sure. The boneless wings sound good.”

“I’m much more of a bone-in guy myself,” he responded.

“Jay!” Tony exclaimed. “Please explain why the hell you called us here on such short notice.”

“One second Gianfranco.” His eyes were locked across the room, as Otto was quickly heading toward us. It was already 11:25, and I did not doubt that he wasn’t trying to stay late for work.

Jay stood up and put his arm around the waiter’s shoulder. I watched as Otto’s bewilderment quickly faded to annoyance.

“Gianfranco, before we have the chance to order, I would like to introduce you to the man of the hour, our waiter.” He paused and looked down at the name printed on the Applebee’s employee polo. “Gentlemen, I present to you Otto Wood: esteemed waiter, former Santa of Roosevelt Field Mall, and murderer of Atticus Wingington.”

Everyone was frozen in place. It was as if someone had stopped time, leaving us still as statues, struggling to register this wild development. 

 Jay also stood there, apparently waiting for someone else to make the first move. I’d guess he was confused as to why no one had budged.

After a few seconds, Otto bolted down the hallway and headed for the backdoor. Tony jumped after him and tackled him before he was able to go anywhere inconvenient.

The police chased the pair down and proceeded to quickly handcuff the waiter and inform him of his rights. I stayed behind with Jay, who was still standing next to the table.

“Are you sure it was him?,” I asked in bewilderment. I didn’t think we were anywhere near the end of this mystery, and part of me still thought Jay was pulling my leg. 

“I am. I guess the murderer was Santa after all.” 

“What?,” I gasped.

“Here, let's head down to where Otto is to hear his story. I’m sure he’ll confess within the next few minutes.,” He strolled down the hallway, and I followed behind, as if he was protecting me from a three-headed dog. I don’t know why I thought of a three-headed dog, but I read Harry Potter a couple of weeks ago, and it was probably just fresh in my mind.

When I refocused on the surrounding events, I saw Tony pushing Otto onto a nearby chair. Otto had tears streaming down his face. I wasn’t expecting that: to see the murderer cry. You always think of a murderer as a psychopath with no human emotion, but here was a likely killer bawling like a baby. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. Each word was a struggle. I’m sure his face would be in his hands if they weren’t currently tied behind his back. “I didn’t mean to, I swear!”

“How the hell do you accidentally commit a murder?” Tony snarled.

“It happened in the heat of the moment. I didn’t realize what I’d done until it was too late. I-,” he burst back into tears.

Other Applebee’s employees had started to gather behind everyone, staring in shock, but the police pushed them away. I’m sure they were used to dealing with fascinated citizens.

“Otto. Look at me,” Jay said, in his usual monotone voice. “I need you to tell us exactly what happened. If you cooperate, your life will be a lot easier.”

“Ok. It's just-.” He sniffled, took a deep breath, and began.

“I was working as Santa. At the mall. Roosevelt Field, the one down the street.”

“I’m familiar,” Jay replied.

“Sorry. I’ve loved Santa ever since I was a little kid, as he was the one thing that united my family. My parents divorced when I was three, but we would celebrate Christmas together, as Santa intended. It was nice.”

He gazed off into the distance. “Hey! Otto! Keep going, pal,” snapped Tony.

“This was my first year working as Santa at the mall, and it was a dream come true. I loved the job and cherished every kid who sat on my lap and asked for a wish. I was only a seasonal employee, but I hoped that my hard work and dedication would land me a full-time job. It was on track, too, until Atticus got me fired.”

“Are you referring to the incident a few days ago?” I asked. I probably shouldn’t have chimed in, but I blurted it out before I had time to think.

“Yes. The sick bastard ruined it for all of us.”

Tony had a confused look on his face. I forgot that he didn’t know anything Nya Smith told us.

“Atticus was fired from the mall for insubordination recently,” Jay explained. “He also worked at the Santa setup, and when he was fired, he flipped out and told everyone Santa was fake. The display was shut down and everyone was fired.”

“Exactly,” said Otto. He seemed to have calmed down a little, but was still on the brink of tears. “It crushed me to lose that job. It was my everything. Some of my coworkers have been asked to go in today at 11:45 to testify about what exactly happened, and I wanted to go in at the same time and ask for a new job. I did everything so perfectly up until Atticus shit the bed, and I thought I at least could say my piece. I didn’t have anything to lose.”

Ironic coming from a man who will be spending the next few decades behind bars.

“The one thing I thought would really help me get a job was a testimony from Atticus saying that I did nothing wrong. He’s shared his address with me before, so I biked to his house last night to ask for help. I was in my full Santa outfit, but I didn’t care, I simply wanted to do what it took to be rehired.”

Jay was right about the bike. It was early on in the story, but I was already impressed. And he didn’t even need that clue to solve the case. Amazing.

“Were you seriously planning on simply asking for help?” Tony asked.

“I wanted his help. I told him my intentions right away, and he invited me into his living room. He smelt of liquor, and there were beer bottles everywhere, so I assumed he had been drinking. I usually don't drink, but he pushed a Bud Light onto me and I couldn’t say no. I drank the can along with some of Santa’s milk, and Atticus and I split the cookies left for Santa. Before I knew it, we had been talking for an hour and were sucking on the candy canes I still had on me from the mall. As soon as he finished his cane, he became oddly aggressive. Out of nowhere, he just started attacking me. It was terrible.”

Otto’s eyes swelled again, but he shook his head and continued.

“He said I was too skinny. He said I was a bad Santa. And so many other mean things. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the terror of losing my job, but I took the candy cane out of my mouth and stabbed him, so he would be quiet. I really suck my canes, so the edge was pointy. It simply pierced his skin. I didn’t mean to, I swear. It all happened so fast. So fast….”

He put his head down and wept. Tony slapped him, and exclaimed, “Now isn’t the time, Santa. I need you to finish the story.”

“After I stabbed him with the candy cane, I panicked. He was just lying unresponsive on the floor. I decided I needed to get out of there pretty quick before I woke anybody else up. Atticus’s key ring had fallen out of his pocket, so I grabbed it and ran.”

“Why’d you need his keys?” asked Tony. 

“I wanted to lock the front door for some reason, and I could only do that from the outside with keys. I really don’t know why. Doesn’t make sense now.  Honestly, I thought I was lucky to have been wearing my Santa suit. The gloves meant that I didn’t have fingerprints anywhere. But you caught me anyway,” he groaned.

“Anyway, I continued to panic. I’m no good under stressful situations. Now that I was outside, having Atticus's keys on me felt like a bad idea, so I figured I’d throw them into the fire in the fireplace, through the opening in the chimney. I went to the garage, which I had a key for thankfully, grabbed the ladder, and climbed onto the roof. When I got up, I threw the keys into the fire, and climbed back down.”

“I have a question,” Jay said. “Did you throw the white scan card in the fireplace as well?”

“No. Atticus said that we should toss our cards into the fire to symbolize the end of our time at the mall. I still wanted to continue working there, so I didn’t throw mine in. I think he was so drunk that he thought I was there to celebrate being fired with him.”

“Ok, thank you. Please continue.”

“There isn’t much left. I took my bike and rode home. I tried to forget what happened and to blame it on the can of Bud Light. The reason I asked to come to work this morning was, so I could take my mind off things before heading to the mall to ask about a job. Sadly, today has been quiet, so that plan failed. And now here I am, arrested, and unable to go to the mall, let alone get a job of any kind! I just wanted to be Santa. Why can’t I be Santa…,” he trailed off. I felt bad for him, honestly. I never thought I’d feel empathy for a killer, but today has been full of firsts.

“Thank you for your honesty,” I said. Otto didn’t acknowledge me.

“Take him away, boys,” Tony called out to his henchmen. “Put him in the backseat and drive him back to the station. I’ll drive back once I finish up with Jay.”

After a brief eye roll in response to Jay’s name, the police filed out with Otto Wood. I really hoped that would be the last I saw of him.

“So, Jay?” Tony began. “I feel like I ask you this question all the damn time, but I still need to know. How the hell did you figure this one out?”

“It just made sense,” Jay replied blandly. 

He stared at Tony and me with an empty expression. There was no joy or satisfaction on his face. It was an expression I was very used to, as he constantly used it at home. While I put up with his blank stare in the apartment, now simply wasn’t the time for it. 

“Do you understand how impressive that was, Jay?” I exclaimed, in an almost angry tone. “You pulled that out of your ass like it was nothing! I feel like Tony and I deserve an explanation.”

He thought for a moment. Tony remained silent, but for the first time today, seemed to appreciate my input.

“I’d guess the first thing I noticed was the bike parked outside. I assumed that was the killer’s method of transportation.” 

“Oh!,” I yelled. “That’s why you asked Atticus's brother about the bike. I thought that was really random at the time, and you were just trying to be friendly.”

Tony gave me possibly the coldest side-eye I’ve ever received. “You should know by now, Awsten. Jay is never friendly.”

“Yes, Awsten, that is why I asked Mr. Wingington about the bike. Once I confirmed that no one in the family actively biked, I established that part of the case. Then came the crying child. Honestly, Awsten, I’m grateful you were there with me for him. I can’t deal with crying children and would have simply ignored the tears, but you got valuable information out of him. Bravo.”

I did? I have no recollection of the kid – Sebastian, I think his name is – giving us details. That being said, I didn’t need to let Jay know that. “Always happy to help.”

“What did the kid tell you?” 

“He said that he’d seen Santa last night. Now, usually, I’d consider that a child’s folly. But the little boy pointed out several oddities about Santa. First, Santa was on the lawn. Secondly, that Santa was skinnier than people describe him. No kid imagines a skinny Santa on the lawn – so I assumed that the killer had to be fully dressed like Santa. I didn’t want to press the kid, because questions might alter his memory, but that was enough information for me.”

I really never thought of that. Jay was right, huh? Everything is a clue after all.

“Then came my inspection of the body. There were no signs of a fight, so I assumed that the killer had been invited in by Atticus. Whoever they were, the two had a prior connection. Atticus's pockets were empty, and judging by his breath, he was the culprit behind the empty beer bottles on the floor. His breath also had a strange minty element to it, which didn’t correlate to the Bud Light. I logged that in my memory and figured the minty flavor would pop up later. The stab wound was nothing fancy, but it was very small and circular, another piece of information I stored.”

“Where did all that stuff come into play?” 

“Patience, Awsten. We’ll get there soon. Anyway, then came the fireplace. The cookies had two different bite marks, which I noted. I wasn’t sure if one of those was from Atticus and the killer, or possibly if they were from Mr. and Ms. Wingington. The milk was of no importance to me. As you know, I don’t wait for DNA samples to come back.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony groaned. “You say this every time. ‘Science should only prove a case, not solve it’. I get it, Jay.” 

“No hard feelings, Gianfranco. I am grateful for our partnership.” He paused. “The things in the fire were interesting too. The melted keys were clear evidence. Atticus's empty pockets meant that they were his. Whoever threw them into the fire simply wanted to discard evidence. The idea that they were thrown down from the roof was a hunch, but a correct one.

“Is that why you threw the keys up the chimney?”

“Yes, Awsten. When I heard no noise, I knew the chimney was open from the roof. It was your joke about Santa that gave me the idea, and it helped."

Safe to say, I basically solved the mystery on my own, considering how much I assisted Jay.

“Our journey to the roof had three pieces of information. First, the garage door was open. That didn’t confirm that the killer had opened it, but it did confirm that he had access inside. Secondly, as you pointed out at the time, the ladder was the coldest thing in the garage. That meant that it had come into contact with snow recently. If anything, the ladder disproved the Santa theory. No Santa takes a ladder to the roof. And finally, the footprints and handprints on the roof. Although the footprints were all over, they clearly pointed at the chimney, and there was a hand mark directly next to its opening. From that, I discerned that after the murder, the killer had exited the house and locked the door, and then thrown Atticus's keys down the chimney, before running off. This discovery eliminated all household members, as they would have no incentive to go to such desperate measures to burn the keys. Mr. Wingington watching the Knicks game was simply an asshole move, not evidence that he had killed his brother."

Ouch. I couldn’t tell if that was a direct insult or an accidental blow, but either way, it stung.

“I will say, the mall scan card confused me. I guessed that whoever had killed Atticus had a connection to his job at Roosevelt Field, but that was only a lucky guess. Sometimes luck is part of it, you know?”

“You lucky bastard,” Tony muttered.

“I knew Jay worked at the mall because of Mr. Wingington, and so that was a logical place to visit, especially with the burnt card.”

“Did you gain anything else from the interrogation of Geoff?” I asked. I really thought Geoff was the murderer for a while, and I wasn’t sure if there was something big I missed that indicated in his favor.

“No, not particularly. I didn’t interview him with the possibility of him being a suspect in mind. Those assumptions limit your ability to reason clearly, so I wait until I better understand a case before jumping to conclusions. I learned that Atticus wasn’t from here, that he worked at the mall, that he was a musician, and that the garage door was usually locked. But the last bit didn’t matter, because Atticus likely had the key.”

“How about from Ms. Wingington, who kept begging us not to tell her kids that Santa wasn’t real?”

“She was simply a paranoid mother. You’d be paranoid too if someone had just slaughtered your brother-in-law. Doesn’t hurt to control the damage.”

“I guess,” I said shamefully. 

“Ms. Smith at the mall did give us a lot of information, though. Not only had Atticus been fired, but he’d caused other people to be fired too. Clearly, people cared about that job, because they cried after being let go. Her description of Santa was also interesting. She said that he was skinny; exactly what the crying boy said. Santa was number one on my list, but I didn’t want to ask about him specifically, as it's always best to investigate without bias.” 

“Did you know she was flirting with you, Jay?” I asked. I had to know. It was so obvious to me, but he didn’t even bat an eye.

“I didn’t think about it. I wasn’t there to flirt.”

Tony let out a hearty laugh. I could taste his breath, and it did not smell good. What is it with everyone having bad breath?

“Ah, Jay,” he said with delight. “You never change, do you? You keep breaking hearts without even knowing it.”

Jay wasn’t amused. 

“As I was saying, Ms. Smith directed us to Applebee’s. I called you, Tony, right then, because I knew we were close to the end, and wanted you to help me sort through the final pieces of evidence. I asked for you to bring policemen in case we ran into the perpetrator, so they could handle the dirty work.”

“So you didn’t know that the killer was a waiter at Applebee’s?”

“No. I wasn’t surprised, but I wasn’t expecting it, either.”

“Well, what tipped you off then,” I inquired.

“The Santa outfit first put me on notice. Although many people wear a Santa hat, it's unusual to have a full costume. It was also very clear that he was watching the clock. Ms. Smith had said earlier that she had a meeting about the Santa setup incident at 11:45, and as it drew near 11:30, I could tell our waiter wanted out. I figured that he possibly wanted to attend the meeting to ask for a job of some kind. But what really did it were those candy canes.”

“The candy canes?” I said in disbelief. “You mean the ones in his back pocket, that I made a stupid quip about?”

“Yes. Those exactly. As soon as you made a joke about them, everything clicked. Atticus's small, circular stab wound and his minty-beer breath came from a candy cane! You see, a murder mystery is like a puzzle. You put enough smaller pieces together, and eventually you start to see the larger picture of the puzzle. The candy cane was my final piece before clarity. He simply told us he got off at 11:30, so if you hadn’t come before then, Gianfranco, I would have jumped Mr. Wood myself. Thankfully, I didn’t have to.”

I stared at Jay in awe. As amazing as the discovery seemed, I didn’t expect anything like that.

“Wow,” I sighed. It was all I could say.

Tony clearly had seen this before. “Oh, Jay,” he said. “If anyone else withheld this much information from me, I’d beat the shit out of them. But you always seem to figure things out, so I can’t complain. Good work today. You never fail to disappoint.”

“Thank you, Gianfranco.”

“Now I’m going to head back to my office and write down everything you just said. Have a Merry Christmas, Jay.” The pair shook hands.

“And you, Awsten. I didn’t believe in you at first, but it sounds like you helped. Perhaps I’ll see you in the future. Just cut back on the Santa jokes, please.”

“Sounds good to me, Tony.”

“Gianfranco is preferred.”

“Merry Christmas,” I replied. He rolled his eyes and strolled out into the parking lot.

Jay and I sat in silence companionably. The light from the televisions continued to dominate the room, and waiters finally emerged from the back. I could tell they were dying to ask questions, but were simply too afraid to ask. Sounds familiar, doesn't it?

“Well, Jay, what do you want to do now? You deserve whatever form of break you want.”

“You know, Awsten, I haven’t celebrated Christmas in years. But after today, that might need to change. I’d support watching a movie.”

“Do you have any films in mind?”

He took a long, deep breath. Clearly, he was thinking very hard about the perfect film. “How about The Big Sleep? 

“Jay, as much as I’d love you, we’ve had enough of our own murder mystery today to sit down and watch a crime fiction film. Pick something else, man.”

“I apologize. It’s been a while since I’ve had leisure time.”

“How about Rudolph, then? It’s a holiday classic.” I’ve always loved Rudolph. I think he's part of the reason I dyed my hair red. But I doubt Jay would care about that.   “We can order Chinese food, make hot chocolate, and watch Rudolph.” “Deal?”

“Deal.”

We shook hands, and in unison, turned toward the car. 

“Hey, Jay.” He turned his head inquisitively. “Just know that if you ever need an extra hand, I can always help you find it. 

“Thank you, Awsten. I’m glad we spent this time together. You were a very good partner.”

“I must say, I learned a lot today. Who knew so much could happen the night before Christmas?” 

“Stay on your toes. Come next year, I’m sure Santa will strike again.”

The twinkle had returned to his eyes. As he opened the door of my Civic, he smiled at me. Montgomery Jay Smith genuinely smiled at me. For a fleeting moment, I forgot about how damn cold it was. That’s a first.