Page 21 of Christmas Mittens Murder

“It wouldn’t be Christmas without you playing the part of Scrooge,” Hayley countered.

“Bah humbug!” Sal bellowed. He grabbed a napkin and began dabbing at his stained shirt. “I hear your joint is doing pretty good, so I assume you’re not here to beg for your old job back. Your replacement has been a complete disaster!”

“You can stop calling her my replacement. She’s been here for two years now, and you also need to give her a break, because she is doing the best job she can working for someone who is nearly impossible to please!”

“When did you get so sassy?”

“When you stopped signing my checks.”

Sal grumbled and Hayley smiled. He made a habit of pretending to be annoyed with her all the time, but deep down she knew he loved their unusual rapport.

“So what are you doing here?” Sal asked.

“I came to pick up Bruce.”

“He already left. You can probably find him at home.”

“What? But we agreed I would pick him up here at the office. I texted him earlier and told him I would drop by after Lydia Partridge made her ice-cream delivery at the restaurant. Why didn’t he text me back and tell me he was going to leave?”

“How the hell should I know? I don’t have time to monitor all your texts and communications. I’m not the FBI!”

“He always gets so distracted when he’s working on a big news story,” Hayley said.

“News flash! I don’t care!” Sal hollered as he poured what was left in the coffeepot into his ceramic mug and put it in the microwave. “But speaking of Esther Willey, when I saw you come in, I figured you were here to question me.”

“You? About what?”

He punched in forty-five seconds on the microwave key pad and pressed start before turning back to face Hayley. “Come on, it’s all over town. My wife’s a murder suspect! She despised Esther and that whole knitting crew. I haven’t seen her so wrapped up in knots since Harry and Meghan ditched the royal family for a life as Oprah’s neighbors.”

“Oh, come on, Sal. Rosana is so sweet and demure. I hardly think she is capable of murder.”

“Have you talked to her lately? It’s like her whole personality has changed ever since she went to war over those stupid Christmas mittens. She used to defer to me, and now she barely listens to a word I say.”

“Rosana may be a little on edge lately, but really, Sal, a murderer?”

“Why not? She’s been slowly killing my spirit every day for the last thirty-two years.” Sal laughed at his own joke.

What he did not know was that Rosana had suddenly appeared with a small box in her hand from the office’s back bullpen and was standing directly behind him, face flushed, seething.

Hayley cleared her throat and shook her head, trying to warn him. “Sal, you don’t mean that.”

“Are you kidding? Sometimes I like to watch my wedding video running backward so I can see myself walk out of the church a free man!”

Now he was howling.

Hayley remained stone-faced.

“You gotta admit, Hayley, that was a pretty good one.”

Hayley averted her eyes to a fuming Rosana. “What do you think, Rosana?”

Sal’s face froze.

“Typical Sal humor. Lazy and lame.”

Sal spun around, instantly softening. “Baby doll, when did you get here? I didn’t see you come in.”

“I made Christmas cookies for the staff and was just dropping them off. You weren’t in your office, so I figured you were in the bathroom sitting on the toilet playing Wordle on your phone.”