Page 67 of Don't Shoot Me Santa

“I thought that might be the case.” Kenny rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just… I’ve got three officers out canvassing the Ventnor charity shops, two more chasing down costume rentals across the island, and I’m still waiting on toxicology. We’ve got alibis for every lead. Every single Santa on the island has a bloody alibi checked out.”

He nodded to himself. “You’re in triage mode.”

“Exactly. We’ve got the Christmas fair committee chair scheduled for interview, and I’ve requested door-to-doors from anyone near the green on Friday night. But we’re stretched. I can put in for clearance, but it might take time. And if you’re right…if this is bigger than here…”

“I’ll try another route.”

“Do you have anyone you trust?”

He hesitated. Then thought of the red coat on the girl in Glasgow.

“Yes,” he said, and hated it.

“Okay, great. While I’ve got you, though. Prelim pathology came in this morning. No overt trauma. No restraint marks. No signs of sexual assault. Possible exposure as cause of death, but tox is still pending. There was residue in his mouth. Something sugary. Might be the candy. Might be something else.”

Kenny’s mind whirred. “Sedative delivery method?”

“Maybe. Lab’s chasing it.”

“Any witnesses?”

“Nothing direct,”she said.“But a dog walker swears the tree lights weren’t flashing the night before he was found. We’re narrowing it down to a window sometime between ten and six.”

“And the Santa suit?”

“No missing uniforms. No costume thefts. No hits on local grotto rentals. If he got it, it wasn’t from around here. Could’ve been bought online years ago.”

“Or deliberately untraceable. Prints?”

“None. The whole scene’s frustratingly clean. Not staged in a panic. No drag marks either. Means he was carried with gloves. Placed.”

That stillness again.

Calculated. Controlled.

“We’re still waiting on hostel staff to confirm if he’d mentioned anything odd lately. But it doesn’t sound like he had anyone close.”

“Might be an idea for me to go talk to them.”

“If you think it will help?”

“Can’tnothelp. Another thing while I have you…can you confirm the sexuality of all three victims?”

“Might be tricky. But I’ll try.”

“Thanks. Could be important.”

She hung up. The line went silent.

Kenny stared down at the note he’d written on the edge of his legal pad. One name. One date. A breadcrumb on a trail he already knew he shouldn’t be following.

Then he picked up the phone.

Jack answered on the third ring.“If this is you confirming my address again, I swear to God—”

“We’ll send the card.” Kenny’s exhaling laugh didn’t quite reach his chest.