The sun had set, the chill in the air had grown chillier, and the crowd was quickly beginning to grow. Last-minute decorations were still being placed on most trees, but onlookers were already browsing, some drinking hot chocolate, some eating Christmas cookies.
The only person who noticed me looking around was Denny, who was across the street, inspecting a tree as Billie had inspected Wanda’s. He was dressed in a bright-red sweater and black jeans, which made him look even more like Santa. He happened to look up as I looked over. He smiled and waved. I did the same. Maybe that’s why Billie hadn’t wanted to talk; maybe she’d seen Denny. He certainly seemed to rule the Ridgeway family roost.
“All this Christmas stuff and not a mistletoe in sight.” A voice pulled me back to reality.
“Hi,” I said to Sam. He was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved red T-shirt with a Santa iron-on over his chest. I bit the insides of my cheeks to contain a laugh. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him look so casual, or in something so “cute” even when he was trying to be casual. “You’re not working?”
“Oh, I’m working. This”—he pointed to the Santa—“was Vivienne’s idea. She asked if some of us would look a little less cop-like for the event.”
“And you agreed?”
“I drew the short stir stick.”
“You look adorable.”
“Why, thank you.”
“You’re Officer Brion,” Wanda said. This time, she extended her hand to him.
“I am. Nice to see you, Wanda.”
“You, too. You know,” she said with a high lilt, “those Ridgeway people aren’t to be trusted.”
“Oh, I don’t know. They donated the trees,” Sam said after shooting me a quick glance.
“Yes, that’s very kind, but that woman, the one that was just here talking to me and Becca, she’s up to no good.”
“How? Why?”
“I can’t remember. I just can’t remember.”
“Something happened before?” Sam asked.
“Yes, I believe so. Many years ago.”
“Sometime in the eighties?” I couldn’t resist.
“Yes, actually, I think that’s correct.”
“Can you remember what it was?” I said, now suddenly truly interested.
Wanda shook her head slowly. “No, I don’t think I can. Maybe it will come to me later.”
Sam took a business card out of his back pocket. “If you remember, would you give me a call?”
“Of course.” Wanda took the card and then turned her attention back to the tree. “I’m okay now, Becca. Thanks for your help, but you should go play with your boyfriend.”
“Uh, okay, well, the tree looks spectacular,” I said.
“I know.”
“Any chance that’s an act?” I said when we were out of her earshot.
“Partially. I think she plays everyone; she likes to. That itself, though, is a form of mental instability, but we make sure she’s okay. I’ve talked to doctors, and she’s perfectly capable of caring for herself. Don’t worry; if she needs help, we’ll make sure she gets it.”
I stopped walking and looked up at Sam. “I had no idea you were that in tune with all of this.”
He laughed. “This is my home. I’m a police officer, and even though I more closely resemble a child going to sing in a holiday show this evening, I do take my job seriously.”
“I know, but . . . well, good job, that’s all.”
“Thank you.”
I’d lost track of my parents and still hadn’t seen Allison or anyone else from the market, but I wanted to tell Sam about my newest ornament, so I directed him to one of the snack stations. We placed our order, dropped some money into the jar, and then sat on the curb away from the crowd, where he could keep watch for problems and I could tell him about the ornament without anyone hearing.
“You’re sure it wasn’t Ian?” Sam asked.
“I’m sure. I think he heard the concern in my voice. He knew that if it was some sort of joke or something for fun, it was time for the fun to end.”
“Any chance I could dust it for fingerprints?”
“Oh, geez, Sam, that never occurred to me. I’m sure I ruined any chance for that. See, you haven’t taught me all the professional ins and outs yet.”
“Right. Well, it most likely wouldn’t do much good anyway. It was outside. Any prints we found might not lead us anywhere or mean much of anything anyway.” He took a sip of hot chocolate, leaving a dot of whipped cream on his nose. I wiped it with my thumb.
“Do you still think it might be a Secret Santa?” I asked.