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Kim Smith has been writing for more years than she can remember. She is currently busy trying to sell the first of a series of mysteries featuring Shannon Wallace and Dwayne Brown.

The Christmas Heist by Kim Smith

Christmas is a great time of year. The kids are out of school, crooks are out of money, and parents are out of their mind.

We were contacted to work at Glassman's department store for promos of Santa for the people who hired and fired the store's bearded one.

The weather was typical South Lake winter, cold temps and no snow. Frosty puffs came from our mouths as we hustled into the the store ten minutes early.

We were meeting a rep from St. Nick's Society before the event, and I wanted to get in early to set up. We had brought along tripods, VX2000's and several rolls of cable to keep us connected at various lengths. We'd save our batteries unless we had to move around.

As I stood trying to get warmth back into my feet and hands, I realized that this was going to be mostly easy.

We would be sitting behind the dais and off to one side of it, getting over-the-shoulder shots and frontal views of the kids with Santa. Easy enough, I mused watching Dwayne as he talked trash with one of the sales clerks behind the nearby lingerie counter.

A petite brunette dressed like an elf strolled over from where the kitchen appliances were kept. "Hi," she said as she approached, hand already out to welcome us. "I'm Dora Dennis, from St. Nick's Society. Are you the videographers?"

Bill Engvall's signature line "Here's yer sign" wanted to shoot from my mouth, but I refrained. Instead, I shifted my tripod under my arm and shook her hand. "Yes, ma'am. I'm Shannon Wallace."

She nodded and smiled at Dwayne, who sidled closer. "There you are, Mr. Brown. I'm so glad you arrived a little early. We had some trouble in here last night, and well, it will help to have a diversion today."

I tried to give her my best, interested look so she would fill us in without my having to ask what happened. Thankfully, she took the hint.

She glanced around and lowered her voice, "Some of our Santas are being accused of robbery. Apparently, there is some sort of purse snatcher in the area."

"Ouch," I replied. "That was unexpected."

I glanced around as well, looking for Detective Salvador Ramirez, South Lake's primary investigator and my secret crush. If such criminal activity were suspected, he'd know about it and would be worrying it like a dog with a bone. I scanned the area. No Sal.

However, a line of possible victims had begun to gather, switching from one foot to another, doing their best to keep their kids in tow. Santa was due to arrive at one and visit with the children until five.

I considered what might have been going on underneath the surface. Santa could sit on the dais and see everyone, perfect placement if you wanted to watch the activity, and look for possible marks to hit.

We walked away from the crowd a few paces and I whispered into her ear. "We could make it a point to videotape Santa with the express purpose of proving his innocence."

She grinned at me and nodded. "That's what I wanted to hear. We still want all the other stuff too, for promotional purposes, but that would be great."

I smiled at her, and she took us to where we could set up and get into place while waiting on Santa to arrive. After she walked away it occurred to me that our footage would also prove the big-bellied guy's guilt as well.

***

It was getting close to five. The skies outside the wide windows of the store were darkening, and I knew that if there were any connection to attacks in the parking lot and Santa it would be happening soon. I kept my eye to the viewfinder, watching his actions. Nothing strange happened.

This particular Santa was an older man, with genuine gray hair and eyebrows who seemed truly interested in the things the kids asked for. His responses all appeared proper and he never pulled out a cell phone or acted suspicious at all. Bad Santa he was not.

Dwayne was shooting the video from the perspective of promos, and I was shooting for the ulterior motives of the person behind the red coat. Nothing would happen that Dwayne couldn't catch if I changed positions, and if Santa were a bad elf, he would show his real side soon.

My concern was: what if it wasn't him?

I moved my camera to a less conspicuous location, switched to battery power, and started to record other possibilities when a group of giggling teen girls walked by. They snickered and pointed at me. I just waved over the top of my camera and kept my eye to the viewfinder. As I scanned the bath accessories area looking for anyone suspicious, a man in a Santa hat walked into view.

I followed him with my camera. He stopped and gazed around, looking for someone.

Apparently, the person was not where they were supposed to be, because he pulled out his cell phone. He hesitated a moment, glanced around the bath shop, flipped the phone closed and headed straight for Santaland.

Interesting.

I shut off the camera, picked up the tripod, and briskly moved through the crowd. He stopped outside men's belts and once again removed his cell to stare at it.

Text message maybe?

He shut it and strolled into the ladies wear section.

I was in a dilemma. What to do?

I set the tripod up straighter and flipped the camera on, catching him in the viewfinder talking to someone at the ladies' lingerie counter.

With one hand I pulled out my cell phone and pushed two to speed-dial Dwayne.

He answered on the third ring.

"Yeah."

"Hey, I think I have something."

"Where are you?"

"Outside lingerie. Some dude in a Santa hat has been wandering around talking on his cell, looking for someone. Now he's talking to a clerk in lingerie."

"Our guy is packing up, I need to move. I'll wander through."

"Cool."

I shoved my phone in my pocket and continued to watch the man in the red-and-white hat as he got into a heated discussion with the clerk. This made me more than curious, so I zoomed in on her face.

It was the same girl Dwayne had been talking to earlier. She looked angry.

I pulled the cell back out and redialed Dwayne.

"Remember talking to a girl at the lingerie counter?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Something weird's going on with her and Santa-Hat. They're really going at it."

"Uh-huh. I'm standin' on the opposite side of the display next to them. It ain't pretty."

"What're they saying?"

"Oops. Gotta go."

He disconnected, and I peered through the viewfinder to watch. Suddenly, the man strode away, toward the interior of the store. Dwayne followed, his tripod to his shoulder like a soldier marching off to war.

I dialed Sal on speed-dial number three.

"I know you're out there. We're at the mall too. Where's your group?" I asked.

"I'm impressed. We're all over. I'm in the parking lot. Man, it's freezing out here."

"Quit whining. A possible baddie is on his way out, followed by Dwayne. Look alive." I disconnected before he could inquire how I knew so much.

I collected my tripod and camera, and hunted for Miss Lingerie. She materialized, hurrying for the restroom. I followed at a safe distance, eased into the restroom, and leaned my tripod against one wall while listening to her talk to push buttons on her cell.

"Hey, it's me. I swear this is the last time, Johnny. I swear. I'll beep you when I see someone, just be patient."

Then the toilet flushed. Oops. My cue to get the fudge out of Candyland. I scooped up the equipment and hurried out into the store. My mind raced. She was the contact for the Santa attacker, and now I had to film her until she spied a victim to send his way.

I nestled in close to the plastic bowls and dishware, and tried to keep track of possible victims while keeping the clerk in view.

In a little while, a woman––who should have known better––came slipping along. She carried two bags and tried to corral a little boy and girl probably three and four years old.

There should be some unwritten laws that mothers have to follow during the Christmas season, which says they are not allowed to shop for gifts and keep track of their kids all at the same time. Most do not do a good job of juggling both. It doesn't take much monkey business to make a mother strike out.

My camera stayed focused on her. This woman was totally clueless. She was probably thinking about the spaghetti she was making for dinner. She wasn't thinking about protecting her bags, her purse, or her kids. I switched to the clerk's area.

The clerk watched the mother fumble around, and her shoulders sagged in relief. She'd found her mark.

I knew it!

I pulled my cell out and dialed Sal. "What's going on?"

"We're watching him. He's just wandering around. Dwayne is like a bumblebee waiting to light."

"Not for long. A possible mark is headed your way. Get ready."

I ended the call, stowed my gear under the first table I found, and watched as the lingerie clerk rushed to her station, grabbed her purse, and started for the door not too far off the heels of the poor mama.

I followed along behind her, and when we got outside, the activity made both of us stop and watch.

Santa-hat man, aka Johnny, had reached the woman with the kids but was now holding his hands up as Dwayne threatened him with the tripod. Sal and company quickly closed the gap.

The clerk hastened her step to the left, heading for her car, but I grabbed her from behind and swung her around.

"Not so fast, friend. You're in on this scam, and you'll be obliged to just hang out with me until they can slap some cuffs on you," I told her in my best old-time cop movie voice.

She struggled to break free by attempting to stomp on my foot. I wrapped my hand in the straps of her long cloth tote, and gave her a good yank. She nearly fell, and I was reminded of a dog going full tilt with a leash on until its owner ends the game.

I got a good grip on her arm and yelled for Dwayne. He finally heard me and loped over.

"Hang on, Shan. I'm comin' to the rescue!"

I nodded, realizing that I was panting from the effort. "Good work, partner."

He shoved her ahead of us. "Let's go see the police, how ‘bout it?"

We gathered by the vic's car, and I could hear the kids crying. What a way to start the holidays!

Dwayne handed the guilty clerk over to a cop dressed in an elf hat. "Nice outfit," he ribbed the cop.

"Nice takedown," the elf-cop replied, returning the tripod.

Dwayne smiled as he took it, but didn't make a comment. As we turned to go back inside the store, he began humming "Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer."

"Gotta love Christmas," I said, with a sigh.

"Let's go get some of your Aunt Nan's fudge. That's the best stuff I've ever eaten, and no lie."

"Maybe she'll let you open a present early," I suggested as the Christmas music enveloped us from the store's overhead.

"This family thing, Christmas and all?" he said. "I think I might just like it."

I smiled then, feeling the old familiar surge of happiness that came with the season, filled to the brim with good will.

"God and sinners reconciled!" we sang in unison.

THE END