Candy Cane Murder (Hannah Swensen #9.5)(2)

“Better take your place, Tracey,” Hannah whispered, giving her niece a little push toward the thronelike chair where Wayne would sit. Since some of the little ones had been afraid of the big, red-suited man with the white fur and the booming voice in years past, Sally had asked Tracey to stand next to Santa and reassure them.

When Tracey had taken up her position, looking like an angel with her shining blond hair and white velvet dress, Hannah gave a little wave and headed off to the kitchen. Her least favorite part of the evening was about to begin, the part where she skipped behind Santa and scattered cellophanewrapped candy canes as he wound his way through the crowded dining room and up the steps to the stage. When Santa reached the top step, the curtains would open to reveal Tracey, Santa’s throne, and the huge decorated Christmas tree. And once Wayne was seated and his elf had navigated the steps and taken her place by the Christmas tree, Michelle and Andrea would bring the children up, one by one, to greet Santa and receive their presents.

When she pushed open the swinging kitchen door, Hannah spotted Santa Wayne at the counter, perched on a tall stool and drinking something in a cup. Sally stood next to him, frowning.

“Something’s wrong?” Hannah asked her, and it came out more statement than question. Of course something was wrong. Sally wouldn’t be frowning if everything were perfectly all right.

“Wayne’s got laryngitis and my hot peppermint tea isn’t working. We’re afraid he’ll scare the kids when he talks to them.”

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Hannah realized that was possible, especially if Santa sounded gruff. “I could make an announcement.”

“What kind of announcement?” Santa Wayne asked in a rasping voice that left no question about his ability to speak in normal tones.

“I could tell the kids that you ran into some thick fog over Greenland and you had to sing ‘Jingle Bells’ really loud so your voice would bounce off the ice caps and Donner and Blitzen wouldn’t fly into them.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard!” Santa Wayne rasped.

Hannah shrugged. “I know, but I think it’ll work. Do you want me to do it?”

Santa Wayne and Sally exchanged glances. “I guess it’s better than nothing,” he said, settling the question.

Smile. Scatter left, scatter right, Hannah told herself, trying not to pant as she skipped. She’d only covered about half the distance and she was already out of breath, puffing faster than the caterpillar smoking a hookah in Tracey’s volume of Alice in Wonderland.

Uh-oh! There was Mike, her sometime boyfriend! Hannah put on the best smile she could muster and tried to pretend she was having the time of her life. The fact that those portions of her anatomy she often wished were smaller and firmer were bouncing up and down and sideways like a loose bar of soap in a shower stall didn’t help. No one who saw her could possibly call her graceful. The best she could hope for was that they might consider her a good sport.

Only a few more yards to go. Hannah concentrated on skipping forward and peppering her audience with candy canes. At least she’d finally figured out why the green leggings she wore were called tights. It was because they were tight. Extremely tight. So very tight that she felt like a sausage about to split open on a blazing hot barbecue grill.

10

Joanne Fluke

The ordeal was almost over and Hannah stopped to toss another few candy canes as Wayne climbed the steps to the stage. Then the curtains opened and the audience applauded as he gave Tracey a smile and sat down in his chair. He patted his knee, and Tracey climbed on to whisper in his ear. It was a sweet and heartwarming scene, and Hannah was grateful that everyone in the audience was watching Santa with Tracey as she climbed the steps to the stage and took her place to do what her Grandma Ingrid had always called speak her piece.

“Santa almost didn’t make it tonight,” Hannah spoke the words she’d been rehearsing in her head, “so let’s give him a big round of applause to show how glad we are he made it here to the Lake Eden Inn.”

The audience broke into loud applause and once it had diminished in volume, Hannah continued with her story. “Did you know that there was an awful storm at the North Pole when Santa started his Christmas journey?”

“No!” several children shouted, and Hannah gave them a smile. “There was, believe me. Santa didn’t think he was going to make it, but do you know what he did?”

“No!” This time the response was louder and Hannah went into her story about the polar ice caps and the fog as heavy as green pea soup. “So Santa had to sing all the way to the coast of Newfoundland to keep his reindeer from crashing into the ice caps. And he sang so loudly and so long, he strained his voice.”

The younger children in line were nodding gravely. They’d believed her, just as she’d known they would. “Would you like to hear how funny Santa sounds?” she asked.

There was a clamor of yeses and not all of them came from the children. Some of the adults were getting into the spirit of the evening, too.

“Would you please say Ho Ho Ho for us, Santa?” she requested, turning toward him.

“Ho, Ho, Ho!” Santa Wayne exclaimed hoarsely, and some CANDY CANE MURDER

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of the children giggled. That drew a good-natured laugh from the adults and Hannah figured she’d done her part. There was only one more thing to mention. “So you won’t be afraid of Santa’s scratchy voice, will you?”