Sesame Swallow | The Christmas Caper (Pt 2 of 6)

“Madam Mayor? This is Detective Sesame Swallow.”

The formality of it all hit me, and I threw up a hand, which turned into another handshake, this time from Mayor Nova Carter. She took both of my hands in hers as if she was the local pastor. She was my height, maybe sixty, with a practiced but not entirely successful smile. Or maybe she was just holding on. Her eyes darted from me to my girls to the deputy mayor. She looked undone, like she’d already lost the election, which was like eleven months away.

“I’m so glad you’re here. I’m sorry to have ruined your Saturday, Detective Swallow.”

“Sesame, please. Madam Mayor. I’m not in the police force. I’m a private investigator. Sesame is fine.” I smiled and then turned to Terry, who stood there looking exactly like I remembered him, only now he was wearing a suit that was a little too big for him instead of hoodies that were too big for him. I gave him a nod, and his weak smile told me he hadn’t decided if I was pissed at him for calling me or not.

“Hi, Terry. Love the suit.”

He grinned then but kept his mouth shut. The boss was talking.

“Thank you so much for coming, Miss Swallow,” said the mayor. “Listen. I’m going to break this down for you. And it’s going to sound like nothing, but this little Christmas bauble means the world to our town. We have eighty-two thousand citizens looking for brighter days in today’s world.” She put her hands up like she was trying to stave off a protest, as if she’d had this conversation before, but I’d already said I was in. I was gonna hear this out and do the thing. “That sounds like politics talking, and it is. But what I’m really pissed about — don’t look at me like that, James,” she said, waving off what must have been a disapproving look regarding her language, “what I’m really pissed about is this. The bauble was right there in that box when we were setting up for the party, and when I opened it up about ninety minutes ago, it was gone.”

She turned then and directed the little group of us over to the closest table adorned with boxes of ornaments, party favors, and a single, crude wooden box that looked like it belonged in a museum and not in a party full of silver and gold decorations. I started my list of mental notes and pulled out my camera to grab some quick pics of the situation. Flat white walls dotted with snowflake appliques and paper cutouts of silver bells and red and blue Christmas balls. A bright red paper tablecloth over a foldout table. Boxes of ornaments were stacked with care on the end of the table nearest the tree with the far end near the ice sculpture loaded with tree-shaped trays of cheeses and meats and crackers.

And right in the middle in a place of honor, the wooden box sat closed and waiting.

Mayor Carter’s hand hung over the latch on the front of the box, and her eyes seemed to search the crowd — not just our little group, but also the rest of the room, as if she wanted to see if anyone was watching. Satisfied, she turned and lifted the latch, pulled the lid open, revealing a box full of straw and nothing else.

“It was here. Right here. This is the box we store it in, and it was here when we first put it on the table.” She turned, the color drained from her face. “It was right here.”

I’d snapped my pictures and talked to the mayor at length, the deputy mayor, too, and now they were busy with schmoozing as more people poured into the center. This was turning into quite the event. Meanwhile, Linds and Regan and I took advantage of the charcuterie, and Terry stood by looking more out of place with us than he did in a suit with the mayor. But he was full of information, and that’s what I needed.

Talk-to-me-Terry, as I’d always called him, because no one took notes or was as thorough with homework or test prep as the dude that sat next to me in CJ425 and CJ450. The fact that I was sure he had a crush on me all of senior year was a bonus when I struggled with an assignment or needed a study partner. Terry got A’s like it was his job, so there was no way I was looking that gift horse in the mouth.

He stood there with his wavy brown hair and his perpetual grin — at least when I was around — and gave me the lay of the land for the party.

“That’s Jim Maur and his wife,” he said, his voice robotic like a presentation he’d practiced a million times but was still nervously sweating through. “They’re big donors for the mayor, and he’s her cousin. Not suspects.”

“Let me decide that, huh?”

He nodded, grinned sheepishly, and continued, pointing out more people by the large, catered spread. “That’s Victor Valencia. Blue coat. He has a design studio a few blocks from here and handles all the mayor’s graphic design. Maybe you saw the new bus wraps — beautiful stuff — for a bus, I mean.” Just then, two women strolled by with drinks, chatting and laughing. “That’s Eleanor Blackwell and Olivia Thomas. One owns a string of fitness centers here and in Gaithersburg. The other, Olivia, is kind of a sage regarding business. Her skillset is predicting market trends. There are rumors Olivia will put her hat into the ring this year.” He shrugged, and sipped on his hot cocoa.

“And who’s that?” Regan leaned in, nodding at a woman dressed in all black as if she were going to a funeral. It was a smart black suit though, I had to admit. Simple and gorgeous. Magazine cover ready. She stood in the far corner away from the rest of the crowd, her phone pressed to her ear.

Teddy’s face went all sour like he’d just had the worst shot at the bar. “That’s Shelby Stevens, Republican, and the biggest threat to Mayor Carter’s bid for reelection.”

“So, the person here with the most to gain from the bauble going missing?” I looked from Teddy to Regan to Lindsay. “Did she walk over and talk to the Mayor, Teddy? How many people at this party came by to say hello? I can’t question the nutcrackers. When was the last time you saw the bauble, and who’s been over here since you set it there on the table and started decorating the tree with the mayor?”

Teddy blinked, and then I could see his brain shifting into gear, his eyes taking on that far-away look I’d forgotten about him. There was a moment, and then another, where he nodded his head a few times as if confirming something, and then he was back, finding me, in the present. “Six people. The mayor and myself, and no, we didn’t do it. I like working for her and think she’s pretty good as a mayor. She really cares about this city.” Said mayor was across the room now, engaged in an animated conversation, all smiles and acting like nothing had happened — except for the one look she shot over, the one moment that smile slipped a little.

I glanced at my watch and noted the time. “How much time do we have until we cross the street and place the bauble on the tree?”

“About ninety minutes. We decided to do it right at seven-thirty.”

“Keep talking. Who came over to say hi, to shake the mayor’s hand, to comment on the tree, to ask about the bauble? Come on, Teddy. Did Shelby Stevens come over?” I had my eye on the mayor’s primary opponent, who hadn’t gotten off her phone since Teddy had first pointed her out. She’d been in that corner the whole time, unmoving, alone, not talking to anyone. Definitely not here to make friends or press hands. The way the mayor was working the room, these were her people.

“Yes,” said Teddy. “Yes. She did come over for a hot minute, and yes, she did ask about the bauble. But she also asked about the mayor’s health and Christmas plans. It was a standard shake-and-bake, as we say. Just a howdy to let you know the enemy is watching, listening. She didn’t ask to see it. The box was still closed.” He let out a sigh, looked my way and shrugged.

“That’s still only three people. Who else was over here? Anyone at all. The janitor, the deputy mayor, someone from your staff or the community center?”

Teddy squinched up his face, then tugged at his collar. “Sorry. I’m good at written tests, not oral exams.” He swallowed, and I wondered for a hot moment if he’d tucked the thing away as a prank or something. But one thing I remembered about Talk-to-me-Teddy was that he was a good egg, a straight shooter, and aimed to impress at everything he did. Even this.

“Deputy Mayor Smith, yes. He stopped by to discuss the menu with his husband. He put some of the red and blue balls on the tree. Those were the first boxes we opened. His husband helped. But I dunno how he would have had a chance to grab the bauble while we were standing here.”

“That’s five, Teddy. Who else?” Teddy was a Criminal Justice wiz, not a mathematician, so I had to keep on him. I stood there with my palm out, giving him that visual presentation. Whatever it took to move him along. We were under the gun here.

“The caterer, Meighan Right. She’s downstairs in the kitchen. No, wait,” said Teddy, pointing across the room. “She’s right there. The woman with the strawberry blonde hair in the Mrs. Claus suit. Doesn’t she look like What’s-Her-Name from that Santa Claus cartoon? The school teacher who married Kris Kringle? I had such a thing for her when I was a kid.”

Teddy clammed up when that last bit came out and looked away like someone had just called his name. I watched him turn beet red there momentarily, letting him stew in his own juices, trying not to laugh. “There’s mistletoe by the stairs, Teddy. Make those dreams come true, bud. But later. Is she it? The last person who’s been over here?”

He straightened up, looking over the crowd. He was taller than most of the people here, a regular bean pole. I watched his eyes searching, his lips silently checking off his list of who might be naughty and who nice. To be honest, and I laughed to myself about this, he definitely looked the part of Kris Kringle, in a tall, gangly young Santa way. I’d seen that cartoon, too. Loved the songs.

“Teddy?” I glanced at my watch. We were down fifteen minutes already just going through the suspect list.

“There was someone else,” he said, tugging at his tie again, his eyes still scanning. “I’m sure there was…that’s it.” His gaze had landed on something behind us, and the girls and I turned, following his accusing finger. “The ice sculpture guy. He came in with two guys, set up the sculpture, and pushed us all out of the way for a few minutes. He even had to shift the table over a couple feet to give themselves enough room to set up the catch basin. It’s already melting pretty fast.”

I stared at the ice angel, which I’d barely noticed until then. It was almost as tall as me, which wasn’t saying much, but that much ice. I weighed — well, a girl doesn’t tell, but that thing had to weigh a ton more. She had a nice figure, amazingly detailed robes and hair, and she held a sort of horn to her icy lips. The workmanship was exquisite, I had to admit, as I moved closer. How many hours must have gone into this thing?

“Teddy? What did you do while they set this ice angel up right next to this table with the bauble?”

Teddy looked away, and I knew where his gaze was headed. “To check out the food and grab some hot chocolate.”

“You left the sculptor and his goons, er, his henchmen, I mean, his coworkers alone with the bauble?”

“Well, who’s gonna steal a stupid Christmas ornament?” He froze, eyes darting, hoping no one heard him say that. “I mean, this amazing legend. This magic bauble. The Eye of Frederick. Did you know it was called that?”

“You think this is dumb?” Lindsay said. “I sorta do, too. Magic Christmas ornament?”

Teddy shrugged. “I just work here. The mayor says the bauble matters, it matters. The mayor says the tree is too short; the tree is too short. The mayor says I need better ties; I get better ties. It’s the job.”

“You don’t make the legends, Teddy. You live them.” I hit him with a little playful punch in the shoulder, and suddenly he was smiling again. “Okay,” I said, dropping my voice, “we’re gonna get this bauble back, no matter how dumb we’ve agreed this is.” Nods all around. “And then Teddy is gonna take us to dinner because he owes us for this. Am I right, Teddy?”

He nodded and shrugged, shrugged and nodded. I giggled. He was such a cute bobblehead. Some things never change.

“So, here’s the plan. Linds, you and Teddy are heading downstairs to talk to the caterer. Got me?” I waited for both to nod. “Linds is good at talking to people, Teddy, so even if you’re intimidated by Future Mrs. Claus, she’ll smooth it over. And maybe she’ll get you her number while she’s at it.” I looked away just as his face flushed red again. “Regan and I will go see the sculptor. I need the name of the business, and Linds, I need Armand and the car.” I scanned the huddle, and everyone looked ready. “Okay, Operation Ornament is a go.”