Page 113 of The Santa Claus Con

but you shouldn’t have, this much is true.

Your time at the Con should be over,

I timed you myself and you were one second slower.

“Not true,” I mutter.

I’m someone you know, I’m no stranger,

you’d be mistaken to think you’re safe from danger.

I know you peeked, when I said not to,

You always were untrustworthy, weren’t you?

You got caught in your web of lies,

so now, tonight, people will die.

This riddle… this one’s just for me.

The jewelry store. The Ring Pop. The icicle.

It’s symbolic, yet literal. Because for the past year, icicles have meant one thing, and one thing only.

Suddenly I’m not so hungry.

This is about Icicle, I text Scarlett, extra cautious of the Santa Wannabes around me.

In my phone notes, I open a new note and type out:

Who: someone from the boat

What: the Icicle necklace

When: last Christmas Eve

Where: the Silver Belle

Why: ???

“Lambros,” a voice says in my ear, but it’s not Scarlett’s. It’s Bird’s. “Meet at HQ.”

I manage to slip away without anyone asking questions.

“Norman Hawksbury is in New York,” Meyers says, cutting to the chase as soon as the door snaps closed behind me.

My head whips toward her. “What do you mean Hawk’s in New York? He isn’t in prison? His reduced time couldn’t have been that short.”

“Apparently, his lawyer worked out a deal,” she shares. “He didn’t serve any time. Claimed his informant work spanned years and was more dangerous than he was led to believe.” She leans closer to the screen. “Says here there was an attempted drowning?”

“That’s not what happened,” I say through my clenched jaw.

Bird drops a stack of papers onto the desk. “Well, this Hawk guy’s fingerprints aren’t on any of the fingerprint cards the Santa Wannabes made,” he says. “And Arnold Rossetti isn’t showing up in the system.”

I know for a fact Arnold is guilty of many crimes, yet he’s managed to stay clean all these years.

And Hawk’s managed to stay free.