as mobster-ific.
The FBI agent looked doubtful. He continued giving me the side-eye the entire trip back to Prospect Point. The mall was nearly deserted except for a few TV news vans parked near the main entrance to the shopping center. Two police cars idled near the door to Drake’s, and Agent Barker parked next to them.
A police officer opened the door to the mall after Agent Barker knocked and flashed his identification, then Jeff lifted the security gate, let us into the store, and followed us down to the employee break room in the basement. While the agent watched, Jeff unlocked Murph’s locker and opened it for us. I peered in and saw his jacket folded neatly, and on top of it was a red box with a bright white bow. My name was written on the tag.
Agent Barker took the box out and gave it a quick shake. “Do you mind if I open it?”
“Go ahead,” I said.
He pulled off the bow and opened it gingerly, and the smell of almonds wafted out.
I looked at the name of the Italian bakery on the box and smiled. “He said almond cookies reminded him of his family Christmas traditions.”
Agent Barker smiled and handed me the box. “I guess these are for you,” he said. He gathered the rest of Murph’s belongings and put them in a paper evidence bag. “I may be in touch if we have additional questions.”
I nodded. “Thanks for driving me back.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask about Jake Barnes, but I didn’t dare. There was a thin line between being curious and being desperate. And that line was far in my rearview mirror. Better not to advertise that fact.
Agent Barker left, and I got my purse and coat from my own locker while Jeff lurked uncomfortably near me.
“Uh, Miranda, I’m really sorry to have to do this, but I have to let you go,” he finally said, staring at the ground near my feet.
“Well, it is my last day, and I was just about to finish my shift, so is that really necessary?”
He sighed. “It’s just that what you did is against policy.”
“What policy?”
Poor Jeff looked so miserable that I felt sorrier for him than I did for me. “I don’t know. Some policy against doing the right thing? I just know that the general manager said I had to fire you.”
He shoved an envelope into my hand. “It’s your last check. I’m so sorry to have to do this on Christmas Eve.”
“Jeff, it was my last day. I’ll be fine.”
He sighed again. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be a manager.”
I patted his arm and walked to the door. “You’re a good manager, Jeff.”
He brightened a little. “Yeah? I was thinking I should go back to school, maybe get a teaching credential.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” I said.
“You want me to walk you to your car?” he asked, hitting the elevator button.
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” I said. I’d just been sucker-punched by a larcenous Santa. I figured the odds were low that I’d be the victim of yet another criminal act in the same night.
Jeff let me out of the store, and I gave him my employee discount card and electronic key pass.
“Well, happy holidays, Miranda.”
“Same to you, Jeff.”
A cold breeze was picking up as I walked to the parking garage, and I hurried toward the Golf Ball, parked in a far corner. Aunt Marie would be expecting me for my birthday dinner, and I dreaded telling her that I’d invited a fugitive mobster to Christmas.
I fumbled with the box and pulled out a cookie to snack on while I walked through the parking garage. It was delicious—the buttery, almond-infused dough melted on my tongue.
As birthdays went, it wasn’t the best. That would have been the year I turned ten, and Aunt Marie gave me snowshoes. We'd spent the day at Lake Tahoe, hiking around the snowy forest and enjoying our picnic lunch. But at least turning thirty-two wasn’t boring. I got a box of cookies out of the trouble and a good story that
The FBI agent looked doubtful. He continued giving me the side-eye the entire trip back to Prospect Point. The mall was nearly deserted except for a few TV news vans parked near the main entrance to the shopping center. Two police cars idled near the door to Drake’s, and Agent Barker parked next to them.
A police officer opened the door to the mall after Agent Barker knocked and flashed his identification, then Jeff lifted the security gate, let us into the store, and followed us down to the employee break room in the basement. While the agent watched, Jeff unlocked Murph’s locker and opened it for us. I peered in and saw his jacket folded neatly, and on top of it was a red box with a bright white bow. My name was written on the tag.
Agent Barker took the box out and gave it a quick shake. “Do you mind if I open it?”
“Go ahead,” I said.
He pulled off the bow and opened it gingerly, and the smell of almonds wafted out.
I looked at the name of the Italian bakery on the box and smiled. “He said almond cookies reminded him of his family Christmas traditions.”
Agent Barker smiled and handed me the box. “I guess these are for you,” he said. He gathered the rest of Murph’s belongings and put them in a paper evidence bag. “I may be in touch if we have additional questions.”
I nodded. “Thanks for driving me back.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask about Jake Barnes, but I didn’t dare. There was a thin line between being curious and being desperate. And that line was far in my rearview mirror. Better not to advertise that fact.
Agent Barker left, and I got my purse and coat from my own locker while Jeff lurked uncomfortably near me.
“Uh, Miranda, I’m really sorry to have to do this, but I have to let you go,” he finally said, staring at the ground near my feet.
“Well, it is my last day, and I was just about to finish my shift, so is that really necessary?”
He sighed. “It’s just that what you did is against policy.”
“What policy?”
Poor Jeff looked so miserable that I felt sorrier for him than I did for me. “I don’t know. Some policy against doing the right thing? I just know that the general manager said I had to fire you.”
He shoved an envelope into my hand. “It’s your last check. I’m so sorry to have to do this on Christmas Eve.”
“Jeff, it was my last day. I’ll be fine.”
He sighed again. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be a manager.”
I patted his arm and walked to the door. “You’re a good manager, Jeff.”
He brightened a little. “Yeah? I was thinking I should go back to school, maybe get a teaching credential.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” I said.
“You want me to walk you to your car?” he asked, hitting the elevator button.
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” I said. I’d just been sucker-punched by a larcenous Santa. I figured the odds were low that I’d be the victim of yet another criminal act in the same night.
Jeff let me out of the store, and I gave him my employee discount card and electronic key pass.
“Well, happy holidays, Miranda.”
“Same to you, Jeff.”
A cold breeze was picking up as I walked to the parking garage, and I hurried toward the Golf Ball, parked in a far corner. Aunt Marie would be expecting me for my birthday dinner, and I dreaded telling her that I’d invited a fugitive mobster to Christmas.
I fumbled with the box and pulled out a cookie to snack on while I walked through the parking garage. It was delicious—the buttery, almond-infused dough melted on my tongue.
As birthdays went, it wasn’t the best. That would have been the year I turned ten, and Aunt Marie gave me snowshoes. We'd spent the day at Lake Tahoe, hiking around the snowy forest and enjoying our picnic lunch. But at least turning thirty-two wasn’t boring. I got a box of cookies out of the trouble and a good story that
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