“Their loss.” Niki shrugs. “So, what did Grandma Christmas have to say?”
I fill them in quickly on my conversation with Stella, including her redirect to Gabe Esposito. “Could be nothing, could be something. At least it’s another lead.”
“Speaking of leads…” Carlotta says, eyeing my purse where the red envelope is tucked away. “Go on and open the envelope. The suspense is killing me.”
“Me, too,” Aunt Cat agrees.
Niki snorts. “You’re both just anxious to see if your names are on the list.”
“It’s bound to happen one day,” I say, pulling out the envelope in question. The paper feels slick between my fingers as I break the seal and unfurl the note inside, only to see the last name in the world I’d want to see printed on it.
Okay, so maybe the second to last, or third, or sixth.
“Loretta Semolina Lazzari?” Niki gasps, reading over my shoulder. “But that’s Cooper’s little sister!”
“Oh, my goodness,” I say, staring at the letters in the hope they’ll rearrange themselves.
Aunt Cat reaches into her pocket and produces a lighter before setting the edge of the paper on fire.
I drop the letter onto the snow and we watch as the flames make quick work of it, and Loretta’s name dissolves into ashes like the nightmare it is.
We watch in silence as the last embers die out, the evidence of Uncle Jimmy’s latest request disappearing like smoke. Butthe damage is already done. The name burns in my memory as clearly as if it were tattooed on my eyelids.
Loretta Semolina Lazzari.
Cooper’s sister.
My next target.
If I thought my relationship with Cooper was complicated before, it just entered a whole new realm of disaster.
One thing I know is true—the only thing dying here is any chance of a future with the man I love.
CHAPTER 15
Miracle on Main Street looks like Santa’s workshop after a corporate takeover—sleek, commercial, and profitable, yet still packed with enough Christmas cheer to give even the Grinch a festive seizure.
The place is a year-round tribute to holiday capitalism, with aisles upon aisles of ornaments, tinsel, fake snow, and enough animatronic elves to staff a toy factory in the North Pole’s industrial district.
Christmas carols blast through hidden speakers at bone-rattling volumes and the display of toy desserts is really making me crave a cookie.
Watson pulls at his leash, barking with excitement at a life-sized mechanical reindeer that bobs its head in rhythm to “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”
My cute pooch’s tail wags with enough force to power the North Pole itself as he bounces from display to display as if he were adding every toy in sight to his canine wish list.
He trots over to a tall plastic snowman and proceeds to lift a leg.
“Gah!” I give his leash a quick tug. “Would you stop? You’re embarrassing yourself,” I tell him as he attempts to mark his territory. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”
“At least he’s enjoying himself,” Niki says, although she’s not exactly focused on dog-wrangling duties. My sister has wandered into the nostalgic Christmas section and is currently holding a vintage-looking doll in one hand while trying on a sparkly red tutu with the other. “Do you think this makes me look festive or just desperate for attention?”
“Both,” I reply, scanning the store for anyone who might be the elusive Gabe Esposito. “We’re here on a mission, remember? Find the disgruntled Christmas shop owner who might have murdered—or at least had a motive to murder—Nicholas and maybe even Enzo Bianchi.”
“I’m multitasking,” Niki insists, twirling in the tutu that’s now riding up to her boobs. “I can solve murders and look fabulous at the very same time.”
“Try not to pee on anything,” I say as I hunt down a saleswoman arranging a nativity scene where the Three Wise Men appear to be offering gifts from the store’s clearance section. Her name tag reads “Noel,” which seems almost too on-the-nose for a Christmas shop employee, but ’tis the season.
“Excuse me,” I say, lightening my voice an octave and offering a quick wave. It’s sad I have to try so hard to be friendly. “Is Gabe Esposito available? I have some questions about, uh, some custom ornaments.”
