Page 1 of Sleigh My Heart

Chapter 1

Officer Michelle Swenson touched her queasy middle. She regretted having that blueberry scone and peppermint mocha latte this morning. It wasn’t the dead guy in the Santa hat that made her stomach turn. Sadly, he wasn’t her first one of those.

No, it was the ornately carved mahogany sleigh he sprawled across that had her breakfast bellowing for release.

Officer Ian Brannon stepped up beside her. “Beautiful craftmanship.”

“Mr. Jolley does nice work. He’d be pissed to see it here with some random guy in it.” She crept closer to the sleigh, careful not to disturb the scene. What the heck was it doing here, in an alley across town?

“The old guy who plays Santa every year at the mall?”

“One and the same.” Memories of the time she’d been in that sleigh flooded her face with heat. No doubt her cheeks flamed bright red. Damn fair complexion.

She pivoted to scan the alley. It’s not like she could blame her blush on the weather. This morning’s temperatures were in the single-digits.

Brannon gave her a questioning stare. Sure, nothing slipped by him. When she didn’t elaborate, his focus shifted to her hands.

Crap, she was fidgeting. She tucked her hands in her coatpockets. “He was my neighbor.”

Yup, Santa lived next door. But her memories weren’t of him but his son. Vivid, glorious memories—in technicolor were burned into her brain.

Not that she would be sharing that information with her fellow officer.

In typical Ian Brannon fashion, he remained silent, nodded, and started taping off the area.

Ugh. She hated that. What was the man thinking? No doubt his mind was running through possible scenarios. Likely, coming up with the correct ones. She paused. Or something far worse. She swiveled back to face him, but he already had the area blocked off.

Brannon reminded her of another strong, silent type. While Ian Brannon was a big, soft-spoken guy, he wasn’t her type… or more like she wasn’t his.

Another tall, broad, and quiet man took occupancy in her brain at that moment. One who was very much her type, and just as infuriating.

Not the time. She gave one last look at the sleigh and pushed the memories aside.

The morning manager from Izzy Lou’s Salon huddled in her coat at the edge of the alley. She’d stepped out the back door for her morning smoke, to find a naked guy wearing only a Santa hat over his privates in a sleigh. Not her typical Monday morning.

“Ma’am, do you know… um, Mr. Claus?” Michelle bit back the Santa joke on her lips.

“No. I thought it was weird to see this fancy sleigh in the alley. So I moved in for a closer look. That’s when I saw… him.” Her lip quivered. “I thought he was sleeping at first. You know, had a hum-dinger of a night. Then I saw the blood.” She ran a shaky candy-cane striped tip fingernail across her neck, indicating the knife wound on the victim.

Michelle had her run through the events of the morning, asked her a few more questions, then let her go back to work. By the time Michelle finished, police personnel swarmed the alley. One in particular caught her eye. Her brother, Jim.

She crossed to the inner red tape now roping off the sleigh and victim. She waited for him to look up from examining the scene before she waved him over.

Jim took a minute to talk to the crime scene techs before moving to her. “I hate outdoor crime scenes in the winter. At least it’s not snowing at the moment.”

“Poor Detective Swenson. You had to leave your desk and work in the streets.” She tsked.

“Yeah, yeah. So, what have you got so far?”

“Dead guy in a sleigh.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Is that all you patrol officers got?”

She shot him a you-asked-for-it look. “The victim has a laceration on his neck, it appears to have severed his jugular, but cause of death will be determined by the medical examiner. By the lack of excess blood on the surrounding surfaces, including the sleigh, I would say the body was moved post mortem. This isn’t the location of his death. The scratches on his cheek and shoulders lead me to believe he could have been in an altercation prior to his death.”

“Not bad.”

“You mean for a street cop? We deal in the facts. Speculation is your job.”