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"I already have," I said, stepping forward. "Who is he?"
Steven heard my question as he ended his call. "He was my dishwasher, Frank Duvall."
It wasn't long before we heard sirens in the street. A slight screeching sound from wheels swerving to the back entrance told us help had arrived. Daniel went forward and felt for a pulse on the hard body, frozen beyond life. Steven, with questioning eyes, glanced at Daniel.
"I had to be sure," said the Paramedic.
We stood aside to let the ambulance crew take over. A cop followed them into the kitchen. I looked behind me. Diners lined up at the kitchen door until Steven told them to please return to their tables. A few were waiting to pay for their meals.
"Close this place down," said the cop to Steven. "We have a crime scene on our hands.
The owner left to talk to inquisitive diners. "We will have to close for the night," he told them.
"What happened?" asked one diner. Her eyes were large and she leaned toward the open kitchen to get a better look. A man behind her craned his neck around her.
"I don't have information right now. Please, just go back," said Steven. "All of your meals are on the house. We will put food you haven't eaten in carry-out containers."
He turned to get Cassie's attention to start filling take out containers. She hadn't moved from the spot where I last saw her in the kitchen. I went out and helped Steven until the last customer left.
Then he secured the front door and turned the front lights off. Neither of us said a word.
The cop wrote down the names of staff who worked at Steven's Steakhouse. He didn't forget to get my name and Daniel's. While he was doing that, two Detectives joined him. We were told to wait because they had questions.
"I can't imagine who did this," said Steven. He stood back next to Daniel and me. "He wasn't exactly an all-around nice guy but, murder?" He shook his head. "What a way to start the busiest time of the year in here." Small beads of moisture dotted his forehead.
Daniel offered sympathy. My mind raced with thoughts. Steven's words when he described Frank Duvall, hung there.
"Are you saying a not-so-nice guy was playing Santa to kids?" I asked.
Steven attempted a smile. "He loved kids. His beef was with adults and sometimes he had a short fuse. Frank liked to play Santa. He liked to sit near the Christmas tree for a little while most nights of the week."
Cassie finally became unglued from her spot. She spun around. I saw her heading for the employee bathroom. I didn't see her again until a Detective questioned her. In between his questions, she ran to the bathroom two more times.
"It's too bad Cassie saw Frank like that. She was right there when the repairman got the door open," said Steven. "It was a real shock to her."
"How long has Frank worked here?" asked Daniel. "I don't think I've seen him around the Steakhouse."
Steven began to pace back and forth. He brushed his hands on his pressed pants several times and loosened his necktie before he answered Daniel. "He has been my dishwasher for a while now, but he is always back here. At least, he was until he asked to play Santa for the kids. We worked it out that he'd do that early in the dinner service since he wouldn't have a lot to do in the kitchen then. I figured the kids would be anxious waiting for the food around that time. He didn't work on weekends but I believe he also played Santa at the mall one of the weekend days."
Then, as if an afterthought, he added, "He did a good job here. I advertised free Christmas cookies and a visit with Santa. It brought children in along with their parents." Steven wiped his moist hands on his pant legs again. "They sometimes ordered dinners to take home while the children were with Santa or eating the cookies. It helped my business."
While Steven and Daniel talked, my mind concentrated on the dead Santa, aka Frank Duvall, the dishwasher. I glanced at the black boots again and wondered who had enough against the man to murder him. Sticking him in the freezer ensured preservation and a good hiding place. The killer had thought it all out when he damaged the lock on the outside.
Standing at various spots in the kitchen were the cops and two Detectives. They talked in low tones and went back to the business of investigation. Cassie fidgeted in the corner by herself. The repairman paced a few feet back and forth until questioned by one cop, who excused him. The three of us stood dumbfounded. Iced Santa lay sprawled where he had been found on the floor of the freezer. The paramedics left and the coroner was the last to arrive.
I found myself getting mentally involved in the ‘whodunnit' of the murdered Santa.
Chapter Two
The first cop to arrive on the scene approached the three of us. He directed his questions first at Daniel. A second policeman pulled Steven aside. The one, whose badge read Officer Dan Stanton, looked at Daniel and me. His cropped red hair shone under the fluorescent light. I noticed light freckles on the backs of his hands and across his nose. He wiped his brow with his sleeve. From everyone's mannerisms, I deducted this was an unusual scene in West River, New York.
"Are you a regular customer in Steven's Steakhouse?" he asked Daniel.
"I come in every now and then," said Daniel.
"Did you know the victim?"
"No, I had never met him."
