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"How well do you know Steven Landers?"
"We have been good friends since our college days," said Daniel. "We are very good friends."
Officer Stanton paused and then jotted something down on his notepad. After a few more questions, the interrogator turned to me. His questions to me were similar to the ones he threw at Daniel. I didn't have much information to give him and he seemed satisfied with my answers. When he finished, he verified our addresses and phone numbers once again.
I noted Cassie had been excused when I saw her rush out the door. I glanced toward Steven. He and the other cop walked toward the corner of the kitchen to a small table. They were a couple of yards from where Daniel and I stood. It was impossible not to hear the conversation.
"Which employee or employees were last to leave?" asked the cop.
His name tag read Donald Hayes, Chief of Police. His slightly overweight frame eased onto the straight back chair. He ran his hand through short brown hair.
"Frank was the last one here," said Steven. "He was finishing up when I left. He always finishes cleaning the kitchen on his days here, and then he locks up."
"So you are telling me he was alone?"
"He was when I left," said Steven. "Obviously, someone came in later."
Chief Hayes then asked Steven if Frank had relatives in the area.
"I don't know if he does or not. He never talked about family that I know of. I remember once he mentioned learning to snowshoe in Minnesota. I don't know if that was where he was from or not. He could have relatives there, I guess. He was closed mouthed about personal things."
The Chief leaned in. "Why would a dishwasher work back here while wearing a Santa suit?"
Steven explained Frank's role with the children as he had told us.
"Let me understand. You are telling me he finished with the kids at 6:30 p.m. and worked as a dishwasher in his Santa garb the rest of the night?"
Chief Hayes almost scoffed aloud. Clearly, he thought Steven was easy prey.
"He went out on the street to hand out candy for thirty minutes or so before going back to work," said Steven. "I allowed him to do that because it helped my business. After that, he came back in and worked."
"That doesn't answer why he didn't change into his
regular clothes after that. Doesn't it strike you as just a little odd that he worked with that bulky suit on?"
"He did change. When I saw him last, he was in his regular clothes. I remember seeing his Santa stuff hanging on that hook right over there."
Steven pointed to three large hooks that held aprons. There was no Santa suit there. Instead, it was on the still figure in the freezer. Chief Hayes grew silent. I could almost hear his brain revolving around Steven's words like a windmill whirling.
"What kind of security do you have here?" he asked.
Steven explained his security system. It was more elaborate than I imagined, and very efficient. The Officer commented that whoever came in after hours must have known the system's operational mode. "Where did you go once you left here?"
"I went home." Anticipating the next question, Steven added, "I was alone and no one can vouch for me. I can tell you that I headed to bed early. The holidays bring in more customers and I was bushed."
When Chief Donald Hayes stood to leave, he reminded Steven to remain in town. He told him he may need to answer more questions as the investigation went forward. Steven rejoined us.
"I guess it's only natural they would suspect me. Who else could have gotten back in here after hours?" He paused and then said, "I have no idea why Frank would have been here with that Santa suit on again." I followed his gaze in the direction of the open freezer door.
Another two hours passed before they allowed the body to be removed. Even though he was now in a body bag, I could still see his face in my head. The petrified look told me his last emotions were a mixture of anger and fear. I wondered if he was dead before, or after, he landed in the freezer. The cops stuck around to continue investigating the crime scene.
One of the Detectives came toward us. He told Steven they needed to take him down to the station to make and sign a statement. Daniel looked helpless when they led his best friend away.
"Help me," mouthed Steven. He jerked his head around and looked at Daniel before the Detective steered him forward. Daniel told him he would be there for him and not to worry about anything. He then took my arm and we left the restaurant.
"That Police Chief sure grilled him," I said. "Why would they suspect Steven? Do you think they will lock him up when he gets down there?"
"I don't know. But I'm sure Steven had nothing to do with murder. I have to figure a way to help him in case they do keep him. Did you see how he begged me to help him? I think he'll need a good lawyer. On the other hand, if he asks for one right away they may think he really is guilty."
