Santa’s Subpoena

Excerpt

 

      Santa looked like he’d been dragged behind a truck.

     The last situation I thought I’d find in my law office on a Thursday morning was a dejected and bloody Santa Claus flanked by two snow covered senior citizens. Gripping my too hot latte, I quickly shut the door before anybody else arrived at my law firm.

     Thelma, sitting to the left of Santa, turned and stared at me, her cloudy blue eyes wide and panicked. “Anna. Thank goodness you’re here.”

     That was a matter of opinion. Squaring my shoulders, I strode around my desk, dropped my laptop bag on the floor, slid the latte onto my ceramic coaster, and shrugged out of my new long black winter coat. Then I smoothed down my green skirt and sat, moving my black boots with the chunky heels near the laptop bag. I tried to exude some sense of control while gauging what kind of a threat Bloody Santa might pose.

     Snow still covered Thelma’s white hair and bright blue scarf, which somehow went well with her lime green snow jacket. Santa wore his usual outfit with the blood and dirt a terrifying addition. Next to him sat Georgiana Lambertini, Thelma’s housemate and whom I hoped would be the most logical of the three.

     I’d met both women during a legal case early that summer, and besides their accidentally drugging me once, I liked them. They loved me.

     Georgiana smiled, making all of her wrinkles jiggle on her broad face. In her bright yellow knitted hat, she appeared cheerful, while a wide black coat covered her expansive bulk. “You look so pretty today.”

     “Thank you,” I said, waiting for the next sentence. Although, the suit did fit me well. With my curly brown hair, plain grayish green eyes, and average height, it was like I hadn’t inherited any genes from either the Italian or Irish sides of my family. I dressed in a lot of jewel colors, in other words. “What’s going on?” I asked.

     We need help, Anna,” Georgiana said.

     “Right.” I looked at Santa. He had to be in his early sixties. His red coat was ripped and bruises covered his jaw. The fluffy white parts of his outfit were dirty, and his hat flopped sadly to the side, covered in gravel and what hopefully was slushy mud. His eyes were blue, his beard stark white and real, and his belly round. “How did you all get into my office?” I asked.

      We’d opened the Bunne & Albertini Law Office only a couple months previous, and my partner, Clark Bunne, thought I might bring too much trouble to his life. It was true. But who didn’t need a little bit of trouble?

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