The Mystery Before Christmas

Tuesday

The Foxtail News was a small regional newspaper with only four employees in addition to the owner if you counted me, and given the fact that I only wrote one column a week at this point, I supposed it was generous to count me in the mix. A man named Garrett Heatherton, who’d partially retired and left the management of the business to his son, Dex, owned the newspaper. Garrett had run the place much the same for the thirty-some-odd years he’d been actively working in the business, but now that Dex had taken over the day-to-day operations, he was determined to put the Foxtail News on the map. A lofty goal I will admit given the limited circulation of the tiny rural area served by the newspaper, but a goal he worked hard for every day.

In addition to Dex, there was a full-time reporter named Brock Green. Garrett had hired Brock when Dex was still in college and felt more than just a bit slighted that he hadn’t been chosen to take over as managing editor when Garrett decided to take a step back. I could sense the tension between Dex and Brock at times, but the tension seemed to be rooted in competition, which made both men work harder, so I supposed it worked out okay in the end.

In addition to Garrett, who still oversaw things; Dex, who ran the ship; and Brock, who handled the heavy lifting; there was a woman named Gabby King, who answered the phone and handled the clerical stuff.

“Morning, Gabby,” I greeted the woman with short blond curls that framed her face.

“Morning, Callie.” Gabby hung a bright red bulb on the fir she’d been decorating. “Dex has been looking for you.”

I paused to take in the scent of fir mingled with the familiar scents of stale coffee, which was always present; tobacco, from Brock’s cigars; and ink, in spite of the fact that the old offset press hadn’t been used in years. “The place looks really nice. I love the big red bows.”

“I figured I spend more of my day here than I do at home, so I might as well create the Christmas spirit here too. I started with a wreath for the door, but it looked lonely, so I brought in the garland and bows. Once I got that far, the rest seemed inevitable.”

“Well, I think it looks fantastic.”

“Dex was hesitant at first. You know how he is about professionalism, but I think he is warming up to the idea now that I have things arranged.”

“I’m sure Dex will enjoy the decorations once he relaxes a bit. It has been a tense year for him taking over as managing editor. I think there is a lot of pressure on him to do well.”

“I know you’re right.”

“I suppose I should go and see what he wants. Is he in his office?” I asked.

“He is.” Gabby glanced at the paper bag I still held in my hands. “I don’t suppose those are Aunt Gracie’s muffins?”

“They are.” I set the bag on Gabby’s desk. “There are plenty to share.” I turned and headed down the hallway. It was a long, dark, narrow passage that led to an employee breakroom and several offices. There was the old pressroom at the end of the hallway, where the offset press that had been used for years to print the newspaper still sat.

“Good, I’m glad you’re here,” Dex greeted as soon as I poked my head in the doorway to his office. “How is the Secret Santa feature going?”

“It’s going,” I hedged. I’d been playing with different ideas and concepts for days but still hadn’t settled on anything that really clicked. “I’ve been spending some time really trying to nail down the angle I should take,” I elaborated. “Initially, I was going to write about the members of the community who’ve received gifts, but now I’m thinking about writing about Secret Santa himself. Who is this guy? Why is he spending what has already amounted to a small fortune gifting members of our small town with the items they seem to need the most?”

Dex grinned, his dark brown eyes sparkling in delight. “I’m happy to hear you’ve been thinking along those lines because that is exactly what I was going to speak to you about. I received a call from my buddy at The Denver Post. He’s heard the stories relating to our Secret Santa and is interested in piggybacking on our feature. In fact, he wants us to expand on it and do a series of articles.”

“A series?”

“Three in all.” He ran a hand through his thick brown hair. “And, the best part is that he wants to run the series in the Post. This could be huge for us. Really huge.”

“Wow, that is big,” I admitted, settling a hip on the edge of the desk. “Did he say what he had in mind?” My mind was already racing with ideas to expand my story and create a series of articles, but I was still interested in what Dex had to say.

“As I mentioned, he wants three articles, the first of which will be due on Monday of next week. He suggested that the article next week focus on the recipients of the gifts. He wants a real in-depth look. Who are these people? Why might Secret Santa have chosen them to be recipients of his altruism? How will the gift they received enhance or change their lives?”

“Sounds doable.” I moved over to the chair across from the desk and sat down. My heart was racing and palms sweating, but I honestly didn’t know if I was excited or terrified. A series in the Post! This really was a huge opportunity.

“His idea for the first article seems pretty straight forward, so I am inclined to head in that direction. And then the following Monday, he wants to build momentum with an article relating to the hunt for Secret Santa. Really bring the mystery aspect into play by featuring interviews of those members of the community suspected of being Secret Santa. Who are these people? Why do the locals suspect them of being Secret Santa? What do they have to say about the rumors, and what sort of conclusions has the reporter come to based on those interviews?”

“Again, that seems manageable. I’ve already started a list. And for the final article?”

“The column due on December 23rd will be published in both the Foxtail News and the Post on December 24th. Basically, he is looking for the big reveal as to who Secret Santa actually is and why he or she has been gifting such high dollar items to the residents of Foxtail Lake.”

I sat back in my chair and really let this whole thing sink in. If I was totally honest, I’d begun to feel just a tiny bit of panic.

“I wanted to talk to you about the series first since it was your idea,” Dex continued, “but now that the Post is interested in reprinting the articles, the Secret Santa storyline has become a pretty big deal. I know you are new to journalism, and I am concerned that this might be too much for you. It’s not too late to turn this series over to Brock. He does have a lot more experience than you do, so I suspect he might be able to deal with the pressure of a tell-all feature better.”

I narrowed my gaze while nibbling gently on my bottom lip, a nervous habit I reverted to frequently.

“So, what do you think?” Dex asked.

What did I think? On the one hand, writing a series of articles that would be reprinted in the Post seemed intimidating. I’d only been a journalist for four weeks, and it wasn’t like I had any formal education to fall back on. On the other hand, I’d been hoping to find a way to work my way into more of a regular position with the paper, and this sounded like a fantastic opportunity. Of course, it was an opportunity predicated on my ability to figure out who Secret Santa really was and then get them to agree to an interview. In my mind, neither of these situations was a given.

“I’d like to run with it,” I finally said. “I know that I don’t have the experience Brock has, but the articles I’ve written in the past few weeks have been well received, and you liked the one I turned in yesterday about the missing money for the tree lighting. If I hadn’t tracked down the money, the town wouldn’t even be having a tree lighting this year. I really think I should be the one to do the Secret Santa series.”

Dex hesitated. I could see he might need additional convincing.

“Brock is a fine reporter, and I agree that he has a ton more experience than I do, but he is sort of analytical in his approach to his subject matter. Secret Santa is a human-interest story, and you need someone to get to the heart of the matter and bring the emotion behind the action into play. You need someone like me.”

He exhaled loudly. “Okay. I’ll let you run with the first story relating to the gift recipients, and then I’ll decide what to do after I see how things are progressing. But keep in mind that I basically promised my buddy from the Post that we would have no problem unmasking Secret Santa, which means we have less than three weeks to figure out who Secret Santa is.”

“I know.”

“It might not be easy to find the proof you’ll need to definitively identify the guy.”

“I know.”

“And if you do manage to finger the guy, you’ll still need to get him to agree to an interview. This is a real investigative piece. It is going to take all the sleuthing skills you can muster.”

“I know it won’t be easy, but I really think I can do this. I want to try. Give me this week and let me write the first article, and then we can talk about how to handle the second and third article at that point.”

Dex paused and let out a long, slow breath.

“I’ll keep you updated every step of the way,” I promised.

“Okay,” he said, although he still looked doubtful. “But don’t let me down. I have a lot riding on this.”

“I know, and I won’t.” Even as I said the words, I found myself hoping that I could do what I’d just promised I could do and find the man or woman who, to this point, hadn’t seemed to want to be found.