Free Naughty Nine Tales of Christmas Crime by Steve Hockensmith Page A

time.
    He was able to eliminate another suspect when he moved on to the next cubicle, this one belonging to DVD Now! 's associate editor, whom Bigelow knew as Curt the Kid with Freckles. Tucked away behind a stack of reference books was a bar of pink soap-on-a-rope shaped like a Teletubby. A red ribbon had been taped to the package.
    It was a lame gift, but not an evil one. And there was no HO! HO! HO! wrapping paper in sight.
    So Freckled Curt was off the hook, and there were still two more cubes to go. Bigelow began putting the soap and books back in place.
    "Yo, Curt!" a voice called out. "You made it in pretty . . . oh."
    Bigelow spun around to find Chris McCoy standing behind him, a look of embarrassed shock on his face.
    "I came in early and I wanted to take a look at the proof of your masthead but I couldn't find it so I went looking for it but I still don't know where it is so maybe you'll go get it for me because there's just one little thing I need to check," Bigelow said, the syllables coming out so fast and choked-throat-guttural they almost sounded like one impossibly long German word.
    Bigelow watched McCoy's gaze move from his face to the mess on Freckle Boy's desk to the granola bars bulging out of his pocket and finally to something just below his mouth. Bigelow reached up and felt a smudge of half-melted S'more chocolate on his lower lip.
    "Sure," McCoy said, using the slow, soothing tone most people reserve for speaking to over-excitable children and the criminally insane. He began backing away. "I'll be right back."
    By the time McCoy returned with the proof, Bigelow had finished cleaning up Curt's cube (and his own chin) and had scurried back to his office. Bigelow had time to affix a look of bland, businesslike calm on his face, yet McCoy still seemed unnerved. He came at Bigelow with his arm stretched out and the proof page extended before him like a sword. When Bigelow took hold of the heavy paper, McCoy stutter-stepped away quickly, not turning his back.
    "Let me know if you need anything else!" McCoy said as he moonwalked out the door.
    Bigelow knew what was coming next. Other staffers would begin drifting in, both alone and in carpool bunches, and McCoy would greet them all the same way: "Guess who I caught going through our stuff this morning!"
    Bigelow had been staring at them all with suspicion the last few days. Now they'd be staring at him the same way. He didn't think he could face it.
    And then he realized he didn't have to. He had an office with a door, not an open-air cubicle. He could stay right here at his desk all day. And instead of going out to hunt for his Secret Santa, he could just sit and wait for the S.O.B. to come to him.
    Like Sandberg's office, his had a glass wall running along the hallway. It had vertical blinds that hung from ceiling to floor, and Bigelow got up and closed them. Then he went back to his desk, sat facing the doorway and began to wait. Sooner or later, he hoped, he'd see a face peeking around the door or someone casually moseying past his office with an innocent-looking bag in his hand. That would be Santa, scouting for an opportunity to drop off his latest slap in the face. And Bigelow would have him. All he had to do was wait and watch.
    He lasted 51 minutes. The only cube he could see from his desk was Marcy's, and she arrived half an hour after he began his vigil. She gave him a wave when she first showed up, then shot increasingly quizzical glances his way as he continued staring in her direction.
    "Do you need something, Erik?" she called out to him.
    "No!" he shouted back. "I'm fine!"
    A couple minutes later, she turned to look at him again. "Are you sure you don't need something?"
    " I'm fine !"
    He wasn't fine. His bladder had been tormenting him for nearly 40 minutes. He'd toyed with the idea of moving his garbage can under his desk and attempting a clandestine potty break, but the risks were too great. Finally, he had to jump up and make a dash for