Free Cowabunga Christmas by Anna Celeste Burke Page A

faces,
mostly on the children. One of the youngest kids—who knows how old since I’m no
good at guessing baby’s ages, sat close to us. She looked stunned, then her
bottom lip quivered and she opened her mouth to wail. All hell was about to
break loose at the Abbey of the Sanctuary on Christmas Eve.
    “Ho,
ho, ho! Merry Christmas! Ho, ho, ho!” I jumped out of my skin—more shocked by
that cry than when Brien had smacked our table moments earlier. Santa had
entered the building! All eyes shifted to him. Santa dropped his bag to the
ground and began pulling presents from it. Stuffed baby reindeer, snowmen,
angels, Disney princesses, and other toys like that began to get oohs and aahs
from the kids in the room. Baby girl wasn’t sure she liked bellowing Santa any better
than table-slamming Brien. She buried her face in her mother’s arms, taking
alternate peeks at Santa and Brien, keeping tabs on both of them. I tried not
to laugh. I felt relieved.
    “Saved
by Santa,” I muttered to Brien.
    “What?”
he asked, apparently oblivious to the scene about to unfold before Santa had
stepped in to save the day!
    “Never
mind. Don’t start pounding the table again, but tell me what you mean by boom.”
I just had to hear the end of Brien’s story.
    “The
army surrounds Godzilla and they smoke him. Or when it comes to Corsario Cove’s
pirates, they send in the Coast Guard or a S.W.A.T. team. The end.” Brien
grabbed the last of the breadsticks that he had been working his way through
since we sat down. He flipped open the menu. “Wonder what’s good here.”
    I
mulled over Brien’s analogy of the rolling snowball. It had merit, apart from
the sheer entertainment value I derived from his animated delivery of the tale.
The pace of events had begun to gather momentum on day two of our most recent
venture into the vortex of heinousness. Clearly, we were on someone’s radar. I
doubt it had anything to do with our official profile the resort was creating ‘to
anticipate our every need.’ No, this was more like ‘anticipating our every
move.’ A wave of paranoia hit me. I scanned the room to see if anyone was staring
at us. Silly, given moments earlier all eyes had been on Brien.
    My
mind went into rampant speculation mode. Brien’s questions must have garnered
more attention than he thought. Or maybe it was enough to have attracted the
interest of Detective Mitchum. If the detective thought we knew something,
someone else might think so too. The one-two punch of the warning from Bad
Santa on wheels and the message in that note had me reconsidering our plan to
solve the mystery of a dead Santa at Corsario Cove.
    “What
if we do as they suggest in that note, Brien, and leave it alone? It is our
honeymoon after all. It’s not like we don’t have plenty to do. We haven’t even
begun to take advantage of the amenities this place has to offer. Who knows
when we’ll have time off again to enjoy sun, surf, spas, or explore the resort
and the town... ” I sounded like a pitch artist for the resort.
    “Kim,
whatever you want to do is fine with me. After talking to Mick, I can’t wait to
surf in the cove and give you that lesson.” He smiled sweetly as he spoke those
words before looking around the room. “What does a guy have to do to get a
little attention around here?” I almost choked on my fizzy champagne. I put the
glass down.
    “What
kind of attention do you want?”
    “I’m
hungry. I want to order an appetizer—this baked brie with puff pastry and
cranberries sounds good, doesn’t it?”
    “Yes
and very Christmassy. This is a slow food place, Brien. You have to signal a
server when you’re ready to order.”
    “Uh,
okay.” He went back to perusing the menu and I picked up the subject of murder
and mayhem once again.
    “It’s
not like we haven’t done a lot already. If Mitchum follows up with Willow and
Mick and others at Sanctuary Grove, I’m sure he’ll get a lead or two that will
get him