Harlequin Holiday Collection - Four Classic Seasonal Novellas

was pure quid pro quo. Zach would have to call in right away if he actually found anything.
    His friend said that the Chicago PD had ruled out the connection, but Zach figured a lead was a lead—which was why he was currently in Wheaton, Illinois, the dinky town he’d lived in during high school. His father had died shortly after he’d left for college and his mother had remarried and moved away. The one other reason he’d had for returning to visit had dumped him. So he’d never gone back.
    He sometimes wondered what had happened to her…that one reason. Considering Holly Cavanaugh had punched him the last time he saw her, he doubted she’d be up for a reunion. God, how could he have been stupid enough to let her get away?
    Enough. He had a story to cover.
    Though he’d never have dreamed it possible, he hit pay dirt almost immediately. Spying an elderly man unloading fresh trees at a temporary Christmas tree lot, he’d shown him a photo of Fred Kipling, a “person of interest” in the robbery. And was stunned by the response.
    “Yessir, that looks like it could be him. Surly fella. Had a gun on him.”
    “He pulled a gun on you?”
    “No, I held a gun on him. I came here late last night and found him inside the lot, wrestling with one of the twelve footers, trying to steal it.”
    Zach had a hard time picturing a pair of wanted robbers stopping to pick out a nice Douglas fir. “Was he alone?” He grabbed another picture, a mug-shot of Kipling’s partner, Leo “Teenie” Meaney, who was half Kipling’s size…and had twice his temper. “Was this guy with him?”
    The old man glanced at the photo, shook his head and hacked a phlegmy cough. “Nope. Feller was alone. ’Tween me and my shotgun, we let him know what we think of thieves around here.”
    He wondered what the old man would say if he learned he’d confronted a pretty ruthless one.
    “He said he’d pay for it, but didn’t have enough cash so he was coming back today with the rest. Problem was, when he came back for the tree, it’d been sold.”
    “He was already here?”
    Nodding, the man hacked again, then spat on the ground. My, how Zach missed these small town niceties.
    “My grandson’s a good, strong boy, but don’t he have a head like a rock? He didn’t see the red ribbon that meant the tree’d been reserved and he let somebody else have it.”
    “Where did he go?”
    “Probably hunting up some breakfast. He’s a healthy eater, that boy….”
    “I meant the angry man,” Zach snapped.
    “Dunno. Said he had to have that tree and wanted to know who bought it.”
    “You didn’t tell him!”
    The man shook his head, causing Zach to sigh in relief. It sounded as though Kipling had hidden something in the tree. The diamonds perhaps? And if so, whoever had ended up with it could be standing between a dangerous criminal and his loot.
    “But my grandson did. Like I said—noggin like a boulder.”
    Zach managed to hide his frustration, though his jaw was clenched hard enough to break his teeth. “Who did buy the tree?” he bit out.
    The man smiled. “Nice lady. Runs the new inn out on Mill Road, on the north shore of the lake. She’s…”
    Zach didn’t wait for the man to finish. He was already hurrying to his car, concerned about the “nice lady” who might be getting a visit from a murderous criminal.
    He only hoped he wasn’t too late.

    “Oh my God, someone’s at the door!”
    Holly Cavanaugh wondered if she looked as terrified as her maid, Regina, did. They were, after all, standing above a dead body that had fallen out of a Christmas tree. A TV crew from the Chicago show Weekend Getaways would be arriving in two hours. And now they had an unexpected visitor.
    “Get rid of whoever it is while I…” Stash the stiff? Call the police? Run and hide?
    When the maid came back, she looked even more panicked. “It’s them!”
    “Who?”
    “The TV people! They’re early! I answered the door and this dude says he’s a reporter….”
    This couldn’t be happening. “Where is he?”
    “I shut the door and came to warn you.”
    Oh joy—a great first impression for the critics. She had to think quickly. Call the police? Or save the inn?
    It was a no-brainer.
    “I’ll keep the reporter busy. You go get Manny. He’s working on the furnace. Have him help you move this guy into the storage shed.” Swallowing hard as she realized what she intended to do, she added, “We’ll call the police the minute they