Reid introduced himself and shared his reason for being there. “I was hoping you would be willing to talk for a moment.”
“Not sure what I can do to help, but sure.” He smiled, and his apple cheeks rose.
Reid followed him and the jingle into a sparsely furnished home to a living area connected to a retro-sixties kitchen with aqua appliances. He pointed at a blue velvet sofa. “Get you a cup of eggnog?”
“Thanks for the offer, but no.” Reid sat.
Toby plopped onto a straight-backed wood chair, his bells settling into silence as he rested his hands on his large belly. “Now what can I do for you?”
Reid shifted to get comfortable on the hard cushion. “Tell me what happened at the hospital when you were tied up.”
“Will never forget that. Not for as long as I live.” He grimaced. “I was changing into my suit at the rear of my van. Been doing this gig at the hospital for ten years now, and I use the same secluded spot every year so no one can see me. Wouldn’t want the kids to see Santa without his beard.” He grinned, but it faded fast. “Anyway, I was bending down to put my boots on. When I stood up, something slammed into the back of my head. I remember reaching for whatever it was, grabbing onto something, then falling to the ground. The next thing I know, I’m waking up in the van, tied up, and duct tape on my mouth. The door closed.”
His lips pursed as if eating something sour, belying the rosy cheeks. “Who would want to tie up Santa?”
“Did the police mention a possible suspect?” Reid asked, not willing to share Fowler’s name if the locals hadn’t done so.
“Yeah, a guy named Norman Fowler.” He frowned. “Showed me his picture too, but I don’t have a clue who he is.”
Not the answer Reid was hoping for. “Did you have a chance to look through your vehicle after the police freed you to see if anything is missing or odd?”
He started shaking his head but winced and stopped. “The doctors carted me off to the ER right away to check out my head injury. When I was released, the police gave me a ride home.”
Exactly like Reid suspected had happened. “The police took an inventory of the items they located in your van. Would you mind reviewing it to see if you notice anything missing?”
“Sure.”
Reid called the list up on his phone and held it out to Toby. He took the device and scrolled down the screen, his tongue peeking out the side of his mouth. “Odd. There’s a blue stocking cap on here. I don’t have a stocking cap in my van, much less a blue one. Everything else is right.” He handed Reid’s phone to him.
Maybe the cap was the lead they needed. Reid stifled his eagerness from Toby. “Could someone you know have left the cap in the van?”
“No,” he said. “I only use the van for work, and I’m the only one who goes in there.”
“You mean your Santa job,” Reid clarified.
“Yeah, that, but I also deliver flowers.”
A flower delivering Santa. Something Reid might laugh at in a different situation. Instead he pondered the cap. Could it belong to Fowler? If so, why had he left it in the van?
“If someone wore a stocking cap, could it fit under your Santa hat?” Reid asked.
“Um, well.” He tapped his chin. “Never tried it, but I think it would show.”
Okay, then. If it belonged to Fowler, he would’ve had to take it off to play Santa. But why would he leave a potentially incriminating item in the vehicle? Did he want them to know he attacked Santa?
Questions Reid intended to pose to his team, but for now it was time to conclude this interview. “Is there anything else you think I should know about the incident?”
“Um, no. I don’t think so.” Toby forced a breath out between clenched teeth. “But I’ll ask for your help with the same thing I asked the cops I talked to. It would be great if you could let the hospital know I had nothing to do with this. I sure don’t want to lose my Santa gig with them. It doesn’t pay much, but seeing these sick kids smile is the highlight of my year.”
Reid wouldn’t promise anything until the background reports Jack was running on this guy came back clean. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“I’ll walk you to the door.” Santa led the way, a waddle in his step.
Reid shook hands with the man and hurried down the walkway to his vehicle. He didn’t want to waste any time on letting this potential lead go cold, so he grabbed his iPad from the backseat. He set up a group video conference call for everyone working with him on the investigation and texted them a link.
He leaned back, his eyes on the screen as his team and Jack logged on. Ryan too, whose dark circles under his eyes were what Reid expected from a new dad.
“Oh, man, Ryan,” Dev said. “You look worse than Rip Van Winkle before his big nap.” Dev’s eyes lit with the humor that was often found there.
