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I gasp. “No, you know what? I’m gonna let that one go. You’re hurting. I can see that now.”

Arnold’s eyes flick over to me. “And why would I be hurting? Your boyfriend was caught, and you’ve got nothing on me, or I’d be arrested by now.”

“Okay, first of all, Nathan and I haven’t explicitly defined what we are yet. We’ve been a little preoccupied because of you,” I say. This year. Last year. This man has gotten in the way of me and Nathan one too many times. “And secondly, I’m the one doing the talking here, remember? But I’ll cut to the chase since we’ve all got places to be.” I lean back against the cushy seat and cross my legs. “I’ll admit I’m impressed.”

Arnold’s eyebrow quirks, just barely.

“Considering you’ve been doing this for over thirty years, it’s amazing how you managed to stay clean. No fingerprints in the system, camera and facial-recognition evasion. Good stuff.” I wave my hand in front of my face. “And this physical transformation… Wow.”

“Thank you,” he says. “If that was your point, you’ve made it. Goodbye.”

I lean forward. “You simply set the trap. What you failed to realize is that Nathan’s a likeable guy, and a very good-looking one. People noticed. So when he was sabotaged, the audience didn’t like that.” I smile. “It kind of gives me hope for humanity, you know? People joining together for a cause. To help an innocent man. To catch the guilty.” I look directly at him as I say this and pull out my phone. “You see, when Nathan was arrested, the online community went to work. And you know what they found?”

Silence.

“Fine, in the spirit of the holidays, I’ll just show you. Sometimes it’s overwhelming how everyone has a camera on them. Like, I don’t want to be in your picture! I don’t know if you’ve ever felt that, but maybe you will now.” I turn my screen toward him. “Because while you weren’t the focus of any photos, you’re in the background of quite a few of them. That’s you, isn’t it? In the taxi?”

Arnold’s eyes dart over to my screen before he quickly refocuses them straight ahead. A muscle in his neck pulses. He’s not pleased, and why would he be? His face is right there on my screen—slightly shaded, but no doubt him—in the background of a selfie @MarthaGordonSingggs took on West Sixty-Sixth Street, just off Central Park West, the main road adjacent to Sheep Meadow. In the first photo, Arnold’s in the back of a taxi without a beard. When he emerges, in Martha’s second selfie, he has one on.

“Most of the audience was grabbing seats for the chimney climb, but Martha was running behind. She popped over to check out the Opera House. She’s a singer. You’ve got to check out her videos.” I sigh. “Timing of life. It’s tough sometimes. That was pretty clever, using a taxi to blend in. It’s the one you took here, isn’t it? The one driven by Hawk?”

Yeah. Seeing Hawk in one of the pictures stung a little. Not that Hawk and I were friends, not even close, but losing another informant? I have a lot of therapy to do in the new year.

“We’re bringing Hawk in, too,” I assure him. “He’s not getting away.”

Arnold looks uneasy, yet he still forces a smirk. “I changed in a car. I like my privacy. So what?”

“Makes sense why you’d book an extra room,” I rationalize. “Much easier than constantly going in and out of a taxi. Though I’ll say I did not appreciate the trap. My boss is really mad at me for sneaking into your decoy room.”

A realization: We were always meant to find that room. It was the who. Arnold wanted us to know who he was. He really expected to get away with this.

“So far I’m not hearing anything that makes me guilty,” he says, unblinking. “You’re reaching, Scarlett.”

I swipe across my phone screen. “I had a feeling that wasn’t going to be convincing to you. Let’s see how you feel about this one.”

It’s a photo of Arnold, dressed in his beard and Santa suit, slipping the riddle into Nathan’s convertible. It’s a blink-and-you’d-miss-it movement. He might’ve gotten away with it had he dressed like the Con crew. Santa Wannabes weren’t hanging around the cars once the race had ended.

“Audience members weren’t allowed near the convertibles, but @BobaTea4Life just had to get a video for his dad who loves old cars, so he broke the rules and got a little too close. If you pause riiiiiight there, and zoom in, you can see… oh! You!” I point to the left side of the screen. “You’re quick. You delivered that riddle without so much as a pause. Unfortunately for you, though, that little head tilt you do at the fifteen-second mark? Oops. There’s your face. Videos catch everything. Just like my necklace did on the boat last year.” I scoot closer to him. “For what it’s worth, I did feel bad about the plus-ones having to be part of all that. Seeing Bijoux arrested like that—”

“Don’t you say her name,” Arnold spits out.

“If she can write me threatening riddles, I can say her name.” I hold his eye contact. “I was so caught up in my own feelings last year that it wasn’t until we had our drink together just now that I realized who you were head over heels for. Who you were a plus-one for. Was there a rule that you couldn’t date the boss? Is that why you stepped down from your role in the Durands?” I pull at my Christmas sweater. “This whole Con, this whole scheme, it was for love. It was for her.”

Arnold gazes into the middle distance. “She was going to quit, too,” he says, mostly to himself. “Maui was supposed to be the last job.”

He sounds so fragile. So heartbroken. And now I’m a little dejected, too, realizing that Sadistic Santa is really just… Sad Santa.

Manipulation. That’s what he’s trying to do. Use my feelings against me.

“Pulling Nathan’s fingerprint off the wrapping paper from the gift he brought Bijoux was a nice touch, too,” I continue, sticking to the unemotional facts. “I knew it looked familiar. How’d you get it off the boat? Plastic bag? Hold it above your head while swimming? That was quick thinking to grab it.”

Again, more silence.

“I get it, Arnold. When you love someone, you’ll do anything to get them back. To get back at whoever hurt them. When Nathan was in trouble, I was his alibi to save him,” I say. “Which, of course, you knew, once he was in the clear after you unsuccessfully framed him the first time. So I really do understand that you’d do anything for Bijoux.” I laugh humorlessly. “Funny what love makes us do, huh?”

Arnold’s voice turns harsh again. “I should’ve killed Nathan when I had the chance all those years ago. Next time, I won’t hesitate.”

“Is that what you tried to do with the chimney? Kill him?” I don’t know why I ask when I don’t really want to know the answer.