Name That Claus

Now that the victim was on his way to the morgue, I could start asking questions.

"OK, so what's the victims’ name?"

"Chris Cringle" said George smiling.

"Very funny" I said, not amused. "Really, what's his name?"

"Well, he goes by many names. Pere Noel... Babbo Natale... Father Christmas..."

"George!" I snapped. "I'm really not in the mood. Did you find any ID on our victim?"

"Nope. We checked the body and his locker... nothing. I've got an officer checking with the store manager for employment records now."

"OK, then what else do we know about him?" I said rubbing my eyes. I could feel a migraine coming on.

"Well, the beard is real. His boots and gloves are real leather, probably set him back a couple hundred, and the Santa suite is not your typical department store issue."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Most low end Santa suites, like the ones malls and department stores buy to keep costs down, are made of red flannel. The one our victim is wearing is much more substantial. I'm guessing wool or some other heavy winter fabric. Again, not cheep. The tag looked custom, Tindalini Tailors... sounds Italian."

"You sure seem to know a lot about Santa suites." I said while taking notes.

"Let's just say I have much respect for the men in red." said George with a lump in his throat. "Every winter, thousands of men answer the call and volunteer to bring joy and happiness to children around the world. These brave souls sacrifice…"

"Right… well, thanks for the info." I said interrupting. "Keep me updated if you find out anything else."

"Yes" said George, stumbling off of his soap box. "Will do!"

Realizing we couldn’t get much done here, Lacey and I decided to let the CSI techs do their job and we headed to the station.

The End

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