Act Two

"Santa Claus is Coming to Town"

"Mandy, you up for -" began Sara, giving the door to the Print Lab a gentle knock. But her voice trailed off as she took in the pile of gaudily wrapped gifts populating the workstation. "Aren't those from the White Elephant exchange?"

"Uh huh," was all Mandy Webster replied, intent as she was on lifting a print from a section of scotch tape with all her usual well-practiced deftness. Smoothing the print onto a card, she set it down beside a series of several others. Magnifying loop in hand, she examined each closely before letting out a long sigh, "At least wear gloves when you replace the tape, guys."

Then with a shake of the head, she murmured a derisive, "Amateurs."

That the White Elephant exchange regularly involved peeking didn't really come as much of a surprise to Sara. But Mandy was right, the guys should have known better than to leave such obvious evidence of said snooping behind.

"You up for a real challenge?" she asked.

Intrigued, Mandy looked up.

"Involves a field trip," Sara supplied.

This was obviously not the right inducement. "In this weather?"

Sara shrugged her why not. "Liquor store robbery. Gonna be a mother lode of prints. And I've got this," she said extracting a jar from her pocket with a flourish.

Mandy's eyes went wide.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Red Creeper?" Sara nodded. Not that one could mistake the phosphorescent cochineal colored pigment inside. "Serious job requires a serious powder."

Mandy readily exchanged her lab coat for one of the winter variety. "I'm in."

The two of them were on their way out the door when Mandy asked, "This mean you managed to wheedle the recipe out of him?"

Drawing her coat tighter about herself, Sara almost snorted. "Out of Grissom? Not a chance."

"So much for spousal privileges," Mandy rejoined, sounding more than a little disappointed at the discovery.

Sara wasn't. Finger print powder formulations not withstanding, marriage had proven to have plenty of privileges and far more pleasant benefits, even if they had proven fewer and far more far between as of late. But she wasn't about to tell Mandy either of that. She didn't need to in any case, her expression said it plainly enough.

But Grissom? Mandy thought and not for the first time.

Like she had once overheard Nick say to Greg, that was way too much like thinking about your parents.

"You know," Sara cut in to Mandy's rapidly twisting musings, much to the print tech's obvious relief, "you could always ask Hodges to run a sample of it through the FTIR to get the components. But then you'd owe Hodges -"

Mandy secured her scarf with a tug. "Yeah, so not going to happen."

In the midst of her popping open the Denali's driver side door, Sara's phone let out an insistent peal.

"Sidle."

Even without the phone being on speaker, Conrad Ecklie's voice came through loud and clear.

"Stokes says you're handling the Santa case -"

But before Sara could even confirm this, he plowed on with a terse, "Just try to keep the whole thing out of the media. The last thing we need on the news Christmas morning is 'Rifle Toting Santas Strike Again.'"

And with that he hung up.

"Not in the holiday mood?" asked Mandy.

This time Sara actually scoffed. "If you're the Grinch."

"Ooh," Mandy cooed, "with his heart five sizes too small?"

xxxxxxx

That the Christmas Spirit was in short supply at the local Pack 'n Carry down on Industrial went without saying. By the time Sara and Mandy arrived at the scene, owner Su-lyn Lee was several stages passed livid.

"I call two hours ago and you just get here now?! Two hours!" she protested. "How long you think I can keep store closed anyway? Christmas Eve one of busiest days of the year!"

"For liquor?" Mandy asked as she and Sara began unpacking their cases.

Ever matter of fact, Lee replied, "You never meet my mother-in-law. You do, you understand."

Sara, busily snapping on her gloves, found she certainly couldn't dispute this. In her experience, mother-in-laws did tend to have that effect: drive you to drink. Or at least be tempted to. Although to be fair, she did have to concede that she and Betty had been getting along significantly better over the last couple of years. Like Doc had once counseled, some things just took time. Of course as it turned out, displaying a little moxie hadn't hurt either.

But Sara didn't have long to linger over thoughts of Betty, Su-Lyn was still speaking, this time her voice dripping with undisguised disparagement, "I don't know why I bother. This third time in five years! Third time! And still you no catch them yet!"

She paused to take a gulp of air. Which Sara regarded as a good thing. That many exclamation points in one breath wasn't good for anyone.

Then as if the idea just struck her, Lee added, "Ah, that's right, no police report, no insurance claim. Want I write it for you?"

Lee didn't even wait for a reply and anyway Sara knew better than to argue. She simply silently motioned for Mandy to tackle the register while she started dusting the counter for prints herself. Mandy for her part looked like she was already beginning to rue leaving the lab.

"Let's see," Lee continued. "Three men barge in. With rifle. 'Give me money, honey,'" her lowered voice mocked. "'And don't forget the good stuff behind the counter.'

"Three bottles each. Each! And make sure to wrap them right, they say. Don't want them to break. Of course not. They almost worth more than till," she grumbled. "This not 'Merry Christmas,'" she insisted. "It 'Ho, ho, hold up,' if you ask me.

"Oh, and this very important clue."

Su-Lyn paused, the better to insure she had both women's attention.

"All three, they wear bright red suits, hats, white beards. Look just like bell ringer down the block!"

And with this, Lee stormed off in a huff to fume in the back.

Sara and Mandy exchanged looks.

"She for real?" Mandy murmured aghast.

"That was actually pretty tame for her," Sara reluctantly admitted and the two of them continued working, relishing the relative quiet.

xxxxxxx

Half an hour and enough print powder to leave them both luminous later, Mandy let out an exasperated sigh of "And I thought hotel rooms had tons of prints. We're going to be here until next Christmas."

"You still not done yet?!"

Mandy jumped.

Apparently whatever Lee had disappeared off to do hadn't sweetened her temper any. Stance rigidly akimbo, she glowered at them both.

Sara had to conceal a chuckle at the utter absurdity of it all under her officious, "You want to catch these guys?"

Lee made no immediate reply to this. She hovered for a moment, eying them intently.

"I don't know why you bother," she said after a while. "They don't touch nothing. Always wear gloves."

And you couldn't have told us this earlier? Sara glared, but did not say.

Lee missed the message anyway.

"You can see for yourself," she said.

Surprised, Sara asked, "You got them on tape?"

Apart from the camera pointed at the register, most store surveillance frequently proved to be just for show as employees tended to be a bigger theft threat than armed robbers.

Lee snorted. "Tape? We go digital after the last time. Wanna see?"

And there they were in black and white, crashing through the front door rifles blaring: three utterly nondescript white males. Apart from the Santa suits.

Not that you could make out much of the details on the tiny monitors. But that was easily remedied.

Sara drew out her phone, dialed, but was startled to find it answered by a loud, almost maniacal cackling.

"Archie?"

The sound stopped as abruptly as it had begun.

"Sorry," came Archie Johnson's hurried reply. "Had a holiday classic playing in a window."

Unable to come up with a film that could possibly qualify, Sara looked to Mandy who proved equally flummoxed. She was just about to ask, when Archie insouciant as ever supplied: "Gremlins."

Sara shook her head. "Miracle on 34th Street is a holiday classic -"

"Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer -" supplied Mandy.

"It's a Wonderful Life is a holiday classic," Sara insisted. "Gremlins isn't even a Christmas mov- Oh, yeah, wait it is," she unwillingly admitted.

Archie let out a laugh. "Take it you've seen it then."

Sara was caught and knew it.

Thankfully, Mandy cut in with an almost absent sounding, "Except Gremlins is more like one of those nightmares you get after eating way too many cookies before bed."

Sara goggled at her.

Mandy shrugged. "What? It happens."

Sara shook her head. "Back to the case. Archie, I'm emailing you a video file now."

"You want facial recognition?"

"I doubt Santa's in the system. Just want to know what they touched."

xxxxxx

"Nothing."

Sara's echoing "Nothing?" came out understandably hollow.

"Nothing," Archie confirmed. "Gloves stay on the entire time."

From her perch on a stool in one corner, Lee gave them an unhelpful I told you so stare.

"I'll go through it again," he offered. "See if I catch anything useful."

Sara thanked him and hung up, only for her phone to buzz in her hand.

At the way Sara's face fell, Mandy inquired, "Ecklie again?"

"Worse," Sara groaned.

Not sure how this was possible, Mandy said, "Worse?"

Sara turned the screen to face her.

211 - 4080 Paradise Road - Santa Claus

"Succinct, but precise," Mandy observed.

The Clauses had struck again.

xxxxxxx

There were four hits in total before the Santas stopped, finally satiated, at least for this year.

"And this is why I don't do field work," Mandy sighed, dusting herself off as she rose more than a little stiffly from where she'd been kneeling in front of the low counter of the tiny hole-in-the-wall mom-and-pop shop in Spring Valley.

All too familiar with such stiffness, Sara replied, "Be happy you're not a cockroach."

Mandy could imagine a million reasons for this, none was the one Sara finally supplied -

"They have eighteen knees."

"Ouch - And eww... But that doesn't really help."

"It usually doesn't," agreed Sara.

Both worn out from what had proven to be yet another wild goose, or rather Santa, chase, the two of them were genuinely relieved to be finishing the last of their packing up. They'd head back to the lab, see if there was anything they could salvage from the night. Although at this point, Sara seriously doubted it.

So when her phone let out another insistent jingle they both groaned.

"Not another one," moaned Mandy, resolving never to volunteer for another outside the lab assignment. Nick could dance naked, covered in Grissom's fingerprint power and decked out in a red bow, lovingly crooning Barry Manilow's "Mandy" throughout the lab and her answer would still be Hell No!

"Archie," Sara answered, taken aback herself.

Considering the lateness - or rather early nature - of the hour, Archie got right to the point. "One of your Santas has a sweet tooth."

Sara wasn't impressed. "Big surprise."

Neither was Mandy. "If only there was a plate of cookies lying around somewhere -"

"Not for cookies," Archie corrected. "Candy. Candy canes. You know the little mini ones -"

Comprehension began to dawn on Sara's face. "Su-lyn Lee had a bowl of them by her register -"

"Apparently he couldn't resist," added Archie. "Ate it on the spot."

Sara beamed. "It's finally beginning to look a lot like Christmas," she enthused.

"I don't get it," Mandy said as a much cheered Sara shut off her phone. "What difference do candy canes make? If the gloves never came off, there still won't be any prints."

"You ever tried opening one of those packets with gloves on?"

Mandy couldn't say she had. "Am more of a chocolate sort of girl."

"You can't. Not unless you use your teeth."

"You thinking DNA?"

Sara nodded. "Saliva may be gross, but the stuff's loaded with DNA."

xxxxxxx

Unfortunately, Su-lyn Lee wasn't any happier to see them the second time.

"Why you asking if I sweep up? You accuse me of keeping a dirty store?" she demanded as Sara and Mandy scanned the floor.

Ignoring Lee's latest tirade, Sara clicked on her mag light and bent to peer along the bottom of the shelves on either side of the main aisle.

After a moment, her beam sent back the sudden sparkle of discarded cellophane.

xxxxxxx

"Got to be a first," Captain Jim Brass mused, thumbing through the lab report in front of him. "Caught by candy cane."

He addressed the portly, ragged, balding middle-aged man slumped in front of him. "Been taking a bit too much of the good stuff, Ralphie?" he asked mimicking lifting a bottle. "Want a coffee? Soda? Or is milk more your thing?"

That Ralph Parker only sat there stewing in his intoxicated haze didn't deter Brass in the slightest.

"Impersonating the big guy on Christmas. Pretty bold move. Bet that puts you permanently on his naughty list. Certainly does with Las Vegas County. And -" Brass scanned a finger down Parker's rap sheet. "This conviction is strike three. You know what that means, Ralphie: life without parole. Sure you don't want to give up the rest of your merry men?"

Parker only glared.

"Okay. Okay. Your choice. Just know we've got your DNA at the scene. That got us a warrant to search your work locker. Boss was only too happy to let us have a look."

Brass set the print of a slightly grubby looking Santa suit hanging in a locker in front of Parker.

"Next time," Brass suggested. "You might want to ditch the suit. Haven't found the gun yet, but we will."

Then Brass leaned in; whispered conspiratorially, "But you and me, we both know you're just another guy in a red suit. And it's the Big Guy we really want.

"So think about it. After all, I doubt there's a heck of a lot of milk and cookies in prison.

"Or candy canes."