Murder in the Candy Cane Forest

Murder in the Candy Cane Forest

Detective Sprinkles flipped through the file he held one more time before glancing up at the old man on the other side of the glass. 

The case seemed open and shut. All the evidence gathered at the scene seemed to show the suspect in the interrogation room had one hundred percent committed this crime. However, Sprinkles and the old man had a long history. They were friends. And he didn’t want to believe that the old man had done it. 

He glanced down at the photo of the vic. Whoever had killed Tinsel at the base of the candy cane tree had done a thorough job. He was almost unrecognizable because of the damage done to his face. Propped next to the tree was a bloody cane. The same cane the suspect used in everyday life. 

Like he said before. Open and shut. 

However, Sprinkles didn’t want to believe this man he had grown up knowing could do such a thing. It had to be a frame job. Right?

Sprinkles sighed and closed the case file. He squared his shoulders and pushed his way through the door. The suspect looked up, giving him a sad smile. 

“Hello, Bernard,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. 

“Hello, Mr. Kringle,” Sprinkles said, closing the door behind him and walking over to the table. He pulled the metal chair out and it scraped against the concrete floor. “Why did you do it?”

“Call me Kris. We’ve known each other long enough. How’s your father? Last I heard, he was in ill health.”

Sprinkles swallowed the lump that formed in his throat at the mention of his father. “I don’t want to talk about him. I want to know why you did it, Kris. Why did you kill Tinsel?”

Kris didn’t flinch, he just smiled. “Remember when you were little, Bernard? When you would come to my shop with your dad while he worked? It seems just like yesterday. But it’s been gosh, it’s been about thirty years by now. I remember you running around my shop while your father was in charge of the painting division.”

Sprinkles closed my eyes at the flood of memories. Of going to the workshop with his dad. Of being in awe as the man in front of him took the time to talk to him. He opened his eyes and looked across as the man looked at him. 

He seemed so relaxed. Like he didn’t have a care in the world. Like he didn’t just bash in the brains of an elf.

“We are not here to reminisce. We are here because you murdered Tinsel. You took your cane and beat him with it until he was dead. And you did this all in the Candy Cane Forest. And I want to know why. Why did you kill Tinsel?”

“It surprised me when you went to work for the NPPD,” Kris said after a moment’s pause. “I had been hoping you would take your father’s place in my shop. Such a loss of talent. The spot is still yours if you want it.”

Again, Sprinkles ignored his ploy to distract him. “Is that why you killed Tinsel? To open my rightful spot back up on your team?”

Mr. Kringle laughed. Not his usual jolly laugh, the one that makes his belly shake like a bowl full of jelly. No, this was a bitter, sarcastic laugh. 

“That’s a little presumptuous of yourself, don’t you think? Thinking you’re worthy enough for a man to commit murder for.”

“Then why did you do it?” Sprinkles said. “Why did you kill him?”

“Because,” Kris said, his mouth twisting up into a terrifying grin. “He saw mommy kissing Santa Claus, and he was going to show my wife the pictures he took. I had to stop him.”

There it was, the confession. Open and shut. Sprinkles leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. 

“Stop looking so smug,” Kris said. “You’re going to let me walk out of this room, and we are going to forget any of this happened.”

He scoffed. “Now why would I do a thing like that?”

Kris smirked. “Because of who I am. You can’t put me in prison.”

“What about Tinsel and his family? Don’t they deserve justice for his murder?”

“Of course they do,” Kris replied, as he slid a slip of paper across the table to me. “And this is your perpetrator. He and Tinsel got into an argument and he killed poor Tinsel in a fit of rage. In a moment of panic, he framed me for the murder of one of my senior elves. Such a shame. They both had so much life left in them.”

Sprinkles opened the slip of paper and looked at the name. It was one he vaguely recognized. The elf wasn’t high ranking and was young. Too young to be framed for murder. 

He folded the paper back up and looked across at Kris. “You can’t do this. You won’t get away with it.”

Again, Kris smirked. He lowered his head, so he was looking at Sprinkles over the rims of his half-moon glasses. “Of course I can. I’m Santa Claus.”

“Son of a gingerbread man,” Sprinkles muttered. 

Kris laughed, this time it was his jolly laugh, as he brought his finger, white gloved and stained red with blood, to the side of his nose, vanishing the cuffs he had been wearing as he sat in the interrogation room. 

Kris pushed his seat back from the table and stood up. He made his way to the door, pausing with his hand on the handle.

“And Bernard?” He started. “Remember, I know when you are sleeping, and I know when you’re awake. And I’ll know if you don’t do as I’ve directed.” He paused before looking over his shoulder. “Have a Merry Christmas.”

He opened the door and was gone.

Sprinkles stared at the now open and empty doorway for a few minutes before letting out a sigh and running his hands down his face. His first proper case as a detective, and this is what he gets. 

He stood from his chair, left the interrogation room, and walked over to his desk. He slammed the file down and let out a frustrated scream. Sitting down at his computer, Sprinkles pulled up Kris Kringle’s file. They had brought him in dozens of times over the past thousand years, all as a murder suspect. Each time, they had cleared him that same day. 

As Sprinkles scrolled through the massive file on Kringle, he was sick. More than once, a detective had died following the murder of a civilian. Were those people who didn’t follow Kringle’s order to frame someone? How many people were in prison because Kringle framed them? 

Sprinkles typed up a report of what happened in the interrogation room and sent that and his resignation to his superior. He didn’t want to pull strings for Santa fudging Claus. 

After emailing his superior, he packed up his desk and took one last look around. It was his dream to be an officer of the law, but if he could not do his job to its fullest, this was not what he wanted to do. 

He sighed as the first blast of cold air hit him in the face when he walked out of the building. For a second, he panicked because he no longer had a job. He needed to find something quick, or else he wouldn’t be able to afford his rent. Tinsel’s job in the workshop was now open. Maybe he would throw his hat in the ring?

Sprinkles began his trek home, whistling Jingle Bells as he sauntered down the sidewalk.