“No problem,” one of the officers said as he looked around while a second officer took Myra up on her offer. The guard, who was out of uniform, was busily explaining to the third officer about Baron Bell and his Christmas schedule. The fifth man, who said he was an insurance agent, remained mute.

“A day doesn’t go by during the Christmas season that Mr. Bell and Miss Harriet aren’t parading around in those outfits. The kiddies love it,” the guard said happily.

The officer who was checking out the suite of rooms moved closer to the bathroom. “Sorry to have bothered you. Merry Christmas!”

Annie gave her beard a jerk and, managing a rumble from deep in her gut, replied, “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

The guard laughed and said, “Mr. Bell is such a card. He gets right into the spirit of the holidays.”

When the office door closed behind the men, Annie sagged against the old-fashioned sink. “That was way too close for comfort, Myra!”

“You think? Try this on for size, Annie, dearest. That cop who was making the rounds looked at me a little too close. Didn’t you hear what the guard said? Mr. Bell called them. That has to mean Mr. Bell thinks Adel Newsom is or was coming here. Don’t ask me how that could have happened, but it’s the only thing that makes any kind of sense. I have a feeling they’re coming back.

“That cop’s eyes were a little too sharp for my liking. It was almost like he thought he knew me but didn’t know where he knew me from. For all we know, those officers might be calling Georgetown Hospital right now to see if we’re scheduled to make an appearance. We’re going to have to take the stairs all the way to the basement level and make our way in these outfits to the Post apartment.”

Annie didn’t have to be told twice. She was at the office door before Myra could turn around. “We’re going to freeze out there in these getups.”

Myra tossed her the down jacket as she slipped into her own.

On the way down the steps in the oversize black boots and Santa outfit, Annie managed to come alive. “Tell me our sleigh with eight tiny reindeer will be waiting for us when we open that door.”

“Will you settle for a SWAT team and assault rifles?”

Hours before and hundreds of miles south as the crow flies, Charles Martin found himself in the unenviable position of trying to come to a decision. He looked at one of his old friends, Reginald Clapper, a comrade from the old days when he, Avery Snowden, and Clapper worked for the queen. Retired now, like Charles and Avery, he was just glad to be back in the game no matter how small the job.