Page 91 of A Very Daddy Christmas

“Fellas,” Sherry’s voice comes from a service door to our left.

“Sherry?” I mumble, glancing her way.

She motions for us to follow her, then vanishes behind the door. Two minutes later, we’re on a secluded patio on the east side of the main building.

Sherry keeps looking around, nervous and worried that others might see us.

“Sherry, what’s going on?” I ask.

“I overheard you in the cigar room, with Mr. St. James and Mr. Hamilton,” she says, steam rolling from her lips in the chilly air. “You said Cora’s missing?”

“Yeah. Do you know anything about that?”

She shakes her head. “No, sir. You’d be my first call if I did. But you mentioned something about that Chicago mobster.” The last word is lilted up in a question.

“Sherry, if you’ve got something to tell us, anything that might help us shed some light on this whole situation, now’s your chance,” Sebastian exhales sharply.

“Yeah, I think I can help you make the right connections, for sure,” Sherry concedes. “But I need to apologize to you, first.”

I give her a confused look. “What for? If it’s about the babysitting gig, we told you we completely understood your situation—”

“No, it’s… I’ve been holding this stuff in for a while. And it’s not right to keep it from you any longer, especially if Miss Levine is in some kind of trouble,” Sherry replies, then takes a deep breath. “You remember the last time you approached me about information regarding Mr. St. James and Mr. Hamilton?”

“We most certainly do,” Sebastian replies, his gaze fixed on her.

“I hear a lot in this place. I’m like a fly on the wall. They don’t even notice me,” she continues. “I’m also bound by non-disclosure agreements and stuff, but like I said, if Miss Levine’s safety is in peril, I have to say something.”

“We’re all ears,” I say.

“You were right about that Denaro guy. He’s definitely Chicago mafia. He’s had a few meetings up here with visitors from the Windy City,” Sherry says. “People like him. I mean, mobsters. Cool suits, cold eyes, killer faces… just like you see in the movies.”

Waylan steps closer. “You saw Denaro here? That’s rare. The guy barely shows his face anywhere.”

“He’s not a club member,” Sherry says. “He came here as a guest of Mr. St. James every time. And Mr. St. James sat with him through some of the meetings. For others, however, he grabbed a seat by the bar, and I served him his drinks. I’ve overheard a lot from Mr. St. James and Mr. Hamilton during their private visits, as well.”

Sherry goes on to tell us about every single juicy detail she picked up, and it’s a deluge of compromising information. The more we learn, the more obvious it becomes that Orson and George are two of the most depraved motherfuckers in the entire state of Colorado. My stomach churns as I realize how much bullshit they’ve been feeding the people of this town.

“To be fair, a lot of it is hearsay,” Sherry adds, taking a deep breath. “Mr. St. James bragging about his last affair. Mr. Hamilton worried about his bookie and hiding property values to keep Mr. Denaro at bay. That sort of stuff. If any of it turns out to be true—”

“It’ll land both of them in jail, probably for life,” Sebastian says.

“Solicitation, embezzlement, tax fraud, racketeering,” Waylan mutters. “They’ve put together quite the bouquet of charges. What about the sheriff? What do you know about him, Sherry?”

She thinks about it for a moment, pursing her lips. “I think he’s good people, but Mr. St. James and Mr. Hamilton have too much influence and good standing with the public. It would be hard for Sheriff Foreman to do anything against them. I think he tried to do something at one point. My parents were talking about it; they were worried the company could get shut down.”

“The company where your parents work, you mean.” She nods. “One of Hamilton’s companies, to be specific.” She nods again.“But Foreman never got around to doing any of that. We would’ve heard.”

“It would’ve been public, yes,” Sherry says. “Maybe you guys could pull the sheriff aside and possibly reason with him. Tell him everything you learned here today, just leave my name out of it.”

“Confidential informant,” I say. “It would give the sheriff some new leads, something he could work with.”

“It gives us new leads, as well,” Waylan chimes in. “But where does Cora fit into all of this? I don’t understand.”

Sherry narrows her eyes, glancing to the side for a second. “I think I might know. The other night, Mr. St. James and Mr. Hamilton were in the cigar room, getting drunk. They were giddy about a moral clause or something along those lines.”

“A morality clause,” I say.

“Yeah, that’s it. At one point, Mr. Hamilton asked if it would be enough to make Denaro happy, and Mr. St. James said he was worried that Mr. Denaro might take matters into his own hands, regardless of the clause, if only to make sure Mr. Hamilton gets the building by New Year’s Eve.” Sherry sighs. “I didn’t realize what all this was about until I heard you guys arguing with them earlier.”

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