Spinelli sauntered toward the employee locker room. Though anxious to lose the hot, itchy, and wet Santa suit, he slowed down to trail the elves and eavesdrop. Maybe he'd hear something he could use to nab the killer. But no, they droned on about semester finals and griped about having to work at the mall for the holidays. Poor kids, he thought as he did a mental eye roll.
Once in the locker room, Spinelli kept listening while he peeled off the Santa suit. Still nothing important. He glanced at the soggy trousers. Damn this is disgusting. What the hell is wrong with kids today? With any luck, the drycleaners would be open in the morning and he could get the urine-polluted Santa suit cleaned before his shift tomorrow night.
He stuffed the suit into his duffel bag and slung it over his sho
