THE SANTA CLAUS MURDERS
Ed Gorman
ONE
I don’t know about you, but I’ve got pretty good sales resistance when it comes to any kind of class reunion. I don’t mean the big summer three-day specials. I mean in the more impromptu sort you get when you live in a town of twenty-eight thousand and most of your classmates are still around.
Before I say “Yes, I’ll go,” I always haul out the old high school yearbook to run a kind of checklist.
I want to see how many of the good-looking girls are still unmarried and-or divorced. But the thing is, some of the good-looking girls aren’t so good-looking anymore, and this is only eight years after graduating; and girls you didn’t pay much attention to have bloomed into beauties.
You see the dilemma of relying on your high school annual.
. . .
