Page 6 of A Dye Hard Holiday

“WHAT DO WE KNOWabout the timeline of events last night?” I asked Adrian and Wen.

“Well, most of the shops were closed because it was Sunday. Santa’s workshop was supposed to stay open until five o’clock, but Mr. Adams got sick after eating his wife’s leftovers and went home early,” Wen said.

Santa’s Village was just a cluster of small buildings at the edge of town that local residents rented each year to sell their merchandise for the holidays. A person could buy anything from candles, quilts, homemade goat milk soaps, to candies and baked goods. The buildings were constructed to look like small houses and were decorated with lights and other holiday ornamentation.

“You sure it wasn’t Deanna Dorchester’s cooking?” Adrian teased. Poor Deanna couldn’t shake her bad reputation, even though we all knew that her cooking was just fine.

“Dude, you need to save your insults for when John is around or else it’s not as fun,” Wen told him.

“Good point,” Adrian replied. “Anyway, so someone strung up Kris Kringle sometime between two and seven when the call came in to nine-one-one.”

“Who called it in?” Sometimes perpetrators liked to report their own crimes, especially if their handiwork wasn’t discovered right away.

“Mrs. Thompson discovered it after following Mr. Friskies into the village when he pulled the leash out of her hand and took off chasing a stray cat.”

“Can I assume that Mr. Friskies is her pet and not a pet name for Mr. Thompson,” I inquired.

“Affirmative, Captain,” Wen said.

“Of course, she reported a dead body and not a stuffed Santa, so that’s why the coroner arrived on the scene before we did,” Adrian explained.

“I imagined that it looked pretty lifelike in the dark.” I snickered when I thought about Mrs. Adams’s phone call that morning. She wanted to know if the effigy was a voodoo doll in her husband’s image. She sounded disappointed when I told her it wasn’t the case at all. It was a prank, not a death threat or warning to her husband. “Did we find any evidence that connects this incident to the unsolved burglaries and vandalism?” I hated unsolved crimes as much as Josh hated bargain brand fabric softener.

“Nope,” Adrian said, sounding just as irritated. “I can’t believe there are no security cameras or alarms at Santa’s Village, especially after the rash of trouble we had.”

“Folks don’t like change,” I reminded Adrian. “Which means we need to step up our attempts to thwart this asshat before he strikes again.”

“You think it’s just the beginning, Cap?” Adrian asked.

“Unfortunately, I do. Someone went to an awful lot of trouble for a single incident.” I ran my hand absently over my chin while I thought. “This feels like the beginning of something instead of the end.”

“Our neighborhood canvas didn’t really turn up anything new except there was a Buick in the neighborhood earlier that day that stood out because it had rust spots like a dairy cow. There were also some wild ideas,” Wen reported.

“Such as?” I asked.

“The most popular theory is that people are pissed about the village opening before Thanksgiving this year,” Wen answered. “It didn’t use to open until the SaturdayafterThanksgiving, but this year the township opened it in the middle of October. That upset quite a few people, Cap.”

“You can say that again,” came a familiar voice from the doorway. I looked up to see our former captain standing just outside my office. “Knock knock, Captain Roman-Wyatt.”

The three of us rose to our feet and greeted Mayor Reardon. “It’s good to see you, sir,” I told him.

“You too,” he replied. “You look good behind the desk. It suits you.” I rubbed my hand over the back of my neck unsure how to respond. It felt like my office until he stood in it, then it felt like I was on the wrong side of the desk.

“Captain, we’re going to canvas over a few blocks from the village to see if we have better luck,” Adrian said. “It’s good to see you, Mayor.”

“Don’t be a stranger,” Wen said as they headed for the door.

“It’s good seeing you guys also,” Reardon told them.

“I have an interview with a potential partner for you, Adrian, in thirty minutes. Do you want to stick around a little while to meet him?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Don’t you trust your captain?” I joked.

“I just don’t want to waste anyone’s time. I’ll be able to tell in five minutes if he’s a good fit for me.”

As Adrian’s best friend, I wanted him to have a partner he was comfortable with. I wished that could be Wen, but he hadn’t taken the appropriate tests to apply for the job. John was a good fit, but the sheriff’s department paid better than the BPD. I was tasked with finding a partner from a different police department. Quite honestly, moving to a small town isn’t always high on someone’s list. In fact, I had only received one applicant once the job was posted.