Chapter 27

 

Brie walked along the sidewalk, surveying up and down the street as she went. Everywhere she looked, holiday scenes dotted yards, something she'd never seen in all the years living there. In two days' time, the reserved neighborhood had turned into a Christmas light festival, one the inhabitants didn't necessarily want or understand.

Thelma and Jane strode over as Brie drew near. "Can you believe this?" Jane asked.

"At least you got Santa, his sleigh, and reindeer." Brie gestured toward her own front yard. "I got hungry looking polar bears fixated on the ice skating penguins like they are about to be lunch. Not to mention the red lights at the bears' feet remind me of a recent sacrifice to their hungry bellies."

"I got authentic reindeer poop," Jane said proudly.

Thelma shook her head. "I keep telling you, that's not reindeer droppings."

"How would you know? You've never seen a reindeer."

"I've seen deer. And for sure, that's not deer poop. Theirs is more supersized bunny pellets, not slushy plops. I swear Tom Thomas's pet pot-bellied pig got loose and took a dump in your yard."

Jane bristled. "That better not be pig poop." She glanced at Brie. "Rye's a detective. Call him. He can solve this mystery once and for all."

"Of who's leaving the decorations?"

"No, dear. If it's reindeer poop or pig shit on the lawn."

Brie choked. Jane whapped her on the back.

Yeah, she could just imagine that conversation with Rye. Thelma and Jane need your detective skills. They can't decide if it's pig poop or reindeer pellets by Santa's sleigh. Can you go over and find out for sure? Snort. Not.

"I'll mention it to him. After I do something about the pending feeding frenzy on my front yard." She stared at the muzzles of the stark white polar bears.

"Perhaps you could trade with Joe and Belle down the street. They aren't thrilled with the big old blow-up Grinch in their yard. Think it's some sort of message about them."

"I wonder who's responsible for this," Brie asked.

"No clue," Jane answered. "But I did see an elf running down the street last night."

Brie and Thelma both stared at the woman with the pink-tinted hair.

"You what?"

"Been hitting the sherry again, dear?" Thelma shook her head.

"No. I swear. I thought I heard something, figured it was that damn pot-bellied pig back to leave more crap in my yard. I saw an elf, dressed in green with a Santa hat on, doing something to the big snowman in Grace's yard. He turned, saw me peeking through the curtains, then dashed away."

"Uh-huh. You need to get your eyes checked and soon." Thelma rolled her eyes. "Elves. Whoever heard of such a thing?"

Brie blinked at the two of them. "Our neighborhood is going to the crazies." She slapped her hand over her mouth, realizing how her words sounded.

"Yep. Global warming or some such crazy thing. Screwing with people's minds."

"Speaking of odd people, I haven't even met the couple who bought the old Gomez place, yet." Thelma gestured to a house across the street. "Let alone heard who's responsible for the exuberant holiday spirit. And I always am the first to know everything when it comes to gossip."

Brie shuddered at the mention of the house where she'd almost lost her life during the summer when she had helped in a police investigation by infiltrating the couple's household only to be made as a spy. She still bore the scar from the knife wound, although she'd managed to move forward with Rye's help.

"You're slipping, Thelma. I tell ya, you're slipping." Jane shook her head at her best friend.

"Yeah, well, when you're my age, you can't do everything. Baking cookies, helping with charity…"

"Speak of the devil…" Jane glanced at an approaching person.

Rye sauntered up, joining the group. "Ladies." He stopped by Brie's side, entwining his fingers with hers. "What have I missed?"

"Thelma hasn't met the new neighbors yet. There's a rumor of elves invading the area. And, oh, yeah, Jane wants you to identify some poop in her yard. There's some question whether it's pig or reindeer." Brie grinned broadly at her boyfriend.

He held up one hand and shook his head. "Detective here. Not a poop analyzer. You're on your own."

A front door opening across the street interrupted their conversation. All three of them turned to stare at the former Gomez house. Sure enough, an elderly, white-headed couple emerged from the house, holding hands as they followed the walk to their driveway.

Jane made a beeline for them. Brie, Thelma, and Rye followed along at a more sedate pace.

"Good day. I'm Jane. Live right across the street and down a couple of doors. Welcome to the neighborhood."

"Thank you." The elderly woman answered with a bright smile on her face. "Moving in took so much time, I'm afraid we weren't available to meet and greet."

Thelma waved her hand. "No worries. We're real friendly around here. You need anything, all ya got to do is ask." She leaned in and whispered loudly. "I think you'll like it here."

"Oh, I know we will."

"I'm Brie, by the way. Right across the street from you. This is Rye, my boyfriend."

He held out his hand, shaking both theirs. "Nice to meet you."

"They're shacking up. Boy howdy. Love if I ever saw it. Don't worry, though, they aren't screamers or anything. Kinda quiet in the sack. Trust me, I live next door, and unless I see them through the window, I never know when they're playing hide the sausage." Thelma paused for a beat. "Don't you think he's got a great ass?" She grinned from ear to ear, reached out to fondle Rye who easily sidestepped her questing hand.

Brie's face heated like a blowtorch.

The old man with the long white beard winked at Brie. "I don't think we've been formally introduced. Name's Kringle. Kris Kringle."

Brie blinked. "Kris Kringle? As in the Santa Claus?"

"Not anymore."

"Huh?"

"I retired a few years ago. Our son took over the family business." He wrapped an arm around his wife. "Decided we needed warmer pastures to spend our golden years. The North Pole is hard on old bones, you know."

"Speaking of Junior, he said he'd buzz the house as he made his rounds." Mrs. Kringle smiled up at her husband. "If we can stay awake long enough to witness it."

"I'm sure we can find something to keep us awake in the meantime." He patted her butt with familiarity.

Oh, good grief. Santa—make that the former Santa—was making moves on Mrs. Claus. I must have drunk too much eggnog. Although she didn't care for the stuff and didn't have any in the house. Either that or the cute little pair lived in a demented world. Just what she needed: nosey neighbors peeking through her kitchen window, one getting familiar with her boyfriend's rear, an overzealous Christmas decorator filling the block with outside holiday scenes, and now the newest members of the neighborhood association claimed to be Mr. and Mrs. Claus.

When did I enter the Twilight Zone, and how soon can I leave?

"Do you have anything to do with all these decorations?" Jane nodded down the street. "Not that I go around blaming people who are innocent. It's just that we've never had quite such a…bright holiday before."

"Exactly," Thelma agreed.

The Kringles looked at one another, then turned back with amused grins. Leaning forward, Mrs. Kringle stage whispered, "It's the elves."

"Elves?" Rye blinked.

"You know"—she waved her hand—"Christmas elves."

"Told you so!" Jane raised her hand in a victory gesture. "Accuse me of seeing things. Hmph."

"Well, we moved in and thought the neighborhood needed a bit of sprucing up for the big holiday. The elves, busy little beavers that they are, decided to take matters into their own hands."

Oh, good grief. First Mr. and Mrs. Claus. Junior who drove a sleigh and would be buzzing them tomorrow night if the Kringles weren't engaged in hot Santa sex at the time, and now Christmas elves who bore the responsibility for decorating the various yards up and down the street.

"That explains it." Rye nodded as if all the convoluted puzzle pieces fell into place. Come to think of it, they probably did in his mind, quirky as it was. Not to mention, he probably dealt with lunatics and deranged people on a daily basis.

Jane sucked in a breath. "So was it a flying reindeer that took a dump in my yard after all?"

Mr. Kringle shook his head. "Free-range pot-bellied pig."

"I knew it! Tom Thomas, get your pooper scooper and hike your ass over here right now!" She yelled loud enough the shutters shook on the houses.

Why didn't anyone tell me when I bought the house that it sat smack dab in the middle of dementia-land?

Hearing scuffling, Brie turned to find a short-statured. thick, and broad, black and white pig ambling across the yards, sniffling and snuffling, then moving forward once more. A red and white jacket, matching the jolly old elf's himself, covered the pig's back and half of his front legs. While the presence of a hog in the city might be unusual, one wearing a Christmas costume took the cake.

"Look." Her whispered word had everyone's gaze on the small farm animal.

As they watched, he hurried over to Jane's yard, sidled up to the reindeer, flicked his tail and partially squatted.

"Ack!" Jane hollered and rushed forward. "Stop that, you hairy pork chop!" The pig glanced her way, then loped off with Jane hot on his heels, waving and promising to turn him into a Christmas ham.

"Here, Wilbur! Here, piggy! Su-ey! Su-ey!"

Brie turned a one-eighty to see a tall, lanky man with a bald head carrying a dog leash as he hurried down the sidewalk toward Jane.

"Wilbur. Cut that out and come back here," he chastised.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jane corner the errant pig only to have the animal dash between her legs. Jane grabbed too late, leaving her flat on her butt and the mischievous pet running full-out for the man holding the lead. Skidding to a halt, the pig sat back on its haunches and squeaked, receiving a food reward from the man.

"That's my Wilbur. Fruitcake is your favorite after all." After clicking the leash back on, the man led the pig back the way he came.

Rye snickered.

Jane climbed to her feet, sputtering and huffing. "Tom Thomas, stop right where you are."

"The man's deaf as a doornail," Thelma leaned in to whisper in Brie's ear.

Brie nodded.

Brushing herself off, Jane hotfooted down the street in pursuit of the man leading his runaway pet pig.

Oh, yeah. Definitely bedlam.