by Cat Clayton
“Looks like someone went shopping,” I said.
“Macy’s had all their winter workout apparel fifty percent off. And it’s a good thing. Or you’d be wearing a tattered sweatshirt and stinky yoga pants.” He plopped both bags down on the coffee table, which I’ve renamed the tea table.
“They don’t stink.”
He put a hand on his hip, scrutinizing me. “When’s the last time you washed them?”
“Two practices ago.”
“Then, they stink. Here, pick out something. They have that yummy new clothes smell,” he said, turning over each bag and emptying the contents on the table.
Leggings of every color, some with patterns, some without, long-sleeved workout shirts, and a few workout tanks tumbled out of the bags. It was like an athletic store purged itself in my living room. He dug in and snatched the black leggings with printed white reindeer and snowflakes from the stack and his Jingle These shirt.
“Mine!” he said, giggling. “But you can pick out an outfit. Might I suggest one of the insulated pairs of leggings, but it’s up to you. Oooh! I know! Let’s have a fashion show! We’ll pick the best pair.”
“But, Daniel, you’re like three feet taller than me! They’ll never fit.”
He sunk into the couch on the opposite end. “You underestimate the creative powers of Daniel Carlson. Now, move it, sister!”
I passed a now-awake Cuff over to him. Startled, he let out a tiny bark.
What is happening, Chiquita?
“Cuff wants to know why you’re demanding I try on all these outfits.”
“Okay, I’ll play.” Daniel chuckled, patting Cuff on the head. “Cuff, your human is being difficult.”
Look, you two. I need my rest for my race this afternoon. Can you keep it down? Cuff laid down on Daniel’s lap and placed his muzzle between his two front paws.
“Cuff insists that we would keep the noise level down. He’s resting,” I said, grinning at Daniel.
“All right, quit stalling, Steely.” He snapped his fingers. “Try the teal leggings with the white, black, and teal long-sleeve.”
“Fine.” I took the clothes to my room and changed. I checked the full-length mirror. Luckily, the leggings fit me, mostly. I had to scrunch them up at my ankles, and the shirt was slightly baggy and super long, as were the sleeves. I stepped into the living room.
Daniel tapped an index finger on his chin and made an Ah-ha sound as he inspected me. He twirled his finger in the air. “Turn around.”
I did.
“Lift your shirt and let me see your butt.”
I glanced back, frowning. “Serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
I heard a drawn-out Hmmm...
It looks like the clothes swallowed you, Chiquita.
“Cuff says he doesn’t like them,” I said over my shoulder.
“Fine. Take those off and try on the plain black leggings. They fit me much tighter than any of the rest and have a little lift in the rear section. It might help.”
“Help what?” I asked, fetching the black ones.
“Well, I can’t even find your butt in the ones you have on. Take the red long-sleeve with you. It fits tighter. Besides, it’s festive.” He reached in the pile, pulled the red one out, and tossed it. “Catch!”
I changed and immediately felt more comfortable in this outfit. They were both a spandex and cotton mix and snugged my body more than the silky material I had on earlier. I turned and back-faced the mirror. Wow! I have a butt in these! A tad long, as were the sleeves on the shirt, but I liked them. I pranced out into the living room and turned a few circles.
“Well?” I asked.
He nodded and stood up. “I like. Turn and lift the back of the shirt.”
I did.
“Oh, there’s your tush! I didn’t think you had one.”
I dropped the shirt and spun around. “Funny! Now, help me roll up these sleeves.”
He pulled each red sleeve out and meticulously rolled each one up to my wrists. Then he took one side of the bottom of my shirt, pulled it out, and tied a cute knot at my hips.
“Perfect!” he said and tweaked my nose.
“We need to go. I want to run down to the car lot and ask Ziggy’s brother about the blue Bug for Stoney.” I slipped on my running shoes.
“But what about your Pop? Didn’t he say no?” Daniel asked.
“Well, yes. But he said he wouldn’t do business with him. Doesn’t mean I can’t buy the car for her. I have a little money in savings. Anyway, I feel like Pop’s biased because Earl’s Ziggy’s brother. Ziggy was the crooked one. Earl has done nothing wrong.” I shrugged. “It won’t hurt to ask the price.”
I PERCHED ON THE WOBBLY top step of the trailer’s entrance, while Daniel and Cuff waited below. Avoiding the grimy handprints covering the door, I knocked.
“Careful, it looks like someone finger-painted with mud or something brown...” Daniel said behind me. “Oh my gosh. I’m gagging right now.”
I see what Daniel sees, and it is not pretty, Chiquita.
I eyed the door. “I’m sure it’s just dirt. I promise, it’ll be a quick inquiry, and then we’ll leave.”
“Did you get your flu shot yet, like I told you to?” I heard the tremor in his voice.
“No, but I’m guessing you have hand sanitizer with you.”
“Your assumption is correct. And you will disinfect afterward.”
My pup yipped from below. Good hygiene is important, Chiquita.
“See, Cuff agrees,” Daniel said.
Selecting a semi-clean spot, I knocked again. “Hello! Mr. Wood? It’s Steely Lamarr. I came to ask you about the blue Bug in the lot!” Leaning closer, I turned an ear, listening. Voices bled through the thin door.
“You will get an ear infection.”
“Shh!” I snapped my fingers behind me when a lock flipped from inside, and the door opened halfway, partially exposing a filthy, shadowy room.
“Can I help you?” Earl Wood asked, annoyance spreading across his face.
We interrupted something, I thought and retreated down the steps, careful not to tumble backward.
“Oh yes, thank you.” I twisted at the waist, pointing to the Bug. I glanced past a frozen Daniel, his blue eyes widening.
Cuff’s sniffer worked the air. Chiquita, I am getting a faint whiff of... dead body.
I shuddered at the thought of Ziggy’s five-day-old body.
“Um, the powder blue Volkswagen over there. We were curious about the price.” I turned back to him. “I think it’s perfect for my older sister.”
“Your sister?” He glanced beyond me, surveying the car lot. “Is she with you?” A flicker of something unreadable ignited behind dark eyes. Curiosity maybe?
“Um, no, she’s not here right now.” Something about his response bothered me, but a male voice from somewhere inside the trailer dragged me out of my thoughts.
“You need to sell off those vehicles to pay off your loser brother’s debts!” a voice said, as the door swung wide, revealing a short, pudgy man with a scruffy face.
I recognized him from somewhere, although I couldn’t quite place his face.
Earl nodded. “I can’t really sell off the cars until the paperwork for my brother’s estate is done. But I can quote you a price. Hold on a sec.” He left the doorway and moved out of my line of sight. “The papers are here on the desk somewhere.”
If memory served me correctly, Ziggy’s desk sat to the left of the door. I’d come in here with Gertie back in July and inquired about a car for sale on the lot. The same car had been following me only days before. I learned two valuable things during the visit: Ziggy was a sleazy drunk, and my grandmother had no problem with swiping paperwork on the car in question when Ziggy turned his back.
Daniel’s voice dragged me out of my thoughts. “Steely, we need to get going, or we’ll be late picking up our race packets.”
The short man inside lit up a cigar and stepped closer t
o the open doorway. His soiled white t-shirt stretched taut across his round belly, tucked tightly in his black jeans. He leaned out, inspecting us.
“Aren’t we festive? You and your friend there doing the run?”
I nodded, wrinkling my nose at the cloud of smoke billowing around him.
“I guess I’ll be seeing you there,” he said, scratching his scruffy chin.
“Are you running?” I asked, trying to keep the disbelief in my voice at bay.
He doubled over in laughter, coughing out a puff of smoke. “Hell no! But I’ll be there dressed in a red suit with bells on.” He turned and looked inside the dark trailer. “Are we all set on what’s happening and the money, Earl?”
Red suit, bells... oh my goodness. I recognized him, well, sort of, minus the costume and fake beard. He’s the Cranky Santa.
No way, Chiquita!
Earl reappeared holding a file folder. “Yeah, I’ll check in with you later.”
Cranky Santa reached inside the door and grabbed a black jacket. As he trod down the stairs, he eyed me with a sleazy grin.
“Excuse me, gorgeous. I need to squeeze by.”
Repulsed by his comment, I melted into Daniel’s side. His face was priceless, his lower jaw slack. I nudged him with my elbow.
“Huh, what?”
“You okay?” I asked as Cranky Santa slinked by us and traipsed off.
Daniel nodded, his decorated reindeer antlers wiggling, tinsel and ribbons flowing in the breeze.
Trembling, Cuff sniffed the ground in Santa’s wake. Chiquita, he is a bad dude.
I’m with you on that one, little buddy, I thought.
“So, once they deal with the estate paperwork, I can part with the blue Bug for, say, nine grand,” Earl said.
I laced my arm through Daniel’s. “Sounds good, Mr. Wood. I’ll let my father know.”
“Yeah, let him know I’d love to do business with him,” he said. One side of his mouth lifted into a half smile.
Daniel tugged me backward. “Roger that, we’ll let Mr. Lamarr know.”
“So, that sister you’re talking about. I heard around town she’s been getting some weird gifts. Sounds scary. Do they have any ideas of who the guy is yet?”
I nodded. “We believe we’re close to finding the person responsible.” I peered behind me, making sure we were in the clear. “Speaking of, how well do you know that Santa guy?”
Shrugging, Earl said, “Not too well, but from our recent business dealings, I’ve learned he’s trouble. He’s also involved with a guy named Kramer, a real tool who pulled a gun on me recently.”
Daniel bumped me with his hip. “Steely, C’mon.”
“Thanks, Mr. Wood. I’ll pass his association with Kramer onto the police.” I patted Daniel’s arm.
“Anytime,” Earl said.
We turned and headed toward the courthouse lawn.
“Well, that was interesting,” Daniel said, pulling me at a quick pace.
Trying to process everything, I agreed with him. Except, the word interesting was an understatement. Because of Cranky Santa’s involvement, I’d call it unnerving.
Chapter 18
Gertie’s marathon ensemble took the pie. Hands down. Her choice of attire lightened my mood after our encounter with Earl and Cranky Santa at the car lot.
Strutting over to Jackson, Daniel, and me, Gertie’s zebra print, full bodysuit stood out from the ocean of other runners. Her green tutu featured blinking lights, red Christmas bulbs, and white bows. Over her black, knitted hat, she wore her decorated reindeer antlers we’d made.
“Gigi, I adore your zebra bodysuit!” Daniel said.
It was a good thing she had a tutu on around her middle section. Her bust tested the limits above.
Cuff glanced up at her. She always steals the show, Chiquita.
She fanned herself, as if she were on fire. “It’s a white tiger pattern.”
Jackson nudged my elbow, smiling. “I think you look great, Mrs. Lamarr. Way to show your festive spirit.”
“You’re damn straight, Bolivar,” she said, examining the surrounding crowd. “Anyone seen Peters yet? I’m supposed to meet him here at 1:45 sharp.”
Mr. Peters walked up behind her as she removed her cell phone from a small pouch on her waist belt. He held a finger to his lips, signaling us not to announce his arrival.
“He’s two minutes late.” Gertie put a hand on her hip. “Peters will be late to his own funeral.”
“Ain’t nobody late, Lamarr,” Mr. Peters said with a grin.
Gertie whirled around, her lighted tutu a blur of colors.
“Now, come on, you old wild cat. There’s Tucker, Mabel, and Walter.” Laughing, Mr. Peters pulled Gertie by the elbow, and the two of them ambled off to meet the rest of their group.
“Those two have a curious relationship,” Daniel said, bending his head sideways. Silver tinsel dangled from his reindeer antlers as he observed Gertie and Mr. Peters.
“You can say that again,” Jackson said. His antlers were plain. He’d told me earlier when he arrived at the apartment, I don’t hot glue or wear bling. At least he had them on.
Cuff and Taffy danced around at our feet, both sporting matching red and green sweaters and tiny antlers. Is it almost time, Chiquita? My paws are getting antsy.
“Almost,” I whispered, signaling him with a thumbs up.
Pop and Stoney waved at us from the sideline. “Good luck!” Pop shouted.
Telling him about the price on the blue Bug would have to wait until after the stampede.
We waved back and headed to our start place in line. On our way through the crowd of runners, I spotted the herd of Santas holding their holiday cheer signs they’d purchased from the hardware store, dressed in their Santa suits and hats. I guessed soon their field trip would be over, and they’d head back to Santa school.
We heard the squeal of a microphone and Mayor Bateman’s voice over the crowd. “Welcome everyone to Buckleville’s 5th Annual Reindeer Stampede!” The audience and runners roared and clapped. “I’d like to extend a special welcome to the Santa students of the Southwest Texas Red Suit Academy! They all signed up to take part in the stampede!” More clapping. “This year, to kick off the run, we’ll have our very own Vivienne Peacock light the town’s Christmas tree. So, when you see the lights turn on, the race begins.”
Vivienne Peacock pushed her way through the horde of spectators and climbed up on the small makeshift stage for today’s event. Sashaying in a red velvet dress to the microphone, she leaned in toward the mayor.
“Thank you, good citizens of Buckleville! Don’t forget I’m running for City Manager and would appreciate your vote! I’ll do wonders for your city. Just you wait and see!” A few folks cheered.
“Lucky us,” I said to Jackson and Daniel.
Jackson leaned in. “I heard she has plans for big changes at the department. She has everyone in an uproar.”
“All right stampeders, are you ready?” Mayor Bateman hollered.
Vivienne steadied her hand over the big switch that would light up the tree.
“Get set!” the mayor yelled.
He nodded to Vivienne, who flipped the switch. “Go!”
The tree lit up, and we were off!
Jackson, Daniel, and the pups were natural born runners. Me? Not so much. I started off with them at a jog, but had to slow down to a quick walk not long after we started. I waved Jackson on. He circled back around toward me.
“You okay?” he asked.
I shook my head and patted the zippered pocket on my shirt. “I forgot my inhaler.” I didn’t want to push it. The race was for fun, not something to have an asthma attack over. “I promise, I’ll be fine. I’ll take the pups. You stay with Daniel.” I glanced back and spotted Gertie’s crew. “Besides, there’s Gertie. I can walk with them.”
“You sure? I really don’t mind,” he said, pecking me on the cheek as we walked.
I took Taffy’s leash from him. “Seriously
. Go! Run! Catch up with him, or he’ll beat you!”
He flashed me a you’re crazy look and took off at full speed.
You okay, Chiquita?
“I’m good, little buddy. We’ll just take it one step at a time.”
We kept a swift pace and my lungs behaved. I guessed all the practice runs we’d done in the past month had worked. I even shuffle-jogged a few sprints, and as soon as I would feel the pinch in my chest, we’d slow down and breathe deeply.
Honey Puckett jogged by us, leading Dewey, her pet goat wearing a bright blue sweater with snowflakes, and Pooka with her red and green tinted tail swishing behind her.
“Y’all are looking great, Honey!” I said to her as they trotted past us.
She waved, sporting her reindeer antlers and her hair pulled back in a messy bun. “Daniel did a fabulous job on Pooka’s tail! Thank you!”
Watching the woman, dog, and goat trio disappearing into the crowd, I thought to myself, gotta love the small-town life.
I am feeling so good, Chiquita, like super dog!
“You definitely have a spring in your step, Cuff.” I wondered how long his meds would keep his aches away.
“Hey, Steely!”
I heard a meow beside us.
Greta waved as she power-walked by, wearing a boxy, vented backpack. I spied a pair of bright blue eyes glinting through a mesh window.
“Hi, Greta! Looks like Farah loves her backpack!”
I smell cat, Cuff grumbled.
Giggling at my pup’s comment, I tugged on both leads. “C’mon you two, let’s get our stampede on!”
Soon, we’d moved up in the walking group of marathon racers, right behind the herd of Santas. The Santa in the lead pulled a makeshift red sleigh, constructed of spray-painted cardboard built over a red wagon. A leather strap with large silver bells twisted around the wagon’s handle. They jingled as the wagon sleigh bumped along the pavement, and the group belted out the lyrics to the Christmas carol Sleigh Ride.
“Just hear those sleigh bells jingling, ring-tingle-tingling too! Come on, it’s lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you!”