Christmas Party: A Short Story (Avery Barks Cozy Dog Mysteries)

by Hiker, Mary

  CHRISTMAS PARTY

  By

  MARY HIKER

  Copyright © 2016 MARY HIKER

  Published By: AWESOME DOG

  Copyright

  © 2016 MARY HIKER

  All rights reserved.

  Published by: AWESOME DOG

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the Author. Your support of author’s rights is appreciated. All characters in this novel are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  More Books by Mary Hiker

  The Author

  CHAPTER 1

  Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

  The smoke detector nearest my kitchen was going berserk, and the cabin stunk of charred garlic bread and cheesy pizza snacks. “Not again,” I yelped, yanking open the oven door as the smoke billowed out.

  Earlier that morning, I’d burned a pot of meatballs to a crisp… and now this. I’d been too easily distracted by my dog’s insistence on a game of Frisbee in the newly fallen snow and ruined my last chance of cooking a decent contribution to the search and rescue team’s Christmas With Friends pot-luck.

  I threw off my winter gloves and looked inside at the culinary tragedy while waving away the white wisps floating in front of my face. Chevy stood right behind me, ignoring the snow melting off the fur on his paws to give me moral support. My cold hand sunk into my favorite blue and white checked oven mitt as I grabbed the pan of black tinged bread and dropped the entire disaster in the sink.

  My golden retriever mix picked up his wet Frisbee and nudged my leg, offering another go-round of fun. I took the flat plastic toy from his mouth and used it to fan the smoke away from the honking detector. Chevy watched and pranced, hoping I’d be flinging the thing across the kitchen for him to fetch. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Hi Avery. Looks like I came just in time.” My good friend, Miss Millie stood just outside the screen door, watching me with her sparkling blue eyes. Her grey waves peeked out from under a purple knit hat.

  “C’mon in,” I waved as the constant blaring finally came to a halt.

  Chevy took the Frisbee from my hand and rushed to the door as Miss Millie stomped the snow off her winter boots, just in case she’d come over to play.

  “You can leave the door open,” I said as Miss Millie walked in and gave me a big hug. “I’ve got to air the place out for a minute.” My tactic seemed to be working, as the smoke began to clear out, along with all the heat. Good thing I was still wearing my fleece jacket.

  “Are you ready to go?” she asked, as Chevy conned her into giving him a big hug too. “I made my special chocolate cake to bring along, just for you.”

  Miss Millie was always invited to our annual gathering. She gave our team a lot of support, both in spirit and with delicious fresh-cooked food deliveries during long nights of extended search missions. Her chicken biscuits fueled a lot of man-hours and kept the team going when people needed us most.

  “Nice!” My eyes widened when I heard the word cake. Nothing in the world tasted better than Miss Millie’s moist chocolate dessert, one of the many reasons I often wished she was my grandmother. “We’ve got to stop off at the grocery store so I can buy a rotisserie chicken or something,” I said as I tied a green bandanna around Chevy’s neck to add a touch of Christmas color.

  “I’ve got you covered,” Miss Millie said with a wink. “I brought an extra crock pot full of honey garlic meatballs.”

  “You know me too well.” I laughed, the stress of the day’s cooking disasters leaving my body. “We’ve just got to make sure Chevy doesn’t break into them before we get there.” I ruffled my dog’s soft fur, grabbed my present for the gift exchange, and all three of us headed out the door ready for a night of fun.

  CHAPTER 2

  We followed the trail of paw prints up the path toward the wood slide doors of the Big Red Party Barn. Chevy burned off some extra energy on the way, tearing around in circles on the front acreage, making his own fresh tracks in the three inches of new snow as we followed the Elvis Presley Christmas music blaring from the speakers mounted on the outside.

  It was a good thing the wood planks serving as the barn floor was suitable for wet paws, there was sure to be dozens of them prancing in and out all evening. We had several dogs on the search team that would be in attendance, plus a few additional four-legged guests. Dogs were a big part of our team and of our lives.

  John Titus, one of our senior team members and a retired farmer, converted his old gambrel hay barn into a rustic gathering place, providing the perfect venue for our dog-friendly get-togethers. Uncle John, as he liked to be called, could’ve made a good side income by renting the place out for weddings, but he preferred to keep his property reserved for friends and family. I couldn’t say as I blamed him for that.

  “Welcome ladies,” Uncle John called out as he trotted out into the snow to help carry the load, his German Shepherd, Roscoe, following close behind. The man’s smile was as broad as his shoulders and the warmth of his personality fit the holiday season.

  Chevy wasted no time offering a play bow to Roscoe, and the two dogs kicked up a trail of snow as they chased each other around the building before following us inside.

  “The place looks beautiful,” Miss Millie said, her eyes landing on the soft white Christmas lights hanging from all the wooden beams as she placed her oversized crockpot on one of the oak tables.

  The heavy dinner benches gave a picnic table feel to the dining section of the barn, and an eclectic mix of well-worn leather couches, stuffed ottomans, and Adirondack chairs filled out the rest of the space.

  “Make yourselves at home,” Uncle John said as he handed us each a red plastic cup full of diet cola and nodded toward the group of visitors. “Don’s getting changed into his Santa Claus suit, and we’ll let all the dogs open their gifts.”

  “That should be a hoot,” Miss Millie said, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the circle of friends. “Let’s sit next to Deena, she’s still new to the team, and I want to make sure she feels comfortable.” My friend pointed to the athletic young lady relaxing on the end of one of the couches, her hand resting on the super attentive Border Collie sitting on the floor next to her. Her dog, Zip, was always on full alert, watching everything and anything going on around him.

  “Great idea.” I put an arm around Miss Millie’s shoulder and gave a little squeeze. I loved the way she always thought of others and reminded myself to be like her.

  “Hey guys,” Deena said, scooting all the way over to make room for us on the couch. Her friends, Carl and Lucy Shea, were kicked back in the Adirondack chairs close by and gave us a hearty greeting.

  The brother and sister duo contributed to our trainings, hiding for the dogs at practice. Carl was a lot better at pretending to be a lost person than Lucy – she couldn’t help but let out an excited squeal every time the dog was within range, and give away her position – but we appreciated both of their efforts and always enjoyed their company.

  “Where’s my dog?” I glanced around, checking the foo
d table first.

  “He’s playing with Robber.” Lucy laughed, pointing to Carl’s Jack Russell Terrier dressed in an elf costume. Well, a partial one anyway. Chevy had already pulled the little green hat off the smaller dog’s head, and the two were playing tug-o-war with it.

  “I hope they rip that thing to shreds.” Carl shook his head and chuckled. “Lucy refuses to let my dog have any dignity, always dressing him up in girly outfits.”

  “Robber likes it when I dress him up.” Lucy gave her brother’s muscular arm a friendly poke. “He gets lots of treats that way.”

  The screech of a portable PA system interrupted the festive chatter. We turned our attention to the action as Uncle John tapped on his microphone.

  “Calling all dogs to the center of the room…” The burly man crinkled a small bag of dog treats to get maximum canine attention. “It’s time to open presents!”

  CHAPTER 3

  “Ho, ho, ho!”

  Toenails scraped the wood plank floor as eleven dogs went bonkers at the sound of Don’s voice. Most had experienced a visit from ‘Search and Rescue Santa’ at past parties and raced toward the red and white clad man with the fake beard. The others went along for the ride.

  “Ho, ho, ho!” Santa shouted to a choir of excited barks as the dogs clamored for the best position. His black Labrador, Ace, wasn’t fooled by the costume and pawed at Don’s leg, a plea to get first priority for presents.

  “He looks so cute with a white beard.” Miss Millie grinned, touching my knee. “I can’t believe it took you so many years to figure that out.”

  I had to agree, nodding and laughing as Don gave us a wink. He was turning out to be a top-notch boyfriend.

  Santa Don reached deep into his sack and pulled out a gift with bright green wrapping. “Chevy, this is for you. Ho, ho, ho.” My retriever stretched his neck, snatched his gift, and ripped the paper off a handful of dog cookies in one motion, while the small crowd of people cheered him on.

  The other dogs converged on Santa with an even higher level of expectation. They were barking and yipping and whining. The noise in the barn, combined with the laughter and music, was almost enough to make me want to cover my ears.

  “Zip, here you go. Ho-” Don didn’t even get a chance to finish his ho-ho-ho before the Border Collie jumped over a smaller dog and grabbed his gift mid-air.

  “He sure learned that fast,” I said as the crowd broke out in laughter.

  Deena shook her head. “Sometimes, I think he’s smarter than I am.”

  “Robber, leave Chevy’s gift alone,” Santa called out as the Jack Russell in the elf outfit snuck over and stole one of Chevy’s treats. The little dog returned to the group munching on his score. “Here’s your gift.” Don laughed, holding out a bright red package in the exact shape of a tennis ball. Robber grabbed the gift, wrapping and all, and sped off toward his dad for a game of fetch.

  “You’re supposed to take the wrapper off first, buddy.” Carl chuckled as he tossed the paper-covered ball toward the sliding door at the barn entrance. Robber’s little feet took a second to gain traction on the floor, and then he was off, chasing after his new toy.

  “I love it,” Miss Millie said, watching Don hand-out another gift. “Every dog is getting the perfect gift for their unique personality.”

  “You can thank Lucy for that.” I pointed toward the now-blushing woman with grey curls falling across her face as she sat up with a wide grin. “She helped us take dog gifts to a higher level this year.”

  “What the…?” Carl frowned, leaning forward in his chair.

  “What?” the rest of us said in unison.

  He nodded toward the shadows of the giant sliding door, where Robber had his nose stuck in a crack. “He’s growling.”

  Lucy’s eyebrows shot up. “But Robber never growls.”

  “Exactly.” Carl stood up, his muscular frame tensing as he held up a hand. “Stay here, just in case.”

  The little Jack Russell let out a yip as the heavy door slid open just enough for a disheveled man to squeeze his lanky body inside. Black hair stuck out in every direction as the stranger tripped over his own feet, scrambled across the floor, and used a chair to get back upright, only to fall again. Carl, Deena, and I reached him just as he clambered to his feet for the second time.

  The man’s eyes bugged out as the smell of stale whiskey followed the shout coming from his mouth.

  “Santa Claus killed my wife!”

  CHAPTER 4

  “There he is!”

  The drunk leaned against the wall in the shadows, pointing toward Santa Don with one hand and grabbing the collar of his cherry red sweatshirt with the other. Don heard the commotion and glanced back toward us, exchanging a look with Carl as the last of the doggie gifts were handed out.

  Don tossed the empty sack on a table, cranked up the music, and made his way toward us as the party chatter rose with the Christmas melodies. He’d almost made it to the door when the drunk let out a war cry and ran toward ‘Santa’ at full speed. Well, at least with as much speed as was possible in his current state of inebriation.

  Carl put a football style strong arm on the man to slow him down while Don did an excellent side-step to avoid the attack, but unfortunately the drunk’s flailing hands got tangled up in the Santa beard and the two tumbled to the floor. A second later, Don came out on top and pinned the man’s back to the floor.

  “I don’t want to die!” the guy screamed, his face covered by the fake beard half-hanging from Don’s chin.

  The holiday music suddenly stopped as the partiers hurried over and gathered around the men. The dogs followed, carrying their new toys and treats along with them.

  “He’s not Santa, you idiot.” Carl yanked the hat and beard off Don’s head. “See?”

  “Um. Uh.” The guy blinked several times as he stared at the clean-shaven face in front of him.

  Don rolled off the guy and helped him to his feet, keeping his hands on his arms.

  “Aren’t you a sheriff’s deputy?” the guy asked between hurried breaths.

  “I am,” Don said, keeping a good grip on the man. “Aren’t you Zack Coleman?”

  The drunk rubbed his sweaty forehead. “Santa shot my wife.”

  Carl rolled his eyes and nudged Deena. “This is exactly why I retired from the Miami police force.” He rested his thumb and forefinger on his grey horseshoe mustache and mumbled from behind his hand. “There’s a cockamamie story on every corner down there.”

  “They just got divorced.” Uncle John stepped forward from the small crowd. “That’s what set off all the drinking.” The kindly man put a hand on his neighbor’s shoulder. “Where is she, Zack?”

  “Face down in my front yard.” Zack stumbled back a step and struggled to speak as tears poured down his face. “Well, it’s going to be her house now, so I was moving my stuff out.” He swallowed hard. “I swear it was Santa Claus.”

  Don nodded toward Uncle John. “Call for an ambulance and have a deputy meet me over there.” He glanced over his shoulder at the gaping team members and guests. “Everything’s fine, you guys. Go back to the party and have a great time.” He gripped the back of Zack’s sweatshirt, right behind the neck. “I’ll be right back.”

  CHAPTER 5

  “Avery, my medical bag is behind my driver’s seat,” Don called over his shoulder as he marched Zack out the door. “The driver’s door is open.”

  “Gotcha,” I said, already on my way to his truck.

  Several team members kept first responder bags in their vehicles – filled with a variety of first aid supplies - to ensure we’d have what we needed in an emergency. I yanked on the door and pulled out the bulky bag, placing the nylon carrying strap over my shoulder. The adjustable harness was set for Don’s height, causing the heavy bag to clunk against the side of my knee as I hurried across the road, ignoring how the webbing dug into my shoulder from the weight of the bag.

  As I shuffled my way across a patch of ice a
nd approached the victim, Carl and Deena carefully rolled her over.

  “She’s alive,” Deena called out.

  “Oh, thank you, Jesus!” Zack slapped his forehead and almost stumbled as he blew out a big breath.

  Don nodded from the front of the house, where he was taking notes under the porch light while peppering Zack with questions.

  My hands searched through the medical bag, found several pairs of nitrile medical gloves, and I handed a pair to both my teammates who were already helping the woman before pulling some on for myself.

  “Lay…” The woman moaned softly, her arms wrapped in a death grip around a black and gold gift box. She struggled against Carl when he tried to get her to release it so he could check her upper body for entry wounds. “He,” she whispered.

  Deena had basic EMT skills from her days as a firefighter/first responder and found what she needed from the first aid bag to check the victim’s vital signs. The woman clutched the gift box as Deena checked her pulse and blood pressure. Carl wrote the information down and forwarded it to the 911 dispatcher by phone.

  “Looks like she got shot in both legs,” Deena said as she applied handfuls of gauze and pressure to the wounds.

  I tried to remember hearing anything that could have sounded like a gunshot, but I shook my head. I wouldn’t have been able to hear a bomb go off outside that barn.

  Carl reported the updated info and added, “The victim is mumbling something, but we can’t quite make out what she’s saying.”

  The deputies and medical help arrived at about the same time, ten minutes later. Law enforcement headed toward Don and Zack as the EMS crew took over treating the woman. We helped load her into the ambulance, leaving our used gloves with them.

  “Good job, guys,” I said as Carl and Deena huddled beside me on the snow-covered front sidewalk, watching Don and another officer lead Zack into the brick one-story house. The front door was still hanging wide open, just as when we’d arrived, giving a glimpse of blinking Christmas lights hanging on a tree inside.