It Came Upon a Midnight Crime

by Christy Barritt

  And I was truly certain I would never, ever live this one down.

  ***

  Thankfully, the Videls hadn’t pressed charges. I had to give them credit for that. They had said something, however, about never wanting to see me within fifty feet of them again. I couldn’t imagine why.

  As we left, my cell phone buzzed. It was Pastor Shaggy. “We’ve got another vandalism.”

  “Where? What?”

  “Some farm animals from a living nativity are missing.”

  Animals? I knew just the person who could help with this.

  Standing in the front yard of a little farmhouse in Virginia Beach, I took stock of my surroundings. The properties on this lonely stretch of road were spaced far and wide. In the back of the yard was a huge barn and somewhere a sheep bleated and a cow mooed. Police officers, the family who owned the place, and Detective Adams murmured not too far away. Other than that, the area was encased in somewhat of a country silence, void of the sounds of highways and teenagers roaming the neighborhood and college football games. In other words, it was the total opposite of where I lived.

  I jammed my hands—still frozen after the fiasco at the Videls’ place—into my coat pockets and allowed my gaze to peruse the front lawn. A Christmas tree stand stood at one side of the yard and a huge, life-sized nativity on the other. It was probably a true sight-to-see when there were live people and animals filling the space.

  I knew that people came to buy their trees, sip some hot apple cider, and ponder the living nativity. I couldn’t be certain, but in the back of my mind, I felt like I’d been here before. Had my mom brought me when I was little? I couldn’t be sure.

  A few minutes ago, I’d overheard that the police had found a note reading, Police Navidad. Appropriate since law enforcement would be involved.

  Not only that, but now that song was going to be stuck in my head all day.

  I rubbed my arms, wondering what body part had been left at this scene. Speaking of which, I had to get that tooth and those vials to Detective Adams also. Guilt clawed at me.

  Detective Adams finally came up to us, and I hoped he’d feel generous enough to fill us in.

  “Ms. St. Claire.” He scowled.

  “Did you find a body part?”

  “That’s information that only the authorities are privy to.”

  “Oh, come on. Just a little hint? Can you blink once for yes, twice for no?”

  He stared at me, unblinking, until I crossed my arms.

  “Fine,” I mumbled.

  “What about the animals?” Sierra stepped forward, pushing her plastic framed glasses up higher on her nose. Her normally silky black hair was matted on one side. I’d obviously woken her up and she’d obviously jumped out of bed to come here when she’d heard about the urgency of the situation. That was Sierra for you. Don’t mess with animals.

  He sucked in a deep breath. “A sheep is missing.”

  “A sheep? Someone stole a sheep and expects to get away with it?” Sierra’s fisted hands went to her tiny hips.

  Detective Adams nodded slowly, like he was biting his tongue tonight. “They were in the barn. The owners had heard a commotion, but by the time they got outside, the sheep was gone and taillights were flashing in the distance.

  What in the world would someone do with a farm animal?

  “They stole a sheep!” Sierra repeated, still shaking her head. “These people are going to be caught. I’ll make sure of it.”

  A smile started to curl my lip. “How are you going to do that?”

  “I have a great network of animal lovers who will be on the lookout. Don’t worry. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  I had no doubt she would.

  ***

  The next morning, I picked up a pen and a piece of paper as I sat at my kitchen table with a mug of coffee. The day outside was overcast—it almost looked like we could have snow. Wouldn’t that be perfect to add to everyone’s idea of what the ideal Christmas looked like? I had to admit that the idea secretly made me feel warm and cozy. But as I looked across the room at my Charlie Brown Christmas tree that I’d propped up in one of my cleaning buckets, I realized my Christmas was anything but warm and cozy.

  Tonight was the Christmas parade through Ghent, and I’d promised my friends I would go with them. Ms. Holiday Cheer, remember? I had to admit that all these Christmas songs and traditions were beginning to grow on me. And the idea of a White Christmas had its appeal. Maybe I could get into the Christmas spirit this year after all. I should give it a shot.

  I shoved those Winter Wonderland thoughts aside to focus on the task at hand: writing a suspect list. Yep, I would make my list and check it twice.

  Marvin Harris was the first name I jotted. He was the man behind the Coalition Against Christmas. But was his fight purely intellectual?

  Oliver Nichols was next. He hated Christmas also, but he claimed he would never do something like this. I still couldn’t help but think that this would give him some great publicity—if he wasn’t caught.

  Benjamin Videl was next on my list. I guess he’d been officially cleared after the debacle last night, but someone was getting those embalmed body parts from somewhere. Besides, rearrange the letters of his last name and you had the word “Devil.” Coincidence? Maybe his whole “I love Christmas” thing was just an act to cover up his true feelings.

  I sighed, realizing I had nothing solid to go on. I glanced at my pen again as I tapped it against my paper. That’s when it hit me.

  I knew where I’d seen the Videl Funeral Home logo before. Mrs. Claus at the costume shop was using a pen with that logo across it when we went into her shop.

  It looked like I was going to be paying her another visit.

  I glanced at my watch. Right after I finished cleaning a crime scene.

  ***

  Mrs. Claus scowled when I walked into her establishment. Based on the way she turned up her nose, she definitely recognized me. Or maybe it was because I hadn’t had time to go home and shower after cleaning that crime scene. After a while, you became numb to the scent of blood that saturated your skin and hair. Even with the Hazmat suit I wore, the smell could still claim you.

  “I still don’t have any answers for you. Many people have purchased or rented Santa Claus costumes over the past couple of days, and no, I won’t release their names.” She straightened some papers—rather loudly, I might add—before huffing and staring at me.

  “That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Then please do tell why. I’m very busy, as you can see.”

  The shop was actually void of customers, but I didn’t bring that up. “What’s your association with the Videl Funeral Home?”

  “Videl? Why would you think I’m associated with them?”

  “You were using their pen the other day when we came in.”

  “Is that a crime?”

  “Of course not. I’m just trying to connect the dots.”

  She leaned toward me. “Let me get this straight. The funeral home is now behind the slaying of Christmas spirit around town?”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t say that. I’m just trying to find some answers. Your lack of cooperation makes you look guilty of hiding something.”

  “I’m not hiding anything, young lady, and I resent your implications. I can use whatever pen I please.”

  “I realize that. I’m just trying to figure out where you got it. Is that too much to ask?”

  She leaned toward me, anger flashing in her eyes. “My sister works there. Are you happy now?”

  I pulled back and nodded. Another dead end? I couldn’t be sure. “Thanks for your help and for being forthcoming.”

  “Please, don’t come back unless you plan on purchasing something. The sign on the door says ‘No Soliciting,’ and that includes soliciting information on crimes. Got it?”

  “Oh, I’ve got it alright.”

  I shook my head as I walked outside. Some people . . .

  A glance
at my watch told me I had just enough time to change and get ready for the Christmas parade. Pastor Shaggy and Charity had planned the event.

  Why did a sense of foreboding seem to settle between my shoulders at the thought?

  Chapter 9

  Slashing Through the Snow

  “Are those actually protesters?” I pointed to a group at the start of the parade who were holding picket signs. “Don’t people have anything better to do?”

  Riley shook his head, his lips twisted in disgust. “Apparently not.”

  “This isn’t a war on Christmas. This is a war on everything merry and bright.” I nodded toward a familiar face in the crowd. “There’s Marvin Harris, head of the Coalition Against Christmas. I guess they’re behind this spectacle. They’re literally trying to rain on the parade.”

  “They’re behind a lot of spectacles,” Riley muttered. “But I’m not going to think about them tonight. I’m going to think about having a good time.”

  We’d already seen fire engines and antique cars. A couple of dance troupes came past, as well as two marching bands. Pastor Shaggy and his Operation: Save Christmas had a float they’d put together to promote The Living Christmas Tree.

  I shivered, trying to enjoy myself. That was hard to do when all you could think about was that something bad could happen here. This would be the perfect place.

  I glanced around. Chad and Sierra were buying some hot chocolate for all of us down at a little stand set up by some elementary kids. Families lined the streets. People had brought their pets, or animal companions as Sierra called them.

  If I let my guard down, I just might enjoy this parade. But letting my guard down was so hard. I might even let myself enjoy Christmas. The problem with getting your hopes up was that when those same hopes were dashed, it could set you back even farther than before.

  “It’s a nice look on you.” Riley tapped the bells springing from the headband atop my head. Chad had brought it for me. I’d have to think of a way to thank him later. Maybe I’d bring him a “I love the Kardashians” T-Shirt. Yes, something utterly disgraceful and embarrassing.

  I pointed down the row of parade floats. “Here they come now.”

  Pastor Shaggy had designed a float full of angels singing heavenly choruses alongside a living nativity that even had two sheep munching on some grass beside the shepherds. I really hoped Sierra didn’t see them and jump into action. I recognized Charity as one of the angels standing along the perimeter. Her gaze was focused on Pastor Shaggy, who was dressed as one of the Wise Men.

  I squinted. What was wrong with that float? Something was off.

  I blinked. That was it. The fence that stretched around the float had a little gate to the side. The door fluttered open with the breeze.

  The next thing I knew, one of the sheep jumped off. The creature began running through the crowds, causing screams and some nervous laughter to scatter throughout the crowd as two men began chasing it. The entire back end of the parade came to a stop.

  A loud “neigh” sounded. I jerked my head toward the noise just in time to see one of the stallions from the Pungo Equestrian Club rear back on two legs. The rider tried to rein the brown stallion in, but the horse continued to panic. He rose up on his hind legs, nostrils flaring in fear. The other horses around him began to scatter as their riders tried to bring them under control.

  Screams sliced the air as people ran for cover. People in the back craned their necks, searching for the source of danger crackling through the air. The stallion neighed and rose up on two feet again.

  My eyes zeroed in on a little boy, probably only five, who stood under the horse, his eyes wide. Someone had to help that boy. Where were his parents?

  Nowhere to be seen. Everyone just stared in horror.

  I darted toward him just as the horse reared back again. He let out a little cry. I dove until my hands could push him. He flew out of the way, and Riley grabbed him.

  But not before the horse’s feet came down on my back. Pain rushed through me and lights flashed in my eyes.

  The last thing I remembered was Riley yelling, “Gabby!”

  Then I closed my eyes and let the darkness swallow me.

  ***

  Three hours later, Riley drove me home from the hospital. He’d done this a couple of times already, so it almost seemed like a routine. I get hurt, Riley helps me out, and then we argue over how much rest I should get to help accelerate the healing process.

  I had a bruised rib, but it could have been so much worse.

  At least it hadn’t been the little boy.

  Somehow the gate on that parade float had come unlatched, the sheep had gotten out, and the horse had gotten spooked. Some people said it was a coincidence. I knew it wasn’t. Someone had tampered with the gate, knowing it would open and cause mayhem. The question was who?

  I stared out the window as we drove down the very street where the parade had taken place. How could such a pleasant night have turned into this? “So much for peace on earth and goodwill to men,” I muttered. I snapped my gaze up to Riley. “Didn’t mean to say that aloud. Again. I’ve gotta stop doing that.”

  He reached over and squeezed my hand. “I should have grabbed you, Gabby.”

  I shook my head. “No, you should have grabbed the boy. You did the right thing.”

  “I should have grabbed both of you.”

  “That would have been impossible. It’s better that the horse landed on me. He would have crushed that little boy.”

  “His parents were thankful. They were chasing their three year old, who was chasing the sheep.”

  A few more blocks rolled by in silence. But Riley didn’t drop my hand. I tried not to notice or care. But it didn’t work. Finally, we pulled up to the apartment. Riley’s hand slipped from mine, and he ran around to my side of the car to open the door for me. Gently, he helped me out of the car. His hand remained on my elbow as we went inside. Each step was painful. Each breath felt painful, for that matter.

  “You’ve got to rest tonight and take it easy,” Riley reminded me as we started up the steps. “That could have been much worse.”

  “Haven’t we been through this before?”

  Riley paused at my doorstep. What was that look in his eyes? Those beautiful blue eyes. “Way too many times.”

  I pushed a hair behind my ear, the bandage around my mid-section making me feel like I’d put on twenty pounds—twenty painful pounds.

  He paused and stared at me a moment like he wanted to say something. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded. “You going to be okay?”

  “Always.” I offered a winning grin.

  He slipped my hospital bracelet off and handed it to me with a sad smile. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I slipped into my apartment and collapsed onto the sofa. I was so exhausted that I didn’t even have time to dwell on the goodbye and the what-could-have or might-have-been. Instead, I took my prescribed pain medication and slept.

  ***

  Knocking woke me up.

  Who in the world was knocking at my door in the middle of the night?

  I pulled my eyes open and realized that it was daylight outside. A glance at my digital clock told me it was nearly noon. Wow, I really had been tired.

  “Gabby? You okay in there?”

  Riley. Of course, it was Riley. The ever-concerned neighbor and Christian. The one who treated me with brotherly love.

  Not exactly what I wanted, but I supposed that I’d take what I could get.

  “Coming,” I mumbled, pulling myself into sitting position. I didn’t even want to think about what my hair might look like. On a good day, it looked like a wreck—red, springy curls exploding all around my face. Today, I could only imagine the atrocity that would be considered my hair.

  I stood—I tried to, at least. My ribs felt like an elephant had crushed them. No, it had just been a horse instead.

  “Gabby?”

  “Really, I’m coming. S
lowly.”

  Finally, I managed to stand. Holding onto the back of the couch for balance, I crept toward the door, opened it, and then collapsed into the nearest chair.

  “Are you okay?” Those beautiful, concerned eyes met mine again.

  “I think I need to take more pain medicine.”

  “Tell me where you left it, and I’ll grab it for you.”

  I told him, and a moment later, he was kneeling by me with a pill in one hand and a glass of water in the other. I took the medicine, knowing it would take a few minutes for it to kick in.

  “You look . . . ”

  I popped an eye open, waiting for him to finish. Daring him to finish, maybe I should say.

  “Like you’re in pain,” he finally said.

  “I look rough. Just say it. I know it’s true.”

  “Do I look stupid? I know better than to tell a woman that.”

  I smiled, my arm still wrapped around my rib cage. “What happened last night? Did Pastor Shaggy tell you? Because I know something happened. A vandalism a day keeps the Christmas cheer away.”

  “This one will surprise you.”

  I actually forgot about my pain for a moment. “Then do tell.”

  “Someone broke into the mall and spray-painted the Pictures with Santa area.”

  “That doesn’t have anything to do with Jesus.”

  He nodded. “I know. Apparently, this is truly a war on Christmas as a whole and not just the religious aspect of the holiday.” His face twisted. “I just said holiday, and now I feel guilty.”

  “I’m sure God will forgive you.” I offered my best grin, which wasn’t much. “Body part?”

  “An eyeball.”

  “An eyeball?”

  “Yeah, it had been replaced in one of the figures beside Santa. There are tons of video cameras at the mall, but again the man just looked like Santa.”

  “How’d he get in?”

  “Apparently, based on what the police found on the security cameras, this person hid in the bathroom after the mall closed. Once everyone cleared out, he vandalized the Santa area and escaped out a back exit. The police are wondering if maybe it was an inside job since the suspect knew about the back entrance. The alarm went off when the vandal left, but he was long gone by the time security got there.”