Wreck The Halls

by Jeff Shelby

  “Most likely.” Jake chuckled. “I took the liberty of ordering pizza for dinner, as I sensed that you would not feel like making anything after trudging home in the snow.” He glanced toward the window. “Although with this weather, we might not see our pizzas before midnight.”

  “They’ll get here,” I assured him. “I think the delivery drivers have plows attached to their vehicles.”

  “Well, if they don’t, I’ll go out and get them. That’s how much I love you.” He squeezed me. “I’ll risk my life to bring you pizza. And to keep you from having to cook dinner.”

  I kissed his cheek. “A man who understands me. Finally.”

  “I get lucky once in a while,” he said. “And I can work from home tomorrow so that the cars aren't an issue.”

  I tapped his chest. “Look at you. What a problem solver you've become.”

  “Mainly, I don't wanna go to work.” He winked. “But, yes. Problem solver. How was your day for real?”

  “It was interesting,” I said, then explained about the thefts and Ava and Oliver and the committee.

  “I noticed the streetlights were bare this morning when I left,” he said. “Thought that was odd.”

  “So did everyone else in town,” I told him. “And apparently there isn't any money to replace them. So there is talk of canceling everything. The festival, the parade, all of it.”

  “Wow.” He raised his eyebrows. “That would be pretty weird. Seems like the entire town spends eleven months getting ready for Christmas every year.”

  I leaned against him. “I know. It kind of makes me sad.”

  “This isn't where you tell me we're going to spend the next week making seven hundred wreaths to pass out around town, is it?”

  “Ha. No, it's not. It just doesn't feel much like Christmas when you look around town. And I like the festival and the parade. It's fun. It's festive.”

  He nodded. “I know. Really would be strange. Hopefully, it'll get figured out.”

  “I hope so,” I told him. “Just not sure why anyone would go through the trouble of stealing everything.”

  “Probably looking to make some money on eBay.”

  I punched him lightly in the stomach. “Not funny. And easily traceable.”

  He chuckled. “Good point. I can't believe someone took the sleigh. That isn't an easy thing to steal.”

  “Same with Santa,” I said. “Someone was determined to mess with the entire celebration.”

  “I assume you already have a list of suspects.”

  “I'm working on it.”

  He sighed. “You wouldn't be you if you weren't.” He straightened up, craning his neck so he could see out the window. “And I think the pizza guy is stuck at the foot of the driveway. I better go rescue him.”

  I let go of him and he went over to put on his boots. “I mean, how mean-spirited do you have to be to steal Christmas decorations? Who does that?”

  “No idea,” he said as he pulled on his coat. “Someone with a heart two sizes too small?”

  “Very funny. Go rescue our pizza.”

  He pulled open the door. “Problem solver!”

  SEVEN

  “I think I know who did it,” Oliver Berg said.

  It was the next morning. The snow had stopped temporarily and everything was wrapped in a big, heavy, white blanket of snow. It seemed overly quiet as I walked down Main to the station, like everything had been put to sleep by the snow. I'd checked the radar before I left and more was on the way, but the foot that had fallen was gorgeous in the morning sunshine.

  I'd just hung up my coat and switched from snow boots to sneakers when Oliver burst through the door of the station with his proclamation.

  “Uh, okay,” I said. “And good morning.”

  He winced. “I'm sorry, Daisy. Good morning. I didn't mean to jump all over you like that.”

  I waved a hand in the air. “It's alright. But it sounds like you have some new information?”

  “I do. Or, I think I do.” He blew out a breath. “I don't know.”

  “Well, let's get Ted and see what's what,” I told him, sitting down behind my desk.

  “No need to get Ted because I'm right here,” Ted said, coming down the hallway. “Morning, Daisy. Morning, Oliver.”

  “Morning, Ted,” Oliver said, sitting on the edge of the same chair he'd sat in the day before. “Maybe I should've called.”

  Ted sat down in the chair next to him. His face was freshly shaven and his hair damp and neatly combed back. His uniform had nary a wrinkle. He showed up every day like it was his first day. I admired that.

  “Nonsense,” Ted told him. “We're here for you. What's the scoop?”

  Oliver folded his hands into his lap. “I went home last night and did a lot of thinking. I just couldn't understand who would want to ruin our Christmas celebration. People come from all over Minnesota for this, you know? It's a big deal.”

  “I know,” Ted said, nodding. “Seems to get bigger every year.”

  “And it just doesn't seem like it's teenagers pulling some shenanigans, either,” Oliver continued. “It feels like something else.” He paused. “It feels…personal.”

  “Personal,” Ted repeated, glancing at me. “Alright.”

  Oliver cleared his throat. “What I mean is I'm not sure that it's the festival that they really want to hurt. I think it might be me.”

  “And what makes you think that?”

  Oliver shifted in the chair. “Well, it's like I said. I don't think it's a prank, and I don't think it's vandalism. It's too specific. Don't you think?”

  Ted looked at me for a moment before shifting his attention back to Oliver. “Well, I would say it's hard to say without much proof of anything, Oliver. It seems certain, though, that it isn't random, given what's gone missing. I would agree with you there.”

  “Yes,” Oliver said, raising his eyebrow. “It's not like we had a vandalism problem before the holiday season, right? This is specifically about Christmas.”

  Ted nodded. “I would say so.” He glanced at me. “You agree, Daisy?”

  “It doesn't feel random,” I said, thinking it was kind of Ted to ask for my opinion. “I'm curious why you feel it's personal, though, Oliver. It seems like there's something that is pushing you in that direction.”

  He bounced his feet on the ground. “Daisy, I didn't share the details with you yesterday, but my appointment to the committee was...contentious. It didn't go over well with some folks. Maybe it could've been handled better. I'm not sure.” He paused, his brows knitting together. “But, like I said, I went home last night and really gave it some thought. And I kept coming back to one person.”

  “Who would that be?” Ted asked.

  I knew exactly who he was going to name. Ava Bradshaw, of course.

  “Nora,” Oliver answered. “My ex-wife.”

  I blinked. Nora? That was not the name I’d expected to hear.

  “You think your ex-wife is doing all this?” Ted asked. “You think she stole Santa and the sleigh and everything else?”

  “I think it's a good possibility, yes.”

  “And why's that?” To his credit, Ted kept his voice steady, neutral. If he was surprised by the name Oliver had uttered, he didn’t show it. “Have you spoken to her?”

  Oliver unfolded his hands, then folded them back together. “No, I haven't spoken to her. And if I'm being honest with you, I don't have any definitive proof that she's involved.” He paused again, choosing his words carefully. “But I do know that she would like nothing more than to see me fail. It's almost logical that it would be her.”

  “Logical,” Ted repeated. He stared at Oliver for a brief moment. “I'm not sure I'm following you here, Oliver. I understand that things might be a little difficult between you and Nora, but I'm not sure that means she'd go to these lengths to make you look bad. There are a lot of people in Moose River who don't like me all that much, but I'm not sure they'd go through the trouble of setting me up to
get in trouble. You believe she's capable of that?”

  “First of all, everyone likes you, Ted,” Oliver said. “So I'm not sure you can relate the same way.”

  “I agree,” I chimed in. “About everyone liking you.”

  Ted's cheeks flushed.

  “Second of all, you don't know Nora like I know Nora,” Oliver continued. “She's vindictive. When we were divorced, she said some really terrible things to me and wished even worse things to happen to me.”

  “Oliver, if I may,” I said. “I've been through a divorce and, in the moment, people say a lot of things. I know I said a lot of things out of anger, but they weren't things I really meant. It happens.”

  “Nora meant them,” he countered. “Trust me. To this day, she looks like she's going to strangle me when she sees me. She's still angry with me, which is odd, since she was the one who asked for the divorce.” He shook his head. “Anyway, she has told me on multiple occasions that she hopes something terrible happens to me.” He looked at each of us. “I think this might be it.”

  Ted pursed his lips, his eyes darting in my direction for a moment. It was clear to me that he didn't believe Oliver, or, at the very least, didn't think his reasoning was very sound. I had to agree. It didn’t make sense at all, not considering the size of the theft in comparison to the payout.

  On the other hand, though, I thought Oliver did make a good point. Whatever happened to the decorations wasn't random. It seemed planned and coordinated. And I wasn't sure what other reason anyone might have but to sabotage Oliver's leadership.

  That definitely seemed worth a look.

  “You don't believe me,” Oliver said, his shoulders slumping.

  Ted put his hand on Oliver's shoulder. “No, that's not it at all. I hear you. I know what you're saying and it's certainly something to think about. But we have to tread lightly here. It's not like we can just go around accusing folks of a crime without evidence. And no matter the trouble between you and Nora, I would tell you that a hunch, or a feeling, doesn't qualify as evidence.”

  Oliver sighed. “I suppose. I just thought it was worth telling you all.”

  “It was,” Ted assured him. “And we'll remember that as we go forward. My hope is that the answer to all of this is a little simpler than that, though.”

  “And what if it's not?”

  Ted looked at me first, then Oliver. He patted Oliver once again. “We'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  EIGHT

  Oliver left and Ted headed out on patrol. I worked through the little bit of paperwork I had to do, but I couldn't get my mind off of the idea that someone might be setting Oliver up. I wasn't necessarily sure it was his ex-wife, but the more I thought about the idea of it being personal, the more I thought that made a lot of sense.

  Unless there was someone in Moose River who was just really opposed to celebrating the holidays.

  I finished the paperwork and then went to where every good detective started their investigation.

  Social media.

  I logged into Facebook and started digging. I started with the Moose River forums, where Will originally found out about the thefts. I scrolled through the posts. I found things related to terrible snow removal jobs, late mail delivery, and arguments about a proposed sales tax increase. I found people asking about Internet providers, strange cars driving around neighborhoods, and why the trains were so loud when they passed through the town. Nearly all of the posts in the forums were to complain, which I already knew and was why I stayed away from them. Will got a kick out of them and was happy to report to me about the latest uproar in town that had everyone in a tizzy, but I just didn't have the time or the patience to read through the posts and the comments, mostly because the arguments were usually ill-formed and not terribly well-reasoned.

  I eventually found the post about the thefts and read through the comments.

  “This town is just going downhill.”

  “Don't we have cameras? Why aren't there cameras? Someone should talk to the mayor about this.”

  “Some people have no respect for what's important!”

  “Maybe we've all been naughty and Santa's pissed.”

  “This is just part of the continued war on Christmas. Disgusting.”

  “I hope that when Santa is found they throw whoever did it in jail forever!”

  I recognized some of the commenter's names, but for the most part, they were people I didn't know.

  I wasn't sad about that.

  I didn't, however, see anything suggesting Nora Berg had anything to do with the thefts.

  At the end of the thread, though, I did find something I found interesting. It was a comment about the meeting where Ava Bradshaw was ousted and Oliver Berg replaced her.

  “I don't know about you guys, but I'm not surprised. I saw the video of what happened when Ava Bradshaw was voted out. It wasn't pretty. This was all doomed from the beginning.”

  The comment was left by someone named Karen Kingery, who appeared to comment on nearly every thread posted in the Moose River forum.

  It was the mention of the video that piqued my interest.

  I tried searching the forum for the video, but had no luck. Then I searched all of Facebook, but got the same result.

  I stared at the screen for a moment, then pulled out my phone and texted Will.

  If I wanted to find a video that was on Facebook, how would I do that?

  Ninety seconds later, he responded.

  Lol. What?

  If I wanted to find a video that someone posted to Facebook, how could I find it?

  This would be easier if you just told me what you're looking for. I can find it.

  There was a meeting of the Christmas committee where they put a new person in charge. It was apparently videotaped.

  Why do you care about that?

  None of your business. Can you find it?

  Duh. Give me a few.

  It took him three minutes to get back to me.

  Click on this link.

  Wait. You really found it?

  Duh. Just click on the link. And can I have pizza tonight for doing this?

  We had pizza last night.

  So?

  Maybe. Thanks!

  And breadsticks. I want breadsticks.

  I clicked on the link in his text and it routed me back into Facebook. It looked as if the video had been posted on the page of one of the town council members. I pushed the play button and tapped the screen to increase the volume. The camera work was shaky but it started with Ava standing up, red-faced, and pointing a finger.

  “You have no idea what you're doing!” she shouted. “No idea! You will rue this day for the rest of your life!”

  The camera pulled back and Oliver was sitting at a long table with several other committee members. All of them looked nervous.

  “Ava, please,” he said. “This isn't about you. We've already explained this.”

  “It's absolutely about me and this is a power grab, plain and simple!” she yelled. “A power grab!”

  “I'm sorry you feel that way,” he said, shaking his head. “We just felt that a new voice would provide—”

  “Your new voice can go suck an egg!” she said, cutting him off. “I will never forget this and I will make sure you pay for this! Do you hear me? You will pay!”

  “Mom, come on,” a voice said off-camera. “We should go.”

  The camera panned wider and a teenaged boy in a puffy jacket and shaggy brown hair had his hand out toward Ava.

  “I will go when I'm ready, Howie!” she shouted at her son.

  He made a face and shoved his hand into his pocket.

  She looked back at the room. “You. Will. Pay.”

  She turned and stormed out of the room, Howie following her out.

  The video kept rolling.

  Oliver leaned back and ran a hand through his hair. “Wow. Sorry, folks. That didn't go well.”

  There was some general agreement about
it, some nervous laughter, and then silence.

  Then a heavier set gentleman who I recognized as Bert Peterson walked into the room. I'd worked with him on the fair committee, but not enough to know much about him. He wore a baseball cap, a long-sleeved work shirt, and denim jeans. His work boots were caked with mud, and he looked a little uncertain as he addressed the people gathered in the room.

  “Hey folks,” he said. “I heard the commotion outside and figure I'd wait to come in.”

  “Oh, hello, Bert.” Oliver glanced nervously around the table at the other faces. “Good to see you. And glad you're here. You're next up on our agenda.”

  Bert shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yep, sure. Figured you all just wanted me to come by to plan dates and times and all that good stuff. I just didn't want to interrupt...whatever that was about.”

  “Right, right,” Oliver said, shuffling some papers in front of him. “Well, yes. I'm sorry you had to hear all of that. But we did want to talk to you.” He looked around the table. “We are thinking about making some changes with Santa this year.”

  “Some changes?” Bert asked. “Like what?” He patted his belly. “I know I took off a little weight this year. My cholesterol was up, so I cut down on the red meat. I can always stuff a pillow in the suit if you need me to.”

  That was when I recalled that Bert played Santa every year during the festival.

  “Well, I don't think that's going to be necessary,” Oliver said. “We are...um...we are actually going to go in a different direction this year.”

  “A different direction?” Bert asked. He took off his baseball cap and scratched his head. “You mean, you want to turn the chair another way? I'm not following you.”

  Oliver looked around the table. It was clear to me that no one else sitting there wanted to say anything.