Wreck The Halls

  Wreck The Halls

  A Moose River Christmas Novella

  By Jeff Shelby

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Wreck The Halls

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2018

  Cover design by Alchemy Book Covers and Design

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the expressed written consent of the author.

  Books by Jeff Shelby

  The Joe Tyler Novels

  THREAD OF HOPE

  THREAD OF SUSPICION

  THREAD OF BETRAYAL

  THREAD OF INNOCENCE

  THREAD OF FEAR

  THREAD OF REVENGE

  THREAD OF DANGER

  THREAD OF DOUBT

  The Noah Braddock Novels

  KILLER SWELL

  WICKED BREAK

  LIQUID SMOKE

  DRIFT AWAY

  LOCKED IN

  IMPACT ZONE

  WIPE OUT

  The Moose River Mysteries

  THE MURDER PIT

  LAST RESORT

  ALIBI HIGH

  FOUL PLAY

  YOU'VE GOT BLACKMAIL

  ASSISTED MURDER

  DEATH AT THE DINER

  SCHOOL OF MURDER

  DEAD IN THE WATER

  The Rainy Day Mysteries

  BOUGHT THE FARM

  WHEN THE ROOSTER KILLS

  CRACK OF DEATH

  PLANTING EVIDENCE

  ONE BAD EGG

  BALE OUT

  LAST STRAW

  CUT AND DIED

  SOUR GRAPES

  TYING THE KNOT

  The Sunny Springfield Mysteries

  DEAD BY DINNER TIME

  BEAUTY AND THE THIEF

  CUTTING TIES

  The Capitol Cases Mysteries

  DEAD ON ARRIVAL

  NATIONAL MAUL

  DARK HORSE

  The Elizabeth Tyler Mysteries

  WHAT SHE LOST

  WHAT SHE FOUND

  WHAT SHE KNOWS

  The Deuce Winters Novels (Under the pseudonym Jeffrey Allen)

  STAY AT HOME DEAD

  POPPED OFF

  FATHERS KNOWS DEATH

  Novel for Young Adults

  PLAYING THE GAME

  Short Story Collections

  OUT OF TIME

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  ONE

  “Santa is missing,” Will said.

  The snow was coming down heavy outside the window, big, giant flakes falling to the ground like they'd been dropped from a bucket, covering all of Moose River in brilliant white powder. It was a week before Christmas and I'd just put on the afternoon pot of coffee to warm myself up when my son, eyes glued to his phone, informed me that Mr. Claus was missing.

  “The Santa?” I asked. “Has he gone rogue? From the North Pole?”

  My sixteen-year-old son reached his hand into his bag of pretzels without taking his eyes off of his phone. “Ha. No. The Moose River Santa.”

  I sat down at the table and looked over at Will. He'd finally aged out of not caring about how he looked all the time and had taken to brushing his hair on a daily basis. It was still a shock to see him well groomed.

  “The guy who plays him?” I asked. “Who is it?”

  “No, and I have no idea,” he said, chomping on the pretzels. “The town Santa. The one that they put up near the fountain. Was there last night, but now it's gone.”

  I poured cream into my coffee and blew across the top. “The big one? From on top of the sleigh?”

  “Yep,” he said, nodding. “It's in the Moose River forum on Facebook. People are totally freaking out.” He giggled. “I mean, it's a big plastic Santa. Yeah, people shouldn't steal, but come on. It's kinda funny.”

  “Well, maybe,” I said. “But I can see why people are upset. It's part of the holiday decorations, and I think people put a lot of time into decorating the town.”

  There were many things that drove me nuts about Moose River, but one of the things I loved the most was the month of December and the effort expended turning the entire town into a Christmas wonderland. The light poles were wrapped in red and gold garland, the storefronts were decorated with snowmen and elves, the trees on Main Street were draped in lights and ornaments, and most of the town showed up for a holiday parade on Christmas Eve. It was straight out of a Hallmark movie, and I loved it. The fact that it was already snowing and we were guaranteed a very white Christmas was just the icing on the cake.

  Will grabbed another handful of pretzels and sat back against the couch cushions. “They can't order a new one?”

  “I'm not sure that's the point, but I'd think it might be a little hard to order a ten-foot-tall Santa a week before Christmas.”

  “I guess. I just think it's funny that people are freaking out over it.”

  Before I could give him more reasons why people might not find it funny, Grace and Sophie rumbled down the stairs, sliding across the wood floors before coming to a halt next to Will. Grace was twelve and had seemingly grown a foot in the previous year. Sophie was now fourteen and I was still doing a double take when I saw her without glasses, as she'd started wearing contacts. They were still attached at the hip, however.

  “Did you hear?” Grace asked, wide-eyed.

  “It's bad,” Sophie said dramatically. “It's really bad.”

  “What?” Will shot a look of annoyance toward his sisters. “You mean about Santa?”

  “Yes!” Grace screeched. “Someone stole him! Who steals Santa?”

  “A Christmas hater,” Sophie said. “Someone who totally hates Christmas.”

  “Who hates Christmas?” Grace yelled. She threw her hands up in the air. “How is that even possible?”

  “You two know it's a fake Santa, right?” Will asked. “The plastic Santa from the fountain. It's not like someone is holding the real Santa Claus hostage for money or something.”

  Grace curled her hand into a fist and punched him in the arm. “This isn't funny!”

  “Don't hit your brother,” I said. “And, yes. Will was just telling me that Santa has gone missing.”

  “Will they cancel everything?” Grace asked.

  “Oh my god,” Will mumbled, rolling his eyes and sealing up the bag of pretzels. “No, Grace. They won't cancel freaking Christmas because someone took a fake Santa.”

  “I didn't mean Christmas!” she fired back, glaring at him. “I meant the parade and all of the other stuff they do downtown.”

  I shook my head. “I wouldn't think so. And I'd think there's a good chance they find Santa by Christmas Eve.”

  “It would be weird to not have him for the parade,” Sophie said.

  The parade typically ended with a live Santa holding the fake Santa. I had no idea why, but it was a tradition and I had to agree. It might be a little odd for Santa to be in his sleigh without...the other Santa. At least here in Moose River.

  “Well, we'll just have to keep our eyes open,” I told them. “If we see him, we'll get him back.”

  “Yeah, we could totally be the Santa rescuers,” Grace said. “Maybe we could ride in the sleigh then.”

  “No one rides in the sleigh but Santa,” Will said, shaking his head again. “And I'm not sure you'll find him.”

  “Why's that?” I asked.

  “Because if someone went through the trouble of getting him, I think they must've really wanted him,” h
e reasoned. “He wouldn't have been easy to steal. If they got him, I think they're keeping him.”

  “Or maybe they'll feel bad about doing it and return him,” Sophie said hopefully. “It's kind of a mean thing to do.”

  “Yeah, and then they should throw him in jail!” Grace said. “The man who took him, I mean. Not Santa.”

  “You don't even know it was a man,” Will said. “And no one's going to jail over a fake Santa.”

  “I don't know about that,” I said. “Taking something that belongs to the town is a big deal. They could press charges.”

  “That thing can't be worth more than fifty bucks,” Will countered.

  “Doesn't make it okay to steal him,” I said.

  “I guess,” he said, thumbing across the screen on his phone. “People are going berserk, though. They love their fake Santa.”

  I looked around the living room. The Christmas tree was in place, the colorful lights twinkling amidst the ornaments the kids had made over the years. The stockings were hung along the stairs, and we had reindeer and snowmen strategically placed throughout the room. And I'd collected Santas for years. All kinds. And every year, I lined them up on the long wooden buffet that was built into the wall beneath the window in the dining room. I loved putting them up every year, each one bringing to mind a particular memory. So I knew it was easy to get attached to Santas.

  “I hope they find him,” Grace said.

  “Me, too,” Sophie said.

  I glanced at the window. The snow was still coming down.

  “Me, three,” I said.

  TWO

  I made lunch for all three kids, then pulled on my snow boots, my heavy jacket, and my hat that looked like an owl head, and headed over to Main Street.

  The roads were snow-coated and sloppy, so I opted to walk even though the sidewalks hadn't been shoveled yet. Lifting my legs up as I walked was far safer than navigating the slick roads. I didn't have far to go, since the police station was just up the road from our house.

  I was still working there part-time and still liking it, despite Priscilla Hanborn's attempts to run me off. I'd slowly worn her down with my kindness and refusal to go away, to the point that she begrudgingly told me thank you once in a while. Plus, she had few other folks willing to man the front desk several times a week.

  I stomped the snow off of my boots when I reached the front door. Inside the window, I could see Officer Ted and Priscilla having a very serious conversation. I stomped one more time, then went inside.

  “I'm telling you, this is a big problem,” Officer Ted said, his arms folded across his chest.

  Priscilla rolled her eyes. “Come on, Ted. You can't be serious.”

  Ted started to say something, then realized I was standing there. “Oh, hey there, Daisy. Good lord, you're covered in snow.”

  “I walked,” I told him. I pulled off my hat and ran a hand through my hair. “The roads haven't been plowed yet, so I figured that was easier.”

  “They'll get to the roads,” Priscilla said. “Just be patient.”

  “I...I wasn't being impatient. I actually enjoyed the walk over. The snow is gorgeous.”

  She snorted. “Yeah. Talk to me in March when it's still falling.”

  I shrugged out of my coat and hung it on the rack near the door. I shook out my hat and put it on the hook next to the coat.

  “I think you need to take this seriously, Chief,” Ted said, turning his attention back to Priscilla. “People are already up in arms about this.”

  “People around her are always up in arms about something,” she grumbled. “This is no different.”

  “What are they up in arms about?” I asked, walking around my desk and taking a seat.

  “Santa,” they said in unison.

  “Ah, yes,” I said. “My son was informing me about the missing Santa just a little bit ago.”

  “It's not just Santa,” Officer Ted explained. “There are other pieces missing, too.”

  This was news to me. “Like what?”

  “We don't have a full inventory yet, but we are getting phone calls left and right,” Ted said. “Wreaths, candy canes, couple of snowmen. Someone took an elf from the front of Elmer's barbershop.”

  “The little one that sits on the sign?”

  Ted nodded. “That's the one.”

  “How'd your son know about all of this nonsense?” Priscilla asked.

  “He only told me about the Santa,” I said. “And he saw it on the Moose River forum page on Facebook.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course. There's no better source of bad information and gossip in this town than that page.”

  “Except this time it's good information,” Ted said. “Santa is missing.”

  “He said people were pretty upset over it,” I added.

  “Uh huh.” Priscilla sounded unconvinced. “Feels like a prank to me.” Her eyes narrowed. “The kind of prank teenage punks might pull on a town getting ready for the holidays.”

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “And how old is your son again?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  It was the kind of thing she did regularly to try and get a rise out of me. Unluckily for her, I'd had lots of practice and didn't bat a frozen eyelash over the comment.

  “He's sixteen,” I told her. “And he was home all night and this morning.” I smiled at her. “So, if it was a prank, he wasn't involved.”

  She grunted. “Maybe.”

  Ted caught my eye and shook his head.

  I shrugged.

  “So you don't want to do anything about this?” he asked, turning to Priscilla again. “You just want to ignore it?”

  She waved a hand in the air and headed down the hallways. “Wake me when we have a real problem.”

  He waited until she was out of earshot. “That woman has no soul.”

  “Has anyone made an official report?” I asked, not wanting to get into a discussion about whether or not Priscilla Hanborn had a soul.

  “Not yet,” he said. “I started noticing the things missing when I was out on patrol. When I got here, the phone was ringing with folks wanting to know if we knew things had disappeared overnight. No one was looking to file a report, so I just told them, sure, we were going to check into it.” He rubbed at his chin. “But this just has the feeling of one of those things that’s gonna turn into something in a hurry, you know?”

  I nodded. I did know. Moose River had a way of doing that with most everything, no matter how unimportant it might seem. Given how serious everyone took the Christmas festivities, I was almost surprised there wasn't a line out the door with people looking to make statements.

  I glanced down the hallway and in a low voice asked, “Does she just not think it's real?”

  “No, she knows it's real,” he said. “She just doesn't care, and she doesn't think it's a big deal.”

  “It will be a big deal if it happens again tonight.”

  “I know it, Daisy,” he said, nodding. “I know it. But I think it already is a big deal. I think we're just waiting for the avalanche to start rolling down the mountain.”

  THREE

  Ten minutes later, the avalanche started.

  Oliver Berg peered in the window from outside, his hand cupped around the side of his round face. His glasses were fogged up and he had to take them off to look again.

  I waved at him.

  He held up his palm and then stepped into the station. His cheeks were pink from the cold and fresh snow covered the toes of his boots. He wore a brown field coat, leather gloves, and khakis. He was in his early sixties, tufts of gray hair sticking out from underneath the Russian ushanka fur hat on his head. I'd met him a few times during time at the fair and at community meetings, but had never spoken more than a few words to him.

  He put his glasses back on, letting them rest on the tip of his nose. “Good afternoon, Daisy. I didn't realize you were a police officer.”

  “I'm not,” I told him. “Just desk help. What can
we do for you?”

  He looked around, like he wasn't sure he was in the right place. “I...well, I guess I need to report some stolen items.”

  “Oh goodness,” I said. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

  “Me, too,” he said, pulling the fur hat from his head. Static covered his hair, making those gray tufts stand on end. He absentmindedly patted them down. “I suppose you've already heard about all of the Christmas decorations?”

  “I have, yes.”

  “Well, given that I'm the chairman of the Christmas festival committee this year, I figured it was up to me to come and make a formal report,” he explained. “I just can't believe this is happening.”

  “You're the chairman this year?” I asked, surprised. “I didn't realize that. I just assumed Ava was in charge again.”

  Ava Bradshaw had run the festival for as many years as I could recall. She was nearly as much of a fixture as the Santa was, always running around town in her Santa hat.

  “Oh,” Oliver said, frowning. “Well, no. We had a bit of a...a bit of a change this year on the committee. So, it's me, I'm afraid.”

  It seemed like there was more behind his words, but I didn't press any further. “Of course,” I said quickly. “I just hadn't heard the news. Why don't you have a seat and I'll grab Ted so he can get your statement?”

  He nodded and plopped himself down in the chair, clutching the hat in his lap.

  I picked up the phone and buzzed Ted's office.

  “I heard him come in,” he said when he answered. “Be up in just a second.”

  I put the phone back in the cradle. “Ted will be with you in just a second, Oliver.”

  “Alright, thank you.”

  “Can I get you anything to drink?” I offered. “Coffee, maybe?”

  “Oh, no, I'm fine, but thank you,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm jittery enough as it is. I just can't believe this is happening.”

  “I'm so sorry,” I told him. “I'm hoping this can all be figured out.”

  “I just don't know who would do such a thing,” he said, his brows furrowed together. “If we don't find everything, it will all be canceled.”