When Elves Attack Read Online Free PDF Page B

you said about those headlines, every year, two, or three. This guy really was an idiot.”
    â€œOr a genius,” said the sergeant.
    The detective stopped writing. “What are you talking about? . . . Wait a minute. You said ‘they’ were deep-frying. I thought there was only one body.”
    The sergeant held up an evidence bag. Melted nylon cord. “Our friend was hog-tied. He had some help in there with the basting.”
    â€œYou mean this was a murder? But what kind of sick—”
    A uniformed officer trotted over, finishing a conversation on his walkie-talkie. “Sir, we just got a report from the VFW hall. Someone returned those stolen plaques.”
    â€œGreat,” said the sergeant. “But what’s that got to do with this?”
    â€œThey left a note. An apology. Maybe not, I don’t know. But there was a driver’s license, and the address of this motel room. We might have just ID’d the victim.”
    The sergeant glanced sideways at the detective. “Score one for the good guys.”
    The detective stuck his notebook back in his jacket. “Send me the case report. I’ll make sure it gets filed under a very tall stack of papers.”

Chapter Three
    THREE WEEKS LATER
    Christmas songs. A line of small children waiting to see Santa. Others sitting on a foam mat watching a puppet show.
    â€œThis new mall’s unbelievable,” said Jim Davenport, walking past the Gap. “Look at the ice-skating rink.”
    â€œI hate this time of year,” said Martha Davenport.
    â€œBut look at all the kids having fun.”
    â€œWe had to park a mile away, not to mention the insane traffic on the way over.”
    â€œMartha, it’s the holidays.” They continued along the upper level past kiosks for cell phones and sunglasses.
    â€œWouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t have to shop for your mother. She returns everything, you know.”
    â€œNot everything.”
    â€œYou’re right. She prominently displays anything you get her. That’s an attack on me.”
    A group of gleeful children with colorful balloons ran by shrieking.
    â€œMartha, you’re letting her get under your skin.”
    â€œI’m dreading this next visit.”
    â€œBut we have to visit,” said Jim. “It’s Christmas.”
    â€œGod, that last visit. Can you believe what Nicole said?”
    â€œBecause she sees how my mom gets to you.”
    â€œThat makes it okay? Like it’s sport to her?”
    â€œNo, it was terrible,” said Jim. “I grounded her, remember?”
    â€œLot of good that did. She just kept going out. You’re not firm enough with her. And now she wants a tattoo!”
    â€œI’ll sit down and talk to her.”
    â€œBe firm this time.”
    They went into the Apple store. The balloon kids shrieked by the entrance, followed by two elves, one tall and thin with ice-blue eyes, the other short and pudgy with a round, non-intellectual-looking head.
    â€œSerge,” said Coleman. “Are we shopping?”
    â€œNo, I just love coming to the mall at Christmas, digging how stores tap into the whole holiday spirit, especially the bookstores with their special bargain displays.”
    â€œDisplays?” asked Coleman.
    â€œBig ones near the front,” said Serge. “If you want to show someone you put absolutely zero thought into their gift, you buy a giant picture book about steam locomotives, ceramic thimbles, or Scotland.”
    â€œBut why are we wearing elf suits?”
    â€œTo spread good cheer.”
    â€œWhat for?”
    â€œBecause of the War on Christmas.”
    â€œWho started the war?” asked Coleman.
    â€œIronically, the very people who coined the term and claim others started the war. They’re upset that people of different faiths, along with the coexistence crowd who respect those faiths, are saying ‘Season’s Greetings’