Authors: Chrissie Loveday
Christmas Killing
© Chrissie Loveday 2015
Chrissie Loveday has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in 2015 by Endeavour Press.
Table of Contents
The old man put on his Santa costume and smiled. He loved this time of year when he could become someone the children loved apart from the odd rebel who challenged him, saying he wasn’t real. He clipped on his beard and looked in the small mirror. He’d do.
In the large store, they’d made him a grotto to sit in. There was a reindeer nodding its head and several toys and parcels lying on the ground. He had a sack with presents to hand to the children so he felt perfectly happy in his corner. One of the other sales assistants was clad in a little green elf costume. Her job was to make the children line up to wait for their turn and then to take a picture of the child with Santa Claus. They didn’t all want one so she usually turned away while the interview took place. He liked to think of it as an
interview
and tried to be professional at all times.
As he came into the shop and went towards his seat in the grotto, various children called out to him and sounded very excited.
‘Hallo, hallo,’ he said smiling as he came to his seat, raising his hand to wave to the waiting queue. ‘Who’s going to be first to come and tell me what you want for Christmas?’
‘It’s this little girl Santa,’ said the elf bringing the child close to him. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Sandra,’ she whispered.
‘Is your Mummy coming with you?’ the elf asked loudly enough to be heard by the child’s parent.
‘Yes,’ whispered Sandra.
The elf turned to look at the mother and she reluctantly followed her daughter into the grotto.
‘This is Sandra, Father Christmas.’
‘Now then Sandra, speak up nicely. Come on now, don’t be shy,’ her mother encouraged.
‘Hallo Sandra. What do you hope for at Christmas?’
‘A dolly.’
‘I see. A special dolly?’ He was looking at the girl’s mother for encouragement but she looked away.
‘One with yellow hair and a pretty dress.’ She stuck her thumb in her mouth and that was it for conversation. Santa tried to encourage her to talk but with no avail.
‘Do you want a picture taken of you with Santa?’
‘No thank you,’ said the mother quickly. ‘Can’t afford it.’
‘Not to worry. Thank you Sandra. Come along now. Someone else is waiting outside.’ The elf was doing her job.
The afternoon wore on. Strings of children were waiting to see Santa and he was very patient with all of them. He was beginning to feel a bit weary and wanted to visit the toilet but he hung on. Only an hour to go. But he couldn’t hold it till then.
‘I’m sorry, but I must go out for a minute.’ He rushed past several people who were waiting. The elf looked perturbed but she spoke to the waiting children.
‘I expect he’s gone to feed the reindeer,’ she said happily.
‘Where are they then?’ one tough looking little boy asked.
‘In a special stable out at the back.’
‘That’s rubbish. We’re parked behind the store and dint see no reindeer nor any stable. He isn’t real, Mum. Come on, let’s get our money back. I don’t wanna see no pretend Santa. Hey you lot,’ he called to the rest of the queue, you don’t wanna see no pretend Santa, do you?’
Several of the waiting children started to cry. They listened to the small tough guy and began to believe him.
‘If he isn’t the real Santa, why is he here?’ asked one little girl.
There was soon quite an argument with the elf hopelessly trying to tell them it didn’t matter and he was there for them. Nobody listened to her explanations and there was soon a queue waiting to get their money back. As the old man came back, there was a sudden silence.
‘Hey, mister. Are you really Santa Claus?’
‘Course I am. Who do you think I am?’
‘Well you look like him. Okay. I’ll go with you. Come on Mum. The queue has died down and we’re next.’
‘Come on then,’ said the elf. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Tommy.’
‘This is Tommy, Santa.’
‘Come on in Tommy. So, how old are you?’
‘Seven, going on eight.’
‘I see. Well I’m glad you still believe in me. Now, what are you hoping for at Christmas?’
The boy produced a scruffy piece of paper and began to read it hesitantly.
‘One of them boxes so I can play all these games. Some games. A penknife. Some chocolate. Not one of those selection boxes though. They’re crap.’
‘I see you’re well organised and I don’t like that word you just used. Not quite the right thing to say to me. I shall have to see if you’ve been good enough for all those things,’ he said, looking at the boy’s mother for confirmation. She shook her head. ‘I’m not sure how good you’ve been this year.’
‘I can start being good now. Go on. You can bring them all to me, you know you can.’
‘Do you want a photograph?’ asked Santa wearily.
‘Go on then,’ the boy encouraged. ‘Who takes the pictures?’
‘The elf who helps me will do the deed.’ He looked out for his helper but she seemed to have disappeared. ‘I’m so sorry but she seems to have left us. You’ll have to manage without a picture.’
‘S’all right,’ Tommy said. ‘I was only doin’ it for you.’
‘Well, here’s your present. Don’t forget, you have to be good from now till Christmas if you want everything on your list.’
‘I’d better leave it with you or you’ll forget some of it.’ He pulled his bit of paper from his pocket and left the old man holding it.
‘Thank you Tommy. Very thoughtful of you.’
‘Ta-ra then. See you on twenty-fourth of December.’
‘I think you mean twenty-fifth. Anyway, you won’t see me. I’m much too clever for that.’
‘I’ve got a plan. I expect you’ll be round on the twenty-fourth if you’re going to get right round the world.’
He left and Santa shook his head, smiling. Occasionally there was a child who got to him and Tommy was one of them. He wished he did have the power to deliver everything that the lad wanted. He rose from his seat, moved the sign across to say he’d gone to feed his reindeer and walked slowly back to the changing room. He looked around, wondering where the elf had gone. It wasn’t like her to go missing during the afternoon but maybe she’d felt ill or something. Poor little thing. He always felt a bit sorry for her, a small girl who somehow looked the part and did the job very well. He went into the changing room and peeled off his heavy Santa suit. He usually only wore a vest underneath and a pair of thin trousers, as he got very hot. He hung it on its hanger and took off his beard, which he hooked over the hanger. From his locker he took out his thick sweater and pulled it over his head. Then he added his thick winter coat and was ready to leave. With no more thoughts for his missing elf, whom he assumed had already left, he went through the store and back to his flat, calling good night to various staff members as he went.
Jimmy North, as he’d now become again, made his supper of beans on toast and settled down in front of his tele. It was a Wednesday and he always enjoyed his television on a Wednesday. He fell asleep within minutes of eating his supper.
Jimmy became Santa again at nine-thirty the following day. He walked through the store, speaking to various people and getting a nice greeting from the ladies on the jewellery counter.
‘You could take me out any time you wanted,’ he joked with them.
‘I don’t think we could cope with you,’ said one of them in reply. ‘So how’s it going? Any problems?’
‘No not really. Don’t know what happened to my little elf yesterday. She seemed to have left early. Well, she wasn’t there when I looked for her. P’raps she wasn’t feeling well.’
‘What, you mean Julie? Doesn’t sound like her. She’s very conscientious. Haven’t seen her this morning but maybe she slipped through when I was busy.’ Someone came to her counter at this point so she broke off her conversation and turned to serve. Jimmy went through to his changing room. His costume was hanging up where he’d left it. He took out his keys and unlocked his locker. He hung up his coat and pulled off his sweater. He turned to his Santa outfit and was about to put it on when he noticed a bit of green fabric hanging out of what he knew to be the elf’s locker. He went over to it and looked to see what it was. He felt sure it was part of the elf’s costume ... he couldn’t think of her as Julie. He noticed the door wasn’t actually locked and pulled it open.
‘Oh my god, oh my god,’ he yelled. The little elf girl was crammed inside the locker and she was quite dead. He ran out into the shop and called out ‘She’s dead. The elf is dead. In her locker. Oh my god.’ He was shaking and shivering and wanted someone to come to him. Various customers came over to him and tried to calm him down.
‘It’s all right Santa,’ said one lady, shoving her child out of the room.
At last security arrived.
‘What’s that you’re saying?’
‘It’s the elf. She’s dead, in her locker.’
‘Are you sure, old man? You haven’t been drinking have you?’
‘Course not. Oh dear, oh dear. What do you think happened to her?’
He went to the locker and looked at it.
‘Oh my god. You’re right. She is dead. I’d best call the police. They’ll have to sort it out.’
‘What shall I do then?’
‘Just hang fire for a bit. They’ll want to talk to you anyway.’ Jimmy thought for a moment.
‘But will I get paid? I mean if I’m not doing my job, what will happen?’
‘Don’t worry about it. I should put summat on though, if I were you. Can’t have people seeing you half naked.’
‘Oh. Yes, well I’ll put my thick sweater on again. Oh dear. Terrible business. Who on earth would kill a little elf?’ He pulled on his sweater, shaking his head. He went and sat down and looked towards the elf’s locker and gave a shudder.
It took a long time for the police to arrive and once they did, he was led out of the room. Copious amounts of blue and white tape appeared and were wound round the entrance.
‘Could I get my coat out please? I don’t somehow think I’ll be working today.’
‘Who are you exactly, sir?’ asked a young policeman.
‘Santa Claus. Well, I’m employed here as Santa. That poor little girl was my elf. Oh dear. Terrible business.’ Obviously the old man was somewhat traumatised.
‘Why don’t you go to the canteen and get yourself a cuppa?’ suggested the policeman. ‘Must have been a terrible shock for you.’
‘Oh it was. She left early yesterday. Nobody was there to take pictures or mind the queue. I didn’t know where she was and just thought she’d left early. And there she was lying dead in her locker. Terrible business. I mean, who on earth would want to kill an elf?’
‘Yes indeed. You go along and get that cuppa.’
‘Right. I will. Shall I come back to speak to you? I expect you’ll need to talk to me some more won’t you?’
‘You stay in the canteen and I’ll come and see you there when we need to see you again.’
He walked away still muttering about what a terrible business it all was. When he reached the canteen, he took what seemed like great pleasure in telling the girls about his discovery.
‘Terrible it was. I mean who’d ever want to kill a little elf? Still in her costume she was. It was that I saw first of all, sticking out of her locker. Never dreamt she’d still be in it.’
The girls all listened, shocked that it could happen in their store. They gave him a cup of tea and sat him down near to the counter, where he was still shaking his head.
‘I suppose I’d better go to Human Resources and see what they want me to do. I won’t have an elf of course but p’raps they’ll still want me to play Santa. Terrible business.’
‘I think you should go home for today, Mr North. Come back tomorrow and we’ll try to get someone else to be the elf,’ said Miss Pringle, the head of Human Resources. ‘I’ll get a notice put out saying you’re not there for today.’
‘But will I get paid? I mean, it isn’t a very long job and I do rely on my wages.’
‘Oh I think we can pay you. Don’t worry. It is an extraordinary event after all.’
‘Oh thanks. Thanks very much. I’ll go home then, shall I?’
‘You do that Mr North. We’ll see you again tomorrow.’
Miss Pringle picked up the phone on her desk and asked for a secretary to make a notice and put it outside the grotto.
By late morning, the elf’s remains had been removed and taken to the mortuary for a post mortem. Scene of Crime Officers had looked through the small room where the pair had changed and had picked up any scrap of evidence there was, not that there was much. Meanwhile, the CID officers had spoken to some of the staff.
‘Where’s the old boy who plays Santa?’ asked the senior officer.
‘I told him he could go home. Sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t have done that.’ Miss Pringle was feeling rather confused and upset. Her day had been ruined and she felt completely moved out of her normal orbit. She had even forgotten to have her cup of camomile tea mid-morning. She was a smart lady in her mid-forties, DI Jones estimated. Her dark hair was neatly cut and she looked every inch a Head of Human resources.
‘Give us his address and we can call round. Might actually be better to talk to him in his own surroundings.’