Page 9 of Death By Llama
Brad appeared to be speechless for the first time in his life.
Ashley, who looked worried that her business partner might slap Dougie in the face with a blini bite, hastily said, “Oh, look everyone, it’s Santa!Santa is here!”
“Where?”Dave asked, pausing in the middle of fixing an Elf-tini, even though no one had ordered one.
I suspected it was for himself.
He craned his neck around eagerly, like once he spotted the man, he was going to leap onto his lap and present him with a length list for Christmas.
Santa was not the Victorian actor we’d seen earlier.
Santa was…tottering on his feet, his beard askew and his suit way too snug around his belly.
“That’s not Santa, Ashley,” Brad said.“That’s just a drunk local.They should have made this a ticketed event.”
“Hey,” George protested.
If I thought George was going to defend the character of the good citizens of Friendship Harbor, I was wrong.
“How do you know Santa isn’t a drunk?”he asked.
“Mind blown,” Dave said, sipping his Elf-tini.
“For heaven’s sake,” Eleanor Hall snapped.“That’s Peanut.He’s been the town Santa for thirty years.And a drunk that long too.”
George gave Brad a pointed look.
“Another reason to push for progress,” Brad muttered.
“Sir, can I help you?”The unexpected voice boomed over the chorus of carolers now singing “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”
“Yeah, you can stop stealing my job!”
THREE
The standoff of the Santas.
The local Santa—Peanut—as Eleanor had called him, wobbled slightly back and forth.His rotund little body reminded me of the Weeble Wobble toys I had when I was little.I could also say without hesitation that I’d never seen this man in my life.And I’d been here for the holidays last winter.
Then there was the Saint Nicholas who Cameron had brought in for the day.He was clad in an expensive-looking velvet cloak with a white fur-trimmed hood, and his beard was real.And centered on his face, unlike Peanut’s.The man really had the market on the Santa Claus beard.
I heard a groan, at first not sure where the sound came from.Then I realized the sound came from Ashley.I followed her wide-eyed gaze, not quite sure why she looked so stricken by the scene in front of us.If anything, the interaction taking place in front of a semicircle of carolers, with other festival attendees watching, was rather humorous.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Saint Nicholas said, keeping his tone even, although his eyes hardened.“I’m here today at the behest of the inn’s owner.”
Peanut rocked back on his feet, a sneer appearing to one side of his crooked beard.
“‘Behest’?”he questioned.“I don’t know what the blazes that means, but I’m the Santa in Friendship Harbor.I’vealwaysbeen the Santa in Friendship Harbor.”
His words slurred a little, making it seem as if he would have a hard time staying upright, much less hearing the Christmas wishes of the town’s children.I imagined he probably smelled like whiskey and mothballs.
I spotted a couple of holes in the fuzzy material of his suit.So maybe not mothballs.
“Okay.I think it’s time you move along now,” the proper Saint Nicholas said.His tone was still calm, he looked even colder.I got the feeling he could easily lose his temper.“You don’t want to cause a scene.”
Peanut snorted at that.“Don’t want to cause a scene?Oh, I’ll definitely cause a scene because this is ridiculous.This isn’t how this town works.”He drunkenly waved an arm around.“Everyone here,” he slurred, gesturing widely, “everyone here knows that I am this town’s Santa Claus.”
Saint Nicholas shook his head.“Listen.Not today.”
