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Authors: Ellen Byerrum
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to her. And where did Wiedemeyer get that big candy cane?
“Nice antlers, Wiedemeyer,” Vic said. Lacey thought he was just being polite, but Vic had a big smile on his face. He was getting a charge out of this chubby little elf in a tux and antlers. “I’d like to see the reindeer those came from.”
“Amazing what you can pick up at the drugstore, isn’t it? These babies will positively pickle that pompous Wentworth witch.” Wiedemeyer stroked his antlers fondly. “She wouldn’t dare show her face here, would she? Nah, she’s probably out making some other poor bastards miserable tonight.” Every body was a “poor bastard” of one kind or another in Harlan’s world. He waved the candy cane, as delighted as a little boy waving a brandnew baseball bat. “And have you seen the size of these babies? They’re all over the place.”
“She’s not coming,” Lacey said, but Wiedemeyer wasn’t lis tening. Santa caps and giant candy canes were everywhere. The little shepherd boy was telling the truth. This is a nightmare, Lacey thought.
“I’ll just have to wear my antlers to work then.” He snatched hors d’oeuvres from a nearby tray. “I can’t imagine what’s keeping Felicity. She’s been telling me how great this shindig always is. I even got all dressed up for her.” He hit the button on his antlers and they started twinkling again.
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it,” Vic said, nudging Lacey’s arm. “I got all dressed up too, but I forgot my antlers. Lacey says she’s going to show me later how much a woman appreci ates a man in a tux.”
“Victor Donovan!” Lacey grabbed his arm meaningfully and gave him The Look.
“You think so?” Wiedemeyer’s antlers seemed to perk up. “You think she’ll show me too? I mean Felicity, you know, not, um—”
“How could Felicity resist a man of your impressive antler age, Harlan?” Vic said. “But maybe you should save your bat teries for her, don’t you think?”
“Well, gosh, yes,” Harlan blushed. “Absolutely! Oh, boy!” Wiedemeyer was in such a dither he didn’t even have some bizarre tale plucked from the day’s news for them. Wiedemeyer loved the D & D beat and was always willing to share, and the more bizarre and/or disgusting his tale, the better. Reporters who saw him coming down the hall with a juicy tidbit often de veloped an urgent need to go interview a source, any source, anywhere but in the newsroom. But tonight there was no talk of exploding toads, or fish with human teeth, or male bass in the Potomac laying eggs, or some idiot bank robber handing over a threatening note with his personalized deposit slip.
“I guess I better go find my little sugar cookie!” He marched off, antlers flashing, candy cane waving like a baton in search of his lady love. Who would, no doubt, Lacey thought, be wear ing that aluminum Christmas tree LaToya had hoped for.
Veteran police reporter Tony Trujillo found Lacey and Vic through the increasingly thick throng of merrymakers. Tony was escorting a pale cool blonde in an iceblue dress whose thin straps were struggling to hold up her cantilevered bosom. The blonde wore her hair in an improbable flip and sported a chunky necklace of marblesized faux pearls. Another blonde, Lacey thought, in a long line of Trujillo’s blondes. Tony intro duced her as Linda Sue Donahue.
“I’m just dying to get to know you, Lacey.” Linda Sue spoke with a soft Southern accent. “Why, Tony talks about you all the time! Is it true y’all’re always getting into trouble? And so creatively?”
“I don’t get into trouble nearly as often as Tony does,” Lacey said. “For instance, he’s in trouble right now without even knowing it.”
“Oh my! You’re going to have to tell me everything! But first I have to run off to the little girls’ room to fix my face.” Linda Sue tottered off toward the restroom on her spike heels and Tony looked sheepish. Lacey lifted her eyebrow at him. Her Look
“Nice antlers, Wiedemeyer,” Vic said. Lacey thought he was just being polite, but Vic had a big smile on his face. He was getting a charge out of this chubby little elf in a tux and antlers. “I’d like to see the reindeer those came from.”
“Amazing what you can pick up at the drugstore, isn’t it? These babies will positively pickle that pompous Wentworth witch.” Wiedemeyer stroked his antlers fondly. “She wouldn’t dare show her face here, would she? Nah, she’s probably out making some other poor bastards miserable tonight.” Every body was a “poor bastard” of one kind or another in Harlan’s world. He waved the candy cane, as delighted as a little boy waving a brandnew baseball bat. “And have you seen the size of these babies? They’re all over the place.”
“She’s not coming,” Lacey said, but Wiedemeyer wasn’t lis tening. Santa caps and giant candy canes were everywhere. The little shepherd boy was telling the truth. This is a nightmare, Lacey thought.
“I’ll just have to wear my antlers to work then.” He snatched hors d’oeuvres from a nearby tray. “I can’t imagine what’s keeping Felicity. She’s been telling me how great this shindig always is. I even got all dressed up for her.” He hit the button on his antlers and they started twinkling again.
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it,” Vic said, nudging Lacey’s arm. “I got all dressed up too, but I forgot my antlers. Lacey says she’s going to show me later how much a woman appreci ates a man in a tux.”
“Victor Donovan!” Lacey grabbed his arm meaningfully and gave him The Look.
“You think so?” Wiedemeyer’s antlers seemed to perk up. “You think she’ll show me too? I mean Felicity, you know, not, um—”
“How could Felicity resist a man of your impressive antler age, Harlan?” Vic said. “But maybe you should save your bat teries for her, don’t you think?”
“Well, gosh, yes,” Harlan blushed. “Absolutely! Oh, boy!” Wiedemeyer was in such a dither he didn’t even have some bizarre tale plucked from the day’s news for them. Wiedemeyer loved the D & D beat and was always willing to share, and the more bizarre and/or disgusting his tale, the better. Reporters who saw him coming down the hall with a juicy tidbit often de veloped an urgent need to go interview a source, any source, anywhere but in the newsroom. But tonight there was no talk of exploding toads, or fish with human teeth, or male bass in the Potomac laying eggs, or some idiot bank robber handing over a threatening note with his personalized deposit slip.
“I guess I better go find my little sugar cookie!” He marched off, antlers flashing, candy cane waving like a baton in search of his lady love. Who would, no doubt, Lacey thought, be wear ing that aluminum Christmas tree LaToya had hoped for.
Veteran police reporter Tony Trujillo found Lacey and Vic through the increasingly thick throng of merrymakers. Tony was escorting a pale cool blonde in an iceblue dress whose thin straps were struggling to hold up her cantilevered bosom. The blonde wore her hair in an improbable flip and sported a chunky necklace of marblesized faux pearls. Another blonde, Lacey thought, in a long line of Trujillo’s blondes. Tony intro duced her as Linda Sue Donahue.
“I’m just dying to get to know you, Lacey.” Linda Sue spoke with a soft Southern accent. “Why, Tony talks about you all the time! Is it true y’all’re always getting into trouble? And so creatively?”
“I don’t get into trouble nearly as often as Tony does,” Lacey said. “For instance, he’s in trouble right now without even knowing it.”
“Oh my! You’re going to have to tell me everything! But first I have to run off to the little girls’ room to fix my face.” Linda Sue tottered off toward the restroom on her spike heels and Tony looked sheepish. Lacey lifted her eyebrow at him. Her Look
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