“What’s wrong?”
“Someone killed Santa—Mr. Doleson,” I said.
“Have you called 911?” he asked.
“Not yet,” I said. I decided not to mention that I hadn’t yet pulled myself together enough to even think of it.
“I’ll do it, then,” Horace said. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket—well, that was new. The gorilla suit never used to have pockets. Unless Horace had learned to sew, perhaps someone with sewing skills been helping him improve it. That could be good news—Horace’s love life lately had been even worse than usual.
“Great, and don’t let anyone in the shed,” I said. “I’m going to find Sammy, or Chief Burke, or one of his officers.”
Horace nodded.
“Debbie Anne?” I heard him say. Good, he’d reached the police dispatcher. I strode off toward where I’d last seen the camels.
I was in luck. The wise men were returning in stately procession. Ainsley Werzel was busily snapping pictures, and several amateur videographers were following the procession’s path with their handheld cameras.
I felt bad about ruining the photo op, but they still had the whole parade to go. I ran out to meet the wise men and fell into step beside the chief’s camel.
“I have bad news,” I said.
“Something I’m going to have to get down off of this fool camel to deal with?” he asked. He sounded eager.
I nodded.
“Hang on a minute, then. Dr. Blake, how the blazes do you park this thing again?”
“Tell him to s-t-a-n-d,” Dr. Blake said.
“Stand!” the chief barked. Curley stopped, and Dr. Blake pulled up beside him.
“Stand, Moe. Now tell him to ‘Hoosh!’ And lean back while you do.”
“Hoosh!” the chief shouted.
The chief’s camel stood motionless, while Dr. Blake’s beast obediently began the awkward looking process of folding first his front legs and then his back legs.
“Blast it!” Dr. Blake grumbled. “Moe’s rather badly trained, and Curley’s a little too eager. Try it again. And lean back, hard.”
I began to wonder if I should have told the chief my news while he was still on the camel. Ralph Doleson’s rigor mortis would probably have set in by the time the chief finally got back on solid ground.
“Hoosh! Hoosh, dammit!” the chief shouted, and leaned back so far I thought for a moment he’d fall off. But when Moe’s front legs abruptly folded, I realized the chief had, accidentally or on purpose, gotten it right. Now that Moe was kneeling, the chief was upright.
“Now lean forward again, quick!” Dr. Blake ordered.
The chief leaned forward, grabbed the front of the saddle, and hung on for dear life as Moe’s back end hit the earth with an audible thud.
“Meg, put your foot on his front leg,” Dr. Blake said. “Moe’s front leg, that is, not the chief’s.” I complied, a little nervously, because I couldn’t remember if Moe was the one who bit.
“Put some pressure on it!” Dr. Blake said, as he reached for Moe’s reins. “The idea is to discourage him from trying to get up again while the chief is dismounting.”
I leaned on Moe’s leg, and the chief slid off.
“I’m good,” he said. “You can take your foot away if you like. Now what’s the problem?”
I glanced around. Plenty of people were watching us, most of them either videotaping the camel dismounting demonstration or pointing their fingers and laughing. But only Dr. Blake and Michael were within earshot, so I decided this was as good a place as any to talk.
“Someone’s murdered Ralph Doleson,” I said.
“You’re sure?”
“If he’s not dead, he’s a hell of an actor, and I don’t think he could possibly have done it to himself,” I said.
The chief closed his eyes for a second as if gathering strength, then sprang into action.
“Right,” he said. “Where?”
“In our pig shed.”
“You didn’t just leave him there?”
“I found Horace and left him to guard the scene,” I said.
He nodded grudgingly.
“Show me.”
“Okay,” I said. “You might want to look a little happier. Or at least more nonchalant. I don’t see him right now, but odds are that reporter’s still lurking around here somewhere, and I bet you don’t want him to figure out something’s wrong and follow us.”
The chief frowned for a moment, as if trying to decide whether I had an ulterior motive or not. And I did, of course, but he quickly deduced it was the same one he had: not letting Ainsley Werzel make Caerphilly look completely ridiculous. His face broke into a slightly forced smile.