December 2006 A Mysterious Holiday

The Case of the Santa Claus Caper
by Fiona L. Woods

"Lori, I need your help," my Granny Gladys said. "Mary was fired from her job at The Pet Country Photography Studio."

Now, my niece Mary's not exactly the smartest pup in the litter, but fired from her job after just six weeks?

"Why?"

"Drugs. An envelope with pills in it in her locker at work."

My jaw dropped so far my ears popped. "Mary is using drugs?"

"No, not Mary, but somebody hid them there because they wanted Mary fired," Granny said. "I was hoping you'd help us prove she's innocent."

"I don't know what I could do."

"You're a private investigator. I've got it all figured out. I'm taking Panzer to have our picture taken to go on my Christmas cards. You can be in the picture with us. That'll give you a chance to look around; check things out."

"Well yes, but..."

I couldn't think of a good excuse. I didn't want to admit I hate having my picture taken, especially with her cat Panzer. When that thirteen pound black cat looks at you with those jade green eyes, you just know he's plotting to take over the world as soon as you're not watching.

"If it's your fee, I can pay it," Granny said. "Mary is so upset. She's got no job, no money. You're her only hope."

I gave up. "All right, I'll do it."

"Here's what happened," Granny said. "Mary complained to the manager, Don Martin, last week about vicious dogs and cats coming in to have photos taken. One of the dogs bit her. She talked to Don again day before yesterday, after she got scratched by a cat. She couldn't understand why people would bring in vicious animals like that.

"Yesterday she got fired because the manager did a locker inspection and found drugs. He said he wouldn't call the police. I don't understand the sudden surprise inspection or all those vicious animals."

I watched the black cat, who had just jumped into Granny's lap. I didn't understand either, but then again I was looking at a woman who was putting a cat plotting to take over the world on her Christmas cards. There's no understanding pet owners.

Granny got Panzer's cat carrier from the hall closet. "He has to be in his carrier instead of on his leash. Mary told me all the animals have to be brought in in carriers."

It wasn't easy getting Panzer into a carrier--took us half an hour. He was still yowling and hissing when we put him in the car.

At the photography studio we checked in with a gum-chewing brunette of about sixteen. "Who's wearing the costume?" she asked, snapping her gum. Granny pointed at me.

When she saw the look on my face, she explained. "Either the pet or owner can wear a costume–or both. I was thinking you could instead of Panzer?"

Listening to the sounds coming from the carrier, I could see her logic.

The brunette directed Granny to a chair in the waiting area, then escorted me down a short hallway behind the counter. She passed a neat stack of animal carriers and stepped through a doorway. I stopped, staring into the top carrier.

"Those are special-order carriers," the girl said around her wad of gum. "They're not for sale."

Taking the hint, I went into the dressing room where the girl handed me an elf costume. The green shirt, tights, and red cap with blonde hair sticking out all over made me look like a five-year-old, but worst of all were green felt slippers with curled toes. I was studying those green slippers in the mirror when I heard the scream.

Running from the dressing room, I collided with Granny. "Santa Claus stole Panzer!"

Sure enough, when I looked around, the cat carrier was gone. I turned to the gum snapping brunette. "Which way did he go?"

She didn't answer, but Granny pointed to the door leading out of the studio. I ran out the door and started down the Mall toward a crowd of people, but running in green felt slippers was impossible. I fell flat on the floor. As I tried to tug them off my bare feet, I heard a howl coming from the crowd. I leapt up, one slipper on and one off, and hobbled as fast as I could toward that earsplitting sound.

Reaching the crowd, I pushed into the center. It was just as I feared. The cat carrier was on its side with the door nearly torn from the hinges. Santa lay on his back on the floor slapping at the cat and screaming at the top of his lungs. With fangs bared like a dog, Panzer stood on Santa's chest. The cat had a white beard firmly in his teeth and was trying to wrench it, the elastic bands, and Santa's ears from his head. Hind paws clawed at Santa's chest.

A crowd of small children surrounded Santa, clinging to their mothers. Some looked ready to cry. The mothers stood with eyes wide, as if unsure whether to laugh or cry.

Grabbing Panzer by his harness, I hauled him off Santa. The cat hissed and snarled and tried to grab Santa's beard again. "Panzer stop it, right now," I said.

Granny grabbed the flailing cat from me. "He thinks the beard is a rat."

"He's half right," I said. "That's a rat under the beard."

I reached under Santa's beard and pulled out a name tag on an elastic band. "Granny, meet Don Martin, the manager of the photo studio."

Granny frowned at him. "Why did you want my cat?"

"He didn't want Panzer; he wanted the cat carrier," I said. "That's why all those vicious animals have been coming in to have their photos taken."

"I don't understand. Why the carrier?"

"The animal carriers have false bottoms in them. Some are used to deliver drugs here; buyers use others to pick up drugs. He's got some with the false bottoms stored in the hallway by the dressing room."

Granny looked from me to the photo studio manager. "Why Panzer's carrier?"

"The vicious animals are used to guard the drugs coming and going in the carriers. He heard Panzer and thought he was one of the vicious guard animals. When he picked up the carrier and you yelled at him, he knew he'd made a mistake. So he pretended to steal Panzer."

"Santa, how could you sell drugs and steal my cat?" Granny hugged Panzer until he squeaked.

Hearing Granny's words, the crowd of mothers hurried children away. The studio manager scrambled to his feet as Mall security arrived to take him into custody for police.

"Come on." Granny stroked Panzer, who rested his head on her shoulder. "Let's go get that picture taken for my Christmas cards."

As I followed them back to the photo studio, I swear that black cat winked a jade green eye and smirked at me over Grannie's shoulder.

THE END

Fiona L. Woods lives and writes in the Pacific Northwest with Panzer, her black cat with jade green eyes. Private Investigator Lori, Granny Gladys and Panzer's other cases have appeared in The Storyteller and at Crime and Suspense webzine. Visit Fiona at: http://www.scn.org/~bb879/index.html