Free Death in a Turkey Town: A Chloe Boston Mystery by Melanie Jackson Page A

present chief of police, had been forgiven for taking Dad’s job because he was an out-of-towner and also because Dad had gone out of his way to show the new chief and the town that he bore no ill will for the change.
    Diego was delighted to see us and clearly overjoyed that Dad was making a run for office. I guess a disorganized mayor who didn’t interfere in people’s business was a thing devoutly to be wished for. I was thanked profusely for bringing home the wayward fowl and Blue was patted several times before we were allowed on our way back into town. Now at a blistering seven miles per hour since we going downhill.
    My thoughts finally turned outward, I saw that overnight—as it should—Santa’s Cottage had sprung up in Courthouse Park along with a plywood Frosty of improbably size and several Christmas trees that stood in front of the reindeer stables that never actually housed any deer, though there was plenty of hay available if any dropped in. We have been fortunate to have the same Santa and Mrs. Claus there my entire life and I waved happily as we passed them.
    Extension cords snaked through the grass which was looking rather worse for the wear after the pageant crowds, but the children and parents waiting for a turn with Santa ignored the intrusion of technology into magic because it was nice to have hot chocolate with Santa and twinkling lights on the Christmas trees, even if they were the new cold LEDs that I am not so fond of.
    It was hard to believe that a body had lain there just days before. Hard to believe and obscene. It made me hope that the killer wasn’t local and therefore didn’t know that they were committing desecration of a landmark as well as murder.
    The day was not through with its surprises. I made it back to the station and discovered that four of our officers were out sick. They had eaten at Mrs. Wicks’ on Thanksgiving and the vengeful spirit of a slain holiday turkey had visited them with food poisoning. No one was in the hospital, which was good, but that meant that everyone else had to pick up the slack for the afflicted. My slack included two things so horrible that I was left breathless with indignation.
    One— the arrival of the new Officer Bill costume. It was only discovered after it was signed for and delivery accepted that the artist who had made the papiermache head had made the opening too small and the only person—not out with food poisoning— who could fit in it was me. This was terrible. Blue had hated the old Officer Bill head and howled pathetically every time I put it on. The Chief saw my horror and reassured me that it was only until they got a new head from the artist, which would be the first week of December. Or the second week— at the latest. Right, an artist busy with orders for Christmas was going to redo the Officer Bill head because he was very concerned about public safety programs in the grammar school soon out for Christmas vacation.
    Two— Monday was the day when the honor students at the middle school made their annual pilgrimage to the police station and were partnered with a police officer for the day. I had always escaped this duty because no one wanted to be out with a meter maid, and also because we usually had a full, healthy force. This time, the Chief said, I would probably have to take one of the students with me.
    I didn’t hide my grimace. This likely meant two things. First, Blue wouldn’t be able to ride with me. There wasn’t room in my official vehicle. And also I would have a whining kid dragging around with me making snide comments about my job. If I was very unlucky I’d end up having to go on another turkey hunt, which was a whole lot harder without Blue and could even get undignified if the turkey headed for bushes and mud. Rodney Dangerfield thought that he got no respect— ha!
    Fortunately, Alex had intended to head home Tuesday but suggested that morning that he stay a while longer. I didn’t ask how long a while