by Tegan Maher
“The van,” Turkey says. “Hence, my good news. I think I know why Marley and Skili haven’t found the van, and why no one else in town has seen it either. The van is in hiding! It’s tucked into a little garage at the very bottom of Ash Street. Charlie only saw it because...” Turkey hesitates and gives a little involuntary shiver. I don’t think it’s from the cold.
I bend down and pick him up.
“He only saw it because…?” I say, while stroking Turkey’s head and back.
He seems to relax. “He saw it because he was chasing a cat,” Turkey says. “Now, could we please move on to some more pleasant topic of conversation? It’s Christmas Eve, not Halloween. I’d rather not tell any more horror stories today, thank you very much.”
I want to laugh, but my cat is looking so serious that I hold it back. Instead, I say, “Well, you were very courageous, Turkey. I thank you for your bravery. Now, I say we call Marley and tell her to meet us at bottom of Ash Street. Sound good to you?”
“As long as Charlie’s not there, it sounds fabulous,” Turkey says.
I grin, and then help Turkey get situated in my messenger bag. Together, we head for Ash Street. Hopefully, we’ll find the van and the goat soon, because it’s now a quarter to four.
Chapter Five
Marley, Turkey, Skili, and I convene at the bottom of Ash Street.
The house before us is vacant, and the lack of care and maintenance really shows. The driveway isn’t plowed, the walkways are unshoveled, and the porch roof appears to be sagging with the weight of the snow piled on top of it. One of the front lower windows is broken, and a section of the porch railing is in disrepair as well.
At the very back of the property, there’s a little gray garage. Like the house, it’s in rough shape: chipping paint, shingles falling off the roof, and a bent drainpipe lend to the disheveled appearance.
A lone set of tire tracks lead to the garage entrance.
“Am I the only one who finds this a little bit creepy?” I ask.
“Nope,” Marley says. “You’re not alone. This is totally creepy.”
Turkey chimes in, telepathically, so that only I can hear him. “Are you sure we have to do this today? Don’t you ever take a holiday, Penelope?”
I shake my head and respond silently. “I work when my services are needed,” I say. “And they happen to be needed today, so…”
I begin heading for the garage. I walk in one of the tire tracks to prevent snow from getting in my boots. When I’m about halfway to the garage, I look back and see Marley following behind me, and Turkey trotting behind her. Skili is in the air above us. I place a mittened-finger to my lips, indicating to all of my followers that now is the time to be quiet.
We reach the garage door. The window to the side of it is cloudy and dirty. Despite the grime, I can make out the shape of the white van within. I also see a figure moving about. Is poor Blaze in there, too?
My heart is pounding. I take a deep breath, place my hand on the doorknob, and turn.
“Gotcha!” I say as I jump into the garage.
It’s the second time I’ve used the phrase today, and this time I’m hoping it will have a better effect.
Plunk! The sound of something metal falling to the floor meets my ears.
That’s a good sign, isn’t it? Maybe?
The figure I spotted from outside is now more clearly visible: It’s Vick Manning, the editor of our local newspaper. He’s at the back of the garage, near the hood of the van. He has a rag in one hand, and I see a metal tool at his feet.
What I don’t see is a little white baby goat.
“Vick?” I say.
“Penny? Marley?” Vick says. I look over my shoulder and see Marley, Skili, and Turkey peering around the doorframe. “Are you two with the insurance agency?” Vick asks.
“The insurance agency? No.” I shake my head. “We’re looking for Blaze the goat. Did you take him? Where is he?” As I speak, I move over to the van and start looking in through the tinted windows.
It looks empty in there.
“Blaze the goat…” Vick says. He sounds confused. “So you’re not doing work for Maurice up at Safety’s First Insurance?”
“Why would Marley and I be working for Maurice on Christmas Eve?” I ask as I begin to walk around the van. I want to see the other side of it -- to see if maybe the goat is tied up there.
“Oh … uh…” Vick says.
I round the van, and still don’t see the goat. I hear Marley enter. “We know you drove up to the church,” Marley says. “And then drove off with Katie’s pet goat.”
“I did not!” Vick says. He sounds pretty adamant about it. He also sounds like he’s telling the truth -- his voice has that honest self-righteous ring to it.
I circle around the van until I’m at the front of it, standing next to Vick. I look down and see a wrench at his feet -- that must be what he dropped.
My internal lie detector is going off… but it’s not raising a red flag about Vick’s words. Instead, it’s his actions I don’t like.
“What are you doing in here, holed up in this abandoned garage?” I ask. “Whose property is this, anyways?”
“My friend Ron owns the place,” Vick says.
“So, why are you here?” I demand.
“I --uh --”
“Tell the truth,” I say. “It’s Christmas Eve, for crying out loud. You don’t want to end up on Santa’s naughty list for lying, do you?”
He grins a little bit. I think he likes my style. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll tell you. This van isn’t supposed to be out on the road yet. It’s not insured. I’ve been keeping it here, out of sight from Maurice, but I couldn’t help taking it out for a test drive.”
“So, that’s why you were all freaked out that we were working for Maurice?” I ask.
He nods. “Yeah. I know you do investigative work. I thought he might have hired you to make sure I didn’t drive this thing. I really got into it with him the other day.” He shakes his head, and his cheeks get red at the memory of his argument with the insurance broker. “You know he wants to charge me $112 a month to insure this thing? I’m only going to be using it for work purposes…” Then his face brightens. “Won’t this thing be a beauty with a big Hillcrest Crier decal on the side of it?” He steps around to the side of the van, and makes a grand, fan-like gesture, pointing out where the decal would go.
Turkey, Skili, Marley, and I join him at the side of the van. I place my hand on my chin and stare at the big white expanse of metal. Then I try to imagine the decal.
“It would look pretty sweet,” I say.
“Oh!” Marley says. “You could also put a unicorn on it, too… right about here.” She motions to a big blank area of the van.
“A unicorn?” Vick says. He shakes his head. “No, no. That wouldn’t look right. I want this van to look like a serious journalist’s vehicle. Think how much more professional I’ll look, driving this baby around rather than my old coupe.” He gets a dreamy look on his face.
“I’d rather think about our case,” I say. “I thought we were onto something. I thought you stole the goat.”
“No, I wouldn’t steal a cute little animal like that,” Vick says.
Marley interjects. “You mean, you saw Blaze, when you did your sketchy little shouldn’t-be-on-the-road-without-insurance driveby?” she asks. “The goat was still there?”
He nods. “Oh yeah. He was there, alright. Right out in front of the manger. You want to see?”
He turns to the table and then picks up a big digital camera with a telescopic lens.
“Yeah!” Marley says.
I nod, too. We crowd around Vick. Skili positions herself on Marley’s shoulder, and Turkey hops up onto the nearby table. While all of us peer at the little display screen, Vick starts flipping through the images.
“I snapped a lot of them,” he says. “Here the little guy is up on the stump, and here he’s jumping off of it. That’s a good action shot,
isn’t it?”
I look at the smiling goat, his little red jacket flying out in the air behind him as he leaps off of the stump. “Sure is,” I say.
“And here he is kicking his back legs up,” Vick says. “I really like this one. I might use it on the front page, actually.”
“Did you see anyone by the manger, while you were snapping pictures?” Marley asks.
Vick shakes his head. “I waited down the street until everyone was at the donut truck. Then I drove through, took the pictures, and drove off. No one saw me -- and that’s what I wanted.”
“You’re sure no one was around?” I ask. I peer down at the image on the screen. “The thing is… doesn’t that look like someone's sleeve?” I point to a spot on the photograph. At the far edge of the image, the side of the manger is visible. It looks like a bit of a silver jacket sleeve, and the corner of something else -- a corner of something bright pink -- is sticking out, as though someone was standing right next to the manger, but hidden from sight.
“Hm… I didn’t notice that,” Vick says. “Let me see if I can zoom in.”
We all wait while he presses a few buttons on the camera. Then, the image on the screen shifts as he zooms in on the possible sleeve.
“Well, look at that!” Vick says. “There is a person back there.”
“Good eye, Detective Banks!” Marley says.
I smile. “There’s more… I think I know who that is!” I say proudly.
“For real?” Marley says. “You really are good!”
“Who is it?” Vick says. “Who is lurking back there?”
“Meredith Kipp,” I say. “That’s who.”
Chapter Six
It doesn't take long for Marley and I, along with our familiars, to make it back to the church. As we approach the front yard, I see that there’s now barely anyone out in front. There are two families standing in front of the Nativity scene, looking at it a bit and chatting with one another. Melissa’s truck is still parked across the street, and I catch sight of Melissa reading a book rather than serving customers.
Most of the crowd must have moved back inside. I eye the church’s front entrance and think about how cozy it is in the basement.
“Think Meredith is inside?” Marley asks.
“I wish,” I say. “But I have a feeling that she’s not…”
“Where do you think she is?” I ask.
“Something just occurred to me,” I say. I head for the walkway that will take us to the back of the church again. “Meredith was lying to us when she said that she was going to her car. She wasn’t going to her car -- she drives that big Mercedes SUV remember? I didn’t see any SUVs in the back parking lot. So what was she doing back there, really?”
“Good question,” Marley says.
“Hiding the Christmas Goat, perhaps,” Turkey transmits.
“Exactly what I was thinking…” I transmit back to him.
I pick up my pace. The four of us reach the back parking lot. This time, I see that the maintenance shed door is closed.
We walk up to it, and I try the handle. It opens easily, but once again, the inside is filled with inanimate objects only -- no Meredith, and more importantly, no goat.
I step back outside and survey the snow around the shed.
Bingo! There are fresh tracks in the snow, leading away from the shed.
Boot tracks.
I point.
“A person walked back here!” Marley says. “Maybe Meredith?”
“But I don’t see any animal tracks,” Turkey says, as he squirms in my arms to try to get a better view of the ground.
“There aren’t any,” I transmit back to him.
Aloud I say. “I bet these tracks belong to Meredith. Maybe she was carrying the goat -- that would explain why we don’t see another set of tracks. Let’s follow them!”
The four of us follow the tracks into a little patch of trees. The boot prints weave among the slender aspens and bushy pines. It strikes me as odd that the prints don’t take a straight line. If I was carrying a baby goat, I’d probably want to take a direct route -- but the route we’re following is anything but direct. It snakes and circles around the trees and bushes.
The lighting has changed, and I suspect that it’s now getting very late in the afternoon. This wild goat chase has carried on much longer than I expected. We can’t give up now, though. I have a feeling we’re getting close -- really close. In fact, is that Meredith I see, up ahead?
Yes! It is. She’s poking around at the bottom of a pine tree. What is she doing?
I move faster. It’s hard to run in the snow, but I give it my best shot.
“Hey! You’re kicking snow up in my face!” Marley, who is behind me, shouts out.
At the sound of Marley’s voice, Meredith looks in our direction.
Shoot! She sees us!
She places her hands on her hips. “Not you two again…” she says unhappily.
We stop in front of her. I’m a bit breathless. I place my hands on my hips, too. “We…” I pause and suck in a big lungful of cold air. “Saw… you…” I pause, and hold up my finger as I try to catch my breath.
Note to self: do not try to sprint in deep snow ever again.
Marley picks up where I left off. “We saw a picture of you next to the manger,” she says.
I turn to Marley. “Thank you,” I say.
I turn back to Meredith. “Please don’t lie to us anymore, Meredith. Just admit you took the darn goat. It’s getting late and…” I hesitate, and glance over at Marley. I don't want to admit this in front of her, but I have no choice. I want Meredith to understand the urgency of the situation.
I look at Meredith once again and then say, “I don’t have any of my Christmas presents yet. I’m getting together with my friends, including Marley here, at five, and I’d better have something to give them by then!”
Marley bursts out laughing. “You procrastinated about present buying again! Penny, you do this every year! Don’t you ever learn?”
“No!” Turkey transmits. Only I hear him. His input ruffles my feathers.
Before I can defend myself, Meredith says, “You don't have any presents yet? Oh, my. That’s bad. I started working on my list back in June.”
“It’s going to be fine!” I say. “I’ll have plenty of time if you would just come clean about poor Katie’s goat. Admit to taking Blaze and stashing him in the woods out here, and we can all move past this. Come on.”
Now it’s Meredith’s turn to look upset. “Look,” she says. “I wish I could give Blaze back to you, but I can’t.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“I -- I did take him. I admit it. I was just… he looked so cold out there… and, you know, it was a bit of a distraction from the real point of the display, which is about the birth of Jesus. So I just… rearranged the scene.”
“You rearranged the scene?”
She nods. “I moved Blaze to the maintenance shed.”
“We knew it!” I say.
“Then why isn’t he in there now?” Marley asks.
“I don't know,” Meredith says. She bites her lip and glances around the woods. “He must have gotten out somehow. I don’t see how, because I only left him in the shed for a minute. I tied him to the lawn tractor with the remaining rope. Then I went back to the front yard. When I saw what a fuss everyone was making over his disappearance, and how worried Katie was, I decided to bring him back. Only I returned to the shed, and he was missing.”
Crap! So close, and yet so far…
I place my head in my hands and shake my head. “Nooooo!” I say.
Marley places a hand on my back. “It’s not that bad,” she says. “At least we have another clue to work with.”
“I’ll do anything I can to help you find him,” Meredith says. “I really feel terrible. I should never have moved him like that. If it helps at all…” She stuffs her hand into her pocket and pulls out a bit of shiny purple fabric. “I f
ound this just outside of the shed,” she says. “Maybe the person who took Blaze dropped it there. Maybe it could lead you to the culprit.” She holds out the fabric.
It’s strangely familiar.
“Hm,” Marley says, reaching for it. “It’s a nice try, Meredith, but I don’t really see how this could help us.” She examines the fabric and then hands it over to me.
As I stare down at it, my wheels start turning in high gear. “Wait a sec --” I say. I close my eyes. “I think I’m getting something… A memory keeps tickling at the corners of my mind.”
Everyone stays quiet, and in the silence, I’m able to catch a little corner of the memory and pull it forward.
“Precious Bear,” I say. “This is Precious Bear’s skirt. She didn’t want to wear it anymore. Remember, Marley? Allen Miller’s daughter Willow handed it to Allen. Allen stuffed it in his back pocket.”
Marley claps her hands.
I open my eyes and see that Marley and Meredith are beaming at me.
“I heard you were good,” Meredith says. “My, my. You really are! So it’s Allen who took Blaze from the shed?”
“I believe so,” I say. I pull out my phone. “And I think I know where we can find him.” I check my phone screen. It’s now 4:40.
“Santa’s inside now,” I say. “Allen’s daughter Willow is still young. I’m betting that she wanted to get a picture with Santa.”
“I’m sure of it!” Marley says. “Come on, let's go!” She takes off toward the church.
“No sprinting!” I say as I try to keep up with her.
In response, she whirls around and whips a snowball at me.
It hits me right in the face.
“No fair!” I sputter. “My guard was down! I was focused on the case!”
“Get her back, Penelope!” Turkey transmits. “Hit her right in the nose!
“I would, but I’m working,” I say. “Now is not the time for -- oh, who am I kidding?” I stoop down, scoop up snow, and form it into a snowball. Then I take off after Marley, breaking my own “no sprinting” rule that I just barely made.
