This week’s Prompt:
A department store Santa, proof, a towel
Sam accepted the towel from his partner and ran it over his face and hair. Outside, it was not quite raining, and not quite snowing, sort of both at the same time.
“What do you think? Gabe asked. He was making notes at each of the numbered points the photographer had placed on the floor. The red smear ran from the relentlessly cheerful “Santa’s Village” set and out the front doors of the mall. The Santa on Duty at the end of the evening last night lay outside in the confusing precipitation, dead.
“I think it is either a rather over the top way to tell your children that there is no Santa, or Santa had some bad habits that might not have been compatible with playing with children all day,” Sam said. He took his own note pad out of his coat pocket where he was futilely trying to keep it dry enough to read later.
“Be serious, Sam,” Gabe rolled his eyes and stepped back to make way for some techs to come through. One of his paper booties was starting to slip off.
“I am,” Sam insisted. “If this guy was not up to no good, what reason would someone have for murdering him while he was still dressed up as Santa?”
“Maybe someone has a grudge against Santa,” Gabe shrugged. “Though his background comes up cleaner than a nun’s.”
“The higher ups are looking to pin this on a vampire,” Sam said quietly as the techs moved further away.
“With all this blood?” Gabe asked? “Damn sloppy of him to waste that much food.”
“I’ve seen you eat taco’s,” Sam replied. “You have no room to talk.”
“Har har, asshole,” Gabe rolled his eyes. “But seriously, this is not a vampire kill.” He looked at the long red streak marring the shiny faux marble tiles.
“Are you sure?” Sam asked. “I was just out there and there are marks on his neck.” He pointed two fingers to the side of his own throat.
“I saw them,” Gabe admitted. “And they are all wrong.” He pulled aside his own collar and showed Sam the series of scars and a new fresher mark on his own throat. “Mara is a vampire, or did you forget?” he asked when Sam grimaced and recoiled a little.
“Dude,” Sam wrinkled his nose. “That is fucked up.”
“She’s my wife, Sam,” Gabe said firmly. “I know what I am doing.”
“Not my blood, not my problem,” Sam said. “But fine, we will go with your assessment, not a vampire, what was it then?”
”Where do you think they were taking him when the security guard “accidentally” did his round a little late.,” Gabe said.
“Found it!” a tech came trotting up holding a child size cap soaked with blood. “The bell found by the victim came from this hat, along with these hairs,” The man held out a few brittle brown hairs.
“The damn elves,” Sam said, eyes going wide. “They were ghouls all along! I knew you should never trust elves!” It was going to be a long winter.