Detective Harry Ford sat motionless at his desk in the LAPD homicide unit late that Christmas Eve. Staring at the page with one name on it. He should have been at home with his wife and four-year-old child just outside Beverley Hills – watching George Bailey gather a new appreciation for his wonderful life and indeed Christmas.
But here he was, stuck, demonised by this one name on a sheet of paper.
You see, for the previous nine years Harry had been on the scene of too many murders on Christmas Eve – all committed by the same illusive killer.
Diverting his attention from the paper Harry looked up and scanned the white board that held the same name – the same headline. The “Santa Claus Killer”
What evil mind had come to concoct such a villainess method of serial killing – and nobody would ever question Santa leaving a house late at night on Christmas Eve.
The numbers killed had increased significantly over the years. It was only one family the first time – near Santa Monica. Each of the bodies carefully wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper and then placed neatly underneath the family Christmas tree. He even took time to eat the cookie and drink the milk. DNA mistake right there I can hear you thinking! Oh no!…he brought a glass from a nearby drinking hole and the DNA match indeed threw up a match that year! A prostitute named Shirley – they didn’t even get to question her. She was found dead only a few days later in a hit and run incident near the red light district.
Back to square one! Harry and his team exhausted every avenue until one evening in late 2014 – the third year of the Santa Claus Murders. A call came in from a woman alone in a plush house in Hollywood. The response was quick with agents on the scene in minutes. The paperwork after that incident was long and arduous. With the children bundled in the back of an LAPD police van – the SWAT team wrestled Santa to the ground – to the sound of the everybody hurts by REM – playing on the family living room speakers. Charles Danson had, a few too many that evening and ended up in a Santa outfit somehow. He had forgotten all about his divorce and was appalled to find his front door keys not working. With a touch of humour he decided that Santa should really only ever enter via the chimney. Well imagine his ex-wife’s horror to find Santa screaming for help in the chimney in the middle of the night.
The next day – a postcard dropped on Harry’s desk. It said only… “Sorry Harry, but I don’t use the chimney anymore. Better luck next time” signed “The Santa Claus Killer” A smiling Santa Claus on the front of the postcard caused Harry to hit the desk in fury.
Harry stared down at the page once more. It was bothering him for 12 months now – it was another post card from The Santa Claus Killer. It simply said – Happy Christmas Harry.
Harry had chased up the cards for DNA and origin with no success – the cards were from some Chinese factory imported to America by the million …they could have come from anywhere …and he ensured proxy by having a hotel postal system send them unwittingly.
There was nothing left to do except wait until that call ..from some shocked relative discovering another massacre – followed by several more calls during Christmas Day.
The Santa Claus killer could never be found because of his disguise as one of the most loved and trusted fictional characters – beloved by children and adults alike all across the western world.
But nobody, Nobody ever expected to find out who it would turn out to be!
Harry took his jacket and headed to his car in the underground car park at the LAPD Hollywood Police plaza. He lifted his trunk lid and smiled knowingly
Put you hands in the air” – Harry – put your hands in the air
His own team! He smiled as he turned with his hands raised
On your knees – you know the drill – detective Murray shouted at him.
How did you find this stuff?
We didn’t, Murray said.
Your wife called by today while you were on lunch – said you had Christmas toys in your trunk. We gave her you keys.
Harry was led away to a holding cell and awoke Christmas day to the sound of keys opening his cell door. C’mon Harry – His colleague Agent Bryant said!
Six more families Harry – six more ….guess it wasn’t me then – he said frustrated!
We found this post card on your desk this morning
Happy Christmas Harry, I left a present in your trunk for you.
To be continued
– next Christmas
