“Couldn’t that be because he fell?The beard went sideways?”
“I guess, but Peanut was drunk,” Dave pointed out.
That he was.
We watched as the EMTs and Justin headed through an opening in the low rock wall that led to precarious stone steps carved into the seawall.The makeshift stairs descended down to the rocky shoreline.
“I thought you were going to close off access to those steps,” I said to Oliver.
“We are, but they’re not coming until next week,” Oliver replied.“Cameron was in such a rush to get this place open that I didn’t have time to get that finished.”
I bit my tongue, deciding not to say anything more.Oliver already felt bad about how the grand opening was going, but closing off the steps seemed like a pretty high priority.They were slippery and uneven—a big hazard.Of course, that wasn’t where Peanut had fallen from anyway, so I supposed it wasn’t really an issue at the moment.
“Hey,” one of the teenagers said.“Look, there’s a llama!”
“That’s an alpaca,” the space bun girl corrected with great authority.
“It’s actually a llama,” I said, relieved to see my beloved pet.Amid all the hubbub, I had forgotten he was missing.I hurried over to where he stood on a patch of empty lawn, completely oblivious to the chaos around him.
As I approached, I realized there was red around his mouth.My heart raced.Was he hurt?Was that blood?
“He’s eating something,” the teenage girl said.
I frowned at them, wondering why they were following me.
Looking back at Jack, I realized she was right.He chewed on something red.As I got closer, I saw what it was.It was a hat.
“What is that?”Oliver asked, appearing beside me
“It’s a Santa hat,” I said.
“Peanut’s hat?”Dave asked.
I didn’t answer, fishing in the pocket of my elf skirt to retrieve some plastic gloves.See, our costumes weren’t that cheap.The skirts had pockets.
“Really?You’re carrying around plastic gloves?”Oliver said, eyeing them in disbelief.
I gave him a slightly offended look.“Yes.Because I was using them to serve food at my booth.”
“I have some too,” Dave said, whipping a pair out of his shorts’ pocket.
See, these costumes were quality.
“Plus, they do come in handy,” I said as I shoved my fingers into them.“I mean, you never know.”
Oliver rolled his eyes slightly but said nothing as I approached my llama, who nibbled merrily on the fleece.I tried to tug the hat out of his mouth, but he clamped down.The pom-pom hooked neatly over the long, jutting teeth of his lower jaw, making it impossible to wiggle the hat free.
“Come on, Jack.”
I wanted to take a look at the hat, but I also didn’t want others to see him with it.We’d already had one incident where Jack was blamed for—well, I wouldn’t say murder—but for an accidental death.I didn’t want him to be the scapegoat—or the scapellama—this time too.
I tugged one more time, and reluctantly, he let the pom-pom pop out of his mouth, like a baby letting go of a pacifier.I inspected the worn fleece, which was covered in a decent amount of llama spit.Another reason it was good to have gloves.
Even without getting the hat too close to my face, I could smell the faint musky scent of body odor.The inner lining of the hat was ringed with a gray, greasy grunge.
“I think it’s pretty safe to say that’s Peanut,” Dave said, peering over my shoulder as I looked over the hat.He shuddered slightly.
I felt bad for Peanut.He was sort of a sad character—drunk, dirty, and just wanting to be Santa.Actually, now that I said that in my head, it really didn’t add up to anything good.
