'Twas the Chihuahua Before Christmas

‘
Twas the Chihuahua Before
Christmas

By Esri Allbritten

Copyright 2011 Esri Allbritten

First Smashwords Edition

~~~~~~

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Author’s Note

I wrote this story as a gift for Chihuahua
lovers and fans of my mysteries. It features characters that appear
in my full-length mystery,
Chihuahua of the Baskervilles,
published by St. Martin’s Press. If you read this story before that
book, it may influence your experience slightly. I did my best to
keep it from being too much of a spoiler. You might also be
interested to know that Manitou Springs, Colorado, is a real town,
and having Santa appear under the town clock on Christmas Eve is a
real event. Any differences in the way I’ve portrayed it are for
plot purposes.

‘
Twas the Chihuahua Before
Christmas

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Charlotte
Baskerville woke to enthusiastic doggy kisses on her right cheek.
Until recently, two soft little muzzles had licked her awake. She
quelled a sense of loss and opened her eyes. Lila, her long-haired
black Chihuahua, stared at her from inches away. Charlotte stroked
her sleek head. “You have to love me twice as much now that Chum is
gone, don’t you?”

Chum, another Chi, had died in his sleep
about a month ago, at the grand old age of 19. He hadn’t done much
in his last years except snooze and grace Charlotte with
gap-toothed smiles, but she still missed him.

Lila bounced around on the covers, long habit
causing her to avoid the place where Chum used to lie. She paused
and sniffed the spot, then looked up questioningly.

Charlotte’s eyes teared up, but she pushed
back the covers and made her voice cheerful. “Come on, let’s get
up. That Mrs. Claus costume won’t finish itself, and we still have
to decorate the tree.”

Lila ran down the carpeted stairs that led
from the high bed to the floor and stood expectantly, her silky
tail waving gently.

Charlotte followed more slowly. At seventy
years old, she ran an extremely successful dog-clothing business,
Petey’s Closet, and volunteered extensively, but that didn’t mean
she ran around like a teenager. Slow and steady got the job
done.

She went to the window to check the weather,
the floor chilly under her bare feet. The Victorians had built
elegant houses, but weren’t much for insulation.

Outside, four inches of fresh snow hid the
brown grass under a blanket of white – unblemished except for lines
of animal tracks that crossed and recrossed the yard. Charlotte
squinted. Those didn’t look like squirrel or rabbit tracks, and
they were spaced too close together for fox. They looked a lot like
Chihuahua tracks, but Lila used a potty pad and hadn’t been outside
since before the snow.

“Must be a cat,” she muttered to herself.
Most people knew better than to have outdoor cats in Manitou
Springs, Colorado. Coyotes, mountain lions and hawks made meals of
unattended pets in the foothills of the Rockies. “Maybe someone new
moved in and they don’t know any better. I’ll ask around.” She
pulled a quilted robe over her flannel nightgown and stuck her feet
in slippers.

Lila frisked around, nipping at the toes of
Charlotte’s slippers and making her laugh. She led the way to the
bottom drawer of the dresser and pawed at it impatiently.

“Who wants to look pretty?” Charlotte
asked.

Lila stood on her hind legs and pawed the air
impatiently, then stuck her nose in the opening of the drawer as
Charlotte pulled it open.

Tiny, colorful outfits filled the drawer.
Most of them were from Petey’s Closet and had been available to the
public at some point, but a few were one-offs or gifts from
friends. Charlotte chose one of these – a hand-knitted pink sweater
with a Christmas tree of silver yarn on the back. Fluffy turquoise
balls decorated the tree, and a bow sat at the top, right at the
neckline. She dressed Lila in it, praising her squinty little face
as it emerged from the neck hole. “What a beautiful girl you
are!”

Lila sat as soon as she was dressed, and
Charlotte rewarded her with a treat from a jar on the dresser.
“Come on, Lila-loo.”

They went into the hall and downstairs, to
the main floor of the house. A pre-lit artificial Christmas tree
stood in the parlor next to the entryway, surrounded by boxes of
ornaments.

In the large kitchen, Ivan Blotski sat at the
table, staring at a mug between his hands. Ivan was Russian. His
first career was as a wolf trainer with a traveling Siberian
circus, until an affair with the circus owner’s wife resulted in a
move to the United States. Then he worked at a wolf sanctuary until
someone poisoned the wolves, leaving him jobless. At that point,
Charlotte hired him to work with her dogs, and gave him a room in
her large house.

Having a live-in dog trainer might be a
little unusual, but Charlotte found his exoticism entertaining, and
his training made her dogs fantastic models.
Dog
, she
corrected herself. She should really get another, but didn’t feel
ready.

“Morning, Ivan.” She opened a cupboard and
got out a coffee mug printed with a picture of Lila in a fairy
costume.

As usual, Ivan had pulled his glossy black
hair into a ponytail. His clothes – charcoal-colored slacks and a
silky shirt in dark purple – were a little slick for Colorado,
though they made him popular in the nearby casinos of Cripple
Creek.

Ivan reached down and fondled Lila’s head as
she put her front legs on the rungs of his chair. “It is getting
colder. It’s a good thing Lila’s elf costume has long sleeves, but
she should still not be outside for too long.”

Charlotte nodded absently as she picked up
the coffee pot. “They have those outdoor heaters. Did you see the
tracks in the back yard this morning? They don’t look like the
regular wildlife.”

Ivan got up and went to the large windows
that looked out on the back yard. He grunted. “Stray cat, maybe. It
won’t last long.”

“Poor thing,” Charlotte murmured. The phone
rang, and she put down her coffee to answer it. “This is
Charlotte.”

“We have a problem.” It was Shermont Lester,
one of Manitou Springs’ civic pillars. “Phil broke his leg skiing
moguls.”

“That’s not good,” Charlotte said. Every
Christmas Eve, the Manitou Springs Volunteer Fire Department
delivered Santa Claus to the town clock in an antique fire truck.
Phil Grant, a genial man in his sixties, usually played Santa.
Charlotte was going to be Mrs. Claus this year, and weather
permitting, Lila would be dressed as one of Santa’s elves. “Those
baggy red pants will hide a cast, won’t they?” Charlotte asked.
“It’s not like Phil has to walk for the role.”

“And what about kids bouncing up and down on
his lap?” Shermont asked. “It’s not very festive if Santa screams
and passes out.”

Charlotte sighed. “You’re right. I wasn’t
thinking.”

“I’d fill in, but I’m getting on a plane in
four hours,” Shermont said.

“What about Alex?” Charlotte asked.

“Already left to see family in Phoenix.”

“Paul?”

“In-laws are visiting, and he’s the only one
who can deep fry the turkey.”

Charlotte closed her eyes and rubbed one
temple with her free hand. “Did you call just to share the bad
news?”

“Actually,” Shermont said, “we were wondering
if Ivan would do it.”

Charlotte choked out a laugh. “You want Ivan
to play Santa?” She heard a chair push back and turned.

Ivan stood as tall as his five feet six
inches allowed. “I will do it.”

She looked at his straight black brows, high
cheekbones and olive complexion. “Um.”

Shermont spoke in her ear. “Did I just hear
him say he’d do it?”

“Hold on.” Charlotte covered the phone’s
mouthpiece with her hand. “Does Russia have Santa Claus? I mean,
are you familiar with the legend?”

Ivan waved a dismissive hand. “We have
someone very close. He and his granddaughter, the Snow Maiden,
carry presents and an evergreen tree in a sleigh pulled by three
horses. They bring gifts to the children in person. There is none
of this chimney business.”

Charlotte started to uncover the phone. “Do
you call him Santa Claus?”

“We call him
Ded Moroz
.”

Charlotte stared at him. “
Ded Moroz?
That doesn’t sound very jolly.”

Ivan stared back. “No one in Russia is
jolly.”

Charlotte studied Ivan, trying to see him as
children might. Although only in his mid-thirties, his face was
weathered from time with the circus. In addition to his habitual
serious expression, he had a scarred patch under one ear from where
a wolf had challenged him for dominance – and lost. “Does
Ded
Moroz
have a beard?” she asked.

“A long white one.”

She lifted the phone to her mouth. “Shermont?
I guess you have a Santa.”

After breakfast and a shower, Charlotte
dressed, then put on her coat and Lila’s. She also pulled rubber
booties on Lila’s feet, to keep the fur from icing up between her
toes. “Come on, Lila,” she said, opening the door that led from the
kitchen to the backyard.

As she walked across the snow to the stone
outbuilding that served as the workshop for Petey’s Closet,
Charlotte studied the animal tracks she had noticed earlier. Lila
bounded by, leaving almost identical marks in the snow. “Weird,”
Charlotte muttered.

She unlocked the door to the workshop and
flipped on the lights, then turned on the space heaters that made
the place comfortable during the winter. It seemed extra cold, and
Charlotte reflected that a stone building was a primitive dwelling,
even when you put up drywall and track lighting.

She looked around the well-lit space. “Ellen
said she finished your silver parka,” she told Lila. Ellen was the
main designer for Petey’s Closet. She had left to visit family the
day before. “Your elf costume should be here, too.”

She looked on the floor-to-ceiling shelves,
where Ellen usually put completed projects. The pointy elf hat sat
on the bottom shelf, but the rest of the costume and the parka
weren’t there, so she poked through half-finished designs and
scraps of fabric on the two work tables. The parka and costume were
nowhere to be seen.

“Where on earth could they be?” Charlotte
asked, looking around. She turned at the sound of Lila’s
barking.

Lila faced a corner of the room, barking
ferociously at a stack of boxes that held catalogs. Charlotte went
over. The boxes were only a few inches away from the wall. She
started to reach behind them, to check for the missing clothes, but
thought better of it as Lila barked harder. There might be a mouse
back there. She got a yardstick and ran it behind the boxes, but
felt nothing.

Lila continued to bark, pawing at the
boxes.

Charlotte scooped her up. “Oh, hush. Ellen
must have put your clothes in the house somewhere. I’ll call
her.”

Back in the kitchen, she took Lila’s coat off
before calling Ellen on her cell phone.

“Merry almost Christmas!” Ellen answered.

“To you, too!” Charlotte said. “Hey, I can’t
find Lila’s elf costume, and I also want to show off that silver
parka you made, to see how people respond. Where did you put
them?”

“They’re on the bottom shelf, to the right of
the table.”

Charlotte frowned. “That’s where I looked,
but they’re not there. Where else could they be?”

“Nowhere,” Ellen said. “That’s where I always
put finished stuff. Also, I distinctly remember that I had to move
some Halloween things to make room for the parka. So they’re
definitely there. You must not have looked hard enough.”

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “How hard is it to
look on a shelf? Could you have packed them in your suitcase
accidentally?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Like I said, by accident.”

Ellen blew out a breath. “I didn’t take my
suitcase in the workshop, but hold on.”

Charlotte cleared dishes off the table as she
waited for Ellen to come back. As usual, Ivan had left the crusts
from his toast on his plate, and as usual, she threw them out the
back door for the birds.

“Charlotte?” Ellen said. “I checked, and
there is no elf costume or silver parka anywhere in my
luggage.”

“Well, where are they?” Charlotte
demanded.

“I have no idea. I’m sure I put them on the
shelf, but even if I dreamed that, they have to be somewhere in the
workshop.”