Writing for Fun
December 2018
The Alibi - Jan Norman
It was Christmas Eve in York; bitterly cold and snowing. The patrol car received a call. Smash and grab at an off license in Northgate. Small time crime but the night so far had been surprisingly quiet considering the time of year so Bill slapped on the blue lights and raced towards the scene of the crime.
The off license was lit up like a Christmas tree. Not only had the owner left on all the shop lights but the road was well lit. In fact just outside the shop was a street lamp. Burglar alarm wailed. Walking through the broken window glass Bill met the owner who had just arrived.
‘Much taken?’ enquired Bill.
‘Nah mate, er officer. Just a few bottles of Jack Daniels whiskey. Who the hell would break in for just that?’
Bill kept his thoughts to himself. It was either kids, druggies or some poor old lag looking for a warm police cell over Christmas. He took a statement and left.
Back in his patrol car he radioed the station, gave particulars of the incident and, finding no other disturbance to attend, decided to cruise the area and keep his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.
Rounding the corner into New Street, a quiet residential area, there was no one to see but a weaving figure with a sack slung over his shoulder coming towards him. A rotund gentleman wearing a red, black belted jacket with white fur trimmed hood pulled up and red trousers tucked into shiny black boots. The man was white haired, sported a full beard and had a pair of gold rimmed spectacles balanced on a ruddy nose.
Bill pulled the panda over to the kerb and waited. As the elderly gentleman got nearer Bill could see he was holding a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand and clutching the strings of a nearly empty sack in the other and shouting ‘Ho, ho, ho, and a Merry Xmas to you all,’ to no one in particular.
Bill, eyeing the very merry Santa, could not help but smile. What a superb disguise to rob an off licence but why spoil it all by drinking some of the spoils so near the scene of the crime? This would be the easiest ‘cop’ of his career. He radioed the control room of his intentions then stepped out of the car and walked towards him.
Beaming from ear to ear Father Xmas slithered to a stop in the snow, hiccupped and, taking another swig from the bottle, said ‘Hello offisher,’ and then looked very guilty. Looking down at the bottle then looking Bill straight in the eye Santa challenged the policeman and asked him if he was going to arrest him for being drunk in charge of a sleigh and reindeer.
‘Hardly, sir as I can see no sleigh or reindeer and it is not a traffic violation as far as I know but I will ask you to show me what you have in your sack.
‘Shertainly offisher, help youself.’ So saying he slid the sack to the ground and pulled open the strings. Bill peered inside and sure enough there were three other bottles of Jack Daniels, three carrots and two bags of sparkly reindeer food.
‘Hmm, can you explain where you obtained all this whiskey?’
S’easy, Offish, Offish . . . Sir. I really am Santa Claus. Tonight I give presents to all the dear children in the world. Lots of kind parents leave food and drink for me and my reindeer. Some even leave me presents like this,’ and staggering forward he brandished the bottle under Bill’s nose.
‘Cold tonight, care for a swig?’
‘No thanks. If you are the real Father Xmas then I’m a tree fairy.’ muttered Bill.
‘Oh, are you really a fairy? What, part time? ‘cos I thought I knew all the world’s fairies. Shaking his head and stroking his beard Santa looked perturbed.
Bill stiffened. A joke was a joke but this had gone far enough. ‘An off licence, just around the corner from here, has been broken into and whiskey stolen. I think we need to continue this conversation down at the station. Come along, sir. And I’ll take that bottle and the sack holding the others if you please.’
‘But Offisher I have many more toys to deliver . . . when I remember where I left my sleigh.’
Back at the station, in the interview room, after drinking a cup of tea, Father Xmas did not look quite so cheerful but did look more sober. He kept glancing at the clock on the wall.
‘Look officer it was lovely chatting to you and thank you too young man for the cup of tea,’ he said, smiling at the young constable who had brought it in then stayed. ‘but I really must be on my way. I have many toys still to deliver tonight.’
Touching a small shiny badge on his jacket he beamed at both officers and stood up.
What happened next did not go down on the report sheet.
There was a low humming sound that grew and grew until they felt tremors rise through their bodies and into their minds. Time seemed suspended as did their powers of movement. The floor and windows resonated to the humming sound. Outside the window appeared a misty, shimmering sleigh piled high with presents, tiny elves holding the reigns of the eight reindeer dancing and pawing impatiently ten foot in the air.
Suddenly all noise stopped both policemen looked at each other in astonishment . . . then looked at Santa . . . but he was no longer there.
