The silence and wonderment that the first snow creates made the early morning crime all the more unsettling. Sticking out from behind the dumpster like a holiday version of the Wicked Witch of the West, were two boot clad feet, followed by the tell tale fake fur and red velvet of a Santa.
The flakes of snow danced across the dirty face of the deceased. Fake beard askew against his chin, his cloudy eyes stared over my shoulder into the eyes of a now missing assailant.
The deep morning snow erasing any memory from the landscape that anyone but our corpse had ever been here. His right hand permanently clenched in a fist, I smiled thinking that at least this one had gotten in a good punch or two.
“Check the fist for blood evidence, ” I muttered to the crime scene investigator, already hunched over the body.
“On it – – Cause of death was blunt force object to the face, from the looks of it, I’d say a New American Edition. Leather exterior. Looks like they really took the word of God to his face!”, he replied grimly.