Within the hour a pair of police officers, last names of Winegar and Lee, stood next to my tree, shining their lights down on Santa Bear’s violated form. It was like a toddler’s pretend crime scene. When I called the police, it had seemed like the right move, but now, as we gathered around the stuffed animal, I realized I’d made a mistake.

“You called because someone stole your teddy bear’s clothes?” Officer Winegar asked.

I cringed at hearing it said out loud. “Well, yeah.”

“You sure he had clothes? A lot of teddy bears tend to go au natural.”

Officer Lee interjected. “Except the fancy ones, which wear bow ties sometimes. My daughter has one like that. He has little tap dance shoes too.”

“No...no bow tie or shoes. He had a Christmas outfit. Vest and a hat. In fact, the hat was sewn on so whoever did this used scissors to cut it off. I found a pair on the floor next to him.”

Officer Winegar raised an eyebrow. “You have the scissors?”

“I put them back in the kitchen drawer.”

“Back? Oh, so they’re your scissors?” Officer Lee said.

“Yeah,” I answered too fast and too honest for my brain to register that it sounded sort of like I admitted to owning the murder weapon. “But I didn’t do it.” Which is exactly what a guy who attacked a stuffed animal would say.

Ignoring me, Officer Winegar panned the light across each window. “Any signs of forced entry?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. It was the best alternative to just strangling myself unconscious. “No.”

Officer Lee nodded along. “You leave anything open? A window? Or a door unlocked?”

“All locked up tight.”

Officer Winegar shone his flashlight at the fireplace mantle, spotlighting each of the little Christmas village buildings as if they may contain tiny burglars. “You own an elf-on-the-shelf, sir?”

“I’m sorry?” It was an easy question but so odd and unexpected that I flubbed it.

“An elf-on-the-shelf,” he replied sternly. “Very popular nowadays.”

“No.”

“Good. That rules that out. Those elves can be kind of rowdy at this time of the year. You can find all sorts of perverted pictures of their antics online. They can be a real pain since they’re so hard to find.”

Lee continued nodding. “Harder even to cuff ‘em. Such little wrists. And it’s just about impossible to fingerprint them.”

At this point, I sort of admired that they hadn’t just laughed directly into my face. The men had worn the same stoic expressions since they had walked in. At first, I took it for impartial professionalism, but I realized that this was how they dealt with the kooks. They were treating me the same way they would someone who called in to complain about Bigfoot—an even-steven demeanor so as to not rile up a lunatic.

“So, your official statement,” Lee said, “will be that you called to report that someone snuck into your house, took your scissors from the kitchen, assaulted and robbed your teddy bear, and then exited the premises, even though the house was securely locked. Also, you were in the residence the entire time.”

Maybe I was a lunatic. “I suppose...technically.”

Despite the adequate lighting in the room, Officer Winegar used his flashlight beam to illuminate the coffee table that was still littered with beer bottles. “Been drinking tonight sir?”

Every human being instinctively knows that when law enforcement asks you if you’ve been drinking you say no. Even though I knew it was a pointless strategy, the word managed to squeak out before I bit my lip. “No.”

“No?” he repeated as the light danced around the brown bottles.

“A few.” I silently cursed the heavy-duty livers of Paul and Eric.

“A few?” He silently counted them.

“A bit of a few.” No way could I have possibly felt more stupid. This was like getting caught cheating in school and the teacher intended to continuously interrogate me until I collapsed in a shameful heap.

He panned the light to my face, reducing my vision to dancing spots, then dropped it to my left hand so the beam glinted off my wedding ring. “You married?”

“Yeah.”

“Is your partner home?”

“No. My wife is traveling for work.”

“Ah, how long she been gone?”

“About a day.”

The officers nodded in sync as if that was an acceptable amount of time for a married man to go insane when left alone. They clicked off their flashlights and hung them on their belts, also in an almost rehearsed tandem.

“So, let me tell you what I’ve deduced from our in-depth investigation,” Winegar said and crossed his arms. “Your wife goes out of town. You immediately cut loose. You have a few friends over. Pizza. Spicy wings. A bit of a few too many beers. Things get out of control and your Christmas bear gets taken advantage of. It happens all the time. Married men forget how to be bachelors, especially during the silly season. She’ll be home soon, and this will all be forgotten.”

I had been wrong. My stupidity levels continued to spike, even as my masculinity bottomed out. If these two were trying to teach me a lesson, they were succeeding. Now I was just eager for this beratement to end. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

As I walked them to the door Officer Lee said, “We’ll do one walk around the property just out of due diligence, and if we find any really small thieves in teddy bear clothing, we’ll be sure to notify you. Anything else you want to add before we close the book on this one?”

The almonds popped into my head. That would be a solid piece of evidence, right? But I dismissed it immediately as I knew my credibility was nil at this point. I no longer cared about anything other than getting these condescending pricks out of my house. “Goodnight Officers.”

“Have a nice night, sir.” Officer Lee tipped his hat.

“Don’t call again, sir.” Officer Winegar didn’t tip his.

As a final dig, the duo sat in their patrol car in front of my house with their lights spinning for another ten minutes. I was sure I’d be questioned by every single neighbor over the coming weeks. At least the cops didn’t blare their siren.

I headed back to the living room to clean up. At this point, I was too tipsy, tired, and demoralized to be afraid and I set about the chores in a zombie-like daze. Once the beer bottles and dirty plates were cleared, I turned my attention to Santa Bear.

He remained sprawled at the scene of the crime, missing only a chalk outline around his furry form. I picked him up and dusted him off. A line of exposed stuffing on his head showed where his hat had been cut away. How was I going to explain this to Beth? Even though I couldn’t figure how Paul and Eric could have pulled this prank, maybe I’d just blame them anyway. I propped him back in his spot under the tree, accidentally knocking loose an ornament when I did.

Somehow it didn’t shatter when it hit the floor, but I was sure that this bit of fortune used up all of my good luck for the rest of the year. I picked it up and rolled it around my palm like a baseball as I went to rehang it.

Something in it rattled.

Dulled instinct told me what it was, but I checked anyway. By holding it up to the light I could vaguely see through the colored plastic.

An almond.

There was a damn almond inside it. This was just baffling as the hole for the cap and hook was smaller than the nut. It shouldn’t have fit. My hands trembled as I hung it back up and then preceded to shake more ornaments.

Twelve more of them rattled.

Unable to process any more I turned, went upstairs, and locked myself in the bedroom for the night.