When Elves Attack by Tim Dorsey Read Free Book Online Page A

regardless of your investigation.”
    She hung up and set the phone down. “Jim, you look like you’re having a stroke. What’s going on?”
    Jim let go of the wall. “Just some saliva went down my windpipe.”
    Martha headed back to the kitchen, eyeing Jim as she went. “You’ve been acting awfully strange lately.”
    Jim craned his neck and watched until she’d disappeared around the corner. Then he ran both hands through his hair. “Whew. That was close.” He picked up his tools to screw in the anchor bolt for the painting.
    The doorbell rang.
    â€œI got it.” He set down a screwdriver and answered the door.
    â€œJim!”
    â€œAhhhh!”
    Jim jumped out onto the porch and slammed the door behind him. Frantic whispering: “Serge, what are you doing here? You can’t let Martha see you!”
    â€œI brought a welcome basket!” Serge raised it by the wicker handle. “It’s got cellophane and fake grass and everything. There’s the cheese wheel—”
    â€œSerge! I’ve got to get you off the porch before Martha comes out here!”
    â€œWhy?” asked Serge. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
    The door opened. “Jim, who rang the—”
    Serge smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Surprise! And, Martha, may I say you’re radiant? . . . You remember Coleman . . .”
    A slight wave from Serge’s pal. Burp .
    â€œJim!” snapped Martha. “What are they doing here?”
    Serge smiled and held up the basket again. “Cellophane and fake grass . . .”
    â€œJim! Get them the hell off our property this minute!”
    â€œLook,” said Serge. “If Jim did something to get in the shithouse with you, I’m sure there’s a perfect explanation.”
    â€œJim!”
    A deep, pounding sound came up the street. The bass line from “Bad Romance.”
    A low-riding GTX with gold rims pulled up to the curb. Nicole necked briefly with the driver, then got out. The sports car screeched away.
    Martha marched halfway down the porch steps. “Nicole! Is that the same boy I told you—”
    The teen brushed past her. “I’m getting a tattoo.”
    Martha’s eyes darted between Serge and her daughter disappearing into the house. Twin crises. She made the call and ran inside “Nicole! Come back here! . . .”
    â€œWhoa!” said Coleman.
    â€œHoly fuck,” Serge told Jim. “I didn’t know what you were up against. Each month when their periods get in sync, you must be juggling chain saws.”
    â€œYou talking about my wife and daughter . . . ?”
    â€œJust sayin’.”
    â€œPlease don’t.”
    Serge bowed his head once in respect. “Fair enough. I haven’t been there myself, so the period thing could be touchy—”
    â€œSerge!” Jim stepped close and whispered: “What on earth did you do to that mall cop?”
    Serge took a step back, mouth agape, and placed a hand over his heart. “Jim, I’m shocked. I show up with a welcome basket, and we’re chatting all friendly about periods and shit, and then suddenly accusations.”
    Jim idly rubbed his left shoe on the welcome mat. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œDon’t be.” Serge threw an arm around Jim’s shoulders. “Meanwhile, it looks like Martha’s having some trouble with your daughter. Let’s see if I can help. I’m great with kids.”
    â€œI think it’s a bad idea.”
    â€œDon’t be silly.” He led Jim inside and called down the hall. “Martha! Nicole! It’s Serge to the rescue . . .”
    TWO MINUTES LATER
    Serge and Coleman dashed down the porch steps at 888 Triggerfish Lane. A frying pan flew after them and took a divot out of the lawn. “Don’t ever come back!”
    They jumped into the Chevelle. “Hurry up and