CHAPTER ONE

“Die Infidel Scum! And Happy Holidays!” I laughed out loud as I read.

Rex’s eyebrows went up. “A friend of yours?”

I turned the Christmas Card in my hands. A pair of blood-soaked swords graced the cover. “It’s from The Hyena of Death. Kind of sweet. This year she added the Happy Holidays.”

“Sweet?” He rescued a glass ornament that Philby the cat was about to knock to the floor. “She wants you dead and is the Hyena of Death?”

I rolled my eyes. “You have to capitalize THE. She gets mad if you don’t. And she’s not that bad. Well, as long as she stays in Turkmenistan, that is. If she ever comes to the US, I’m probably screwed. Still…it’s nice to be remembered this time of the year.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone came here to kill you,” my husband winked.

He wasn’t wrong. These things can happen when you used to work for the CIA. My name is Merry Wrath Ferguson, and for seven years, I was a CIA field operative. I was embedded with a drug lord in Colombia, a Yakuza boss in Okinawa, a Chechen strongman, chased Russian spies through Moldova and got chased by Russian spies through a Bangkok alley...or two.

And I loved my job. Unfortunately it all came crashing down when the former Vice President ‘accidentally’ outted me to get back at my Senator dad. Also unfortunately, I was in a dive bar in Chechnya when the news broke on CNN (Chechens are kind of obsessed with Wolf Blitzer – I think it’s the beard) and barely escaped with my life.

Retired early with a healthy settlement, I did what every spy does, moved back to my hometown in Iowa and became a Girl Scout leader. Well, not every spy. Some lose their minds and end up running a flea circus in Alaska, set up an Elvis-themed wedding chapel for yaks in Afghanistan or marry a hamster named Joyce and teach breakdancing to octogenarians in Sweden. I never hear from most of them but Joyce always sends a holiday newsletter.

“And these ornaments?” Rex held up a piece of piano wire with a pom pom rendition of  Philby, who bore an unfortunate resemblance to Hitler.

The fat feline further perked up and dove for the ornament, and after three tries to get off the floor, succeeded in snatching it before racing off down the hall.

“That’s a garrote. The girls found a bunch of my old CIA toys and made them into ornaments for me as a gift.” I held up an Altoids tin the girls had turned into a nativity. “Cute, right?” I frowned. “I wonder what they did with the c4 I kept in here?”

The doorbell rang before I had to explain to Rex that the tiny spy camera ornament was really a chlorophyll deployer. Hopefully he wouldn’t hit the red button.

I answered the door to find Betty and Ava, two of my sixth grade scouts, standing on my doorstep with a couple of boxes. The girls pushed past me and I caught up with them in the living room. Rex opened one of the boxes and pulled out a string of Christmas lights.

“What’s this? We have lights.” I pointed to the skull bubble lights I’d found on etsy.

“For you to put up on your house,” Betty explained.

I shook my head. “We don’t do outdoor lights. Ever.” It wasn’t anything against celebrating the holidays. I was just too lazy.

“You do now.” The girl gave me a proclamation that was printed on the mayor’s personal stationary.

Ava was the youngest mayor in Who’s There, Iowa history and dreamed of becoming the CEO of a major insurance company. “The city has ruled that Who’s There will have a Festival of Lights during the month of December every year. Each house has to have lights on it. Neither of your houses do and they’re the only ones in town.”

Betty went over to open the curtains to show us that they were right. Every house in the neighborhood was ablaze but ours and mine across the street.

“You’re an embarrassment,” Ava continued.

“You made a law saying everyone in town has to have lights on their house?” I turned to Rex who just shrugged. As the town’s detective, I felt he should’ve warned me about this.

“The troop will decorate your old house.” Betty was referring to the small ranch across the street, which was the first house I’d bought when I moved back home. When I married Rex, I moved across the street to his house, but for sentimental reasons, I’d kept my old house and used it for scout meetings.

“You have two days to put up lights on this house, or else you face jail time,” Ava said.

I burst out laughing. “This is extortion!”

Betty nodded. “It’s what Huey Long would do.”

And with a final, tandem nod, the girls left.

“They’re pretty good, aren’t they?” I marveled with a bit of pride that I might’ve taught them that.

Rex started going through the box. “You have no idea. The City Council is terrified of those two. Ava made the other councilmen cry because she said if they didn’t pass an ordinance to protect unicorns, she’d tell their kids at school that they voted to euthanize puppies.” He held up his hand. “And before you ask, no, there’s never been a vote to do that.”

“Unicorns?” I guess that made sense. The girls loved the mythical beasts. “I guess they deserve protection too.”

Rex chuckled as he hung an ornament that used to be a lipstick with a flamethrower that I was pretty sure I hadn’t deactivated yet.

I decided not to tell him that.