On the first day of Christmas, Alex's torment proved to be...
Two pairs of legs protruded from the lush green branches of the Christmas tree.
The woman's legs dangled free, the improbably high- heeled shoes held on by their diamante- trimmed straps. The other pair belonged to Bobby. Alex could tell by the familiar black loafers firmly planted on the rungs of the step ladder. Bobby's face emerged through the thick foliage, eyes shining with excitement, broad grin on his face.
"Just as I thought! Local's had it pegged as a tragic accident or suicide even but-"
"Who would hang the lights on their tree dressed like that?"
Alex cast a glance at the limo driver who had found the body. She carried on.
"And who kills themselves moments before leaving for the glitziest social event of the season?"
Bobby had now extricated himself from the tree, his long legs making short work of the steps, and was staring up at the corpse, apparently not listening to Alex. His latex – covered fingers stroked the shapely nylon- clad calf as he mused.
"Kept herself in good shape..."
"It's going to be all over the news. Socialite Penelope Partridge killed by Christmas lights."
Alex' tone was a little sharp as she watched Bobby. 'If only he would look at me with that much interest. If only he would touch me so tenderly,' she thought as she trudged up the path to start searching the house.
... Ms. Partridge in a fir tree.