Larry and Rick sat at lunch in a festive Mexican restaurant, with Christmas trees flashing in every open space. “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” played in the background.
Rick Recluse, the Great Detective, was staring at the trees and humming along to the ballad. Larry, his assistant, organized his notes.
“We need to call back Mrs. Baker and see if she’s received any more strange letters,” Larry said.
“Let’s move it to next year,” Rick said. Larry made a note in his planner for next year.
“We need to submit your topic for the private investigator convention in Vegas,” Larry said.
“Next year pile,” Rick said.
“Update the Mayor on the bird-nappings?”
“Next year.”
“Okay, everything’s sorted,” Larry said.
“Okay, so what do we still have to do?” Rick asked.
“We have dozens of things to do next year now and only one thing to do this year,” Larry said, closing his notebook.
“What do we have to do this year?” Rick asked.
“Buy Christmas presents.”
Rick contemplated this for a moment, then concluded. “We really can’t do that next year, can we?”
“It feels like it would make the next couple of weeks harder.”
Rick got up. All of the heads turned in the restaurant because Rick standing up usually meant the great detective had solved a case. Instead, Rick declared, “To the Mall! We can have a second lunch before we try to buy anything.”
Larry smiled, “With a second lunch, we now have two things left to do this year.”