The Fakes

The witch had apparently struck the tree at great speed. Although she was small, she had been flying dangerously low in this leafy residential neighborhood, and had face-planted into the oak. Her petite broomstick bent and stuck out from where it had hit at a crooked angle. Adam coughed politely- can we hurry this up, please? I stood up, brushing the autumn leaves from my blue uniform, handcuffs mutedly jangling from the case on my belt.

The front lawn of the house had been transformed into a graveyard. Stryrofoam memorials commemorated the passage of Ima Guhl, Dr. Livingbones, and the late Mr. Late- better Late than Never. Cotton cobwebs hung from the trees, and an entire pumpkin patch grinned and gaped at us from the porch. However, what grabbed the most attention were the three glistening skeletons staked out in front of the tombstones. They were life size, eerily realistic from the street, and the patches of gleaming and crusting red suggested a disturbing provenance. Adam and I exchanged a look and walked up the front path.

A werewolf glared at us from the bench when I rang the bell, and a sign in the window asked “Boo’s there!?” There was a dark and hesitant movement behind the glass, but finally the door cautiously opened and a woman looked out at us. “Can I help you, officers?”

She was in her late forties to early fifties, dressed for lounging- sweat pants and an oversized sweater. Tall, nervous. Her eyes moved back and forth between Adam and I with a mixture of fear, confusion, and some contempt. Some people just don’t like cops. I sighed inwardly.

“Ma’am,” I began, “this is this your house?”
“Yes...” she replied, coldly..
“Ma’am, we’ve received a few calls about the skeletons in your yard. You have some neighbors who are concerned about the ...realistic nature of the skeletons, and we were compelled to come and investigate.”

Adam broke his silence. “Lady, we can’t tell you you can’t have skeleton decorations in your yard,” holding up a hand to stop protests that don’t come, “...so we just need to verify that they are decorative.”

They lady in the doorway started to speak quickly, in halting sentences. “Well of course they’re decorative...totally ridiculous that I’d have.... three... bodies rotting! in my front yard... some people!” A slight sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead.

I nodded and look towards the yard, “Then you won’t mind us taking a closer look, then.”
“Be my guest! One moment I’ll come out with you.”
She opened the door fully and came out, closing it firmly behind her. She squeezed by us, scrupulously avoiding contact, and marched into the front yard in a pair of strangely white slippers. I caught a whiff of her scent...odd. Adam was already following her.

“They’re some kind of special resin... really expensive...got em online from a Hollywood prop store. All handpainted.” The woman babbled on nervously. Adam knelt and picked up a femur. He grunted.

“You know, this doesn’t feel like resin to me.” He said simply, turning the bone over. “No manufacturer's marks, no pour joints, no ‘made in China.’” He lifted the bone to his face, sniffed it. Adam turned to her, bone in hand, with a very serious look on his face.

“Ma’am, I’ve seen some real bones in my time on the force, and I think you really need to tell us where you got these skeletons.”

The woman had been shifting her weight back and forth, but she stood stock still at what Adam was telling her. Beads of sweat visibly formed on her face and I could see her jugular vein jumping erratically. “That’s... totally impossible!” she gasped. “They can’t be real! They’re definitely not real bones! I swear to you I got them online.”

I cut in. “Ma’am, can we look around inside your house?” She jumped.
“No! this is... absurd! Those are not real skeletons and I don’t think you need to needlessly invade my privacy. You’re not coming in!” She was breathing heavily.

Adam set the bone down at his feet. “Lady,” he said slowly. “You said you ordered them online. Did they come in a box or a package you can show us? You can either show us what you have now, or,” looking in my direction, “we can go get a warrant. You can’t just show us a box in that case. We’re required to do a thorough home search from top to bottom.”

“Fine, you want to see the box, I’ll show you the box.” She walked quickly back to the house and Adam and I followed her closely.

We entered a dark foyer and the woman closed and locked the door behind us. We followed the woman to the kitchen where she began to dig through a closet, muttering and talking in an oddly high pitched voice. “...bought it online, seemed totally legitimate company... found them through Amazon.com... no way...” I leaned against the bar while Adam stood impassively and waited, hands on his belt.

“Here! here it is!” she cried out with relief. She turned and hauled out a large, bright yellow box. I read aloud: Hyper-realistic skeletons for stage, live action, cinematographic uses. Hand-stained, authentic smell. Used by the leading studios! Lifelike Industries, Pasadena, CA.

I looked up from the box, and passed it to Adam. “That’s pretty incredible, Ma’am. You sure had us fooled.” The woman looked like she was calming down. Her eyes still darted between us. Her hair was sticking from the sweat.
“Well, that’s that.” She said, indignantly. “Good day, officers. If you don’t mind, I’d like to recover from this heart attack in the peace of my own home.”

Adam put down the box and laughed quietly. “It’s amazing what replicas you can find online these days”, he said. “Watches, bags, bones, hats, badges.”
The woman’s eyes automatically traveled down the cheap fabric of our uniforms, and fixed upon the quiet stamp on the vinyl leather of our holsters: made in China. She took a step back.
“Yes, ma’am, you sure had us fooled with those bones,” Adam said, still smiling as he slowly moved towards her, “so incredibly... realistic.” Knife in my hand, I shook with silent laughter.

If they neighbors ever called about the four lifelike skeletons staked out in the yard, I wouldn’t know.