by Bill Crider
"I don't like to read," Napier said. "Not out loud, anyway."
"It's easy," Burns said. "Miss Tanner will be reading, too."
Well, that was different. Elaine Tanner was the librarian at the college, and Napier liked her a lot. Her blonde hair, her green eyes, . . .
"So how about it?" Burns said.
"OK, I'll do it. What part do I get?"
"Well, we might all be reading more than one, but you'll have at least one major role."
"OK. What major role?"
"It'll be a good one. Don't worry."
"Yeah, I'm sure. But you better tell me what it is."
Burns smiled. "Tiny Tim," he said.
~ * ~
Napier had not killed Burns on the spot, though he'd thought about it. No jury in the world would have convicted him. After all, he was the Chief, and he could tell everyone that Burns had been killed while attempting to escape. It might have worked, as long as no one pointed out that Burns hadn't been a prisoner and therefore had no reason to attempt escape.
Anyway, much to Napier's surprise things had worked out all right. Tiny Tim really was a good part, and Napier had a reading voice that carried well, even if it was a little deep and resonant for a kid like Tiny Tim. Napier refused to do the part in falsetto, though Burns had asked him to give it a try.
The best part about the whole thing was that Elaine Tanner was impressed by Napier's abilities, a fact that irritated Burns no end.
"You really are good at this, R. M.," she said after the first rehearsal. She was standing close to him, with her hand resting lightly on his arm. "Are you sure you've never been on the stage before?"
Napier had to admit that he hadn't. His only stage experience had been in the first grade, when he'd portrayed a woodpecker in some stupid play about where birds go in the winter. He'd had to stand on a chair behind a fake cedar tree.
"He's a natural," Burns said, walking over to join them. "I think he practices by intimidating criminals."
"Well, he's really very good," Elaine said. "No matter how he got that way."
Napier smiled at her, and he smiled even more when he saw how much Elaine's comment rankled Burns. The two men had been dating the librarian since the beginning of the school year in September, but neither one of them had gained an advantage to this point. Napier thought maybe he was gaining now.
So Napier really didn't mind leaving his office at the city jail for the rehearsal to be held in the college auditorium. He'd be seeing Elaine again, and he'd get yet another chance to provoke Burns. He didn't want to provoke him too much, though. He had something he wanted Burns to do for him, something that had to do with the reasons Napier didn't enjoy Christmas.
The norther struck just as Napier left the jail. It kicked up white dust in the parking lot and blew grit in Napier's mouth and eyes. Although it was not quite four o'clock in the afternoon, it was nearly as dark as night. The wind was whipping along at around thirty-five miles an hour, straight from the North Pole, and Napier was sure that the temperature dropped fifteen degrees between the time he left the jail and the time he reached his car. He pulled his leather coat tighter around a waist that seemed a little thicker than he remembered it and thought about surfers flashing across the tops of the blue waves in the opening scenes of Five-O. He wondered if they needed any more cops in Honolulu.
~ * ~
"God bless us, every one," Napier said.
Don Elliott, the director, applauded. "Very well done. Very well done, indeed. I especially liked the way you read the part of Scrooge this time, Mayor Riley. Just the right amount of menace." Elliott was short, hardly more than five feet, but his voice was even more impressive than Napier's. It could be heard all over the auditorium.
Mayor Riley smirked at Elliott's compliment. Riley was a lawyer, and he fancied that he knew a thing or two about menace.
"Professor Burns, you need to do a bit more cringing as Crotchet, at least at first. You can't let the audience off the hook too easily," Elliott said.
This time it was Napier who smirked, but not for long. He didn't want to alienate Burns just now. After Elliott was through with his comments, Napier walked over to where Burns was talking to Elaine Tanner. Napier thought again how much he liked the way Elaine's glasses magnified her green eyes.
"Sorry," Burns said when Napier reached them. "No time to talk this evening. Elaine and I are going out for a bite to eat."
"Why don't you come with us, R. M.?" Elaine said. "Unless you have some important police business to attend to?"
Napier smiled, not so much at the invitation as at a noise he was sure must be Burns' teeth grinding.
"Thanks," he said. "I need to talk to Burns, anyhow. This'll give me a chance."
"Talk to me?" Burns said. "What about?"
"I'll tell you while we eat," Napier said. "Why don't we go to the Taco Bell?"
There weren't many good restaurants in Pecan City, but Burns plainly had somewhere a little fancier in mind. He started to say something, but Napier beat him to it. "My treat."
"Well," Burns said, "since you put it that way, how can I refuse?"
"You can't. Why don't I take Elaine with me? She can ride in the squad car."
"Oh, can I?" Elaine's eyes sparkled. She loved police talk, and she loved to ride in official vehicles.
"Sure," Napier said. "Meet you there, Burns?"
"Fine," Burns said, his teeth grinding as he watched them walk away.
~ * ~
The wind lashed the green plastic wreaths attached to the utility poles and tore at the red, green, and white Christmas lights strung in the trees. It shook Carl Burns' old green Plymouth as Burns drove toward the Taco Bell. Burns looked out at the decorations and tried to relax his jaws, though what he saw didn't help much.
Lawns and rooftops were covered with the usual floodlit Santas and reindeer, shepherds, Wise Men, and babes in mangers. The wind had bowled over some of the figures, and they lay face down on stiff brown grass. On one lawn there was a parade of the characters from the Peanuts comic strip, except for Snoopy. Where the dancing beagle should have been there was a black and white sign that said
SNOOPY STOLEN FROM THIS SPOT 12/24/89.
And where was the Pecan City Police Force when that crime was being committed? Burns wondered. Probably scarfing fajitas at the Taco Bell.
When Burns pulled into the parking lot, the squad car was already there. Elaine and Napier were inside, sitting at a table, and Elaine was laughing at something that Napier had said. Burns punished his dental work some more. Who would ever have guessed that Boss Napier could be so smooth?
Napier got up when Burns entered, asked what he was having, and ordered for everyone. The food was ready quickly, and while they ate Napier entertained by telling them why he liked Hawaii Five-O and why he hated Christmas.
"As a matter of fact," he said to Burns, "that's what I wanted to talk to you about?"
"You want me to make a list for you?" Burns said. He was fond of making lists, and he had one of his own about the Christmas season.
"Nope," Napier said. "I've got a job for you."
"A job?" Burns said. "I've already got a job."
"Sure you do, but not during Christmas. You teachers relax and get this long holiday while the rest of us have to work. So I know you're free. And besides, the way you get paid, you probably need the money."
Burns' first impulse was to tell Napier that Hartley Gorman College paid a very satisfactory wage, but he restrained himself. He didn't want to lie. Besides, he was curious.
"What's the job?" he said.
"I want you to go undercover," Napier said.
"Oh, Carl," Elaine said. "A police job!"
Napier suddenly had the sinking feeling that he'd made a big mistake, but he went on. "That's right. A police job. We're shorthanded, and I think you can handle this."
"I don't know," Burns said, keeping his eyes on Elaine.
"Of course you can," she said. "You've been a big
help to R. M. in the past."
"True," Burns said. "I do seem to have a flair for investigative work."
"I wouldn't call it a flair," Napier said.
"He's done very well," Elaine said. She was sitting on Napier's side of the table, but she looked as if she might move over to join Burns at any minute.
"Tell me about the job," Burns said.
"Investigative work may not be the right phrase either," Napier said.
"Just tell me," Burns said.
"Well, you know how I said I'd be Tiny Tim for you?"
"Of course."
"This is sort of the same thing."
Burns looked skeptical. "You want me to be in a play?"
Napier grinned at him. "You might say that. I want you to play Santa Claus."
~ * ~
The beard itched, the red suit was hot, and the boots were too big. The red fur-trimmed cap kept slipping down over his forehead. The stomach padding made him feel like a whale in a red coat, and the wire-rimmed glasses made everything look blurry.
Carl Burns felt like a complete fool.
He was sitting in the big black chair in the middle of Cameron's Department Store. In front of him, the line of little kiddies was forming. In moments, they would be taking their turns sitting in his lap as they confided to him their secret Christmas wishes.
If he'd had any sense at all, he would have choked Boss Napier with a taco shell, but Elaine had been there and she had looked awed at the idea of Burns actually taking part in a police case, so what could he do? He'd agreed, of course.
The problem was a common one. Cameron's was experiencing high losses to shoplifters, higher than usual even for the season, and the management was at a loss. Their own trained plainclothes shoppers had been unable to detect what was going on. A few minor offenders had been nabbed, but not enough to stem the flow of merchandise that was leaving the store.
Burns' first thought was that the store owner should invest in a security system like the ones in the big cities, where an alarm went off if you tried to smuggle something past the sensors.
"They're not making enough money to do that," Napier said, which Burns knew was probably true. The store was old and old-fashioned, and most of the locals preferred to shop in Dallas or Ft. Worth or at Wal-Mart that had recently been built on the edge of town. Once the store had been the pride of the city, but now it was probably losing money eleven months of the year, and for most of the twelfth. It was only around Christmas that Cameron's had crowds inside, and even then the crowds were not as large as they had been only a few years before.
Burns got a short course in shoplifting from a bored young woman who'd seen it all: the false-bottomed-package gambit, the "I-was-wearing-that-watch-when-I-came-in-here" gambit, the one-garment-over-the-limit-in-the-changing-room gambit, the oversized-handbag gambit, the shove-it-in-the-pants-and/or-coat gambit, and several more.
Then the owner himself, Jay Cameron, briefed Burns in the Santa routine. "My father used to play Santa himself, every year," Cameron said. "He seemed to enjoy it." He shook his head. "Not me, thank you."
He was dressed in an expensive suit that Burns suspected was not bought off his own racks, highly polished leather shoes, a blindingly white shirt, and an earth-tone tie that had probably cost about what Burns made in a week. Maybe the store was doing better than Napier thought.
"You've got to know the names of all the reindeer," Cameron said. "And don't forget Rudolph."
"I won't," Burns said. It wasn't Rudolph that worried him. It was the other six. Or was it seven? Eight?
"You can make up elf names," Cameron said. "But I don't think anybody'll ask."
Burns said that he was relieved to know it.
"Lots of kids are scared of Santa," Cameron said. "If they start screaming, just let 'em scream. Calming them's not your job. That's for the parents."
Burns didn't like hearing that. He hadn't thought about screaming.
"The suit's waterproof," Cameron said. "So that's one less worry."
"Waterproof?"
"Yeah. In case some kid gets excited and wets his pants."
Great, Burns thought.
"And don't forget to be jolly," Cameron said, dismissing him.
Burns was thinking about being jolly while kids wet their pants and screamed at the same time when the first one climbed in his lap and started explaining why he had to have a complete set of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles action figures. He didn't even ask about the reindeer.
By the time the third kid had finished, Burns had more or less relaxed. By the time the fifth had demanded a home computer--"IBM compatible, with a VGA monitor"--Burns was beginning to watch the goings on around the store, paying special attention to the jewelry counter, but not neglecting the electronics section. He was positioned so that he had a good view of both, those being the areas from which a great deal of merchandise seemed to be vanishing.
Over the course of the next few hours, Burns didn't notice a thing out of the ordinary. He assured any number of bright-eyed boys and girls that they would be receiving all the outrageously priced gifts they asked for, explained at least seven times how he was able to cover the whole world in a single night ("Those reindeer are really fast. Trust me."), and explained to one very upset little girl that the Grinch was purely a literary conceit, whereas Santa was perfectly real, as the evidence of her own eyes should convince her. He wasn't quite sure she got the idea of the conceit, but he thought she got the point. At least she seemed happier when she got down, but that may have been because he had promised her three Madame Alexander dolls under her tree.
During that time, Burns had seen Jay Cameron visit the jewelry department three times, his eagle eyes seeming to X-ray every handbag and purse. The owner also toured Electronics and stared down several grungy teenagers who looked as if their only purpose in life was to steal personal CD players for their girlfriends. But as far as Burns could tell, none of them took a thing.
The best part of the day for Burns was when Elaine Tanner came in and asked if she could sit on Santa's lap. It really pained Burns to have to turn her down.
Napier turned up later in the afternoon, but Burns had nothing to report.
"Keep watching," Napier said. "We know they're here."
"What about the employees?" Burns said. "I think I read somewhere that employees do most of the shoplifting."
"Not here," Napier said. "Cameron practically undresses them before they leave."
Burns was allowed an hour's break for lunch and dinner. He needed the time. After several hours of balancing chubby kids on his knees, he could hardly stand, much less walk. He ate alone in the storeroom in the back of the store, surrounded by cartons and boxes. He didn't mind. The quiet was a relief.
It was after his dinner break, just past eight o'clock, that he spotted his first shoplifter. He was sure of her almost from the minute he saw her. She had a shifty look when she walked by him, tugging her little boy by the hand, and she didn't let the kid talk to Santa. He didn't even ask to do so. Very suspicious.
She spent quite a long time at the jewelry counter, looking at watches, and the clerk had to turn away several times to help other customers. Again, very suspicious.
Then she left without buying a thing.
Burns was convinced that she had taken something, though he hadn't seen what. Now she had to leave the store with it. That was what Napier had told him, anyhow. "Let 'em get out of the store. That constitutes theft. Just notify the security officer, and he'll do the rest."
Of course the security officer was nowhere to be seen. He was probably somewhere with a doughnut and cup of coffee.
When the woman started for the front door, Burns shoved a tow-headed boy off his lap and stood up.
"But Santa," the boy said. "I haven't finished yet."
"Don't worry, Son," Burns said, trying to be jolly. "You'll get everything you want. Trust me."
"But how do you know what I want? I didn't have time--"
&nb
sp; "Write me a letter," Burns said, jostling past the other kids in the line. The woman was already out the door, and he was afraid she would be in her car and gone before he got there.
She was only half in the car, however, with one foot still planted on the ground, when Burns tapped her on the shoulder.
"Ma'am?" he said. "Excuse me, ma'am." He had no idea what to say next. What did you say to a shoplifter?
"It's Santa, Mom!" the little boy on the other side of her screamed. "It's Santa!"
The woman looked at Burns. "Whatcha want?" she said.
She was big, Burns realized, almost as big as he was, and he was wearing padding.
"I, ah, I think you might have taken something in there."
The woman stared at Burns, then got slowly out of the car. The boy followed her out. He was very excited to see Santa. "I wanted to talk to you," he said, "but Mom said we didn't have time. I want a pony for Christmas."
"Be quiet, Larry," the woman said. She stared at Burns. "Whaddya mean about me taking something?"
"I, ah, well, if you'd just let me look in your purse, I'm sure we could clear this up," Burns said. He'd decided that she'd slipped whatever she'd taken into her oversized purse. It had to be there.
"You some kinda creep?" the woman said.
The little boy was shocked. "Don't say that, Mom! It's Santa!"
"Santa's ass," the woman said. "It's some kinda creep." She hugged her purse to her ample bosom as if it contained something precious. "He's one o' them creeps that steals a woman's purse from her at Christmas time."
"No, no," Burns said. "You've got the wrong idea. It's just that I've been--"
"Help!" the woman screamed. "Police! Fire! Rape!"
Burns hadn't noticed until then that there were other people in the parking lot. Now it seemed as if the entire population of Pecan City had arrived at just that moment to do a bit of shopping. Curious faces turned to see what was going on, and two people started walking rapidly in Burns' direction. Burns started to sweat, though the temperature couldn't have been much above freezing.
The little boy didn't know what was going on, but he didn't like it. He looked as if he might cry at any second.
"Help!" the woman screamed. "Police!"