by Kelly Rey
He took it from me. "Why?"
"Long story." I heard Maizy come up behind me. "But it's important," I added.
He nodded at her. "Maizy."
She blew some blue hair out of her eyes. "Uncle Curt."
"Why don't you give each other a hug?" I suggested. They both looked at me like my head had burst into flames. I waved it away. "Forget it. Now's not the time. So can you call Cam for me?"
"Why not. Time for a progress report on Maizy anyway." He showed us a dimple. "You two staying out of trouble?"
"We're going shopping," I said.
"We're looking for Santa Claus," Maizy said at the same time.
His jaw tightened. "You don't like shopping," he told me. "And you don't believe in Santa Claus," he told Maizy.
"That doesn't mean he isn't real," she said. "There are lots of things that exist beyond the veil."
"Beyond the veil," he repeated.
She nodded. "The metaphysical universe. Open your mind, Uncle Curt."
"Fine." He shook the paper at me. "You go find Santa Claus. You think he's at the mall, do you?"
"No, we think he's at—" Maizy began.
I gave her a push to shut her up. "It's a good place to start," I said brightly.
* * *
"Why didn't you want to tell Uncle Curt about the North Pole?" Maizy asked when we were in the car. I was back in the passenger seat and much more comfortable this time, since I'd seen what she could do behind the wheel. She was Jimmie Johnson to my Jed Clampett.
"Are you kidding?" I asked. "You want to tell him I'm taking you to a bar at your age?"
"Yeah, he is a straight line kind of guy, isn't he." She handed over her cell phone. "Is this good enough?"
Her photo of the bucks was clear and centered and shot from surprisingly close range. "Did you go into Jack's yard to take this?"
She shrugged. "They didn't seem to mind, and I figured closer was better."
We drove through a few green lights and stopped at a few red, and then we were on the straight shot to the North Pole.
"Can I ask you something?" I said. "What you said to—about Pete, and Jack, and…Santa. Do you really believe it?"
She glanced at me. "When the universe aligns, I go with it."
Right. "Is the universe aligning?"
"Do you think it's aligning?"
I rolled my eyes. "You'd be a great lawyer."
"I know what I think," she said. "But you don't need to know that. You need to know what you think."
I didn't know what I thought. Or maybe I did, but I didn't want to admit it. We had an awful lot of coincidences on our hands. We had three reindeer and a mind-reading elf whose missing father looked like Santa Claus and had somewhere important to be on Christmas Eve, and that missing father had a toy workshop in his basement and was gone during the holidays every year, not to mention a little green man named Algae who may or may not have stolen a car driven by someone who may or may not be Santa Claus.
I blew out a long breath. What I lacked in holiday spirit, I made up for in skepticism. But even I had to admit that one thing was becoming crystal clear. "What I think," I said slowly, "is that my neighbor Jack is Santa Claus."
"There." She beamed at me. "Was that so hard? You old people with your rigid linear thinking. See what happens when you let go and just have a little faith?"
I nodded. "You get put on Prozac."
CHAPTER TEN
Not much had changed at the North Pole. An old man or two had gone away, replaced by another old man or two. A young whippersnapper of seventy-five was talking himself through a solo game of pool. The one who'd seen the dogs at the window was still at the bar nursing a draft beer, and not the same one, judging by his cloudy eyes. But maybe that was the cataracts.
I held the photo of the bucks close to his face. "Do these look familiar?"
It took a second, but gradually he managed to focus, more or less. "Hey, haven't I seen you someplace before?"
"Four hours ago," I said. "Look at the picture. Have you seen them before? Maybe at the front window?"
He pulled his gaze from the phone to my face. "Hey, you're kinda cute. Wanna come see my baseball card collection?"
Oh, good grief. He was not hitting on me.
Maizy tapped me on the back. "Jamie."
"I really could use your help," I told the old guy. "Can you please just take a look?"
"Jamie."
He squinted at the phone. "Isn't that cute. You dressed your dogs up for Christmas." And he hiccupped.
"Jamie, look." Maizy spun me around hard toward the window, and I sucked in a sharp breath. The three bucks were standing in a row, looking in at us. Then they shifted a little and a fourth came into view, identical in size to the first three, right down to the impressive attention span.
Every hair on my body was standing up. "They can't be the same ones," I said. "Can they?"
Maizy took her phone from me and held it up to compare the photo with the real thing. "I think they can. See the white spot on this one's snout? And the scar on that one's chest?" She looked at me, bug-eyed. "They must be trying to tell us something."
I touched the old geezer's shoulder. "Sir, can you turn around?" Nothing. I shook him gently. "Sir?"
"Don't waste your time." The bartender appeared to whisk away the empty mug and wipe the bar. "He's sleeping it off."
I frowned. "Here, at the bar?"
The bartender shrugged. "If you ever met his wife, you'd understand why here at the bar."
Something came to me. "Is Algae still here?"
"Who?"
"Skinny guy, bad posture, green skin?"
"Green skin?" The bartender stared at me. "You're flagged, lady."
"He works in the kitchen," Maizy told him. "I think he cleans up or something."
The bartender shook his head. "Nobody named Algae works here."
Now the hairs on my body were not only standing, they were tingling. "That can't be right," I said. "He served us a burger."
"If you had a burger," he said, "it wasn't served by no little green man. Dino works the kitchen."
"But I saw two people in the kitchen," I said. "A big guy was cooking, and a skinny guy was sweeping."
"And serving burgers," Maizy said. "It wasn't very good," she added. "Tasted a little like dirt. No offense."
He shrugged. "None taken. Dino ain't a very good cook." He sighed. "Look, I don't know what to tell you. Dino's here 'cause no one else'll take him. He ain't supposed to do it, but sometimes he brings a buddy in to help him out on busy nights. Long as he pays them out of his own pocket, I don't say nothing about it. Maybe that's your little green man. Can't say for sure. That help?"
"Can we talk to Dino?" I asked.
"Could," he said, "except he called in sick. Maybe you can come back another time." He glanced at Maizy. "Say in about a year. We got laws in this state, you know."
"Got a Health Department, too," Maizy said.
"Never mind," I told her. "Come on. We've got to get to the mall to talk to Horace."
Maizy nodded. "What about the bucks?"
We glanced at the window. Empty. Not a buck in sight.
"I don't know about you," Maizy told me when we got in the car, "but I'm seriously creeped out right now. What happened to the deer? And Algae?"
"I don't know."
She pointed the Escort eastward and floored it. Fortunately the weak afternoon sun had been enough to provide some melting, leaving the road surfaces wet for now. Later they would refreeze, but I hoped to be home by then, secure behind every lock I had.
* * *
We found Horace's setup just where Peter Peacock had suggested, in the atrium surrounded by phony elves, excited kids, and bored mothers waiting in long lines. Horace was nowhere in sight. A little fake wood sign said Santa had gone on a quick break to check on his toys.
I waylaid an elf on his way past. "How long before Horace comes back?"
"Dunno."
"Whe
re does he take his breaks?"
He shrugged.
I planted my hands on my hips and glared at him. "You know, you're not very friendly for an elf."
Another shrug. "You spend eight hours around a bunch of screaming brats—see how friendly you'd be."
Screaming brats? I didn't have a maternal bone in my body, but that was a little harsh even for me. "It's Christmas," I told him. "Didn't you used to get excited at Christmas when you were a kid?"
"I was never a kid." And he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. "You want Horace, try the men's room." He pointed. "Santa's got a little prostate trouble."
I nodded and backed away. "You might want to consider quitting. Smoking's no good for you."
His face twisted. "Neither's this job."
"He wasn't very nice," Maizy said when we hurried off to find the men's room. "His job looks like fun to me."
"Sometimes the fun goes away when you grow up," I told her.
"Is that what happened to you?" she asked. "Did your fun go away?"
That's exactly what happened to me. Something hitched in the back of my throat. When had that happened?
"I think Uncle Curt's fun went away, too," she said. "I'm not gonna let that happen to me."
I forced a smile. "I hope you don't. Look, there it is."
We rushed up to the men's room door and stopped.
"What now?" Maizy asked. "We can't go in."
We waited a couple of minutes. No sign of Horace. No one else came or went.
"Maybe we can go in," I said.
Her nose crinkled. "Gross! I'm not going in a men's room!"
"Okay." I thought fast. "You wait here, and knock if you see anyone coming. I'll go in."
"Hurry up," she said. "I look like a pervert hanging out here."
I nodded and charged into the men's room, which was much nicer than I expected it to be. Lots of marble on the floor and counter, neat piles of paper towels, the pleasing smell of cinnamon and apples wafting from bowls of potpourri. I could almost live in this bathroom.
A man in full Santa gear sans the gloves was washing his hands at the sink, scrubbing carefully between each finger and under each nail. Since no other Santas were in sight, he had to be Horace. His mouth fell open when he spotted me. "Young lady, you do know this is the men's room."
I hurried over to him, noticing the little bottles of generic cologne at each wash station. Nice touch. "I've come to talk to you. I need to know if you've seen Jack Angelino."
"This is the men's room," he repeated. He turned his hands over, inspected them, and continued scrubbing. So Santa was a germophobe.
"Please," I said. "Jack's been missing, and the mall manager told me that you and he might be friends. I'm very worried about him. Have you talked to him lately?"
Horace shut off the tap with his elbows and reached for a few paper towels. "I spoke to Jack about a week ago, I'd say. Why do you ask?"
I pushed the stack of paper towels closer. "He's supposed to be at his son's house for the holidays. He hasn't shown up. He hasn't been home. Did he mention maybe going to visit someone named Rudy?"
Horace rolled his eyes up to the ceiling while he dried his hands. He dried like he washed, one finger at a time, top to bottom and back again. "Let's see, now. What did he say? He said he had something very important to take care of, that it was going to be a very special Christmas this year." He tipped his head down to look at me over his little round glasses. "Who's Rudy?"
I shook my head. "Not important." I heard a cell phone ringing and Maizy's muffled voice. "Did he say what the something important was? Or where it was?"
"Let's see, now." He picked up a fresh paper towel. "I don't believe he did. All I know is he loaded up that old war wagon of his and off he went."
My ears perked up. "War wagon?"
"That's what I call it, anyway. That thing should've been retired years ago, but no, he said it was the only thing gave him all the room he needed." He gave a dry, rusty chuckle. "Jack's not one for them newfangled SUVs."
A knock came on the door.
"By any chance," I said, "is the war wagon an El Camino?"
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "How could a young girl like you know about El Caminos? They haven't been on the road in decades."
"Do you know where he kept it?" I asked.
The knocking became more urgent.
"Let's see, now." He studied the ceiling some more. "I believe he had a unit over in Silver Bells Auto Storage on Tuckahoe Road. He liked to protect it from the weather, you see, and he said his kids didn't want him driving no more, so it was his little secret. He didn't even tell no one he had it."
"Jamie!" Maizy called. "Red alert! Red alert!"
Horace gave a jolt. "Red alert? Is there a fire?"
I touched his fuzzy red sleeve. "Not yet, but there's going to be." As soon as I got hold of Algae. Impulsively, I stretched up to kiss Horace's cheek. "Merry Christmas."
"Same to you, young lady," he called after me. "And next time use the ladies' room!"
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"It's about time," Maizy said when I joined her in the hallway. We hurried toward the mall entrance. "You were in there forever."
I glanced at my watch. "I was in there for ten minutes."
"That little elf guy was watching me," she said. "He weirds me out."
"He was probably looking for Horace."
"Not that little elf guy," she said. "The other little elf guy."
I stopped cold. The tide of shoppers flowed around us with some grumbling and a few dirty looks. "You don't mean Pete Angelino."
Maizy nodded. "He was over there." She pointed toward the food court. Even though Pete was only around four feet tall, it would have been hard for him to stand out, what with the pulsing throng of kids and parents. I didn't see any short guys with pointy ears. "Weird, right?" she said.
Definitely weird. That tingling sensation was back. I started walking again, away from the food court and the mall. "He probably had some last minute shopping to do." My voice seemed unnaturally high. Which tended to happen when I couldn't quite breathe. I was seriously spooked.
She snorted. "Like he's worried about shopping when his dad's missing. I wouldn't be worried about shopping if my dad was missing."
She was right. Which suggested that Pete was following us. And that was odd, because he could have just asked where we planned to go, or asked if he could come with us, or given us his cell phone number to keep in touch wherever we went.
But how could he follow us when he'd gone back to the theater before we'd left my apartment?
Maizy unlocked the car, and we got in. "Uncle Curt called while you were in the men's room. He had my dad check on the license plate number you gave him. You'll never guess—"
"It's Jack Angelino's car," I said.
"—whose car—" She blinked. "How'd you know?"
"Horace told me. Do you know where Tuckahoe Road is?" She nodded. "That's where we're going," I said. "And don't take your time."
"Cool!" She started the car and squealed the tires roaring out of the parking lot. She seemed to know where she was going, and she got there fast. Tuckahoe Road was a two-lane county road that ran along the eastern flank of a wildlife preserve. No houses, little traffic, sparse light industry. Silver Bells Auto Storage was tucked about a hundred feet back off the road, its only identifying feature a flat metal sculpture of two bells affixed to the front gates. The gates were closed, and a keypad stood to the left of the driveway. A little outbuilding was just inside the gates, but I saw no movement inside. Silver Bells was closed for the holidays.
"What now?" Maizy asked.
"Now we go in." I undid my seat belt. "Park the car."
"But the place is closed!"
I gave her a look. "Are you telling me you've never done this type of thing before?"
"Well…" She squirmed a little. "Maybe. I admit to nothing."
"Great. Perfect. Park the car." I jumped out and
rushed over to the fence. No barbed wire. I stuck my fingers in my mouth to try for a whistle and got a sputter. I never did know how to do that.
Maizy appeared next to me. "No, like this." And she let out a sharp, piercing whistle that probably carried for a mile on the crisp quiet air. We waited a few seconds. No large ill-tempered dogs came racing around any corners.
"Boost me up," I told her. "I'm going in."
"Do you know how to pick a lock?"
"Not really." I narrowed my eyes at her. "Do you?"
"Well…" She kicked some snow around. "Maybe. I admit to nothing."
I sighed. "Alright, I'll boost you up—then you let me in." She slung her satchel across her body and nestled her foot in my cupped hands. I lifted, and she flew over the top like a gymnast, landing almost soundlessly on the other side. She pulled what looked like a little manicure case out of her satchel, and I heard the clink of metal tools while she went to work on the lock, humming to herself, her expression calm and serene. I stood and waited with a pounding heart and a dry mouth. Not a single car had passed, yet I felt as if we were being watched. Probably just my guilty conscience. "Don't break it," I warned her. "We'll need to lock it again."
She swung the right gate open. "Done. What now?"
Impressive. I went in, pulling the gate closed behind me. "I've been thinking about that," I said. "And I've devised a remarkably clever plan. We walk up and down the rows checking the doors."
"Why?"
"You never know," I said. "Come on."
There were four long, low garage buildings serviced by three blacktopped alleys. The fourth building seemed to have double-sized bays, judging by the size of the doors. All the other bays were the width of a standard garage door, except they were made of roll-down steel with handles at the bottom. We started at the beginning, Maizy taking one side and me the other, tugging on the handles. Nothing opened. Until we got down to the back end of the third alley. The door didn't open, but when I tugged on it, I heard a noise inside. I hissed "Maizy!" over my shoulder. She hurried over. "Do you hear anything?" I tried to lift the door up, and it sounded like something fell over inside.