Cozy Christmas Shorts

by Halliday, Gemma

  "I understand," I said. "But I'm not asking to see a personnel file. I'm just asking if a man named Jack Angelino works here. He's gone missing, and I'm looking for him."

  "Are you his daughter?"

  "I'm his next door neighbor."

  He angled his gaze toward Maizy. "You must be his granddaughter, then."

  "Don't know the man," she said.

  "I see," he said, although he clearly didn't. "Under the circumstances, I don't see—"

  Maizy gripped the arms of her chair tightly, her face a mask of anguish. "But my daddy knows him. Mr. Angelino practically raised my daddy. He'd be here himself, except he's made himself sick over this. Please, if you could just give us this little bit of information, it might be enough for him to finally manage to eat some crackers."

  Patrick Peacock clucked in sympathy. "You poor dear. Give me a moment." He pushed back his chair and stood. "Let me see what I can find out."

  When he was gone, I stared at Maizy. "What was that all about?"

  "He just needed a reason to help us." She looked at her nails. "You think I ought to get little candles on my nails? Maybe with tiny garnets for flames?"

  I shook my head. "You constantly surprise me."

  "Yeah," she said. "I get that a lot."

  Patrick Peacock bustled back in, rifling through a manila file folder. "It turns out our mall Santa this year is not your Mr. Angelino."

  I felt a stab of disappointment.

  "However," he went on, "Angelino did fill in for our regular Santa, Horace, recently. Horace actually recommended him as a temporary replacement when he had to…uh…" His eyes flitted to Maizy and away. "…have a colonoscopy," he whispered at me. He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Horace's first appearance is at eleven, if you want to ask him. He'll be in the atrium. Just look for the elves."

  I thanked him, shook his hand, and limped away with Maizy on my heels. "Now we've got time to stop at Rings and Things," she said. "Want to get anything pierced?"

  I choked back a laugh. "Thanks, I've got enough holes. I'll just sit over there and wait for you." I pointed to a low concrete wall that ran around the perimeter of a gurgling fountain. "Don't take too long."

  She hurried off, and I eased myself down onto the wall to people-watch. Despite the lousy weather and the fairly early hour, there were a lot of people moving a lot of shopping bags around. I couldn't help but be a tiny bit jealous. They had families to buy gifts for, and money to buy gifts with, and maybe spouses or boyfriends or girlfriends to get gifts from. I had my apartment and life-for-one, a sister who was dating one of my bosses, and not the good one, and an ankle that was starting to look like a Kong toy. Not that I was feeling sorry for myself or anything. But I was so wrapped up in, let's call it introspection, that I almost didn't notice the little green man who was flitting among the shoppers off to my right.

  When I did notice him, I couldn't stop watching. He had a peculiar little hunched way of moving, accentuated by the skin-tight Morphsuit he was wearing that covered his entire body, including his head and face. He had on a Santa hat, black boots, and a string of small red and gold balls hanging around his neck. And he was passing out candy canes with one hand while deftly pickpocketing or handbag-pocketing with the other. Everyone seemed either too charmed or too distracted to notice.

  I was neither. I shook my finger in his direction and yelled, "He's taking your money!"

  "Isn't that the truth." A woman sat down to my left with a sigh, arranging her bags at her feet. "The prices in this place are outrageous."

  "No, not—well, yes, they are," I agreed. "But that green man is robbing those people!"

  She looked in the direction of my point. "Green man?"

  I swung my head back the other way. The green man had vanished, the only one who had caught on to my warning. "He must have got away."

  The woman next to me was gone, too. Only I could still see her, hugging her bags to her stomach and hurrying as far away from me as she could get.

  "I'm back," Maizy announced. "What do you think?" She opened her coat to reveal a new turquoise and silver belly ring.

  "Did you see the green man?" I asked, getting to my feet. I started limping off in the direction he must have gone.

  "The green man?" Maizy zipped up and followed me. "Have you been smoking something?"

  I caught a glimpse of green up ahead, lurching across the lot, and pointed. "There he goes!"

  "Are we investigating now?" she asked, easily keeping pace with me while I pushed my sore ankle to its limit.

  "Where's mall security?" I scanned the mall while I half-trotted, half-shuffled along, trying to keep an eye on the pickpocket. Naturally, there wasn't a mall cop in sight. I gritted my teeth and forced myself into a slow jog while Maizy speed-walked beside me. We pushed through the exit and immediately I spotted green against the backdrop of the snowy parking lot. I pointed. "He's just went behind that Navigator. He must be parked somewhere over there." I rummaged in my handbag for my cell phone. If no mall cops were available, maybe I could get the real thing.

  Maizy shielded her eyes with her hand to look in that direction. We both heard the roar of an engine and the grinding of gears, and suddenly a red El Camino lurched backward into view from behind the Navigator. Brake lights flashed while he tried to find first gear, and then the car jerked forward. With any luck, he'd stall the thing.

  Maizy and I looked at each other, and she broke into a dead run toward my Escort. Seconds later, she screeched to a stop in front of me, I jumped in, and we rocketed off after the El Camino.

  CHAPTER SIX

  It wasn't exactly a high speed chase. The El Camino seemed to stay in second gear through the parking lot, onto the mall service road, and out onto the two-lane highway that fed eventually into the interstate. Either the green man couldn't find third gear, or he didn't realize he had it, because we sailed along behind him at a sedate 25 miles an hour. We even stopped for stop signs and red lights.

  After five minutes, Maizy said, "This looked more exciting on TV."

  I was still foraging in my handbag. "I forgot my cell phone. Do you have a cell phone? We should call the police."

  She snorted. "What for? They'll only blame us for endangering the public welfare by chasing him. Can't we do a citizens' arrest?"

  I glanced out the window, wondering who we were endangering. Sledders were moving faster than us.

  She pounced on my hesitance. "Trust me. My dad's a cop. We can do this ourselves." She glanced at me. "Please?"

  I frowned. "You're not giving me your cell phone, are you?"

  "You'll only get me in trouble if you call," she said. "I'm supposed to be home with Uncle Curt. I'll be grounded for a year if my dad finds out I've been in hot pursuit." We eased to a stop behind a Honda Civic that was behind the El Camino at a red light. "Well, pursuit," she amended.

  I sighed. "Alright, we'll follow him, but we are not doing a citizens' arrest. We'll see where he goes, and then we'll report him. Anonymously. Fair enough?" I tried to get a good look at the green man through the windows of the Civic. "He's got a lot of nerve, driving around in a stolen car."

  "Where do you think he ditched Santa?" Maizy asked.

  Jack. That was the question I was afraid to ask myself.

  "I bet he runs a chop shop. He probably steals cars and ships them overseas, whole or in parts." She nodded knowingly. "It's a huge market."

  I pointed. "Green light. How do you know all this?"

  "Last year, the cops busted a ring working out of Newark," she said. "I heard my dad and Uncle Curt talking about it."

  "He's turning," I said.

  "I got this." The Civic went straight, and Maizy swung into the turn behind the green man, slowing a little to allow more distance between us. I had to admit, she was pretty good at this stuff. A few minutes later, we followed him into the parking lot of a nondescript two-story clapboard building with residential space upstairs and a bar downstairs. A tattered American flag hung from a
makeshift PVC pipe flagpole near the entrance. A decrepit Ford LTD without doors or tires sat on cinderblocks in the side yard.

  I looked up at the sign, a frosty mountain-scape on a black background, the plastic riddled with holes from time or weather or bullets. "The North Pole?"

  Maizy parked next to a pickup and killed the engine. "Maybe Santa's in there."

  Maybe. But I wasn't about to take the underaged daughter of a cop inside to find out. I turned to her. "Now would be the time to make that call," I said.

  "No way!" She hopped out of the Escort and pocketed the keys. "We came to investigate, and I'm investigating!"

  I got out of the car. "You're not old enough to go to bars!"

  "Age is just a number," she said over her shoulder, on her way across the parking lot. The green man was nowhere in sight, but the El Camino was empty. He was a slippery little sucker. I peeked inside. No sign of Jack. No bloodstains, either. That was promising.

  Maizy was already inside, so I hurried after her as fast as I could. The North Pole turned out to be a cozy neighborhood bar, with a couple of red-felted pool tables and a few pocked wood tables scattered around. A mahogany bar ran the length of the far wall with stools lined up along its face and a mirrored back bar, in which I was able to see my own relief when I realized it wasn't a biker joint. The lighting was dim. The crowd was sparse and mostly geriatric. No green men in sight.

  Maizy stood just inside, digging for some quarters. "Dibs on the next game of pool."

  "We can't stay here," I told her. "We'll ask a few questions and move along."

  Her shoulders drooped. "I'm not allowed to have any fun."

  "Not on my watch." I walked up to a weather-beaten old man at the bar. "Excuse me, sir, I was wondering if you might have seen someone in a green bodystocking come in here a few minutes ago."

  No reaction.

  "Sir?" I tapped him on the forearm. "Have you seen a green man today?"

  "Not yet," he said without looking at me. "But I'm working on it." And he took another sip of his beer.

  Moving on. I made my way down the bar. No one had seen a green man. I ran out of people to ask and stood by the pool table, considering my next move. It wouldn't hurt to ask if anyone had seen Santa. So I started all over again, working my way back up the line. I got a few eye rolls and a smirk or two but little else until the man at the end surprised me by saying, "Yeah, he was here recently. Last coupla days. Him and those big damned dogs of his."

  "He had dogs with him?" Jack didn't have any dogs.

  The man nodded. "Called them Thunder and Lightning. Strangest thing, they waited outside for him the whole time, didn't bark or nothing. Just watched through the window." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder toward the window. I glanced that way and noticed Maizy racking pool balls on the far table.

  "Thanks for the help," I told the man. "Let me buy you a beer for your time." I put a five dollar bill on the bar. Without looking down, he scooped it up and stuffed it into his pocket. Whatever.

  I pulled Maizy away from the pool table. "We're done here."

  "This place is death, anyway," she said, following me outside. "I know a club over in Jefferson County—they have karaoke at—"

  "How could they not have seen him?" I cut in. "The guy's wearing a green bodysuit, for God's sake!"

  "Maybe he went in the back," Maizy said. "Maybe he's a janitor or something, not a customer."

  I stopped in my tracks. I hadn't thought of that.

  "Why don't you go check," Maizy said, "and I'll just finish up that game of eight ball." She made a move for the entrance, and I grabbed her arm. "Why don't you go check, while I wait by his car. And do not go back inside that bar."

  She shook her head. "If this is what happens to you. I don't want to get old," she said, but she went to check anyway. She was back less than five minutes later. "No green men. Just a couple of guys in dirty white aprons." We walked toward my car. "They ought to put sun lamps in this place," she said. "They didn't look too healthy."

  I glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

  She shrugged. "The smaller guy had a weird skin tone. Kind of—"

  I stopped. "Greenish?"

  We traded looks, and without a word, we turned around and headed for the bar. The back door stood open to compensate for the heat of the kitchen, giving us a clear view inside through the screen door. Maizy was right—neither guy was Speedo material. The heavier one stood over the grill, sweating onto some hamburger patties. But the skinny one caught my eye. He was behind a broom, pushing dirt around in little billowing puffs. He had the same hunched posture and skittish movements as the green man at the mall. And he looked like he'd showered in lime juice. He wasn't paying much attention to the sweeping. He kept glancing over his shoulder while the bigger guy kept firing phrases like "useless piece of crap" and "whyn't you do something with your life" at him.

  I tugged gently at the screen door. Locked. "That's him," I whispered. "The suit must've bled." No answer. I glanced to my left. Maizy was gone.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  "I don't know what you're so bent about," she said a few minutes later, after she'd pocketed her eight ball winnings. "This'll pay for all the gas we need to drive around to the hospitals instead of—"

  "It's a quarter a game," I told her. "You played one game."

  "So far," she agreed. "But the day is young."

  "So are you." I took her cue stick. "Your table," I told the eighty-something who was waiting on the side. He peered at me through thick bifocals. "I want to play her." He pointed a shaking finger in Maizy's direction.

  "No problem," Maizy said cheerfully, making a move for the rack.

  "Big problem," I snapped. "You are not playing any more pool. We have to go talk to the green man."

  She pulled an exaggerated sigh and threw up her hands.

  "You oughta let your daughter have a little fun once in awhile," the geezer told me.

  Now, that cut it. I stormed over to the bar, dragging Maizy along with me, before I bonked the creep in the head with a billiard ball. I ordered two sodas, and we sat on the two stools nearest the door to the kitchen. "Here's the plan," I told her. "I'm going to sneak into the kitchen and see if I can ask the green man some questions. You be my lookout."

  Maizy rolled her eyes. "Why do you have to make everything so complicated?"

  Know-it-all. "I suppose you have a better idea?"

  "Wait for it," she said, and turned a full-wattage smile on the bartender when he delivered our sodas. "Is it too early for me to get a burger and fries?"

  "Course not." He wiped his hands on the towel draped over his shoulder. "I'll put it in right away. Does Mom want something?" And he looked at me.

  If it wasn't for my bad ankle, I'd have run right behind that bar and kicked him in the shin. "What's with all this Mom crap?" I huffed. "I'm only thir—I'm too young to be her mother!"

  He took a step back, his hands going up in apology.

  "I'm sorry about that," Maizy told him. "Menopause."

  He nodded, shrugged, ran the towel across his forehead, and fled into the kitchen in case it was catching.

  Maizy turned to me. "That's how you do it."

  I ignored her. Too busy stewing in my own non-menopausal juices. Sure, my jeans and sweatshirt were loose-fitting, but that's only because I was built like a cue stick. Spandex would have been loose-fitting on me. But clearly I was doing something wrong. After we found Jack, I was going to have to invest in a complete overhaul.

  "I want you to know I'm having a really good time," she said, very softly.

  Yeah, yeah. Whatever.

  She tapped me on the forearm. "Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?"

  I glanced at her. "No, you—well, yes, you did, but no, not really." I sighed. "I just don't see how this is going to help—"

  The kitchen door swung open, and the green man scuttled through, carrying a plate loaded with Maizy's burger and fries. She lifted her hand, and he skidded to
a stop in front of us. Maizy slid me a sideways grin. I had to hand it to her. The kid could think on her feet.

  "Can I ask you something?" I said before he bolted.

  He cut his eyes to me. He had deep brown eyes, nearly black, under dark eyebrows. He wasn't bad looking, except for that green thing. "You want to know why I'm green."

  I blinked. "That's not what I was going to ask."

  "Why are you green?" Maizy asked him, chomping on a fry. I probably shouldn't let her eat that food, considering it had marinated in a cloud of dust.

  "It's an allergic reaction," he said.

  Obviously not to other peoples' money.

  "To what?" she asked.

  "Well, that's rude," he told her. "Don't you know better than to ask strangers personal questions?" He turned to me. "Why don't you teach your—"

  "Don't say it," I warned him. "I don't want to hear that word come out of your mouth."

  "Why's that rude?" Maizy asked. "You're green, dude. Like nobody's supposed to notice?"

  "Oh yeah?" He leaned his elbows on the bar. "Well, your hair's blue. Why's your hair blue?"

  She smirked. "It's an allergic reaction. To jerks."

  A red flush flowed up under all that green. He pushed himself upright. I stood up and stepped closer to Maizy. "I saw what you did," I told him, keeping my voice low. "At the mall. Stealing those people's money."

  He turned those nearly black eyes on me. "What are you talking about?"

  "You were wearing a green Morphsuit. With a Santa hat. And you were handing out candy canes." I took a breath. "And you stole that El Camino out in the parking lot, too."

  "Did not," he shot back. "My brother Dino gave me that El Camino when I graduated from vo-tech." He snorted. "Some gift. It needed a new tranny. I just got it running."

  Not sure that I believed in the incredible coincidence of two red El Caminos, but I let that slide for the moment. "What about stealing the money?"