Cozy Christmas Shorts

by Halliday, Gemma

  "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."

  "Where 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 th
e 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.

  Her eyes got wide. "I heard that."

  I hesitated. "It's probably a rat, right?"

  "Yeah. Right." She kicked and pounded at the door. "Who's in there?" she yelled.

  "Hey!" I grabbed her arm. "What if it's some maniac homeless person? We're out here in the middle of nowhere!"

  "If he lives here," she said with great patience, "he's not homeless. Give me a second." She squatted down and muttered, "What an amateur," and went to work with her tiny tools again. A few minutes later, she tossed me the lock. "No problem at all."

  "Maybe it should be," I said. I tugged at the handle again. The door rattled halfway up its track, and we bent in unison to take a look inside.

  Jack Angelino, sitting in a ratty old recliner, looked back at us.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  His cheeks were still pink. But his eyes were a little haggard, and his smile had dimmed. When I hugged him, I felt a little less cushion and felt a surge of anger that he'd been locked in there. I took a look around. Along with the recliner, there was a fluorescent overhead light fixture, a few heavy blankets, a space heater, some tools, a discarded car cover, an ice chest with bottles of water, a storage bin with bags of junk food, and a stack of Donald E. Westlake novels. No Santa suit. Jack was wearing a heavy red cable-knit sweater, suitable for going out to sea if not going down chimneys. No sign of a Santa suit. I'd guess that in a split-second of panicked sighting, the red sweater might be mistaken for something else.

  I stepped back from him. "Jack, who did this to you?"

  He ignored the question. "Have I missed Christmas?"

  "Tonight is Christmas Eve," I told him. "Who locked you in here? Was it the green man?"

  "That's not important. I'm alive and well. But I need your help." He glanced at Maizy. "You've done enough, Maizy. But may I ask you to do more?"

  "How'd you know my name?" she asked, her face pale.

  He seemed surprised. "Why, your uncle has told me all about you. He thinks you're quite unique. Now that I see you, I have to agree." His laughter echoed off the walls of the bay. Jack had always had a good laugh, but now I found myself listening to it with a different ear. An ear looking for ho-ho-ho instead of ha-ha-ha. Naturally, I didn't hear it, because of course, Jack was just my wonderful old ordinary next door neighbor.

  "My car is outside the gates," I told him. "Do you think you can walk?"

  "Of course. I'm not an old man, you know."

  "I know who stole your car," I said as I helped him with his coat. "His name is Algae. He kind of works at the North Pole bar."

  "Maybe," Maizy added. "Nothing's turning out to be quite what it seems this weekend."

  "The way of life," Jack agreed. He made a courtly after you gesture. "Shall we?"

  I stepped into the alley and stopped cold in my tracks. Four bucks were standing along the outside of the fence, watching us. "Do you see what I see?" I kept my voice low. I didn't want to spook them and make them bolt. I don't know why I didn't want to do that, but it seemed significant that they kept showing up.

  Maizy was right behind me. "We've got company," she said.

  "They keep showing up," I said with wonder.

  "We've got company," Maizy repeated, but with an urgency in her tone that made me look at her. She was looking at something down the alley. More specifically, someone. Algae. In the full green Morphsuit that clung to every unfortunate angle of his spindly body. He was scurrying along like a hunchbacked water beetle, carrying a McDonald's bag in one hand and a gun in the other. He stutter-stepped when he caught sight of the three of us standing there.

  "Oh, dear," Jack said over my shoulder. "Him again."

  Maizy pressed up against my back. I could hear that her breathing was ragged with fear. I felt sick about putting her in this position. I couldn't let her be locked in the bay, disappearing from her family at Christmas. I couldn't let Jack continue to be victimized. I knew I didn't want to go back inside the unit.

  I had no clue how to prevent it. I peeked over my shoulder. The bucks had disappeared.

  Algae was on us in seconds, waggling the gun. "Back inside. All of you. Before I blast you."

  It was hard to argue with a gun, so we shuffled back inside, so close together that we moved as one awkward unit. Jack somehow managed to become the head of our little triangle, so that when we stopped, as close to the open doorway as we dared, he was closest to Algae's gun. Algae followed us, tossing the McDonald's bag on the recliner.

  "You're not a killer," I told him. Like I would know. "So you stole a car. Big
deal. We can let that slide, right, Jack?"

  "What car?" he agreed.

  "You know," Algae said sadly, "you're making my life very difficult."

  "I can make it easier," I told him. "We'll just go on our way, and you can keep the car and we'll call it even."

  "The car's all I wanted!" he snapped, startling us. Maizy's hand crept into mine at my side. She was shaking. "I didn't want the old man. It was the payload. That's where the money was gonna be. All of it right there in front of me. I had buyers for everything. It shoulda been so easy, but he wouldn't give it up. He wouldn't get out!"

  I stared at Jack. He shrugged. "I was hauling a lot of gifts."

  "So you locked him up?" I said to Algae, outraged. "When did you plan to let him go?"

  "Soon as I got the ransom." His nasty grin was even eerier coated in the Morphsuit. "He gave me the perfect opportunity for an even bigger payoff when he stayed in the car. But the old coot don't even remember his own name!"

  I glanced at the old coot. He slipped me a wink that told me he remembered a lot more than his name. He'd been playing Algae all along. I don't know if I could have been that sharp.

  "But why lock him up here?" I persisted. "Why in a closed storage facility? You could have killed him!"

  "There's still time," he said with sickening cheer. And then I realized, he'd stolen money to buy just enough food to keep Jack alive long enough to collect ransom. Maybe he was a killer, after all. "I needed a place to stash the goods temporarily," he said. "My no-good brother Dino wanted nothin' to do with any of it. Not in my home, he tells me. Too afraid he'll end up at the big house. Pops here had this place. Problem solved."

  Dino? Dino from the North Pole? I remembered Dino standing at the stove hurling curses in Algae's direction. No wonder. "You don't work at the North Pole," I said suddenly. "Your brother does. You drove there because we were following you, and he didn't like it."

  "He's a pansy," Algae snapped. "Always afraid of trouble. He'll never be nothin'."

  "You don't have to be like him," I said quietly. "Jack's never seen your face. That's why you wear that thing, right? He doesn't know who you are. Why don't you just let him go."