by Nic Saint
“I can’t believe this,” he said, shaking his head. “He came here to see me and now he’s gone.”
“We’ll find him,” I promised. “Somehow we’ll find your grandfather, Chase.”
He gave me a hopeful look. “You think so?”
“I know so,” I said with more conviction than I was feeling.
“If anyone can find him, it’s you. I’ve never met a better detective than you, Odelia.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said with a grim smile. I wasn’t sure it was warranted, though. In fact I had only one more card to play. The feline card.
I was working on my article about Santa, what little I had gathered, when there was a soft scratching sound at the glass sliding door. I looked up, and when the scratchy sound was joined by a soft mewling, I smiled. My feline squad had returned from their mission. I just hoped they’d been able to accomplish more than me and Chase had.
I opened the door and Max and Dooley hurried in. Their coats were flecked with snow and they looked as if they’d just spent hours in the icy cold, which they had. They hurried to the radiator and plunked down right in front of it. Then, noticing I’d lit a fire in the fireplace, they gratefully moved over to the sheepskin rug in front of it and stretched out, their backs to the fire. It wasn’t a real fire with actual logs, just an electrical one, but it supplied a lot of heat, and the red radial glow was almost as good as the real thing.
“So? What did you guys find out?” I asked. Dooley was checking the socks dangling from the mantle, ascertaining if they were still in place. When he discovered they were, he contentedly placed his head on his paws and dozed off.
“Max?” I asked. “Anything?”
Max yawned, then closed his mouth with a click. “Well, we talked to Kingman, and he remembers an old guy walking around with another guy wearing a Knicks cap. He remembers because the old guy reminded him of Santa so much. The old guy had one of those rolling suitcases, which was a bad idea, as he kept getting it stuck in snowdrifts. But then the guy in the Knicks cap got tired of waiting and snatched the suitcase from his hands and carried it for him.”
“And this happened around the time the Jitney arrived?”
“He’s not sure. He’s learned to ignore the Jitney. Doesn’t even notice it these days.”
Which was to be expected. When your owner runs the store directly across from the bus stop, after a while you stop seeing the buses coming and going. “You’re sure this guy looked like Santa?”
“That’s what Kingman said. He had a nice white beard and one of those red Santa hats.”
It could be Chase’s grandfather. Of course, a lot of people wore those red Santa hats around the holidays, and a lot of eighty-year-old men had white beards. “Did he also see where they went?”
“They went into the Hampton Cove Star.”
I smiled and patted the big red cat on the back. “You did great, Max. You did really great.”
“Thanks. And now I need a nap. Traipsing in the snow all day is not my idea of a good time!”
I got up and picked my phone from the table. “I put some snacks in the kitchen for you guys.”
He looked up with an expression of relish on his furry face. “Cat Snax?”
“Yep. But you’ll have to share with Dooley.”
“Oh, I will. I’ll take seventy percent and leave thirty percent for Dooley. Or eighty-twenty.”
“Why don’t you make it fifty-fifty?”
“Have you seen me? I’m at least twice as big as Dooley, so I need twice as much food.”
“Fifty-fifty, Max. It’s only fair.”
“Oh, all right,” he said grudgingly, then promptly dozed off, just like Dooley.
I watched them with a smile on my face. Amazing. My cats had just found Chase’s gramps.
Chapter 13
I met Chase in front of the Hampton Cove Star, a small boutique hotel in the heart of Hampton Cove. It featured an actual indoor pool, wellness center, fitness club, and whatever other amenities its upscale clientele demanded. There were only about thirty rooms, but they were all top of the line. Pretty pricey, too, as was to be expected. Still, they were usually fully booked during the holidays, and now was probably no exception.
“Guess what?” said Chase when he joined me on the sidewalk. “I think I may have found your Santa.”
“My Santa? You mean our Santa. I mean Hampton Cove’s Santa.”
“He’s right here at the Hampton Cove Star.”
“No way.”
“Way. Your uncle Alec had a drink with a guy who works at Town Hall. And he said the Mayor has set the new Santa up at the Star, all expenses paid, in one of their best rooms. They’re treating him as their star guest. Or guest star. Or whatever.”
“He must be one special Santa. Dan never enjoyed that privilege.”
“Oh, he’s one of the top Santas, according to the Chief’s buddy. The best of the best.”
“He has to be, if they’re willing to spend so lavishly on him.”
He blew into his hands and stomped his feet to stay warm. “So what about my grandfather?”
“Well, turns out he’s also staying here. Someone saw him and Knicks Cap Man head inside.”
“Who’s your witness?”
“You know I can’t talk about that, Chase. I have to protect—”
“Your sources. Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He glanced up at the white façade of the hotel. “Why would my grandfather stay in such a fancy place? And why not tell me about it? None of this makes sense.”
“Unless he was lured here under some kind of pretext and now he’s being held captive.”
He nodded grimly. “Let’s find out, shall we? Solve this mystery once and for all.”
We went inside, through the ceiling-high doors, and found ourselves in a neat little atrium, a giant Christmas tree reaching to the second floor, a sort of bridge running over our heads, garlands and Christmas lights dangling down from it. The desk was straight ahead, and we made our way over.
“Hi,” said the receptionist, a neat little swarthy man with perfectly trimmed black mustache. His head was bald and egg-shaped. “How can I help you?”
“We’re looking for a man,” I said.
“Two men, actually,” said Chase.
“One is my grandfather,” said Chase, “and he’s missing.”
“The other is the new Hampton Cove Santa, who’s rumored to be staying at this location.”
The man clamped his lips together, his eyes widening slightly. Then he shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
Chase gave him his best frown. “What do you mean you can’t help us?”
“Such a man is not staying at this establishment. He never has and he never will.”
I exchanged a puzzled glance with Chase. “You mean Chase’s grandpa or Santa?”
“Both. Neither. They’re not here. Neither one of these gentlemen.”
“But we have credible information that they are,” said Chase.
“Your informant has made a mistake, sir,” said the man. “No such person is staying at the Hampton Cove Star, I can promise you.”
With a grunt of annoyance, Chase took out his badge and placed it on the counter. “This is a police matter, buddy. Now think again, please.”
The man’s eyes widened even more, and he produced a soft whimpering sound. Then he leaned in and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “IF such a man were to stay at the Hampton Cove Star—and I’m not saying he is—he would be staying in the Ambassador Suite.”
“Which man? Chase’s grandfather or the new Santa?” I asked.
“Both. Neither.” He produced another whimper. “I’ve said too much already!”
We turned away from the highly distraught receptionist to convene about the matter. “This is all very strange, Odelia,” Chase determined.
“You think? Who is staying here? Your grandfather or the new Santa?”
“Both. Neither,” said Chase
with a tight smile. “Let’s find out, shall we?” He took out his gun, causing the man behind the reception desk to utter a startled cry and duck down to take cover.
“Is that really necessary?” I asked.
“Yes, it is. I’m pretty sure that my grandfather is the victim of foul play, and if I have to bust him out of that room where he’s being held captive, I’m not going in there unarmed.”
“Maybe we should call for backup. My uncle can be here in minutes.”
Chase wavered, then shook his head. “Let’s first find out what’s going on. We can always call for backup later.” And he set foot for the stairs.
I followed closely behind him, making sure I stayed hidden behind his broad back. I’m not a scaredy cat, but if Knicks Cap Man tried any funny business, I preferred not to get shot. From watching many, many movies I knew for a fact that it’s always the ditzy blonde who gets it first, while the big, burly cop makes it out alive.
We arrived on the second floor, and traversed the funny little bridge that stretched across the lobby. The Ambassador Suite was on the other side of it, apparently the best room in the house.
Chase had slowed his pace down to a crawl as he approached the entrance to the suite, and he had his gun cocked and loaded, aiming it straight ahead.
“No goons,” he whispered. “Whoever Knicks Cap Man is, he’s not very careful.”
“Must be an amateur,” I whispered back, still taking cover behind Chase.
“Well, he’s dealing with a professional now,” he said through gritted teeth, and tapped the door to the suite with the barrel of his gun. “Police!” he bellowed. “Open this door!”
From down in the lobby, a loud whimper came, and when I glanced over the railing, I saw the receptionist looking up at me, still huddled behind his desk.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered, then pointed at Chase and me. “We’re the good guys.”
He nodded, a look of extreme distress on his face.
Chase tapped the door again. “Hampton Cove Police. Open this door now!”
And then the door did open, and an old man appeared, dressed in a long red robe, and sporting the most beautiful white beard, white mustache, and white curly hair I’d ever seen outside of the movies. He even had twinkly blue eyes and wire-rimmed glasses perched precariously on the tip of a stubby nose.
“Grandpa!” Chase cried, lowering his gun.
“Chaser!” said the old man, and opened his arms for an embrace.
Chapter 14
But before the old man could wrap Chase—or Chaser—in his arms, the consummately professional cop went into a crouch and pressed his back against the wall. “How many?” he hissed.
“Huh?” asked his grandfather.
“How many guards?”
“Guards?”
“How many people are watching you?”
“Nobody is watching me, Chaser. It’s just me, myself and I, I’m afraid.”
Chase rose from his crouch, disbelief etched on his face. “You mean to tell me you’re not being held captive here?”
“Do you really think they’d let me answer the door if I was being held captive?”
“Good point,” said Chase after a pause.
“Come on in, Chaser, and who is the lovely lady?”
“This is Odelia Poole,” said Chase. “She’s my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend! My, my. Well, do come inside. It’s much cozier here than in this drafty lobby.”
We stepped inside the suite, which offered a nice view of the bathroom through a glass wall.
When Chase’s grandpa caught my look, he shook his head. “Not really my style, I’m afraid, Miss Poole. I’m always afraid the maid will walk in while I’m taking a shower and catch a look at my nekkid willie. And trust me, it’s more her than me I’m afraid will be scarred for life.”
“It is… very modern,” I admitted. Near the window, there was a piece of art—at least that’s what I thought it was—with a bunch of iron rods sticking out of a concrete base. The rods were covered with LED lights and shone with a soft yellow glow. Very, very modern.
The old man offered us a seat next to the concrete construction, and only now did I see that what I’d assumed was a concrete platform was actually a couch with gray cushions. I gingerly took a seat. “Can I offer you some refreshments?” asked Grandpa Kingsley. “Martini? Scotch? I have the full use of the minibar, and the council has assured me I don’t need to stint. Oh, I know what you need. Some eggnog.”
“The council?” I asked. “The council set you up here?”
“Yes, they most certainly have.”
“Please tell me, before I go crazy, what the hell is going on,” said Chase.
“Well, Chaser,” said Grandpa, taking a seat across from us, “that’s a bit of a long story.”
“Tell me. I’ve got all night,” said Chase.
“I don’t. They’re picking me up in…” He checked his watch. “Exactly half an hour. Lucky for you I already had my shower, and now all I need to do is get dressed.”
“Get dressed for what?!” Chase cried. The suspense was obviously killing him.
“I think I know, Chaser,” I said.
“Please don’t call me that.”
Chase’s grandfather leaned in. “I’m the only one who’s allowed to call him that, I’m afraid.”
“And why is that?”
“Because he used to chase all the girls away, of course,” said the old man with a chuckle.
“Please, Grandpa,” said Chase. “Odelia doesn’t need to hear all that.”
“Grandpa, or… Santa?” I asked, with a keen look at the old man.
He grinned. “What gave me away?”
“The beard, the mustache, the hair… the red robe. You look exactly like Santa.”
“Thanks. I aim to please. After twenty years as the Thornton Fifth Avenue Santa I know a thing or two about transforming myself into Santa Claus, of course.”
Chase’s jaw dropped. “You were the Thornton Santa?”
“Of course I was. A man needs a hobby, Chase, and after I retired I needed one more than ever. So I went to one of those temp agencies and they thought I’d make a great Santa. Thornton gave me a shot and I’ve been their Santa for two decades—until they canned me.”
“And you never told me!”
“Every man likes to have his little secrets. And it was only a minor indulgence. Just a few days around the holidays each year. Hardly the big moneymaker.”
“So why did they fire you?”
“New management,” I said knowingly.
A loud ding-dong echoed through the suite and Grandpa Kingsley got up. “Yes, new management. They took one look at my birthdate and decided I was too old. Lucky for me word must have spread about my work, for suddenly a guy from the Hampton Cove council showed up on my doorstep and offered me a job! I had to haggle with him about the price, but eventually we managed to come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”
He went to open the door and Chase said, “The well-dressed man. He works for the council.”
I nodded. “Probably the same guy wearing the Knicks cap. And my uncle’s drinking buddy.”
Grandpa Kingsley opened the door and the receptionist with the egg-shaped head peered in.
“Everything all right, sir?”
“Why, of course! I just got a visit from my grandson and his girlfriend, so everything is just peachy. Oh, thanks, buddy,” he added, and took the tray with three glasses of eggnog from the guy.
“Very well, sir,” said the now pale-faced receptionist. “I’m happy everything is to your satisfaction.” He directed an anxious look at Chase, obviously wondering where he’d put the gun, but then the new Hampton Cove Santa closed the door and handed us our drinks.
The eggnog was great. Rich and creamy.
“So is your name really Kris Kringle?” I asked.
The old man laughed, his belly shaking. “Close enough! My name is Kris Kingsley.”
�
��Why didn’t you tell me, Grandpa?” asked Chase, wiping his lips. “I’ve been looking all over New York City for you. I even filed a missing person report, for Pete’s sake.”
“You did?” asked Kris with remarkable equanimity. “Well, I wanted to surprise you, of course. And I wanted to see the look on your face when you saw your old gramps mount that sleigh and make his way through the streets of your new hometown.” He took a sip of eggnog. “Mh. Really hits the spot, doesn’t it? Oh, and I was sworn to secrecy. Signed an actual nondisclosure agreement. They even told me specifically not to mention anything to you, as you were dating some hotshot nosy reporter and she was sure to spill the beans on the front page of the Hampton Cove Gazette.”
I blushed. “I’m afraid I am that hotshot reporter, sir.”
“Just call me Kris.”
“I wouldn’t have spilled your secret, Kris. Not if you’d asked me not to.”
“Well, apparently some guy called Dan Goory was dying to find out about me—so he could ruin Christmas for everybody. At least that’s what they told me when they first came to see me.” He laughed. “Made me feel extremely important, I can tell you! Like one of those football players that gets traded for millions of dollars! And at my advanced age, no less! Cheered me right up.”
“I just wish you’d told me,” said Chase with a shake of the head. “You had me worried sick.”
“Worried sick? But Chaser, you know your Grandpa Kris is like a cat. I always land on my feet!”
“I know,” he said with a slight smile. “So you’re the new Santa, huh? What do you know?”
“Yeah,” Kris chuckled. “Imagine that, Chaser.” When I gave him a questioning look, he said, “Oh, right. Well, Chase here was always driving the girls away. Mind you, he was only six at the time. Said he had no need for girls. So I started calling him Chaser. I was the one who picked him up from school, you see, so we developed quite a bond, didn’t we, Chaser?”
“I’ve stopped driving the girls away from me a long time ago, Gramps,” said Chase.