by Nic Saint
“Hey, Chase,” I said by way of greeting. “What’s up?”
“I’ve lost my grandpa,” he grumbled with a dark look at the secretary, as if she was to blame.
“You… lost your grandfather? How do you lose a grandfather?”
“I’ve been trying to reach him all week. I wanted to invite him over for Christmas, but he’s not answering his phone and he’s not responding to any of my messages.”
“So? Maybe his phone is broken. Or maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“I also asked one of my old buddies at the NYPD to drop by his apartment and he’s not answering the door either. He’s gone, Odelia. My grandfather is officially missing.” He shook his head. “I’ll have to go down there and look for him myself. Will you come with me?”
I stared at him. “You mean… come with you to New York to look for him?”
“You’re a natural at finding out stuff about people. And I could use the company.”
“Sure. But on one condition.”
He gave me a grin, pulled me in and placed a kiss on my lips. When he finally released me, my breath was coming in gasps. “Make that two conditions.”
“Okay.” He pulled me in again but I placed my hand on his chest.
“I have to find the new Santa. If you help me find him, I’ll help you find your grandfather.”
“Why? Is Santa missing, too?”
“The council fired Dan and hired a new Santa, and Dan is itching to dig up some dirt on the new guy so he can make the council change their minds.”
He studied me for a moment. “All right. We’ll find your Santa and we’ll find my granddad. But Granddad is our priority. I can’t imagine finding Santa is as urgent as finding an old man who may be in really big trouble right now.”
“Deal,” I said, and held out my hand.
Instead, he pulled me closer and kissed me again. I could get used to this.
CHAPTER 4
C hase drove while I relaxed in the passenger seat, wondering how to go about finding this illustrious Santa the council had hired. I looked up when Chase cleared his throat. “So what’s the big deal about this Santa business?” he asked.
“Dan’s been the Santa for so many years he was shocked when the council fired him. He’s grown attached to the role, I guess. And he’s a great Santa. Kids love him. Grownups love him. In fact the only people who don’t seem to care for him are the Mayor and his council. And that’s got nothing to do with Dan’s qualities as a Santa and everything to do with politics.”
He shook his head and grinned. “Small-town politics. You’ve got to love it.”
“It’s not just that. Dan is in a position of considerable influence, as the editor of the town’s only newspaper. Both parties have tried to make him endorse their candidates and he’s always refused. But instead of appreciating the fact that he prefers to remain neutral, they resent him for it. And this whole Santa business is their way of getting back at him.”
“All sounds pretty petty to me.”
“It is.” I turned to him. “What did you think about the new Christmas tree?”
He shrugged. “It’s a Christmas tree.”
“It’s not a tree. It’s a metal frame supporting a light installation. It looks like a reject from one of Lady Gaga’s shows.”
“And it just might be. But why do you care so much? It’s just a stupid Christmas tradition.”
“Why do you care so little? It’s Christmas. It’s important.”
“No, it’s not. It’s just a stupid holiday. A way for big business to shove a lot of stuff down our throats. It’s got nothing to do with tradition or what Christmas should really be about.”
“Which is?”
“Family,” he said with a shrug. “Togetherness. Celebrating with the people you love.”
“It’s about that and a lot more.”
“Look, I don’t care about this stupid tree, all right? All I care about is to be with you and your family.”
Touched as I was, I thought he’d forgotten about one important thing. “What about your family? Don’t you want to celebrate Christmas with them?”
He sighed. “It’s… a little complicated.”
“What about your mom? You still have your mom, right?”
He grimaced. “That’s the complicated part.”
“How so?”
“You’ll see. Oftentimes she doesn’t even know who I am. When I went to visit her last time she thought I was Johnny the milkman. She was rummaging around in her purse to come up with the nickel she thought she owed me.”
Now I saw why it was so important he found his grandfather. Since his dad had died, and his mom was in this state, the old man was probably a great support for him.
I placed my hand on his arm. “We’ll find your grandpa, Chase. And when we do we’ll invite him to spend Christmas with us.”
“Thanks,” he said, his voice a little husky. “I would like that.” He cleared his throat. “How are things with your cats?”
“My cats? My cats are fine. A little annoyed with all the snow, which is why they won’t be venturing outside anytime soon.”
“I thought I saw them as I came looking for you.”
“You saw them? Where?”
“Outside your dad’s office. They were just heading inside.”
“My dad’s office?” I remembered they’d been worried about Bambi not showing up that morning. Was it possible they were out looking for her? If they were, maybe it would do them some good. Being cooped up inside all winter wasn’t healthy. Especially for Max, who had a tendency to gain weight if he didn’t get his exercise.
“You know, I heard the weirdest rumor the other day.”
“Oh?”
“Someone told me that the Poole women could talk to their cats. It’s, like, a tradition.”
I tried to look as innocent as possible. “It’s the first I’ve heard of that tradition.”
He glanced over. “So it’s not true?”
“Of course it’s not true! Cats can’t talk. That’s just crazy.”
“That’s what I thought. People tell me the weirdest things. Do you think it’s because I’m new in town? That they think they can make a fool of me by trying to sell me this ridiculous gossip?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me, Chase. They must think you’re pretty gullible to believe a bunch of nonsense like that.”
“Yeah. I told him I wasn’t buying it, and he seemed offended.”
“Who told you this?”
“Some guy that came in this morning to file a complaint about a customer who refused to pay his bills. Wilbur Vickery. He runs the Vickery General Store.”
“I know Wilbur,” I said.
“He even told me that his own cat likes to chat with your cats, and that he’s pretty sure they exchange information, which makes its way into your articles. I told him you don’t need any cats to be the ace reporter that you are.”
“Thanks.”
“Sure thing, babe. Nobody is going to make a fool of me and accuse you of using a crew of feline sleuths.” He laughed. “Simply the idea!”
“Yeah,” I agreed as I swallowed away a lump of uneasiness. “Pretty ridiculous.”
“What pisses me off the most is that Wilbur would think I’d fall for that crap.”
“Yeah, he probably figures you’re pretty thick.”
“Which I’m not.”
“No way. You’re former NYPD. You’re the smartest cop in town.”
“Absolutely. Imagine I wouldn’t know you can talk to cats.”
“Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.”
I stared out the window, biting my lip. Damn that Wilbur Vickery. He must have had too much eggnog, spreading rumors like that. Most people in town knew about the Poole women’s abilities, but didn’t mention it to outsiders. I would have to have a little chat with Wilbur. Remind him to keep his mouth shut. The other option was for me to come clean to Chase. I glanced over at the cop, taking in the s
weep of dark hair as it dangled across his brow, and the rigid set of his face. This was not a man who believed in fairytale stories about talking cats. This was a man who relied on reason and logic to solve his cases, not feline intuition. There was no way he was ever going to believe me.
Just like he hadn’t believed a word Wilbur Vickery had told him. And a good thing, too.
CHAPTER 5
C hase parked his car across the street from where his grandfather lived. It was an old apartment building in downtown Brooklyn. It had once been brown, but was now all blackened from years of decay and exposure to the elements and big city smog. An old dog lay on the steps to the front door of the building, which was ajar, and looked up when we approached. It opened its mouth to bark, and I saw it was missing several teeth. Its hide was mottled and he did not look healthy. I crouched down to tickle it behind the ears but Chase pulled me back up.
“Don’t. These dogs are riddled with all kinds of pests and diseases.”
“Poor creature,” I said. “Someone should take care of him. Or her.”
“Someone should take care of the people that live here, too, but nobody does.”
His face had taken on a grim expression and I could see why. If my grandfather lived in these squalid conditions I wouldn’t be too happy either.
“How old is your grandfather?” I asked as we headed inside.
“Old. Well into his eighties.”
“How come he’s not in a retirement home?”
“You know how much those cost? His pension will never stretch far enough. And neither,” he added when I opened my mouth to make a remark, “will my paycheck. The only option is that I take him home to live with me, but since I’m still shacking up with your uncle, that’s not possible either.”
“Have you had any luck finding your own place yet?”
“Not yet, but I’m working on it. You wouldn’t believe how expensive Hampton Cove is.”
“Oh, I believe it,” I said. And I could see that Chase would be hard set to afford a decent place on his policeman’s salary. My family had owned the houses we lived in for generations. At the current real estate prices, we probably wouldn’t be able to afford to live in Hampton Cove either.
We tried the elevator, but a sign said it was out of order. The hallway was as decrepit as the outside of the house had heralded, and so was the stairwell. An old wino was lounging on the bottom step. He was sucking from a liquor bottle and gazing up at us with rheumy eyes. Some local color.
We arrived on the third floor and Chase quickly found the door to his grandfather’s apartment. He rang the bell and pounded the door but to no avail. So he tried the door of his grandpa’s neighbor. A pensioner appeared after what seemed like ten minutes, and peered out through a crack in the door, the security chain well in place.
“Yes? What do you want?”
“Hampton Cove Police Department, sir,” said Chase. “Detective Chase Kingsley. I’m looking for my grandfather—your next-door neighbor. By any chance have you seen him?”
The frown on the man’s face turned into a smile. “Detective Kingsley. I recognize you. You used to come and visit your grandpa a lot, right?”
“I used to,” Chase admitted. “I moved to Long Island this summer and haven’t had a chance to visit him as much as before. Do you know where he is? I’ve tried calling but he never picks up.”
“I have no idea, Detective.” The man unhooked the chain and opened the door. He was short and squat, and dressed in a bathrobe and slippers. The smell of cigars wafted from the room and my throat clogged for a moment at the acrid scent. “All I know is that he had some sort of argument a couple days ago. It was so loud I could hear it over the sound of Criminal Minds. Almost made me miss the big finale.”
“Who was it? Did you see?”
“When I looked out, the argument was over. All I could see was some guy walking off.”
“What did he look like?”
“Well-dressed guy. Youngish. Nice clean suit. Not the kind you see around here, I have to say. He looked more like a banker than a drug dealer. Unless he was a drug-dealing banker, of course. I’ll bet there’s more of them than you might imagine! Heh heh!” The man laughed a croaky laugh that was infectious and I had to smile.
“So you never saw this guy before?” asked Chase, not even cracking a smile.
“Nope. Never saw him before and haven’t seen him since.”
“What did they argue about?”
“Money, I think. Your grandpa seemed to think the guy owed him and the guy didn’t agree. But that’s all I got.”
“And you haven’t seen my grandfather since?”
“Nope.”
Chase rubbed his chin. “To your knowledge… was he involved in anything suspicious?”
The man’s bushy brows shot up. “You mean like drugs? No way. In fact I think me and him were the final few on this block who were clean. Apart from my cigar. Heh heh. But as far as I know smoking a cigar is still not illegal, no matter what those damn busybodies over at the Health Department might claim! Cigars are good for you, son, and don’t let anybody tell you different!”
“Sure they are,” said Chase, clapping a hand on the old-timer’s shoulder. “Thanks, buddy. And if you happen to see my granddad, tell him Chase is looking for him.”
“Will do, son! And if you see him first, tell him to bring me more of those Cohibas. I have no idea where he got them, but they’re damn fine cigars, and at the rate I’m going, I’m almost out!”
CHAPTER 6
We left the building feeling a little conflicted. Chase wanted to bust down the door to his grandfather’s apartment and look for his dead body, which by now he was sure the well-dressed man had left inside. I told him there was no reason to assume something bad had happened to his grandfather. Maybe the well-dressed man was a representative from the Publishers Clearing House and Grandpa hit the jackpot and was now sipping a piña colada under some palm tree somewhere.
“Then why was he arguing with this well-dressed man?”
“Maybe he was trying to increase the payout? You have no idea who that well-dressed man is, Chase, but I think it’s safe to say he wasn’t some hitman working for the Brooklyn mob!”
“I just want to take a look,” he said, glancing up at the building.
The dog produced a loud whine. He wanted to take a look, too. And a bite to eat.
“You’re a cop, Chase. You know as well as I do you just can’t go breaking down doors. You’ll get in trouble if you do.”
“I could get a warrant.”
“You’re not NYPD anymore. You won’t get a warrant. What you need to do is talk to that NYPD buddy of yours and maybe he can take a look.”
“She.” He produced a sigh. “All right. I’ll give her a call. Maybe this cigar-puffing neighbor can even provide a description to a sketch artist and we can find this mysterious well-dressed man.”
“I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever happened to your grandpa.”
He gave me a skeptical look. “Like winning the Publishers Clearing House.”
I shrugged. “Hey, it’s Christmas. It’s the season for miracles.”
He smiled for the first time. “You’re funny. And I can’t wait for you to meet my grandpa.”
“What are you going to tell him?”
He placed his arm around my shoulder. “That he’s in luck, for he’s about to meet the nicest, sweetest, prettiest girl in all of Hampton Cove.”
“Only Hampton Cove?”
“All right. In all of New York State.”
I cocked my head at him.
“In the entire country! There. Are you happy now?”
“I’m getting there.”
We walked to Chase’s car, and I spotted a Santa walking down the sidewalk, swinging a big bell with one hand, hoisting his prosthetic belly with his other. He looked a little seedy, the red of his costume more a dirty copper, and his beard tied up with string. He reminded me
of something, though. We weren’t just here to find Chase’s grandfather, but also to find Hampton Cove’s new Santa.
I turned to Chase. “We have to go down to Thornton Fifth Avenue.”
“Why? You want to put in some last-minute Christmas shopping?”
“No, that’s where the new Hampton Cove Santa used to work.”
He nodded. “Get in. There’s nothing more we can do here anyway.”
The seedy Santa had drawn even with us, and the reek of alcohol came off him in waves. Ugh. Not what I needed to get me into the holiday spirit. “Ho ho ho!” he hollered. “Who’s the pretty lady?”
“I’m good, buddy,” I said, trying to get away from him. He grabbed my arm.
“Have you been naughty or nice?”
“Both.”
He gave me a leering grin. “Wanna get naughty with me?”
“No, I do not.”
His grin faded. “Give Santa a kiss.”
“I’d rather kiss that dog’s butt.”
But he was already puckering his lips and closing his eyes. I tried to push him away but his grip on my arm was pretty firm for someone as drunk as he was. Luckily help arrived in the form of Chase. “The lady said she’s not interested, buddy,” he said, and disentangled me from Seedy Santa.
The guy opened his eyes, his lips still puckered. “Hey, what happened to the pretty lady?”
“She turned into pretty old me,” Chase growled, getting into the guy’s face. “Now buzz off.”
Seedy Santa stared at Chase, a look of confusion on his face. “Weird things are happening,” he muttered, then staggered off. “Dames turning into dudes. Must be a Christmas miracle.”
Yeah, that was probably it. “Thanks for saving me from Santa,” I told Chase.
“If that was Santa, I’m Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” said Chase.
“No, you’re not. You’re my hero, that’s what you are. My dashing knight in shining armor.”
He grinned. “I like that.”