Visions of Sugar Plums

by Janet Evanovich

  My father was outside, attaching the tree to my CRV. He was tying it to the roof rack, and every time he tightened the rope there was a shower of pine needles. "It might be a little dry," he said. "You should probably put it in water when you get home."

  Halfway home I saw the lights behind me. Low-slung sporty car lights. I checked the rearview mirror. Hard to see at night, but I was pretty sure it was a black Jag. I parked in the lot, and Diesel parked beside me. We both got out and looked at the tree. There was no moonlight, thank God.

  "Can't hardly see it in the dark," Diesel said.

  "It's better that way."

  "How'd the stake-out go?"

  "Like you said — quiet."

  Diesel smiled when I told him the stake-out was quiet.

  "I guess you know about the stake-out," I said with a sigh.

  "Yup."

  "How?"

  "I know everything."

  "Do not,"

  "Do so."

  "Do not!"

  There was a rush of wind, the air crackled, and Diesel grabbed me and threw me to the ground, covering me with his body. Light flashed and heat rippled over me for a moment. I heard Diesel swear and roll off. When I looked up I realized the tree was on fire. Sparks jumped against the black sky and the fire spread to the car.

  Diesel pulled me to my feet, and we backed away from the flames. I was bummed about the car, but I wasn't all that unhappy to be rid of the tree.

  "So, what do you think?" I asked Diesel. "Meteor?"

  "Sorry, sunshine. That was meant for me."

  I was standing facing my car, and behind me, I could hear windows being thrown open in my apartment building. It was Lorraine in her nightie and Mo in his cap. They'd just settled their brains for a long winter's nap in front of the television. When out in the lot there arose such a clatter, they sprang from their recliners to see what was the matter. Away to the window they flew like a flash, tore open the blinds and threw up the sash. And what to their wondering eyes should appear, but Stephanie Plum and yet another of her cars burning front to rear.

  "Hey," Mo Kleinschmidt yelled. "Are you okay?"

  I waved back at him.

  "Nice touch with the tree," he yelled. "You never torched a tree before."

  I glanced sideways at Diesel. "This isn't the first time one of my cars has been exploded, burned, or bombed."

  "Gee, that's a big surprise," Diesel said.

  Fire trucks screamed in the distance. Two patrol cars rolled into the lot, keeping a safe distance from the smoke and flames. Morelli pulled in behind the second patrol car. He got out of his truck and sauntered over. He looked at me, and then he looked at the toasted CRV. He gave his head a shake and a sigh escaped. Resignation. His girlfriend was a trial.

  "I heard the call go out on the scanner, and I knew it had to be you," Morelli said, "Are you okay?"

  "Yep. I'm fine. I figured this was the only way I'd get to see you."

  "Funny," Morelli said. He checked Diesel out. "Do I have to worry about him?"

  "No."

  Morelli gave me a kiss on the top of the head. "I have to get back to the job."

  Diesel and I watched him drive off.

  "I like him," Diesel said. "I like the way he kisses you on the top of your head."

  "Maybe you want to take your jacket off," I said to Diesel. "It's smoking."

  * * *

  Next morning, Diesel was on the couch, watching television, when I got out of the shower. His presence was unexpected, and I had a brief moment of terror until my brain connected the dots between big, uninvited man on couch and Diesel.

  "Jeez," I said. "Why don't you try using the doorbell? I wasn't expecting to find a man on my couch."

  "Sounds like a personal problem," Diesel said. "What's the plan for the day?"

  "I don't have a plan. I thought you'd have a plan."

  "My plan is pretty much to follow you around. I figure there was a reason I was dropped here. So I'm waiting for it all to shake out."

  Oh boy.

  "There's some stuff for you in the kitchen," Diesel said. "The kerplunkers were picked over, but I got you a poinsettia and a Christmas tree. Seemed like I owed you a tree."

  I went into the kitchen to investigate and found a nice big red poinsettia sitting on my counter. And a five-foot, fully decorated Christmas tree stood square in the middle of my kitchen floor. It was a live tree trimmed in gold and white, its base planted in a plastic tub swaddled in gold foil, the perfectly formed top of the tree capped with a star. It was gorgeous, but vaguely familiar. And then I remembered where I'd seen the tree. Quakerbridge Mall. The trees were strung along the entire ground floor of the shopping center.

  "I'm afraid to ask where you got this tree," I said.

  Diesel clicked the television off and ambled into the kitchen. "Yeah, some things are better left unknown."

  "It's a nice tree. And it's all decorated."

  "Hey, I deliver."

  I was standing there admiring the tree, wondering if I could get jail time for being an accomplice to grand theft spruce, and Randy Briggs called.

  "I just got in to work, and something strange is going on here. Your pal Sandy Claws showed up and sent everyone home. He shut down the whole production line."

  "It's Christmas Eve day. He probably was just being nice."

  "You don't get it. He shut down permanently."

  "I thought you weren't going to rat for me."

  "I just lost my job. You're the only thing between me and welfare."

  "Are you still there?"

  "I'm in the parking lot. It's just Claws and Lester inside."

  "I'm on my way. Stick with Claws and Lester."

  I hung up, grabbed my jacket and bag, and Diesel and I ran for the stairs. I paused for a moment when I pushed through the lobby doors and saw the charred spot on the pavement. No more CRV. Just some heat-scorched blacktop and a couple patches of ice where water had frozen.

  Diesel snagged me by the sleeve and yanked me forward. "It was a car," he said. "It can be replaced."

  I belted myself into the Jag. "It's not that simple. It takes time and money. And then there's the insurance." I didn't even want to think about the insurance. I was an insurance joke.

  Diesel took off, flying low, heading for Route 1. "No problemo. What kind of car would you like? Another CRV? A truck? How about a Z3? I could see you in a Z3."

  "No! I'll get my own car."

  Diesel sailed through a red light and hit the on ramp to Route 1 south. "I bet you thought I was going to steal a car for you. In fact, I bet you thought I stole your Christmas tree."

  "Well?"

  "It's complicated," Diesel said, cutting into the far left lane, foot to the floor, looking far too calm for a guy going ninety.

  I closed my eyes and tried to relax into my seat. If I was going to die in a fiery crash I didn't want to see it coming. "These superpowers you're supposed to have... they include driving, right?"

  Diesel smiled and gave me a sideways glance. "Sure."

  Damn. Not an answer that gave me confidence.

  He took a corner with tires screaming, I opened my eyes and we were in the toy factory lot. Briggs was still there. And two other cars were parked close to the building entrance.

  Diesel killed the engine and was out of the car. "Wait here."

  "No way!" But my door was locked. All the car doors were locked. So I leaned on the horn.

  Diesel wheeled around halfway to the factory entrance and sent me a warning glare, fists on hips. I kept my hand on the horn, and he did a disbelieving head shake. He walked back to the car, opened my door, and pulled me out. "You know, you're a real pain in the ass."

  "Hey, without me, you'd be nowhere on this case."

  He sighed and draped an arm across my shoulders. "Honey, I'm nowhere with you."

  Another car door opened and closed, and Briggs joined us. "I'll come along in case you need muscle," Briggs said.

  "If I get any more he
lp I'll need a permit for a parade," Diesel said.

  The reception area and front office cubbies were deserted. We found Sandy Claws and Lester, alone, in the back room where the toys were made. Lester and Claws were sitting together at one of the workstations. They looked over at us when we entered the room, but they didn't get up. There was a small block of wood in front of Claws, some shavings, and a couple woodworking tools. The corners had been shaved off the block of wood.

  We walked over to the two men, and Diesel looked down at the wood. "What are you making?" he asked.

  Claws smiled and ran his hand over the wood. "A special toy."

  Diesel nodded as if he knew what that meant.

  "Have you come to take me back?" Claws asked.

  Diesel shook his head. "No. You're free to do whatever you want. I'm after Ring. Unfortunately, Ring is after you."

  "Ring," Claws said with a sigh. "Who would have thought he had power left?"

  "Looks to me like his aim is off," Diesel said.

  "Cataracts. The old fool can't see."

  Diesel scanned the room. Toys were scattered around, in various stages of completion. "You shut down the factory."

  "He's out there," Claws said. "I can feel the electricity in the air. I couldn't take a chance on endangering the workers, so I sent them away."

  "Good riddance," Lester said. "Nasty little slackards. They were more trouble than they were worth."

  "The elves?" I asked.

  Claws made a derisive sound. "We trucked them in from Newark. I rented this space sight unseen and then found out it used to be a daycare facility. Everything is sized for kids. I thought it would cheaper to hire little people than to change out all the toilets and sinks. Problem was, we got a bunch of crazies. Half of them actually claimed to be elves. And you know how unmanageable elves can be."

  We all nodded. "Yeah," we said in half-assed unison, "elves are flighty. You can't count on an elf."

  "What will you do now?" Diesel asked.

  Claws shrugged. "I'll make the occasional special toy. It's what I most enjoy, anyway."

  "I'd like to put you and Elaine in a safer place until I get Ring under control," Diesel said.

  "As long as Ring is at large, no place is safe," Claws said.

  I cleared my throat and cracked my knuckles. "I sort of hate to bring this up right now, but I'm supposed to apprehend you." I reached into my bag and dragged out a pair of cuffs.

  "Jeez," Briggs said.

  "It's my job, remember?"

  "Yeah, but it's Christmas Eve day. Cut the guy some slack."

  "You don't get paid until I get paid," I told Briggs.

  "Good point," Briggs said. "Cuff him."

  I looked over at Diesel.

  "It's your job," Diesel said.

  I looked at the cuffs dangling from my hand. This was my last shot at Christmas present money. And bringing Claws in was the right thing to do. He'd broken the law and failed to appear for his court hearing. Problem was, it was Christmas Eve, and there was no guarantee I'd be able to get Claws bonded out again and released before everything shut down for the holiday. I thought about his house, bursting with baked goods and Christmas spirit, decorated with twinkle lights, blinking out best wishes to the world.

  "I can't do it," I said. "It's Christmas Eve. Elaine would be alone with all those cookies."

  Claws and Lester let out a whoosh of relief. Briggs looked conflicted. And Diesel grinned at me.

  "Now what?" I asked.

  "Now we hunt down Ring," Diesel said.

  I didn't have to look at my watch to know it was midmorning. Time was oozing away from me. I had half a day to make Christmas happen. And some or all of that time was going to be spent hunting Ring. I could feel the panic sitting thick in my throat. I didn't even have the gloves I'd gotten for my dad. They'd gone up in smoke with the CRV.

  "You could bail," Diesel said to me, reading my thoughts. "We'd understand."

  Before I could make a decision there was a clap of thunder, the building shook, and a crack angled across the ceiling. We started for the door, but we were stopped midway by another boom. Plaster rained down from above, and we dove under a large butcher-block workstation. A couple large chunks of ceiling broke loose and crashed to the floor. More ceiling followed. The light blinked out, and demolition dust swirled around us. The workstation table had saved our lives, but we were buried under debris from the roof.

  We did a head count and concluded we were all okay.

  "I could dig my way through this mess," Diesel said, "but I'm afraid it's unstable. It needs to be cleared from the top."

  We all tried our cell phones, but we had no reception.

  "I don't get it," Briggs said. "What was that? It felt like an earthquake, but we don't get earthquakes in Jersey."

  "I guess it was a... phenomenon," I said.

  We sat there for a half hour, waiting for the sound of fire trucks and emergency equipment.

  "No one knows we're trapped here," Claws finally said. "We're separated from the other businesses by parking lots and roadways. And most of the businesses here are storage facilities with minimum traffic."

  "And it's possible the ceiling collapsed but the walls are still standing," Lester said. "If someone doesn't look closely they might not see the damage."

  I inched closer to Diesel. He felt big and safe and solid.

  He playfully tugged at a strand of my hair. "You aren't scared, are you?" he asked me, his lips skimming across my ear.

  "Not me. Nope. I'm cool."

  Liar, liar, pants on fire. I was scared beyond all reason. I was trapped under a ton of rubble with four men and no bathroom. My heart was beating with a sickening thud in my chest, and I was cold to the bone with fear and claustrophobia. If I got out alive I'd probably have a few uncomfortable moments remembering the way Diesel's mouth had felt on my ear. Right now, I was trying to keep my teeth from chattering in panic.

  "Someone needs to go for help," Claws said.

  "I guess that would be me," Diesel said. "Don't anyone freak."

  There was a sound like a soap bubble bursting. Plink. And I no longer felt Diesel beside me.

  "Holy crap," Briggs said, "what was that?"

  "Uh, I don't know," I said.

  "We're all still here, right?" Briggs asked.

  "I'm here," I said.

  "I didn't hear anything," Lester said.

  "Yeah, me either," Briggs said. "I didn't hear anything."

  We sat and waited in the eerie quiet.

  "Hello," Briggs called after awhile, but no one answered, and we all fell silent again.

  There was no way to assess time in the pitch-black cave. Minutes dragged by, and then suddenly there was a faraway sound. Scraping and clunking. And muffled voices carried in to us. We heard sirens, but they were faint, the sound deadened by the debris.

  * * *

  Two hours later, after I'd made a lot of deals with God, a large piece of ceiling was hauled off our table, and we saw daylight and faces peering in at us. Another piece was removed, and Diesel dropped through the opening.

  "I'm thinking that I just imagined you were trapped under the ceiling with us," Briggs said. "You were actually on the outside all the time, right?"

  "Right," Diesel said, reaching for me.

  He gave me a boost, a couple firemen pulled me through the hole, and a cheer went up. Briggs came next, then Lester, then Claws, and finally Diesel emerged.

  Pretty much the entire roof had collapsed, but as Lester had suggested, the walls were still standing. The lot was filled with emergency vehicles and the curious. I stood in the lot and shook my head and plaster dust flew off. My clothes were caked with it, and I could still taste the dust in the back of my throat.

  I looked over at Claws and realized for the first time that he'd taken his toy-in-progress with him when the building started to collapse. He had it cradled in his arm, held close to his chest. It was a small, half-carved block of wood, covered in dust, just
like the rest of us. Too early for me to tell what sort of toy he was making. I watched him slip past the first line of rescue workers and quietly get into his car and drive off. Smart move, since he was wanted for failing to appear.

  I looked around the lot. And then I looked into the sky.

  "He isn't here," Diesel said to me. "He doesn't hang around after he strikes."

  "What does he look like?" In my mind I was envisioning the Green Goblin.

  "Just a normal, little old guy with cataracts."

  "No utility belt? No lightning bolt embroidered on his shirt?"

  "Sorry."

  An EMT draped a blanket around my shoulders and tried to guide me to a truck. I looked at my watch and dug my heels in. "Can't get checked out right now," I said. "Gotta shop."

  "You don't look that great," the guy said. "You're kind of pale."

  "Of course I'm pale. There are only four shopping hours left before I'm due at my parents' house for Christmas Eve dinner. You'd look pale too if you were in my shoes." I turned to Diesel. "I had time to do some serious thinking while I was trapped under the table, and things became very clear to me. My mother is more of a threat to me right now than Ring. Take me to Macy's!"

  It was midafternoon and the roads were relatively empty. Businesses had shut down early. Kids were on vacation. Shoppers were retiring their credit cards. Jersey was at home, preparing the holiday beast for Christmas Day dinner, gearing up for an evening of toy assembly and package wrapping. In eight hours, when the stores are all closed, the entire population of the state will be in desperate search for batteries, wrapping paper, and tape.

  In eight hours, children statewide will be listening for reindeer hooves on the roof. Except for Mary Alice, who no longer believed in Christmas.

  Anticipation hung in the air over the mall, the highway, the Burg, and every house in every town that mashed together to form the megalopolis. Christmas was almost here. Like it, or not.

  Diesel swung into the lot and got a space close to the mall entrance. No problem with parking now. Inside the mall, the silence was oppressive. Shell-shocked salesclerks stood motionless, waiting for the closing bell. A few customers staggered from rack to rack. Men, mostly. Looking lost.