Dunc's Undercover Christmas

by Gary Paulsen

  Dunc smiled. “I’d say you’re Amos’s cousin, all right. No doubt about that.”

  “I ran a check on all of the possible suspects.” Dunc held up a list.

  Amos shook his head. “Quit talking like you’re with the FBI. All you did was call some department stores and ask where they get their Santas.”

  Dunc shrugged. “Same thing.”

  The three boys were in Dunc’s room mapping out strategy for the case. Actually Dunc was talking strategy. T.J. was listening. And Amos was throwing darts and eating cheese puffs.

  “Here’s the deal,” Dunc said. “Not all of the Santas who came in and out of the store on the robbery date can be accounted for. Some of them could have been doing charitable work. A few of them might have been shopping or working at some other store in the mall. Most of the stores I called hire their Santas from the Lundini Agency downtown. That’s where we’ll start. From there, it’s a process of elimination. Simple.”

  “When he uses that word, watch out.” Amos threw a dart at the board on Dunc’s bedroom wall.

  “This is so awesome.” T.J. sat on the edge of the bed taking it all in. “My very first case. You guys are lucky, getting to do this all the time.”

  Amos snorted. “Lucky is not quite the word for it.”

  Dunc ignored him. “I’ve made arrangements for us to get inside the agency. Tomorrow we’re supposed to report to a man named Tyson. He’s the manager. We’ll get further directions from him.”

  “The manager is going to help us catch his own employees?” T.J. asked.

  “Not exactly.”

  “See, I told you to watch out,” Amos said.

  Dunc shot Amos a look. “We’re going to have to go undercover on this one.”

  “Wow!” T.J. jumped up. “You mean, like secret agents? This is getting better all the time. I’ve always wanted to go undercover. Do we get code names?”

  Amos looked at him.

  Dunc went on, “I let the agency manager think we’re just kids who need some extra Christmas money. He said he could use us tomorrow for a special job.”

  Amos eyed him suspiciously. “Doing what?”

  T.J. interrupted, “What does it matter, as long as we’re in? What should I bring, Dunc? I have almost my entire supply with me.”

  “Entire supply?” Dunc asked.

  “T.J. here comes fully equipped for any situation.” Amos patted him on the back. “Automatic flyswatter, disappearing ink, remote-control lawn mower. You name it. He’s invented it.”

  T.J. blushed. “Well, I don’t know about every situation …”

  “If you had a camera, one you could hide easily,” Dunc said, “then we could get some pictures for the police.”

  “No problem.” T.J. held out his hand. He flipped back the top of a large gold-colored ring on his middle finger. Inside was the smallest camera Dunc had ever seen.

  Dunc moved over to inspect it. “Does it work?”

  T.J. looked insulted. “Of course it works! Stand back, and I’ll take your picture.”

  He closed the lid and pressed a hidden button on the top.

  Dunc heard a tiny click. “Hey, that’s all right, T.J. Just what we need.”

  He spoke too soon.

  The lid on the ring snapped open. A small silver spring popped out. Then another. The film started unwinding. It curled up over the edge of the ring and fell out onto the floor.

  T.J. shrugged. “I guess it still has a few bugs. But don’t worry, I’ll have them worked out by tomorrow. Like my great-grandmother always says, ‘If it’s worth doing, don’t stand in the cow pasture.’ Check you later.” He started for the door.

  Dunc leaned over to Amos. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  Amos smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know. I told you, it loses something in the translation. Don’t worry, after you’ve been around him awhile, it starts to make sense.”

  “Elves? You told him we’d be elves? Are you crazy?”

  Dunc shrugged. “It’s a great disguise, Amos. This way, we can stay with the agency Santas all day, and no one will be suspicious. Besides, it was the only job available.”

  Amos looked at himself in the dressing-room mirror. He was green from head to toe. Green pointed hat. Green shirt. Green tights. Green slippers. “I am not going out in public dressed like this, Dunc! I look like Peter Pan.”

  “No one will recognize you. It’s Christmas, you’ll blend in. Trust me.”

  “Ta-da!” T.J. jumped out of his dressing room. “How do I look, fellow detectives?”

  Dunc frowned and shook his head. “You can’t wear your trench coat, T.J. It doesn’t go with the costume.”

  T.J.’s face fell. “But Dunc, I always wear it. I have to wear it. My entire life’s work is in this coat. I can’t not wear it.”

  “It’s true,” Amos said. “He always wears it. Even in the middle of summer.”

  Dunc looked at Amos. He looked at T.J. “Oh, all right. I guess it won’t hurt anything. Come on. We’d better get going, or we’ll be fired before we get started.”

  “Yes!” T.J. made a fist and pulled his elbow to his side. “You won’t be sorry, Dunc. I may have some things in here that will help with the case.”

  “Don’t.” Dunc stopped and held up one finger. “Don’t use any of your inventions unless it is an absolute emergency. Okay?”

  “I’ll be waiting for your signal. All you have to do is say the word.”

  “Right. Now, let’s go. We’re supposed to be at the Toy Emporium in ten minutes.”

  The store was only six blocks from the agency. The boys set out on their bikes. T.J. was riding Amy’s bike. Which amazed Amos because she never let him—her own brother—near her bike. Or anything of hers, for that matter.

  They walked their bikes across the street in front of a station wagon that was stopped at a red light.

  Amos stared at the car. Melissa Hansen was sitting in the front seat. Melissa’s mother was taking Melissa and some of her friends shopping. He started to wave. Then he remembered his costume. He froze in the middle of the street.

  The light changed. Dunc yelled at him to come on. Amos couldn’t move.

  “Oh, brother.” Dunc handed T.J. his bike. He went out into the street and led Amos to the curb. He sat him down on a bench and waited.

  In a few seconds Amos came back to life. “Blend in. You said I’d blend in. She saw me—looking like a big green elf. I may kill you. A slow, painful death.”

  “Hold on. Chances are she didn’t even recognize you. And if she did, well—she probably admires your Christmas spirit.”

  Amos stood up. He thought about it. “Do you really think so? I bet if we hurried, we could beat them to the next stoplight. I could walk across and—”

  “Sorry, Amos. We have work to do.”

  T.J. moved up by Dunc. “What was that all about?”

  “It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in when we have more time—there’s the store.”

  They chained their bikes to a rack out front. Dunc and T.J. hurried inside to find the owner. Amos was right behind them until he felt a tap on his shoulder.

  He turned around. It was Santa—the Santa from the mall.

  “They really don’t dress like that, you know,” he said.

  Amos looked around. “Who?”

  “My elves.”

  “They don’t?”

  “No. They dress like everybody else. Confidentially, so do I. In the off season, of course.”

  “Amos!” Dunc was calling for him. “There you are. What are you doing out here?”

  “Sorry, Dunc. I was talking to Santa.”

  “Santa?”

  Amos turned to show him. The Santa was gone. “He was here a minute ago.”

  “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, Amos. Maybe you should go on home. T.J. and I can handle the case.”

  “He was here, Dunc. Really. He told me how his elves really dress. It’s not like this. You wouldn’t know them from
regular people.”

  “Sure, Amos. Whatever you say. Why don’t you come in and sit down for a while? We’ll talk about this later.”

  The owner of the Toy Emporium was a tall man with bushy gray sideburns. He introduced them to the Santa from the agency.

  “Boys, this is Jim Sikes. You will be working with him today. Your job is to hand out these coloring books and prizes after Jim talks to the kids. If you have any problems, I’ll be in my office.”

  It was difficult to tell what Jim Sikes really looked like underneath his phony white beard and glasses. One thing they could tell after they saw him in action for a while—Jim Sikes was an unpleasant man who did not like children. When he asked the little kids what they wanted for Christmas, his voice was so gruff, one little boy started to cry.

  Amos gave the boy a coloring book. “Hey, cheer up, kid.”

  The boy cried even louder.

  “Hey, kid. If you stop crying, I’ll let you meet Santa’s chief toy maker,” Amos said.

  The little boy wiped his eyes. “Really?”

  “Sure. He just happens to be in the store today.” Amos motioned for T.J. to come over.

  “What?”

  Amos leaned over to him. “I told this kid that you’re Santa’s chief toy maker. Show him something you made.”

  “I don’t know. I sort of promised Dunc—”

  “Dunc’s not here. He’s looking around for clues. Come on, T.J.—he said in case of emergency. This is an emergency. I’ll explain it to him.”

  The little boy pulled on T.J.’s coat. “I can tell you’re the boss elf. You get to wear a coat.”

  T.J. beamed. “Smart kid.” He led the boy to the side. “What’s your name?”

  “John.”

  “Okay, John, what I’m about to show you is top secret. We haven’t actually started production on this item yet. So you can’t tell anybody. Promise?”

  John nodded.

  T.J. pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to him.

  “A ball? I’ve seen those before.”

  T.J. bounced the ball. “You’ve never seen one like this.” Every time the ball bounced it went a little higher.

  John started laughing. “Let me try! Let me try!”

  T.J. reached for the ball. It got away from him. He tried to catch it, but it was out of control. T.J. chased it down the aisle. The ball kept bouncing higher and higher. “Dunc, Amos! Help!”

  Dunc was in the storeroom. He noticed that the back door was open a crack. He peeked through the door and saw a delivery van outside. The side of the van said “Toys for Kids.” He was about to go outside and inspect it when he heard T.J. yell.

  The store had gone crazy. Everyone was screaming—except for John. He was having the time of his life. The ball was bouncing up to the ceiling and coming down harder each time, ricocheting like a bullet. Whole displays were crashing to the floor. People were taking cover under anything they could find.

  Dunc grabbed a toy fishing net. He ran after the wild ball. On his third try he captured it.

  The owner ran up to him, puffing and wiping sweat off his forehead. “Whose—whose ball is that?”

  T.J. looked sheepish. He slid his hand up. “It’s mine. I’m sorry about the damage. I’ll get it cleaned up right away.”

  “Don’t worry about the damage, son. I’ll take a hundred of those balls. Right away!” He put his hand on T.J.’s shoulder and led him back to his office.

  Amos grinned. “That guy will be a millionaire someday.”

  “Yeah, if he can live through it.” Dunc said. He motioned for Amos to follow him. “I think I’ve found something. The back door is open, and there’s a van parked outside.”

  “It’s probably a delivery van.”

  “That’s what I thought, at first. But the driver never gets out. He just sits there. Like he’s waiting for something.” He pushed the back door open a bit and looked through.

  Jim Sikes was talking to the driver.

  “Right under our noses. I can’t believe it.” Dunc tossed the newspaper to Amos, who was rocking in Dunc’s front porch swing. “They took all the money from the cash register while we were right there in the store. And what’s worse—we helped! We created the perfect diversion for them with that ball. They’ll probably invite us to go along on all their robberies from now on.”

  T.J. tried to read the latest article over Amos’s shoulder. “I feel terrible about this, guys. It’s all my fault. What are we going to do now?”

  Amos yawned. “I vote we call the cops. We know who did it. It was that Sikes and the man in the van.”

  Dunc shook his head. “We only think we know who did it. We don’t have any proof.”

  “It had to be them,” Amos said. “It wasn’t us. The store manager didn’t rob himself. There wasn’t anyone else.”

  “It could have been a customer,” Dunc said. “Or it could have been your imaginary Santa.”

  Amos gave him a hostile look. “He’s not imaginary. I saw him. He was really there. And I told you before—he didn’t do it.”

  Dunc held up his hand. “Okay, so it wasn’t that Santa. We need to figure out who it was soon, though. Christmas is in less than a week. After that …”

  “Too bad we can’t be undercover elves anymore.” T.J. sighed.

  “Yeah, it breaks my heart.” Amos snorted.

  Dunc looked thoughtful. “What’s really too bad is that we don’t know where the agency’s sending their next Santa. If we knew that, we might still have a chance.”

  “That’s easy,” T.J. said. “They’re sending a Santa to Halversons, in the mall—for two days in a row, starting day after tomorrow. I heard Mr. Tyson at the agency talking on the phone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  T.J. nodded.

  Dunc clapped his hands. “All right! We’re back in business. We’ve got two days to come up with a foolproof plan to catch these guys.”

  “No more disguises,” Amos said. “If you guys want to look stupid in front of the whole world, go ahead, but count me out. Melissa goes into Halversons all the time. I’m not taking a chance on ruining our relationship.”

  Both T.J. and Dunc stared at him. Dunc spoke first. “Amos, you don’t have a relationship with Melissa.”

  “I used to think that too. But now I know the truth. Melissa is really crazy about me.”

  “From what I’ve seen, the girl doesn’t realize that you are a member of the human race.” T.J. grinned.

  “See?” Amos slapped his knee. “That proves my point.”

  Dunc pulled T.J. aside. “First he thinks he’s talking to the real Santa. Now he thinks Melissa Hansen is crazy about him. He’s really gone off the deep end.”

  Amos shook his head. “You guys don’t understand the principle. Jimmy Farrel told me about it. He got it from his big brother Dennis, who has all kinds of girlfriends. Dennis says that a lot of times girls like you and they don’t even know they like you. Sometimes they can like you for years and not know it. He says the only thing that matters is that you know that they don’t know that they really like you.”

  T.J. whispered to Dunc, “Should we call the men in the white coats?”

  “Dennis Farrel gave this to me.” Amos held up a wilted piece of mistletoe. “He says girls can’t resist it. Now all I have to do is wait in a place where Melissa is sure to be. And then”—he snapped his fingers—“Melissa is mine forever.”

  Halversons was the largest department store in the Pioneer Mall. It sold mostly expensive clothes, some jewelry, perfume, and shoes.

  Dunc had called the store earlier and found out that a Santa from the agency would be on duty both days. They decided, for lack of any better disguise and because Amos was acting so weird, to pose as ordinary Christmas shoppers. But Dunc insisted that they each bring a change of clothes, so that the clerks wouldn’t notice them hanging around all day.

  In T.J.’s case it didn’t matter whether he changed clothes or not because he insi
sted on wearing his trench coat, in case Dunc needed one of his inventions to help catch the crooks.

  Dunc tried his best to talk him out of it. T.J. listened patiently and then quoted his great-grandmother: “ ‘The fly gets more to eat when he stays in the soup.’ ” As if that settled the whole thing.

  The December morning air was crisp when they left Dunc’s house. Amy had once again loaned T.J. her bike. Amos figured she must be sick.

  They made good time getting to the mall. They had their bikes parked and locked by nine o’clock. The plan was for Dunc and T.J. to take the first shift watching the store. Amos’s job was to go around back every so often and see if the van was waiting. If nothing happened, they would trade off in an hour.

  Amos checked on the van first thing. It wasn’t there. He wandered down the mall. Most of the stores were just opening. He sat down on a bench in front of a hot dog shop.

  “Are you hungry, son?”

  Amos turned around. It was him—the Santa from outside the toy store. Amos swallowed. “N-no. I was just sitting here killing time.”

  “Mind if I sit down?”

  Amos looked around. “Ah, no. Go ahead. I can’t stay, though. I have something to do.”

  The Santa nodded. “Check the alley.”

  “How did you—”

  The Santa smiled. “It’s my business. Your friends—they don’t believe in me, do they?”

  Amos shook his head.

  “I understand. It’s the same all over. The older they get, the less they believe. It’s a common problem. Comes with the territory.”

  Amos sat and listened to Santa talk about his problems for the next forty-five minutes. Things like the high cost of materials, the elf strike, and what a rough time of year it was in general.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Amos saw Dunc coming down the mall. He looked at his watch. Oh, no! He had been sitting too long. He was supposed to have checked the alley again and been at Halversons ten minutes ago to take his shift.

  He stood up. “Look, I have to go now. My friend is coming, and if he finds out I’ve been talking to you again—”