08bis Visions of Sugar Plums (12 page)

"I have a present for you," Morelli said, curling his fingers into my coat collar, pulling me to him.

"Is it a big present?"

"No. It's a small present."

So that eliminated the first item on my Christmas wish list. Morelli gave me a little box, wrapped in red foil. I opened the box and found a ring. It was composed of slim intertwined gold and platinum bands. Set into the bands were three small deep blue sapphires. "It's a friendship ring," Morelli said. "We tried the engagement thing, and that didn't work."

"Not yet, anyway," I told him.

"Yeah, not yet," he said, sliding the ring onto my finger.

Sound carried crystal clear on the cold air. I heard a car pull up to the curb. A door opened and closed. And then a second.

"Aren't you the one," Grandma said.

The deeper male voice didn't carry back to us as clearly.

"It's Grandma and the studmuffin!" I whispered to Morelli.

"Listen," Morelli said, "I'd really like to stay but I've got this assignment..."

I opened the kitchen door. "Forget it. You're staying. I'm not facing the studmuffin alone."

"Look who I've got," Grandma announced to everyone. "This here's my friend John."

He was about five-foot-nine, with white hair, a ruddy complexion, and a slim build. He wore thick-lensed glasses and was dressed for the occasion in neatly pressed gray slacks, casual rubber-soled shoes, and a red blazer. Truth is, Grandma had dragged home a lot worse. If John had artificial parts, he was keeping them to himself. Fine by me.

Grandma didn't look nearly so well groomed. Her lipstick was smeared, and her hair was standing on end.

"Yikes," Morelli whispered to me.

I extended my hand to the studmuffin. "I'm Stephanie," I said.

He shook my hand and my scalp tingled and a tiny spark passed between us. "I'm John Ring," he said.

Oh boy. So this is the connection. This is the reason Diesel was dropped into my kitchen.

"He's just full of static electricity tonight," Grandma said. "We're gonna have to rub him down with one of them fabric softener sheets."

"I'm sorry I couldn't make dinner," Ring said. "I had a stressful day." He stepped closer, adjusted his glasses, and squinted at me. "Do I know you? You seem familiar, somehow."

"She's a bounty hunter," Grandma said. "She tracks down bad guys."

Zzzzzt.
A series of sparks crackled off Ring's head.

"Isn't that something the way he can do that?" Grandma said. "He's been doing that all night."

My mother slyly made the sign of the cross and took a step backward. Morelli moved closer to me, pressing himself against my back, his hand at the nape of my neck.

"Look at the hair on my arm," Kloughn said. "It's all standing up. Why do you suppose it's doing that? Boy, I'm kind of creeped out. Do you suppose it means something? What do you suppose it means?"

"The air's real dry," I said. "Sometimes hair doesn't lie down when the air's real dry."

Here I was, face to face with Ring, Diesel was off hunting batteries, and I hadn't a clue what to do. My heart was skipping beats, and I was humming from head to toe. I could feel vibrations coming through the soles of my shoes.

"I feel like a Slurpee," I said to Grandma and Ring. "How about we all go to 7-Eleven and get a Slurpee?"

"Now?" Grandma said. "We just got here."

"Yep.
Now.
I really need a Slurpee."

What I needed was to get Ring out of my parents' house. I didn't want him near Angie and Mary Alice. I didn't want him near my mom and dad.

"Maybe you could stay here and help wrap presents," I said to Grandma. "And Mr. Ring could give me a ride to 7-Eleven. It would give us a chance to get acquainted."

Zzzzt. Zzzzzt.
Mr. Ring didn't seem to like that idea.

"Just a suggestion," I said.

Morelli's hand was steady at my neck, and Ring took a couple deep breaths.

"Are you okay?" Grandma asked Ring. "You don't look too good."

"I'm... excited," he said. "M-m-meeting your family."
Zzzt.

It looked to me like Ring was having a control problem. He was leaking electricity. And he seemed as uncomfortable with his position as I was.

"Well," he said, forcing a smile, "this is a typical fun family Christmas, isn't it?"
Zzzzt.
He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.
Zzzt. Zzzt.
"And this is your lovely Christmas tree."

"I paid fifteen bucks for it," my father said.

Zzzt.

The tree had about twelve needles left on it and was tinder dry. My father diligently watered it every day, but this tree died in July.

Ring reached out, tentatively touched the tree, and it burst into flames.

"Holy shit," Kloughn yelped. "Fire.
Fire!
Get the kids out of the house. Get the dog. Get the ham."

The fire spread to the cotton batting wrapped around the base of the tree and then to the presents. A streak of fire raced up a nearby curtain.

"Call 911," my mother said. "Call the fire company. Frank, get the fire extinguisher from the kitchen!"

My dad turned to the kitchen, but Morelli already had the extinguisher in hand. Moments later, we all stood dazed, mouths agape, staring at the mess. The tree was gone. The presents were gone. The curtain was in tatters.

John Ring was gone.

And Diesel hadn't returned.

There was a loud series of explosions outside and through the window we saw the sky light up, bright as day. And then all was dark and quiet.

"Cripes," my dad said.

Grandma looked around. "Where's John? Where's my studmuffin?"

"You mean Sparky," Kloughn said. "Get it? Sparky?"

"Looks like he left," I said.

"Hunh, just like a man," Grandma said. "Burn down your Christmas tree and then up and leave."

Morelli set the fire extinguisher aside and crooked his arm around my neck. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

"I don't think so."

"I didn't see any of this," Morelli said. "I didn't see the sparks coming off his head. And I didn't see him set the tree on fire."

"Me either," I told him. "I didn't see any of that stuff, either."

We all stood there for some more long moments with nothing to say. There were no words. Just shock. And maybe some denial.

A small, sleepy voice broke the silence.

"What happened?" Mary Alice asked.

She was on the stairs in her jammies. Angie was behind her.

"We had a fire," my mom said.

Mary Alice and Angie approached the tree. Mary Alice studied the charred boxes. She looked up at my mom. "Were these presents from the family?"

"Yes."

Mary Alice was sober. Thinking. She looked at Angie. And she looked at Grandma.

"That's good," she finally said, "because I'd hate to have Santa's presents get burned." Mary Alice climbed onto the couch and sat with her hands folded in her lap. "I'm going to wait for Santa," she said.

"I thought you didn't believe in Santa," Grandma said.

"Diesel said it's important to believe in things that make you happy. He was in my room just now, and he said he was going away, but Santa Claus would come to visit tonight."

"Did he have a horse with him?" Grandma asked. "Or a reindeer?"

Mary Alice shook her head. "It was just Diesel."

Angie climbed next to Mary Alice. "I'll wait, too."

"We should clean this mess up," Grandma said.

"Tomorrow," my mother told her, taking a dining room chair into the living room, sitting across from Mary Alice and Angie. "I'm going to wait for Santa."

So we all sat and waited for Santa. We put the television on but we weren't really watching. We were listening for footsteps on the roof. Hoping to catch a glimpse of reindeer flying past the window. Waiting for something magical to happen.

The clock struck twelve and I heard cars drive up and doors open and close. And I heard voices, babbling in hushed excitement. There was a knock on the front door and we all jumped to our feet. I answered the door and wasn't too surprised to see Sandy Claws. He was dressed in a snappy red suit with a red Christmas tie. He held a box, all wrapped up in shiny paper and tied with a golden bow. Behind him squirmed a legion of elves. (Who was I to say if they were fake or real?) All bearing presents. Randy Briggs was among them.

"Diesel said you needed some help with Christmas," Claws said to me. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine. Diesel is always fine. He's returning Ring to the Home."

"How can he do that? How can he get around the electricity stuff?"

"Diesel has ways."

"I bet you get harassed, right?" Kloughn said to a couple of the elves. "I bet you could use a good lawyer. Let me give you my card."

My mother rushed to the kitchen and returned with platters of cookies and fruitcake. My father cracked out some beer. Grandma eyed Claws.

"He's a cutie," she said to me. "Do you know if he's taken?"

The party lasted until all the presents were opened, the last cookie was eaten, the last beer swilled. The elves said their good-byes and packed off in their cars. Sandy Claws and Briggs remained with one last box. It was the box with the golden bow, and Claws gave the box to Mary Alice.

"I made this myself," he said. "Just for you. Keep it always. It's a special present for a very special person."

Mary Alice opened the box and looked inside. "It's beautiful," she said.

It was a horse. Carved from curly cherry wood.

Mary Alice held it in her hand. "It's warm," she said.

I felt the horse. It was cool to my touch. I raised eyebrows in question to Sandor.

"A special present for a special person," he said to me.

"A special person with special abilities?"

He smiled. "There are signs."

I smiled back at him.

"See you in court," he said.

I awoke at dawn and gently slid away from Morelli. I padded through my dark apartment to the kitchen. The mall tree was lit with tiny twinkle lights, and Diesel was leaning against the counter.

"Is this good-bye?" I asked him.

"Until next time." He took my hand and kissed my palm. "It was a good Christmas," he said. "See you around, sunshine."

"See you around," I said, but he was already gone.

And he was dead-on right, I thought. It was a
very
good Christmas.

END OF
VISIONS OF SUGAR PLUMS