Christmas Stalkings (17 page)

It wasn’t so much that Napier disliked the wind and the cold that he knew were coming. After all, you expected that kind of weather in west Texas in December.

What he disliked was that it was almost Christmas, a time of year that did not generally make him a more kindly and benevolent person.

As far as he was concerned, it didn’t make anybody more kindly and benevolent What it did was bring out the shoplifters and the burglars, increase the number of assaults and accidents involving drunken drivers, and generally wreak havoc with the community.

And worse even than those things, Napier had somehow let himself be talked into taking part in a community activity. He didn’t like community activities, but he’d let himself be persuaded by Carl Burns, that wimpy English teacher out at the college, to be part of something Burns called a “readers’ theater” version of
A
Christmas Carol.

“You’ll love it,” Burns told him. “And even if you don’t, think of all the people who’ll come and bring their kids. Think of all those potential voters.”

It was something to think about, all right. In Pecan City, the office of Chief was elective rather than appointed.

“Besides,” Burns said, “the Mayor will be reading a part. So will I. It’s sort of like your civic duty.”

Napier thought he was doing his civic duty by serving as police chief. He didn’t see why he had to be in some ridiculous play.

“It’s not ridiculous,” Burns said. “Just think of it as a favor to me. I’ve helped you out a time or two.”

Napier didn’t like to admit it, but Burns had a point. The English teacher wasn’t really such a wimp, and he’d been in on two murder cases that might not have gotten solved without him, or at least not solved as quickly as they had been.

“I don’t like to read,” Napier said. “Not out loud, anyway.”

“It’s easy,” Burns said. “Miss Tanner will be reading, too.”

Well, that was different. Elaine Tanner was the librarian at the college, and Napier liked her a lot. Her blond hair, her green eyes . . .

“So how about it?” Bums said.

“Okay, I’ll do it. What part do I get?”

“Well, we might all be reading more than one, but you’ll have at least one major role.”

“Okay. What major role?”

“It’ll be a good one. Don’t worry.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. But you better tell me what it is.”

Burns smiled. “Tiny Tim,” he said.

Napier had not killed Burns on the spot, though he’d thought about it. No jury in the world would have convicted him. After all, he was the Chief, and he could tell everyone that Burns had been killed while attempting to escape. It might have worked, as long as no one pointed out that Burns hadn’t been a prisoner and therefore had no reason to attempt escape.

Anyway, much to Napier’s surprise, things had worked out all right. Tiny Tim really was a good part, and Napier had a reading voice that carried well, even if it was a little deep and resonant for a kid like Tiny Tim. Napier refused to do the part in falsetto, though Burns had asked him to give it a try.

The best part about the whole thing was that Elaine Tanner was impressed by Napier’s abilities, a fact that irritated Burns no end.

“You really are good at this, R.M.,” she said after the first rehearsal. She was standing close to him, with her hand resting lightly on his arm. “Are you sure you’ve never been on the stage before?”

Napier had to admit that he hadn’t. His only stage experience had been in the first grade, when he’d portrayed a woodpecker in some stupid play about where birds go in the winter. He’d had to stand on a chair behind a fake cedar tree.

“He’s a natural,” Burns said, walking over to join them. “I think he practices by intimidating criminals.”

“Well, he’s really very good,” Elaine said. “No matter how he got that way.”

Napier smiled at her, and he smiled even more when he saw how much Elaine’s comment rankled Burns. The two men had been dating the librarian since the beginning of the school year in September, but neither one of them had gained an advantage to this point Napier thought maybe he was gaining now.

So Napier really didn’t mind leaving his office at the city jail for the rehearsal to be held in the college auditorium. He’d be seeing Elaine again, and he’d get yet another chance to provoke Burns. He didn’t want to provoke him too much, though. He had something he wanted Burns to do for him, something that had to do with the reasons Napier didn’t enjoy Christmas.

The
norther
struck just as Napier left the jail. It kicked up white dust in the parking lot and blew grit in Napier’s mouth and eyes. Although it was not quite four o’clock in the afternoon, it was nearly as dark as night. The wind was whipping along at around thirty-five miles an hour, straight from the North Pole, and Napier was sure that the temperature dropped fifteen degrees between the time he left the jail and the time he reached his car. He pulled his leather coat tighter around a waist that seemed a little thicker than he remembered it and thought about surfers flashing across the tops of the blue waves in the opening scenes of “Five-O.” He wondered if they needed any more cops in Honolulu.

“God bless us, everyone,” Napier said.

Don Elliott, the director, applauded. “Very well done. Very well done, indeed. I especially liked the way you read the part of Scrooge this time, Mayor Riley. Just the right amount of menace.” Elliott was short, hardly more than five feet, but his voice was even more impressive than Napier’s. It could be heard all over the auditorium.

Mayor Riley smirked at Elliott’s compliment Riley was a lawyer, and he fancied that he knew a thing or two about menace.

“Professor Burns, you need to do a bit more cringing as Cratchit, at least at first. You can’t let the audience off the hook too easily,” Elliott said.

This time it was Napier who smirked, but not for long. He didn’t want to alienate Burns just now. After Elliott was through with his comments, Napier walked over to where Burns was talking to Elaine Tanner. Napier thought again how much he liked the way Elaine’s glasses magnified her green eyes.

“Sorry,” Burns said when Napier reached them. “No time to talk this evening. Elaine and I are going out for a bite to eat.”

“Why don’t you come with us, R.M.?” Elaine said. “Unless you have some important police business to attend to?”

Napier smiled, not so much at the invitation as at a noise he was sure must be Burns’s teeth grinding.

“Thanks,” he said. “I need to talk to Burns anyhow. This’ll give me a chance.”

“Talk to me?” Burns said. “What about?”

“I’ll tell you while we eat,” Napier said. “Why don’t we go to the Taco Bell?”

There weren’t many good restaurants in Pecan City, but Burns plainly had somewhere a little fancier in mind. He started to say something, but Napier beat him to it. “My treat.”

“Well,” Burns said, “since you put it that way, how can I refuse?”

“You can’t. Why don’t I take Elaine with me? She can ride in the squad car.”

“Oh, can I?” Elaine’s eyes sparkled. She loved police talk, and she loved to ride in official vehicles.

“Sure,” Napier said. “Meet you there, Burns?”

“Fine,” Burns said, his teeth grinding as he watched them walk away.

The wind lashed the green plastic wreaths attached to the utility poles and tore at the red, green, and white Christmas lights strung in the trees. It shook Carl Burns’s old green Plymouth as he drove toward the Taco Bell. He looked out at the decorations and tried to relax his jaws, though what he saw didn’t help much.

Lawns and rooftops were covered with the usual floodlit
Santas
and reindeer, shepherds, Wise Men, and babes in mangers. The wind had bowled over some of the figures, and they lay face down on stiff brown grass. On one lawn there was a parade of the characters from the “Peanuts” comic strip, except for Snoopy. Where the dancing beagle should have been, there was a black-and-white sign that said:

snoopy

STOLEN FROM THIS SPOT 12/24/89.

And where was the Pecan City Police Force when that crime was being committed?
Burns wondered. Probably
scarfing
fajitas at the Taco Bell.

When Burns pulled into the parking lot, the squad car was already there. Elaine and Napier were inside, sitting at a table, and Elaine was laughing at something that Napier had said. Burns punished his dental work some more. Who would ever have guessed that Boss Napier could be so smooth?

Napier got up when Burns entered, asked what he was having, and ordered for everyone. The food was ready quickly, and while they ate Napier entertained by telling them why he liked “Hawaii Five-O” and why he hated Christmas.

“As a matter of fact,” he said to Burns, “that’s what I wanted to talk to you about”

“You want me to make a list for you?” Burns said. He was fond of making lists, and he had one of his own about the Christmas season.

“Nope,” Napier said. “I’ve got a job for you.”

“A job?” Burns said. “I’ve already got a job.”

“Sure you do, but not during Christmas. You teachers relax and get this long holiday while the rest of us have to work. So I know you’re free. And besides, the way you get paid, you probably need the money.”

Burns’s first impulse was to tell Napier that Hartley Gorman College paid a very satisfactory wage, but he restrained himself. He didn’t want to lie. Besides, he was curious.

“What’s the job?” he said.

“I want you to go undercover,” Napier said.

“Oh, Carl,” Elaine said. “A police job!”

Napier suddenly had the sinking feeling that he’d made a big mistake, but he went on. “That’s right. A police job. We’re shorthanded, and I think you can handle this.”

“I don’t know,” Burns said, keeping his eyes on Elaine.

“Of course you can,” she said. “You’ve been a big help to R.M. in the past.”

“True,” Burns said. “I do seem to have a flair for investigative work.”

“I wouldn’t call it a flair,” Napier said.

“He’s done very well,” Elaine said. She was sitting on Napier’s side of the table, but she looked as if she might move over to join Burns at any minute.

“Tell me about the job,” Burns said.

“‘Investigative work’ may not be the right phrase either,” Napier said.

“Just tell me,” Burns said.

“Well, you know how I said I’d be Tiny Tim for you?”

“Of course.”

“This is sort of the same thing.”

Burns looked skeptical. “You want me to be in a play?”

Napier grinned at him. “You might say that. I want you to play Santa Claus.”

The beard itched, the red suit was hot, and the boots were too big. The red fur-trimmed cap kept slipping down over his forehead. The stomach padding made him feel like a whale in a red coat, and the wire-rimmed glasses made everything look blurry.

Carl Burns felt like a complete fool.

He was sitting in the big black chair in the middle of Cameron’s Department Store. In front of him, the line of little kiddies was forming. In moments, they would be taking their turns sitting in his lap as they confided to him their secret Christmas wishes.

If he’d had any sense at all, he would have choked Boss Napier with a taco shell, but Elaine had been there and she had looked awed at the idea of Burns’s actually taking part in a police case, so what could he do? He’d agreed, of course.

The problem was a common one. Cameron’s was experiencing high losses to shoplifters, higher than usual even for the season, and the management was at a loss. Their own trained plainclothes shoppers had been unable to detect what was going on. A few minor offenders had been nabbed, but not enough to stem the flow of merchandise that was leaving the store.

Burns’s first thought was that the store owner should invest in a security system like the ones “in the big cities, where an alarm went off if you tried to smuggle something past the sensors.

“They’re not making enough money to do that,” Napier said, which Burns knew was probably true. The store was old and old-fashioned, and most of the locals preferred to shop in Dallas or Fort Worth or at the Wal-Mart that had recently been built on the edge of town. Once the store had been the pride of the city, but now it was probably losing money eleven months of the year, and for most of the twelfth. It was only around Christmas that Cameron’s had crowds inside, and even then the crowds were not as large as they had been only a few years before.