Babes in Toyland II

by Aspen Mountain Press Authors

  "I see. He sounds like a great man to be around. I'm sorry I never met him. Can you tell me anything else? Did he ever mention where he lived, whether he had a wife and children? Did he ever say anything that was unusual?"

  Father Anderson frowned again. “No. Holiday Spirit never talked about himself, except for one time. He said something about a toothache. From what I understood, he had a tooth that ached nonstop. I tried to help him by referring him to my dentist, but he said he was quite fearful of dentistry and couldn't face having his teeth worked on."

  "But maybe he did go, if he could no longer stand the pain. I would like the name of your dentist."

  Father Anderson smiled. “Dr. Tusk."

  I laughed at that one. “What did Holiday Spirit do while attending your church?"

  "He was always giving out presents; every day in fact. He gave presents to everybody; toys to the children and usually baskets of food to the adults. He purchased everything with his own money. He never once asked for donations from the church. Without a single doubt in my mind, Thanet, I believe that Holiday Spirit is extremely wealthy."

  That bit of information weighed heavy in my gut; it gave me a bad feeling. Was it possible the guy had been kidnapped for his money? Kidnapped, or something worse? Nausea started to churn inside me. Good Lord, was I going to be involved in another murder case? Not again, please. I swallowed three times to keep my sour stomach down where it belonged. “Did he meet certain people on a regular basis?"

  "Yes. I'll run off a list of names for you."

  He did some things on his computer I will never understand. The printer burped out a sheet of paper and he handed it to me. I took a deep breath before I glanced down at the names; my sense of dread was almost overwhelming. Déjà vu slammed my gut as the black ink mocked me. I knew almost all the people listed there.

  Chapter Three

  According to the hard copy Father Anderson gave me, Holiday Spirit visited Jennifer on an almost daily basis. Jennifer, as you might remember, is the young computer genius who helped me solve my two murder cases: Who Is Offing the Collectors? and Who Is Offing the Private Dicks? She shouldn't have got involved. Terrible things happened to her because she crossed paths with me long enough to find out the hard way that wherever I go, so goes death ... and sometimes something even worse.

  Jennifer is now out of the hospital and living comfortably in a nice section of the city. Although her house is small, it is the right size for her. A light yellow exterior with dark green trimming and dark green patent shingles on the roof, it suited her personality. Seconds after I ring her doorbell, I'm being hugged like she is glad to see me.

  "Thanet! Where have you been for the last two weeks?"

  I held her at arm's length and took a good hard look at the kid. Barefoot, wearing a dark-blue, long-sleeved cotton shirt and faded blue jeans, she is a sight to behold. Jennifer is eighteen-years-old and five feet tall, she has fiery-red hair, a few freckles placed randomly on her peaches-and-cream complexion, and doesn't weigh an ounce over one hundred pounds. To me she is beautiful as all get out, in spite of the scars that are still healing on her face, arms and, as the doctors told me, her midsection.

  "Mostly I've been hiding from my office landlord. I've also been contemplating my navel. The sleaze business has been slow of late, for which I'm thankful. Dealing with people who fail to know right from wrong quite often gives me an unclean feeling. I wish there were no clients during the holiday season, despite the fact my wallet is flat. Thanet Blake will survive. He always does."

  "Well, I'm tickled you're here. I'm in terrible need of company.” She paused for a second. Tears were forming in her eyes and I knew she was waging an internal battle to maintain control over her emotions. I hugged her close to me as she cried for several minutes. During that time I mentally kicked my ass for the trouble I've caused her. She finally backed away from me, dried her tears and smiled, though the smile was a little wobbly. “I'm sorry. I thought all my tears had been used. As usual I've been feeling sorry for myself, hating the person who did what he did to me and my parents."

  "He's no longer among the living, Jennifer."

  "That's not enough, Thanet. Nobody should go through what was forced on to me. People who rape and mutilate and murder should all be shot dead."

  A cold sweat formed on the back of my neck and under my arms. Her words did that to me. Jennifer's kind of mad could destroy her, cause her to go around the bend or worse yet, turn her into a person who takes revenge on rapists. I sighed and said the first thing that came to my mind in an attempt to change the subject. “I'm thirsty. Do you have something to drink besides water?"

  "I have soft drinks."

  "Great. Surprise me and bring the first can you touch."

  My ploy worked. She led me into her lounge room before she left for the kitchen. I looked around the room, curious as to why it felt empty to me. It had the usual furniture: a brown davenport, three straight-back chairs, a small-sized television set, and a coffee table with a half-full bowl of licorice and peppermint candy centered in its middle. Then it dawned on me. There was no Christmas tree, cards, decorations or any signs of the festive season anywhere. Sadness struck me like a lightning bolt. I needed a shot of rye from the hip flask I forgot to bring with me. What should have been a time of warmth and familial camaraderie was instead cold and lonely. My guilty conscience stabbed at me; I was responsible for this. What should have been a carefree month was nothing but a terribly sad one for Jennifer.

  The soft drink that was handed to me turned out to be orange pop. I opened the can and took a big swallow. As I lowered the can I saw Jennifer staring at me. Her head was slightly tilted to the left and her beautiful but sad eyes told me she knew I wasn't here just for a visit.

  "I love your company, Thanet. I find myself waiting for your next visit. But I know by the look on your dead-bang gorgeous face that this isn't one of your usual visits. What's on your mind?"

  I smiled and hoped that what I was about to say wouldn't bring back her mood from a few minutes ago. “You're too smart for you own good. All right, Holiday Spirit is missing. When did he visit you last?"

  Concern etched itself on her face and her eyes widened, startled at the news. She got this faraway look in her eyes as she quietly searched her memory. “It was less than a week ago. I've been quite worried about him. He normally visits me every other day, but he missed the last two visits. Any clues as to where he might be?"

  "None at all. I've been hired to find him."

  "Oh.... “Doubt momentarily flashed in her eyes.

  I laughed. “I know, I know. The only way I could find a cold is if it found me first. In spite of that, the case is mine. Now, I want you to think back to the conversations you've had with Holiday Spirit. Did he say anything at all that might indicate he was in any kind of trouble? Was it possible he was being followed, or was he accosted by somebody? Had he received any threatening letters? Was there anything at all?"

  Jennifer was quiet for at least three minutes. Her IQ had scored off the chart so I was confident that while she was busy mentally thumbing through that filing cabinet mind of hers, she would remember every single word Holiday Spirit ever said to her. I was disappointed when she shook her head. “In all our conversations he only spoke of things that made me feel good. He used words of encouragement and explained why I should grasp life with both hands and love living. I've been trying to do that, you know."

  She grabbed my shoulders and hugged me. I felt the softness of her cheek against mine and her warm breath caressing my left ear as she spoke in a soft, pleading whisper. “You've got to find him, Thanet. Promise me that you will. I need him; the world needs him."

  We remained that way, hugging each other on her couch for a few moments more until she removed her arms from around me and grabbed my hands. “Hold hands with me, Thanet. I need you to be here with me for a little longer."

  My big paws dwarfed her fragile, carefully-manicured hands. I nodded my
head.

  "The very thought of a world without Holiday Spirit makes me feel cold, lonely and empty, Thanet."

  "I'm sure a lot of people will feel that way, if he isn't found. But don't worry. I'll find him."

  The smile on her face at my promise lit up the room.

  Chapter Four

  When I left Jennifer thirty minutes later, she was confident I would find Holiday Spirit. Youthful confidence is a wonderful thing. I could use several gallons of it right now. I didn't have the slightest idea of where to start looking for him or who to talk to. Just because I have names of people Holiday Spirit visited didn't mean they would know anything.

  I decided to stop at Sam's Floral Shoppe. Sam and I go way back to high school days. Together we double-dated and got drunk for the first time, amongst many other things. He's glad to see me.

  "Well I'll be. If it isn't Thanet ‘I left my wallet home’ Blake. How are you? And no, I'm not getting drunk with you. I have ulcers."

  "Come on Sam, we haven't been on a bender for decades."

  "And I thank the Lord for that. Your typical benders could float battleships. Now I know this isn't a social call. So tell me, why are you here? Are you buying flowers for a girlfriend? You do have a girlfriend, don't you?"

  "No. But I do need flowers for a friend, Sam. A very special friend who needs to be cheered up."

  I told him a few things about Jennifer without going into too much detail. It was enough to cause a tear in his right eye, thereby informing me that the big bear-like guy was still the same soft-hearted football player I knew.

  "Name the flowers you want, Thanet. I'll bill you later."

  Between us we decided Jennifer should have six red roses and six candy canes, all arranged nicely in a red vase along with a cheerful card wishing her a Merry Christmas from yours truly, Thanet Blake. We agreed that Sam would personally deliver them to her address.

  * * * *

  Imagine my surprise, when I first glanced at the list of names the good Father gave me, to discover that a close friend of Holiday Spirit's was none other than Gordon ‘Rumpott’ Adams.

  As those of you who have staggered through my murder cases already know, Rumpott and I are drinking buddies. Yes, he does live up to his name, and yes, he does drink me under various barroom tables. In fact, I have yet to see him hit the floor before I do.

  I parked my blue-and-white 1956 Ford Fairlane in front of Rumpott's favorite dive, an establishment that is located in the most rundown section of the city's waterfront. In spite of the overabundance of crime in this area, a few people have put away their knives, guns and bicycle chain clubs, and are instead busily staggering around, decorating Christmas trees with ornaments that are hard to see because of the surrounding environment. Fog reeking of bathtub gin always blankets this particular area. It is so thick you need a bowie knife to cut through it. An ancient barnacle-infested, decaying sailing ship recently moored itself directly behind the joint, adding an even more-sinister ambience to the place. I figured it must be haunted by thirsty ghosts wanting barrels of rum. I guess that means it's fifteen men on a dead man's chest, me hearty.

  Before I opened the door and let its hinges announce my arrival—the noise those rusty fixtures make are reminiscent of the noisy hinges on Inner Sanctum—I hear a voice that's so loud the whole booze joint reverberates with its booming echo. The voice belongs to none other than Rumpott.

  "Ah ... innkeeper! I desire more rum for my parched throat. I am suffering from the Mongo sun and desert. Quick, before I perish, and before this Christmas tree I am attempting to decorate starts losing its needles. Never again will I roll the dice with you for such a paltry reward."

  Rumpott is once again wearing his Flash Gordon ‘King Vultan’ outfit, wings and all. No, it is not a special occasion. Nor is he going to a costume ball. He wears this sort of garb when he's drinking, which is nearly all the time. His eyes are piercing black pools of knowledge that accent his black, bushy eyebrows and carefully-groomed black beard. He's a giant of a man, my drinking buddy is. Four inches above six feet and three-hundred pounds of solid muscle. Fighting him would be like a lamb taking on a grizzly bear.

  "Make that two bottles of rum, innkeeper,” I hollered. I make it a point to never stay sober when I'm with Rumpott. It's a tradition with the two of us, to rapidly get into the falling-down drunk state when we're together.

  He turned around at the sound of my voice. “By Tao, Thanet! Do my bloodshot eyes deceive me? I thought you were in the clutches of Ming the Merciless, or better yet, his evil but beautiful daughter, Princess Aura. Ah ... how I wish I could meet her. But I can see you're not with either one of them. You're here, in front of me. You haven't sworn allegiance to Ming, have you? If you have, are you here to capture me?"

  Folks, he always talks that way. He collects Flash Gordon memorabilia to the point it has become an obsession with him. He always mixes fantasy with reality during his conversations with me.

  "No, I'm still my own man.” I hung a silver ornament on the small, three foot Christmas tree Rumpott had placed on top of his private table. “I'm here to ask you questions while we drink the night away. By the way, aren't your eyes always bloodshot?"

  "There is no other way to have them. They match the color of my nose.” He pinned me with a hard, searching glare and then frowned. “All right, why are you here? You said something about questions."

  The bartender slammed two bottles of rum—no glasses—down on our table, mumbled something incomprehensible, scooped up a handful of twenties, and left. I took three big swigs of rum that tasted watered down while deciding the best way to proceed. “You know Holiday Spirit."

  "Of course I do. Holiday is the finest man I've ever met. Sadly, he does not drink spirits. Why are you asking?"

  "He's missing."

  As he silently absorbed that bit if information, the frown that crossed his face would have frightened a Bengal Tiger. “That's why he hasn't visited me in the last three days. And here I thought he'd given up on me."

  "Given up on you?"

  "Yes, he encouraged me to change my drinking habits."

  That surprised me. I can't imagine him changing his drinking habits. He wouldn't be Rumpott if he did. “Have you?"

  A scratchy recording of Perry Como singing Silent Night sounded in the background. Although Rumpott didn't answer my question, he did take a swig that reduced the rum in his bottle by a quarter before making a statement I didn't want to hear.

  "You're trying to find him. Thanet, your reputation, I'm sad to say, is not ‘bring them back alive'. It's more like bring them back dead. Holiday Spirit must be found alive and well. The man is the spirit of the holidays. Why, without him ... Lord, I don't even want to think about that. Let's just say I would face the fire pits of Mongo to find him."

  Rumpott took three more long gulps from his bottle. I knew he was trying to keep calm. Holiday Spirit was that important to him.

  "How did you meet him?"

  "By Tao, that was the strangest day ever. One I will never forget in a hurry. Here I was, happily trying to drink my favorite watering hole dry for the day when I heard a noise outside. I turned toward the front door and saw a golden-colored taxi pull up to the curb. The driver stepped out, opened the back door of the cab, and out steps this guy who reminded me of Santa Claus. You know what I mean: shaggy, pure-white hair and a bushy, white beard. Well, he walks in through the door, strides over to this table and introduces himself. Thanet, he knew my name and everything about me. It was like he was there the day I was born, and ever since then he's been looking over my shoulder. Somehow the fact that he knew so much about me made me feel good. Can you tell me why?"

  "At the moment I don't have a clue. Did he say anything to you that might help me find him?"

  "Out of all the times he's come here? No. Besides encouraging me to change my drinking habits we just talked, usually about happy, cheerful things. And as we talked, he would sip a carton of milk and eat the cookies he always b
rought with him. His taxi bill must have been huge. It always waited for him. He did mention that he doesn't know how to drive automobiles."

  "Did he happen to say what he does know how to drive?” The question surprised me; I wasn't consciously thinking it.

  "No, he didn't. Why do you ask?"

  "I'm not sure. The question just popped into my mind."

  I didn't know what else to ask, but Rumpott did have a question for me.

  "I haven't asked you this because I have been waiting for the right time. Well, now's the right time. Have you've been seeing Selena?"

  His question startled me for a few seconds. I finally blurted out, “Hell, Rumpott. You know I haven't."

  "By Tao! Selena is beautiful, and she loves you. What is wrong with you?"

  Selena in love with me? No, that was impossible. We were only together once, at Rumpott's party. But why was I a little thrilled at knowing how she felt? I began to sweat and my pulse quickened. My drinking buddy was smiling like Alice In Wonderland's Cheshire cat as he waited for my answer. I gave him one.

  "What's wrong with me? I'm married. Married for life."

  Rumpott nodded knowingly. “I understand, Thanet. But your Dru has been dead for over a year and you, my friend, are not dead. You're alive. You're still young and you shouldn't be alone."

  "Well, you're alone."

  "I have my harem."

  "I mean you're not married."

  "I was, once."

  The swig of rum I was taking ended up sprayed all over the table. I looked at him with new eyes. This wasn't the Rumpott I know and love. Gone was the King Vultan face. In its place was a chubby, sad look.

  "My God, Rumpott. I didn't know. You never said."

  He sighed. A faraway look appeared in his eyes. I could see that as he talked, he was slowly reliving what had happened all over again. “I was an enlisted man back during the Vietnam war. She was Vietnamese. She was the loveliest little lady I ever laid eyes on. We fell in love, got married, and then she disappeared. I searched for months, looking everywhere for her, before I was recalled back to the United States."