The Fat Man (9 page)
Authors: Ken Harmon
It got worse all right. Brother, did it get worse.
CHAPTER 10
Decorations of Red
Dear Gumdrop
,
,
The game’s afoot! I have deduced that there really is a Misfit Mafia! Great Caesar’s Ghost! I may need your help, so stay close!
Sherlock Stetson
P.S. Zsa Zsa says hello to her vittle Gumdrop and that if you’ve got the chimney sweeper, she’s got the flue. Don’t worry; I’ll get her some soup.
W
hen I opened my door, I saw Bert the Cop on my welcome mat, looking like dinner hadn’t agreed with him for the past ten years. I made it my business to look hard and see if there was a firing squad behind him, so I didn’t notice the note from Sherlock sticking out of my mailbox by the door. If I had, the rest of my night might have turned out a lot different. But I didn’t and it was time to tuck into the bed I had made.
hen I opened my door, I saw Bert the Cop on my welcome mat, looking like dinner hadn’t agreed with him for the past ten years. I made it my business to look hard and see if there was a firing squad behind him, so I didn’t notice the note from Sherlock sticking out of my mailbox by the door. If I had, the rest of my night might have turned out a lot different. But I didn’t and it was time to tuck into the bed I had made.
A cop was the last thing I needed, but my guess was that my little jaunts into the human world had broken some ancient Kringle Town law. I figured Santa had sent Bert to write me a ticket or, at least, give me a warning. I might even get a couple of days in the hoosegow to cool off, but I was past caring. I swung the door open and motioned Bert in, just to get it over with.
“Holly Jolly, Bert,” I said, pointing to a chair. “You’re a little far from home. How are things in Bedford Falls?”
“It’s a wonderful life there,” Bert said. He sat, but he wasn’t comfortable. He was checking out my place as quickly as he could with a glance. He frowned when what he was looking for didn’t show up. “How have you been, Gumdrop? I hear you’ve had a little trouble lately.”
“Well, I caused most of it, and Santa’s already read me the riot act,” I said. “If he sent you to rap my knuckles or throw me in the pokey to teach me a lesson, I’ll play nice, Bert. I’m done being a tough elf.”
“Santa didn’t send me, Gum,” Bert said. “I’m here on kind of official business. Where have you been in the last twelve hours or so?”
“Right here.”
“Alone, I suppose.”
“Santa was here about 7:30,” I said. “Dingleberry was right behind him. I started keeping company with a bottle of cheer from about 8:30 on.”
“That was eight hours ago,” Bert said, frowning.
“I wasn’t awake for all of them, so I’ll trust your math,” I said. “Tell me, Bert, what do you think I might have been up to in those eight hours?”
Bert stared at me level, cold. “Raymond Hall Senior is dead,” he said like he hated saying it. “His kid found him. Human cops figure he had only been dead a couple of hours.” Bert pulled a notepad and a pen out of his pocket and flipped to a blank page. “Know anything about it?”
I waited for a few seconds before I tried to come up with an answer that would make Bert close his pad. I was hoping it was some kind of gag, but the ice in Bert’s eyes told me all I needed to know. I returned Bert’s stare and said, “No, Bert. I don’t know anything. I haven’t seen Hall since I roughed him up last week. Hadn’t even thought about him until Santa came in and took me behind the woodshed. I know it looks bad, but that’s the truth.”
Bert gave the inside of his cheek a chew and then scribbled a note. “You’ll get a fair shake from me, Gumdrop, you know that,” he said. “But don’t think I’ll play the sap for you. If you did this, even Clarence the angel won’t be able to save you.”
“What happened?” I asked.
According to what Bert heard through the grapevine, Little Ray found his dad in the telephone room. Senior was on the floor, beat up, blood everywhere. The kid called the cops and they had been taking pictures and dusting ever since. Bert heard that the human cops were stumped because there was no sign of a break-in, no weapon and no one else in the house.
“So naturally you think an elf with magical powers got in, whacked Raymond and got out,” I said. “That would explain why the human cops are stymied.”
“It would explain a lot of things,” Bert said.
“Have you gone to Hall’s house?” I asked.
“Wanted to come here first,” Bert said. “I wanted to see if you were here and how you would take the news.”
“How’d I do?”
“So far, you’re a cool customer, I’ll give you that,” Bert said. He scanned my place again, studying.
“Looking for a murder weapon?”
“You got a typewriter, Gumdrop?”
“You think I gave Raymond Hall the powder with a typewriter, Bert?”
Bert gave me a hard look and then fished a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Someone sent this to
The Marshmallow World
earlier tonight. Know anything about it?”
The Marshmallow World
earlier tonight. Know anything about it?”
I took the paper and read it. Somebody was writing me a death sentence and they did it on a typewriter.
‘Twas the night before christmas, when all throuth the
home,
The Creature stirred trouble, wherever he roamed;
The kittens were hung by the chimney with glee,
By a miserable kid who was really naughty;
The brat was nestled, cold-blooded in bed,
While visions of misery danced in his head;
And Momma drinking bourbon, and I with my pills,
Hid from our child that we wanted to kill;
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter;
It sounded like the kid emptied a drawer full of knives;
I peeked out the door, afraid for our lives;
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an elf famous for giving kicks in the rear;
He had rocks on his back and soot in his soul,
I knew in an instant he was Gumdrop Coal.
“Now hellion, now rascal, now little brat!
“This is what you get for being a rat!”
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Giving coal to my kid, the little jerk;
With a snarl, Gumdrop bit the Gingerbread Man’s head,
Spit out the crumbs and left the ginger carcass for dead;
And I heard him exclaim as left in a bound,
“Say so long to the Fat Man, there’s a new elf in town!”
home,
The Creature stirred trouble, wherever he roamed;
The kittens were hung by the chimney with glee,
By a miserable kid who was really naughty;
The brat was nestled, cold-blooded in bed,
While visions of misery danced in his head;
And Momma drinking bourbon, and I with my pills,
Hid from our child that we wanted to kill;
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter;
It sounded like the kid emptied a drawer full of knives;
I peeked out the door, afraid for our lives;
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But an elf famous for giving kicks in the rear;
He had rocks on his back and soot in his soul,
I knew in an instant he was Gumdrop Coal.
“Now hellion, now rascal, now little brat!
“This is what you get for being a rat!”
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
Giving coal to my kid, the little jerk;
With a snarl, Gumdrop bit the Gingerbread Man’s head,
Spit out the crumbs and left the ginger carcass for dead;
And I heard him exclaim as left in a bound,
“Say so long to the Fat Man, there’s a new elf in town!”
I could feel Bert staring hard at me while I read. I was in a tough spot. “I don’t really think ‘naughty’ and ‘glee’ rhyme, do you?” I asked, handing the paper back.
“Trying to be cute, huh?” Bert asked. “Your mug shot’s not going to be so cute, wise guy.”
“Smart up, Bert,” I said. “Somebody’s putting the shuck on me and you. This little limerick just happens to show up the night Raymond Hall is mysteriously rubbed out and you don’t think that’s fishy? You believe that I wrote it after I killed Raymond and sent it in just for kicks? Next you’ll tell me you believe in the Tooth Fairy.”
“Watch your mouth or you’ll be missing a few teeth,” Bert said, meaning it.
“C’mon, Bert. Someone’s playing you.”
“I don’t play at being a cop,” Bert said. “You’re the number one suspect, until I think different. But like I said, I’m giving you a fair shake.”
“I appreciate it,” I said. I gave us half a minute to cool down and then asked, “Do you think I could tag along with you to see Raymond?”
“Sounds like you want to return to the scene of the crime,” Bert said, getting up.
“I want to be there when you investigate,” I said. “I want to clear my name of this tonight.”
W
hen Bert and I arrived at the Hall house, the human cops were still there. We stood silent and invisible on the border of Kringle Town and the human world, watching them do their grim work. Bert took notes on his pad and I tried to ignore the wails of sorrow coming from the other side of the house. It was a tough break that Little Ray found his dad. He probably hated my guts. I would if I were in his shoes. His dad was a mess. There was more blood than I was expecting; his face was decorated in red. Just looking at it made my stomach churn, but I was pretty sure upchucking would make me look even more guilty—not that I needed any help.
hen Bert and I arrived at the Hall house, the human cops were still there. We stood silent and invisible on the border of Kringle Town and the human world, watching them do their grim work. Bert took notes on his pad and I tried to ignore the wails of sorrow coming from the other side of the house. It was a tough break that Little Ray found his dad. He probably hated my guts. I would if I were in his shoes. His dad was a mess. There was more blood than I was expecting; his face was decorated in red. Just looking at it made my stomach churn, but I was pretty sure upchucking would make me look even more guilty—not that I needed any help.
On the human side, a big detective came in with a medical examiner and cleared the room. “I want to see if you can tell me how this guy died before I mess with the crime scene any more,” the detective told the doctor. “We can’t find a single print, a broken window or door, nothing. We can’t find a weapon, so see if you can give me any idea of what else to look for.”
The doctor opened his sack and began looking for his tools. The big detective stepped back and waited, studying the room for anything he might have missed.
Somewhere far behind Bert and me there was a noise, a kind of dull rumble. It was coming from Kringle Town and headed our way. As it got closer, we could make out that it was the voices of elves. They were shouting my name. They were mad. They were coming after me.
The one voice rising over the throng, the angriest, the one leading the pack, belonged to Kringle Town’s rising citizen—Cane.
“You can arrest me, Bert,” I said. “But you got to keep that mob from tearing me apart.”
“Don’t move,” Bert growled and stomped off toward the crowd. I watched him go and wondered if it made more sense for me to run. On the one hand, it would prove to every elf in Kringle Town that I was as guilty as I could be. On the other hand, it sounded like most of the elves didn’t need any help with that idea. I was trying to figure how I could build my defense when the medical examiner called the detective over to Raymond’s body.
“You might want to check around for bullet holes again, Detective,” the doctor said, shining a light at Raymond’s bloody head. “I was trying to find where all this blood came from, but I couldn’t find a wound and then I caught the reflection of something.”
“What is it?” the detective asked, peering in. Invisible to the human cops, I peered in too.
The doctor worked a pair of tiny tweezers just above Raymond’s right cheek. Slowly, the doctor pulled something out. “This,” he said, holding the tiny object up to the detective. “It’s a BB. Someone shot his eye out.”
My neck went clammy and I got dizzy as a top. Whoever knocked off Raymond Senior went to a great deal of trouble to hide how they did it. Something told me that I was getting railroaded and that whoever was driving the train was in that mob and coming up fast. I wasn’t going to have time to explain everything so we could find out who did this to Raymond. I wasn’t going to have time to go to Raymond Junior and tell him I was sorry and that he and his dad didn’t deserve this. The only way to get more time was to run no matter how guilty it made me look. I needed to figure out the who and the why. My bright idea opened the door for someone to kill Raymond, but I didn’t have to let them get away with it.
I owed it to Raymond and Little Ray.
I owed it to Santa.
I owed it to every kid who wanted to believe in something good.
I had one clue: an eye shot out with a BB.
Ralphie!
CHAPTER 11
Over the River and Through the Woods
THE MARSHMALLOW WORLD GAZETTE
Elf Collector Scores Rare Comic
Talk to Dingleberry Fizz for more than a minute and you’ll discover two things he loves: making toys and
By George Adventures
. Kringle Comics has been publishing the plucky yarns of Bedford Falls’ most famous lassoer for decades, creating one of comics’ most enduring characters. But to fans like Dingleberry Fizz,
By George
is a guide to life. “He is just the best,” Dingleberry gushes. “He’s brave, he’s funny, he’s smart. He’s a dreamer and he always finds a way to make his dream come true—even if he’s running from a tribe of Mayan Piggy Pygmies through a maze of mutant okra plants. He did that too, you know.” Because others share Fizz’s hero worship of
By George Adventures
, many of the early comics are hard to come by and can cost a pretty penny. But Dingleberry Fizz recently had a stroke of luck on Elf-Bay. “Someone was getting rid of their older brother’s comic book collection. He had a lot of
By George Adventures
, so I bought them for spares. I never, ever thought I’d find issue 48, but it was mixed in with all the rest. It’s worth more than what I paid for the whole collection!” Issue 48 is the
By George Adventures
holy grail, a rare, hard-to-find potboiler,
The Disappearing Rabbit
. In
The Disappearing Rabbit
, George rescues the daughter of a gazillionaire who has been kidnapped by an evil magician. In rescuing the lass, George gets unexpected help from the magician’s loyal rabbit, Harvey. Written and illustrated by the famous artist Robert May,
The Disappearing Rabbit
was a single-issue adventure. The limited printing makes the issue even more valuable. Experts estimate that, in mint condition,
The Disappearing Rabbit
could be worth as much as six hundred sugarplums. Knowing that, Fizz simply quotes his hero, “Hot dog!”
By George Adventures
. Kringle Comics has been publishing the plucky yarns of Bedford Falls’ most famous lassoer for decades, creating one of comics’ most enduring characters. But to fans like Dingleberry Fizz,
By George
is a guide to life. “He is just the best,” Dingleberry gushes. “He’s brave, he’s funny, he’s smart. He’s a dreamer and he always finds a way to make his dream come true—even if he’s running from a tribe of Mayan Piggy Pygmies through a maze of mutant okra plants. He did that too, you know.” Because others share Fizz’s hero worship of
By George Adventures
, many of the early comics are hard to come by and can cost a pretty penny. But Dingleberry Fizz recently had a stroke of luck on Elf-Bay. “Someone was getting rid of their older brother’s comic book collection. He had a lot of
By George Adventures
, so I bought them for spares. I never, ever thought I’d find issue 48, but it was mixed in with all the rest. It’s worth more than what I paid for the whole collection!” Issue 48 is the
By George Adventures
holy grail, a rare, hard-to-find potboiler,
The Disappearing Rabbit
. In
The Disappearing Rabbit
, George rescues the daughter of a gazillionaire who has been kidnapped by an evil magician. In rescuing the lass, George gets unexpected help from the magician’s loyal rabbit, Harvey. Written and illustrated by the famous artist Robert May,
The Disappearing Rabbit
was a single-issue adventure. The limited printing makes the issue even more valuable. Experts estimate that, in mint condition,
The Disappearing Rabbit
could be worth as much as six hundred sugarplums. Knowing that, Fizz simply quotes his hero, “Hot dog!”
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