Santa's Special Delivery

by Lubrican

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Chapter Three

The younger of the two cops came back in while I was sitting on the couch waiting for Eva.

"Are you really Kit Carson?" he asked.  All the rookies do that.  The older guys put them up to it because they know it drives me nuts.  They claim it's a mark of respect, because of my record and solve rate, but they don't call me that themselves.  They just get the rookies to say it.  

I sighed.  "In the flesh.  I'll come down to the station and fill out a report as soon as I'm finished here.

"I'm supposed to interview you," he said.

"You're supposed to interview witnesses, not the cop who made the bust," I corrected.

"You mean the woman?"

"I'll take care of that too," I said.

"Oh."  He looked nervous and started shifting around on his feet.  It was obvious he didn't know what to do now.

I helped him.

"This is where you say 'Have a nice night, sir,' and then walk confidently out the door to take your perp down to the station and book him," I said.

"Oh ... right.  Have a nice night, sir," he said.  He turned and left.  

I looked around and saw Eva peeking at me from where the rookie wouldn't have been able to see her. She stepped into the room.

"Kit Carson?"

I groaned.  "You weren't supposed to hear that.  You okay?"

She let her head fall to one side, roll forward and then back up, like she was stretching it.

"Actually, compared to last time he was here, I'm doing wonderful ... fantastic, even."

"I'm glad I was here," I said.  "Unless I'm the one who brought him."

"How could you be responsible for that?" she asked.

"I don't know.  I sat watching your place for an hour before you got back.  Maybe he saw me and would have left you alone except for me coming to your door."

"I don't think so," she said.  "After I got the restraining order he stalked me every chance he got.  He made sure to stay far enough away that I couldn't do anything about it, but he wanted me to know he was watching.  And taking things from us to sell is something he would do anyway, whether you were here or not.  He's done it plenty of times before this."

"Then I'm glad I was here," I said again.

"Me too."

"But I am sorry that Timothy had to see all this," I said.  "This was supposed to be a quick in and out, brighten his day - yours too, by the way - and be on my way kind of deal."

"It was very thoughtful," she said.  "And it did brighten my day.  But it's an awfully lot of money to spend on a stranger."

"I can't take all the credit," I said.  "There's a group of us who kind of get together to do something like this every year around this time."

"It's still a lot to offer to a stranger," she said.  "Though you do seem to know a lot more about us than the average stranger would.  It was a little creepy when you knew his full name and all that.  You're really a cop?"

"Guilty as charged," I said.  "Thanks for not shooting me, by the way."

"Shooting you?"  She frowned.  "I don't understand."

"It's a police thing.  Sometimes a woman gets upset when you're trying to arrest her man.  Never mind."

"He's not my man," she said firmly.  "He gave me a big tip one time and asked me out and I was stupid enough to go out on some dates with him.  He decided he was my man, and it all went downhill from there."

"Oh," I said.  "I thought he was Timothy's father."

"Now you're just being stupid," she said firmly.  "I have better sense than to let a man like Wallace Gardner into my bed.  That's one of the reasons he beat me up so many times.  He said he would convince me that I loved him and wanted him between my legs if it killed me.  I believed him, and that's when I got the restraining order."

"So where's Tim's father?" I asked.  I'm a cop.  I'm used to asking personal questions that people think are none of my business.

"Dead," she said.  She looked away.  "He had a defect in one of the blood vessels in his brain and he had an aneurism out of the blue one day.  One minute he was making toast, and the next minute I was freaking out.  Timothy was only four at the time."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Not as much as I am," she replied.

"I'll be honest," I said.  "I've never lost anybody that close to me before.  I've been around a lot of people who have, but I still can't imagine what they're going through."

"I'm glad you're honest.  The people I can't take are the ones who claim they know how I feel."

I stood up.  "This was supposed to be a merry Christmas.  I wish there could be a do over."

"You did a nice thing," she said.  "Go on home to your family.  You can give them a merry Christmas."

"Haven't got one," I said.

"Why on Earth not?"  She was pretty good at asking personal questions too, as it turned out.

"Law enforcement doesn't lend itself to having happy families.  Too much time on the job, too much stress at home about whether you'll come home or not ... stuff like that."

"So you're divorced?"

"I never wanted to inflict that kind of life on a woman," I said.  "I tell myself I'm a confirmed bachelor."

"I see," she said.  "Maybe Timothy and I could have a merry Christmas after all."

I was always a sucker for a comment like that.  

"Oh?"

"If you're telling the truth - if you have no family - then you have no one to spend Christmas Day with," she said.  "We would be honored if you'd spend it with us."

"What if I have plans with friends, or other confirmed bachelors?" I suggested.

"Do you?"

"Well ... no, actually."

"Please come," she said.  

I looked at her.  I managed to keep my eyes on her face, and let me tell you that took some control. She was a nice looking woman, and right then I wanted to look at all of her.  But I controlled the urge.  I didn't know if this was a good idea.  They frown on you dating victims and witnesses and all that.  But it was only one day, and Christmas at that, so nobody would even know about it.

"Should I wear this?" I asked, plucking at the suit.

She laughed.  "No, I'd like to meet the man behind the mask, if you don't mind."

"I already brought the presents," I said.  "I'll have to come empty-handed."

"Your empty hands will be fine," she said.  "See you around eight?"

"In the morning?" I gasped, clutching my chest.

"Christmas morning," she said, as if that changed everything.

"Oh, all right," I said.  "Maybe I should just stay," I joked.  Then I almost winced.  Some jokes just don't work as well in real life as you thought they would when they slipped out of your mouth.

She lowered her lashes and looked at me through them.

"I owe you a lot for helping Timothy and me tonight, but I don't pay my debts with sex."

Santa got rosier than ever about then.

"That's not what I meant," I said quickly.

"I'm sure it's not," she said.  

She went to the door and pulled it open.  I got up and, thoroughly chastened, I picked up my now empty bag and started past her.  She stopped me and made me face her.  She was short enough that she had to pull me down.  I thought she was going to press my mustache back on, but instead she pulled it off.

Then she kissed me on the lips, a warm, soft-lipped, lingering kiss that made just about every muscle in my body react as if I was the one being stun-gunned - just with a really low voltage stun gun.

She pulled back, her eyes still closed, and the tip of her tongue flicked out to lick one side of her upper lip.

"Thank you, Santa," she said.  She opened her eyes.  "I always wanted to kiss you, ever since you brought me that Keytar keyboard when I was nine."

"I'll have another one for you next year," I sighed.

She laughed again, stuck my mustache back on, and pushed me out the door.  "Eight o'clock sharp!  We're having waffles."

I got back in my car, feeling better than I had in a long time.  I mean I get a kick out of playing Santa, but this year was even better than usual.

Then I remembered all the paperwork I'd promised the rookie I'd do, and groaned.

I aimed the car towards the station instead of home.

I get a fair amount of ribbing from the guys who don't participate in the holiday festivities.  I don't mind, really.  If you're going to be in the Santa business, it's got to come from the heart or it's not genuine.  I only wanted genuine people on the team.  So I expected the skeleton staff on duty at the station that night to give me a hard time.  Don Grabel was the booking sergeant that night, and he didn't kid me at all.

"Hey, Carson," he said as I walked in.  "Guess who tried to mug three people before he showed up and broke and entered so you could arrest him."

"You're kidding," I said.

"One of them is in the hospital with a busted open head.  Fell and hit the curb.  The other two are on their way down here to ID him.  On Christmas Eve, yet!  This guy has pissed off a ton of people tonight."

"Well maybe it will be a Merry Christmas," I said.

"You made my night," he said.  "The funniest part is that he's as poor a mugger as he is at taking you on.  He didn't get anything from any of them.  Just played tug of war with their purses until the men who were with them beat him off."

I did paperwork for two hours and headed home to get a little sleep before I had to get up at the unearthly hour of seven so I could take a shower and get back over to Eva's by eight.  The only place I could find open on the way at all was a single convenience store.  The clerk was Muslim, and could have cared less what day it was.  They only had one sorry looking bouquet left in a tin bucket next to the milk, but I got them anyway.   I had no idea what to get for a seven year old little boy, so I settled on a handful of Slim Jims and a chocolate Santa.

Sad excuses for gifts in hand, I knocked at exactly eight, according to my watch, which was set based on GMT, which I could bring up on my computer whenever I felt like it.   The door opened only a few seconds later and Eva stared at me.

"Hi," I said uncertainly.  She was still staring.

"You look taller," she said.  

"Usually it's the other way around.  Everybody thinks Santa looks much bigger than me."  I held out the flowers.

She took them and sniffed them.  "Nobody's ever gotten me flowers for Christmas before," she said.

"I didn't exactly have time to shop for you."

"Yes you did."

"Okay, then, I didn't exactly know you well enough to know what you'd like."

"You did all right."  She sniffed the flowers again.  "Are you going to come in, or let all the heat out?"

I went in and found Timothy standing in footy pajamas, about ten feet away, staring at me.  He didn't look scared, but he didn't look happy either.

"Timothy, this is Kit Carson," said his mother.

"Are you any relation to the Kit Carson who was John Fremont's guide in the American West?" asked the little boy.

"No," I said.  "Actually, my name is Bob, but some of the men I work with like to tease me and call me Kit."

"Sometimes kids at school tease me about my name too," said Timothy.

"Why?" I asked.  "What's there to tease about a name like Timothy?"

"Because I like being called Timothy instead of Tim, or Timmy, or Tiny Tim," he said.

"Got it," I said.  "Don't worry.  It gets better as you get older."

"You think so?"  He had been staring at me the entire time. "Why do you sound like Santa Claus?"

"It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it," I said.  "How come you sound like Anthony Falapasio?"

"Who's he?" asked the boy.

"He's this kid I grew up with in Queens, in New York City.  You sound just exactly like him."

"Oh.  Well I'm not him."

"And I'm not Santa Claus," I said.

"I invited Bob to come to breakfast with us today," said Eva.

"How come?" asked her precocious little boy.

"Because I hope he's a nice guy.  I might like to have him for my friend."

"You mean like a boyfriend?"  The child looked horrified.  "Julie Timmons wants me to be her boyfriend, but I don't want to at all!"

"Then just tell her you're not ready for that yet," I said.  "I'm not trying to be your mommy's boyfriend.  I just like waffles, and didn't have any place to go on Christmas day.  Your mom is being nice to me."

"Are you homeless?" asked the boy.

"Enough personal questions!" sang out Eva.  "I vote we eat breakfast now."

"Yes!" shouted Timothy.  "And then presents!"

"Absolutely!" shouted his mother.

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