division called coffee.
“Hey,” he exclaimed. “It’s Christmas freakin’ Eve, Kemosabe. We actually washed the pot this mornin’.”
“Yeah,” I chuckled. “Whether it needed it or not, right?”
“Exactly.” He grinned.
I couldn’t help but notice an n ^ th generation photocopy gracing one corner of his desk blotter, especially since it was positioned so that I could easily read it. A blurred but still recognizable pair of mug shots dominated the page, showing a rotund, bearded man in an instantly recognizable suit. The text beneath outlined a wrap sheet stating that the individual was wanted for breaking and entering, cookie theft, and illegal dumping. It further went on to say that he was known by such aliases as Saint Nick, The Jolly Elf, Santa Claus, etcetera, and could often be found in the company of elves. Last seen fleeing in a late model sleigh pulled by eight reindeer. Consider armed with candy canes. Approach with caution.
“Sounds like a real tough guy,” I said, indicating the novelty on his desk.
“Yeah,” he nodded and laughed. “The asshole dumped a whole pile of crap at my house last year, and I ended up holdin’ the bag for all the batteries. If I ever catch up with ‘im I’m liable ta’ kill ‘im.” Leaning back, he took a sip of his coffee and watched me carefully for a long moment. “So what’s up? Why ain’t you with the little woman?”
“She’s out doing that annual charity thing with her photography club.”
“Yeah, I know. She was just on the news about forty-five minutes ago givin’ ‘em an interview.” He let out a low wolf whistle. “Nice outfit.”
“Uh-huh,” I grunted, not really needing the reminder.
“So explain that one to me.”
“What? Her costume?”
“Hell no, that was pretty self-explanatory, ya’ lucky bastard,” he said. “I’m talkin’ about ‘er doing the whole Miz Santa Claus thing. How’s that fit in with what you were celebratin’ the other night?”
“It doesn’t really,” I told him. “Yule is a religious holiday, just like Christmas or Chanukah. Santa Claus, however, while associated with Christmas, isn’t a religious figure. In his current incarnation he’s actually an icon of commercialism created by a soft drink company.”
“Yeah, I read somethin’ about that already, smartass,” he grinned. “What I’m askin’ is if you Witches celebrate Christmas too?”
“In the sense of it being a commercialized, secular holiday, sure, many of us do. But it doesn’t bear any religious significance for Pagans like it does for most everyone else.”
“So ya’ get like two holidays in one,” he stated as much as asked.
“You could look at it that way, but Christmas is the generally accepted holiday by society as a whole. I doubt you’ll find many employers who give winter solstice as a paid holiday. So it’s kind of a trade off. Besides, the actual date for Christmas was pilfered from the Roman celebration of Saturnalia anyway…”
“Saturn-who?”
“Forget it. You’ll just end up accusing me of boring you with a bunch of details.”
“Yeah, I s’pose you’re right,” he nodded almost thoughtfully as he chuckled. “Anyway, the real reason I asked is Allison and I wanted ta’ invite you and Firehair over ta’ the house tonight if ya’ aren’t doin’ anything.”
“I thought you were having a family get-together this evening?”
“Yeah, we are. Helen’s comin’ over, but that’s about it. Besides, you two are like family anyway.”
“Well, we aren’t doing anything with our families until tomorrow,” I conceded. “I’ll have to check with Felicity, but I’m sure she’d love to come over. If you’re certain we wouldn’t be intruding.”
“I wouldn’t’ve invited ya’ if you’d be intruding, now would I?”
“Okay. I’ll talk to her about it, but you can probably go ahead and just count us in.”
“Good deal. I’ll let Al know. So now that we’ve got that outta the way, let’s get back ta’ the original question. What gives, Row? I know damn well ya’ didn’t blow off a chance ta’ follow Felicity around today…” He paused and gave his head a quick shake before adding, “‘Specially today… Just ta’ come down here an’ explain the meanin’ of Christmas to me. So what’re you doin’ here?”
“Would you believe I just stopped in to say ‘Happy Holidays’?”
“I just told ya’ a minute ago that I saw Firehair on TV, so I think I pretty much just said no ta’ that.”
“Yeah, didn’t think so.”
The telephone on his desk pierced the ensuing lull with a sickly trill. My friend motioned for me to wait a second then leaned forward and snatched up the receiver. “Homicide, Storm.” Even as he spoke he kept his eyes on me expectantly. “Yeah…uh-huh…sure, I’m here. Okay. See ya’ in a few.”
He dropped the handset back into its base and leaned back once again, making the heavy-duty springs in his chair groan in protest.
“Do you need to leave?” I asked.
“Nope. ‘Nother copper is droppin’ by for somethin’. Charlee McLaughlin, you might remember ‘er,” he said.
“Sure,” I nodded. “I remember Charlee.”
Detective McLaughlin had been assigned to the Major Case Squad earlier this year when Eldon Porter had engaged in his one-man revival of the Inquisition. I had gotten to know her when she had volunteered to work a secondary job guarding Felicity and me after it became obvious that I was one of Porter’s targets.
“So you gonna tell me what’s up?” he pressed.
“I would if I knew, Ben.”
“And that’s s’posed ta’ mean?”
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I didn’t actually set out to come here. It’s just where I ended up.”
“Where’d ya’ start out for?”
“You don’t want to know.”
“Jeez, Row.” He shook his head. “What’re ya’ up to now?”
“I wish I knew,” I answered him. “Something just doesn’t feel right about everything that’s been going on.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not exactly news, white man.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” I shook my head vigorously. “Ever since Friday night…”
“Whoa.” Ben held up a hand to stop me. “If this is about the phone call, I already told ya’ I’m not goin’ there.”
“It’s not about that,” I stammered my objection. “Not really… Well, maybe…a little…but not entirely… I’ve just got a weird feeling. It’s been way too quiet for the past couple of days.”
“What? Like no disturbances in the Twilight Zone?” He followed up his comment with an abbreviated whistle of the old TV show’s opening theme.
“Something like that.”
“Yeah, so?” He shrugged. “In my book, quiet’s good.”
“But it’s been too quiet.”
“Ya’ sure you’re not just lettin’ your imagination run away on ya’?”
“I don’t think so. Not this time.”
“So ya’ got somethin’ ta’ work with?” he asked with more than just a hint of sincerity in his query this time. “One of those hinky visions? Some more fucked up poetry? Anything?”
“No. Not at the moment. Like I said, it’s been quiet. What I’m talking about now is just a feeling.”
“That doesn’t really help me, Row.”
“I know, Ben. It doesn’t exactly help me either.”
“Hey, Chief,” a voice came from behind me.
“Yo, Chuck,” Ben returned, looking past me. “How’s Sex Crimes treatin’ ya? Gettin’ any?”
“More than you, would be my guess,” Detective Charlee McLaughlin joked as she came into view. “And I’m being treated about as well as a sex crime can treat anyone I suppose.” With that she turned her attention to me. “Hey, Rowan. I didn’t know you were here. How’re you doing?”
“I’m good, Charlee,” I acknowledged. “You?”
“Can’t complain.” She shot me a quick grin. “Speaking of sex crimes, I saw Felicity on the news a little while ago.” She punctuated her comment with a whistle. “I’m surprised you aren’t out there playing bodyguard. I think the
