Page 2 of The Great Reindeer Caper

Something, somewhere, someone just wanted really badly?

“Jackson!” she said, looking ahead and across the street. The tangle of cars was less here, but . . .

People were still out in the street. Police officers were trying to get a driver to angle their car out, moving the first so others could get by and tow trucks could get in for those that had been struck in a manner that left them unmovable.

And every now and then . . .

A still semi-inflated reindeer rose into the air. But Angela looked across the street, curious about a certain shop.

Rudolph himself suddenly wafted by them.

“What? What do you see?” Jackson asked.

Angela still looked across the street as Rudolph drifted away.

It seemed that just minutes before, there had been nothing but bright and beautiful lights around them, decorations to adorn the season.

And now . . . business, business, business . . . it was New York! Even, or maybe especially, down at the lower end of Manhattan, it seemed most buildings were multi-purpose, cafes on the bottom floors of that housed apartments and other businesses as well. And yet . . .

One ground-level shop in particular caught her eye.

“Jackson, even with reindeer everywhere, I can’t see this as a diversion to rob a bank or manage any kind of a massive heist. But . . . over there! See? An antique store. Probably not that big, not that many people working. And if they were all diverted by the reindeer. . . What if someone just wanted something, either that or they believed should have belonged to them or that they lost in a bankruptcy or . . . I’m not sure, but maybe they just wanted to create a diversion—”

“A diversion? Like reindeer, yeah, sure. I’m certain all these people who will be dealing with their wrecked cars right before Christmas will think it was all just a minor diversion,” Jackson said. “Someone could have been killed.”

“Yes, but thankfully, I don’t believe anyone was even seriously injured. There was a ton of traffic, as always, yes, but it was all going slow. And . . . I don’t know. Let’s try there first, Jackson, please!”

“As you command, love of my life!” he said, taking her hand before trying to weave their way through the tangle of cars and vehicles that must look from above as if someone had simply taken a toybox full of kids’ cars and tossed them down into a big pile.

“Hey!” she protested, grinning. “We don’t ‘command’ in our lives, Jackson. Even if, technically, you are the man in charge of the Krewe!”

“Technically. And technically, when we’re gone, the person in charge will be whichever McFadden we can con into watching over the troops,” he told her. “Antique store . . . instinct?”

“Because I don’t think it’s enough to clear out a bank. And who would want to steal a shirt or a New York souvenir?”

“These days?” he inquired. “Antique shop it is.”

They made their way through the cars to the opposite side of the avenue. They were almost to the doorway of the store, “History’s Finest,” when Angela felt a strange coldness sweep around her, one she knew instantly even before she heard the frantic voice of the spirit.

“Please, please, don’t hurt him! You’re armed; you’re heading there . . . you know that Benedict has done this, but . . . you must understand first! Please, please, don’t hurt him!”

The spirit speaking to her was that of a woman with curly, graying hair. She stood about five-four and was wearing fairly contemporary clothing and had probably passed from her mortal life in her late fifties or early sixties.

Angela paused, carefully, leaning against the brick of the shop where they stood, pulling out her phone so that she wouldn’t appear to be crazy.

“Please—”

“Yes! I knew it! You hear me, you see me!”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry—” Angela began. She cut off frowning. Jackson had been ahead of her; he’d already started into the antique store.

“Oh!” the woman cried in distress. “That fellow . . . he’s armed, right?”

“Jackson will never just shoot someone, but—”

“He meant no harm!” the ghost protested. “I know my son! He meant no harm. Benedict meant no harm! I mean, I’m not sure if he even did it. But if he did . . . He thought that the reindeer would just fly up in the sky, you know, straight up. And it’s not just what might or might not be real . . . you must understand! His father . . . his father and I were killed with the thing! With the ivory killing machine!”

“Ma’am, please, please, let me get in there and see what’s going on. You can explain everything once we’re inside and let Jackson know that no harm was intended, though I believe he knows that. Please!” Angela said.