M Sellars - Perfect Trust

Likely? Probably? Or just maybe?

It was starting to get very confusing again. I’d been mulling it all over so much that it was giving me a headache.

If Ben was correct, I was just chasing my tail anyway, and I needed to direct my energies toward something more productive. I finally gave up on my attempt at analysis and decided to leave it to Helen. After all, as she’d pointed out, she was the one with the degree in psychology. Since all of the incidents seemed linked by sex, and that was apparently a driving force for me these days, maybe I’d remember to mention all of this at the next appointment.

After a moment I let out a purposeful sigh and muttered to no one but myself, “Yeah, right.” Then before getting out of the truck, I made yet another mental note to start writing this stuff down so that I was no longer depending on my easily sidetracked brain.

I’d have to start doing that later though. Right now I just wanted to smoke another cigarette or two before going inside.

“Merry freakin’ ho-ho-ho,” Ben said as I dropped myself into one of the ancient molded-plastic seats next to his desk. “Wanna cuppa?”

“I don’t know…” I shook my head, mentally gagging on vivid recollections of the caustic liquid the homicide 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.”