The Stupidest Angel Chapter 4

Chapter 4HAVE YOURSELF A amazing LITTLE CHRISTMAS pull the leg of wiped the ruptures off his face, took a deep breather, and mental capacityed up the walk to his house. He was still shaking from having take heedn Santa take a digger in the throat, however now it occurred to him that it capability non be large to set down him disclose of trouble. The first thing his ma would rate was, Well, what were you doing disclose so late eachway? And wordless Brian, who was non razzs concrete daddy besides Moms dumb mate, would say, Yeah, Santa would probably still be alive if you hadnt stayed so yen at surface-to-air missiles house. So, there on the antecedent step, he headstrong to go with total hysteria. He started breathing hard, pumping up some tears, got a good whimpering sob passing game away, therefore extended the door with a dieseling belowpin sniffle. He fell onto the wel receive mat and let loose with a full fire-truck- witch wail. And nothing happened. No nonpargonil express a word. No one came running.So Josh crawled into the living room, booster cableing a decorous fiber-optic string of drool from his lower lip to the carpet as he chanted a mucusy Momma, feeling that it would completely disarm her sense of humour and get her exclusively fired up to protect him from dumb Brian, for whom he had no magic sliceipulation chant. hardly nobody holler turn egress(a)ed him, nobody came running, dumb Brian was not sprawled crossways the couch desire the great sleepy pigeon berry that he was.Josh wound it peck. Mom? Just the hint of a sob there, ready to go full bore again when she answered. He went into the kitchen, where the memo unprovoked was blinking on Moms machine. Josh wiped his nose on his sleeve and t each(prenominal)y the plainlyton.Hi, Joshy, his mom said, her cheerful everyplacetired voice. Brian and I had to go come out of the closet to eat with some perverters. Theres a Stouffers mac and cheese in the freezer. We should be home in the first place eight. Do your homework. Call my cell if you get s interestd.Josh couldnt believe the luck. He checked the clock on the nuke. Only s so far-thirty. tenuous Latch-keyed loose analogous a magic elf. Yes Dumb Brian had come by dint of with a business dinner party. He grabbed the Stouffers out of the freezer, popped it box and all into the microwave, and hit the preset time. You didnt rattling fall in to peel the plastic patronage ilk they said. If you bonnie nuke it in the box, the cardboard will keep it from exploding all all over the microwave when the plastic goes. Josh didnt get laid why they didnt plainly put that in the instructions. He went back into the living room, glowering on the TV, and plopped down on the floor in front of it to wait for the microwave to beep.Maybe he should call Sam, he thought. Tell him roughly Santa. But Sam didnt believe in Santa. He said that Santa was mediocre something the goys do up to even out them feel better about not having a menorah. That was crap, of course. Goys (a Jewish word for girls and boys, Sam had explained) didnt want a menorah. They wanted toys. Sam was just saying that because he was mad because instead of Christmas they had snipped the tip of his phallus off and said mazel tov.Wow, sucks to be you, said Josh.Were the Chosen, said Sam. non for kickball closed up.No, you shut up.No, you shut up.Sam was Joshs best friend and they understood each other, but would Sam know what to do about a instruction execution? Especially a murder of an important person? You were say to go to an adult in these situations, Josh was pretty sure of it. Fire, an injured friend, a bad touch, you were supposed to tell an adult, a parent, a teacher, or a practice of law spell, and no one would be mad at you. (But if you found your moms boyfriend lighting a giant chili-dog-and-beer fart in the garage workshop, the police absolutely did not want to know about it. Josh had well-read that lesson the hard way.)A commercial came on, and Joshs mac and cheese was still glide the microwaves, so he debated calling 911 or praying, and decided to go with the prayer. resembling calling 911, you werent supposed to pray for just anything. For instance, God did not care whether or not you got your bandicoot through the fire level on PlayStation, and if you asked for do there, there was a good chance that he would ignore you when you really needed help, resembling for a spelling test or if your mom got behindcer. Josh reckoned it was sort of like cell-phone minutes, but this give earmed like a real emergency.Our Heavenly Father, Josh began. You n perpetually utilize Gods first name that was like a commandment or something. This is Josh Barker, six-seventy-one Worchester S pointt, long Cove, California nine-three-seven, phoebe bird-four. I maxim Santa tonight, which was great, and thank you for that, but then, right by and by I see him, he got killed with a shovel, and so, Im afraid that theres not going to be any Christmas and Ive been good, which Im sure youll see if you check Santas list, so if you dont mind could you please make Santa come back to life and make everything okay for Christmas? No, no, no, that sounded really selfish. quickly he added And a Happy Hanukkah to you and all the Jewish people like Sam and his family. Mazel tov. There. Perfect. He mat a lot better.The microwave beeped and Josh ran to the kitchen, right into the legs of a really tall man in a long black coat who was stand up by the counter. Josh screamed and the man took him by the arms, picked him up, and looked him over like he was a gemstone or a really tasty dessert. Josh kicked and squirmed, but the blond man held him fast.Youre a child, said the blond man.Josh stopped kicking for a second and looked into the impossibly blue eyes of the stranger, who was now studying him in much the same way a bear might psychoanalyze a portabl e television while wondering how to get all those tasty little people out of it.Well, duh, said Josh.The Christmas point took a wide left onto Cypress Street. Finding that somewhat suspicious, Constable Theophilus Crowe pulled in arsehole it as he dug the little blue light out of the glove compartment of his Volvo and stuck it on the roof. Theo was relatively sure that there was a vehicle under the Christmas tree somewhere, but all he could see right now were the taillights shining through the branches in the back. As he followed the tree up Cypress, past the burger stand and Brines Bait, Tackle, and Fine Wines, a pinecone the size of a Nerf football broke loose and rolled off to the align of the street, bouncing and thumping into one of the gas pumps.Theo hit the siren one time, just a chirp, trusting hed better stop this before someone got hurt. There was no way that the driver under the Christmas tree could see the way clearly. The tree was driving trunk first, so the wide st, thickest branches were covering the front of the vehicle. The trees tires chirped with a downshift. It killed the lights and screeched approximately the corner on Worchester Street, leaving a trail of rolling pinecones and pine-fresh exhaust.Under normal circumstances, if a suspect tried to sidestep Theo, he would have called it into the county sheriffs immediately, hoping a deputy in the area might provide backup, but hed be damned if he was going to call in that he was in hot pursuit of a blowout Christmas tree. Theo turned the siren onto full shriek and took off up the pile after the fleeing conifer, thinking for the fiftieth time that day that life had seemed a lot easier when hed smoked pot.Boy, you dont see that every day, said conglomerateer Case, who was seance at a window table at H.P.s Caf??, waiting for Lena to come back from freshening up in the rest-room. H.P.s a mix of pseudo Tudor and Country Kitchen Cute was Pine Coves most popular restaurant, and to night it was completely packed.The waitress, a pretty redhead in her forties, glanced up from the tray of drinks she was delivering and said, Yeah, Theo hardly ever chases anyone.That Volvo was chasing a pine tree, assemble said.Could be, said the waitress. Theo employ to do a lot of drugs.No, really Tuck tried to explain, but she had headed back to the kitchen. Lena was reverting to the table. She was still in the black tank top under an dissipate flannel shirt, but she had washed the streaks of mud from her face and her off-key blur was brushed out around her shoulders. To Tuck she looked like the sexy but tough Indian guide chick in the characterizations, who always leads the sort of nerdy businessmen into the wilderness where they are assaulted by vicious rednecks, bears gone magnetic declination from exposure to phosphate laundry detergent, or ancient Indian pot likker with a grudge.You look great, Tuck said. Are you Native American?What was the siren about? Lena a sked, sliding into the seat crossways from him.nothing. A traffic thing.This is just so treat. She looked around, as if everyone k rising how wrong it was. Wrong.No, its good, Tuck said with a heroic smile, seek to make his blue eyes twinkle in the candlelight, but forgetting where exactly his twinkle muscles were located. Well have a nice meal, get to know each other a little.She leaned over the table and whispered harshly, Theres a dead man out there. A man I used to be married to.Shh, shh, shh, Tuck shushed, gently placing a fingers breadth against her lip, try to sound comforting and maybe a little European. Now is not the time to talk of this, my sweet.She grabbed his finger and bent it back. I dont know what to do.Tuck was twisted in his seat, leaning back to relieve the unnatural go in which his finger was pointing. Appetizer? he suggested. Salad?Lena let go of his finger and covered her face with her hands. I cant do this.What? Its just dinner, said Tuck. No pressure. He had never really dated much gone on dates, that is. Hed met and seduced a lot of women, but it was never over a serial publication of evenings with dinner and conversation usually just some drinks and vulgarity at an airport hotel lounge had done the trick. He felt it was time he behaved like a grown-up get to know a woman before he slept with her. His therapist had suggested it right before shed stopped treating him, right after hed hit on her. It wasnt going to be easy. In his experience things went a lot better with women before they got to know him, when they could still project trust and potential on him.We just interred my ex-husband, Lena said.Sure, sure, but then we delivered Christmas trees to the poor. A little perspective, huh? A lot of people have buried their spouses.Not personally. With the shovel they killed him with.You may want to keep it down a little. Tuck checked the diners at the nearby tables to see if they were listening, but they all seemed to be discussing the pine tree that had just driven by. Lets talk about something else. Interests? Hobbies? Movies?Lena tossed her head as if she didnt hear him right, then stared as if to say, Are you nuts?Well, for instance, he pressed on, I rented the strangest movie last night. Did you know that Babes in Toyland was a Christmas movie?Of course, what did you think it was?Well, I thought, well now its your turn. Whats your favorite movie?Lena leaned close to Tuck and searched his eyes to see if he might be joking. Tuck batted his eyelashes, trying to look innocent.Who are you? Lena finally asked.I told you.But, whats wrong with you? You shouldnt be so so calm, while Im a nervous wreck. give up you done this kind of thing before?Sure. Are you kidding? Im a pilot, Ive eaten in restaurants all over the world.Not dinner, you idiot I know youve had dinner before What, are you retarded?Okay, now everybody is looking. You cant just say retarded in public like that people take offe nse because, you know, many of them are. Youre supposed to say developmentally disabled. Lena stood up and threw her napkin on the table. Tucker, thank you for support me, but I cant do this. Im going to go talk to the police.She turned and stormed through the restaurant toward the door.Well be back, Tuck called to the waitress. He nodded to the nearby tables. Sorry. Shes a little high-strung. She didnt mean to say retarded. Then he went after Lena, snatching his slash chapiter off the back of his chair as he went.He caught up with her as she was rounding the corner of the building into the parking lot. He caught her by the shoulder and spun her around, making sure that she saw that he was cheering when she completed the turn. Blinking Christmas lights played red and green highlights across her sombre hair, making the scowl she was aiming at him seem festive.Leave me alone, Tucker. Im going to the police. Ill just explain that it was just an accident.No. I wont let you. You ca nt.Why cant I?Because Im your alibi.If I turn myself in, I wont need an alibi.I know.Well?I want to spend Christmas with you.Lena softened, her eyes going wide, the swell of a tear watering up in one eye. Really?Really. Tuck was more(prenominal) than a little uncomfortable with his own honesty he was standing like someone had just poured hot coffee in his lap and he was trying to keep the front of his pant from touching him.Lena held out her arms and Tuck walked into them, guiding her hands inside his jacket and around his ribs. He rested his cheek against her hair and took a deep breath, enjoying the facial expression of her shampoo and the residual pine scent picked up from handling the Christmas trees. She didnt feel like a murderer she smelled like a woman.Okay, she whispered. I dont know who you are, Tucker Case, but I think Id like to spend Christmas with you, too.She buried her face in his chest and held him until there was a thump against his back, followed by a l oud scratching noise on his jacket. She pushed him back just as the fruit bat peeked his little doggie face over the pilots shoulder and barked. Lena leaped back and screamed like a bunny in a blender.What in the hell is that? she asked, backing across the parking lot.Roberto, Tuck said. I mentioned him before.This is too weird. Too weird. Lena began to chant and pace in a circle, glancing up at Tuck and his bat every couple of seconds. She paused. Hes wearing sunglasses.Yeah, and dont think its easy finding Ray-Bans in a fruit-bat medium.Meanwhile, up at the Santa genus Rosa Chapel, Constable Theophilus Crowe had finally caught up to the fugitive Christmas tree. He trained the headlights of the Volvo on the suspect evergreen and stood behind the car door for cover. If hed had a public-address remains he would have used it to issue commands, but since the county had never addicted him one, he shouted.Get out of the vehicle, hands first, and turn and face meIf hed had a weapon he w ould have drawn it, but hed left his Glock on the top shelf of his closet next to mollies old nicked-up broadsword. He completed that the car door was actually only providing cover to the lower thirdly of his body, and he reached down and rolled up the window. Then, feeling awkward, he slammed the door and loped toward the Christmas tree.Goddammit, come out of the tree. Right nowHe hear a car window whiz down and then a voice. Oh my, Officer, you are so forceful. A familiar voice. almostwhere under there was a Honda CRV and the woman he had married. molly? He should have known. Even when she stayed on her meds, as she had promised she would, she could still be artistic. Her term.The branches of the big pine tree shuffled and out stepped his wife, wearing a green Santa hat, jeans, red sneakers, and a jean jacket with studs down the sleeves. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail that trailed down her back. She might have been a biker elf. She rushed out of the branches as if she were immersion the blades of a helicopter, then ran to his side.Look at this magnificent son of a bitch She gestured to the tree, put her arm around his waist, pulled him close, humped his leg a little. Isnt it great?It certainly is uh, large. Howd you get it on the car?Took some time. I hoisted it up on some ropes, then drove under it. Do you think therell be a flat spot where it dragged on the road?Theo looked the tree up and down, back and forth, watched the car exhaust boiling out of the branches. He wasnt sure he wanted to know, but he had to ask. You didnt buy this at the hardware store, did you?No, there was a problem with that. But I saved a ton of money. Cut it myself. Completely totaled my broadsword, but look at this son of a bitch. Look at this inspired bastardYou cut it down with your sword? Theo wasnt so worried about what she had cut it down with, but from where shed cut it. He had a sneaking(a) in the forest near their cabin.Yeah. We dont have a chain saw that I dont know about, do we?No. Actually they did, in the garage, concealed behind some paint cans. Hed hidden it when her «artistic» moments had been more frequent. Thats not the problem, sweetie. I think the problem is that its too big.No, she said, walking the length of the tree now, pausing to jump through the branches and turn off the Hondas engine. Thats where youre wrong. Observe, double doors into the chapel.Theo observed. The chapel did, indeed, have double doors. There was a single mercury lamp illuminating the sire parking lot, but he could clearly see the little neat chapel, the shadows of gravestones showing dimly behind it a graveyard where theyd been planting Pine Covers for a hundred years.And the detonating device in the main room is thirty feet tall at the peak. This tree is only twenty-nine feet tall. We pull it through the doors backward and stand that baby up. Ill need your help, but, you know, you dont mind.I dont?Molly pulled open her jean jacket and flashed Theo, exposing his favorite breasts, right down to the shiny pock that ran across the top of the right one, cocked up like a searching purple eyebrow. It was like unexpectedly running into two tender friends, twain a little pale from being out of the sun, a nicety humbled by time, but with alert pink noses upturned by the night chill. And as quickly as they appeared, the jacket was pulled shut and Theo felt like hed been shut out in the cold.Okay, I dont mind, he said, trying to buy time for the blood to return to his brain. How do you know the ceiling is thirty feet tall?From our wedding pictures. I cut you out and used you to measure the whole building. It was just under five Theos tall.You cut up our wedding pictures?Not the good ones. make it on, help me get the tree off the car. She turned quickly and her jacket fanned out behind her.Molly, I wish you wouldnt go out like that.You mean like this? She turned, lapels in hand.And there they were again, his pink-nose d friends.Lets get the tree set up and then do it in the graveyard, okay? She jumped a little for emphasis and Theo nodded, quest the recoil. He suspected that he was being manipulated, enslaved by his own versed weakness, but he couldnt quite figure out why that was a bad thing. After all, he was among friends.Sweetheart, Im a peace officer, I cant »Come on, it will be nasty. She said nasty like it meant delicious, which is what she meant.Molly, after five years together, Im not sure were supposed to be nasty. But even as he said it, Theo was moving toward the big evergreen, looking for the ropes that secured it to the Honda. all over in the graveyard, the dead, who had been listening all along, began to murmur anxiously about the new Christmas tree and the impending sex show.Theyd heard it all, the dead crying children, yawl widows, confessions, condemnations, questions that they could never answer Halloween dares, raving drunks-invoking the ghosts or just apologizing fo r drawing breath would-be witches, chanting at indifferent spirits, tourists rubbing the old tombstones with piece and charcoal like curious dogs scratching at the grave to get in. Funerals, confirmations, communions, weddings, square dances, heart attacks, junior-high hand jobs, fire ups gone awry, vandalism, Handels Messiah, a birth, a murder, eighty-three Passion plays, eighty-five Christmas pageants, a dozen brides barking over tombstones like taffeta sea lions as the best man gave it to them dog style, and now and again, couples who needed something dark and smelling of damp earth to give their sex life a jolt the dead had heard it.Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah Molly cried from her seat astraddle the town constable, who was squirming on an uncomfortable bed of plastic roses a few feet above a dead schoolteacher.They always think theyre the first ones. Ooooo, lets do it in the graveyard, said Bess Leander, whose husband had served her foxglove tea with her last breakfast.I know, there are three used condoms on my grave from this calendar week alone, said Arthur Tannbeau, citrus farmer, deceased five years.How can you tell?They heard everything, but their vision was limited.The smell.Thats disgusting, said Esther, the schoolteacher.Its hard to shock the dead. Esther was feigning disgust.Whats all the racket? I was sleeping. Malcolm Cowley, antique book dealer, myocardial infarction over Dickens.Theo Crowe, the constable, and his crazy wife doing it on Esthers grave, said Arthur. Ill bet shes off her meds. volt years theyve been married and theyre still at this kind of thing? Since her death, Bess had taken a strong antirelationship stance.Postmarital sex is so pedestrian. Malcolm again, ever bored with provincial, small-town death.Some postmortem sex, thats what I could use, said the late Marty in the Morning, KGOB radios top DJ with a bullet a pioneer carjack victim back when hair bands ruled the airwaves. A rave in the grave, if you get my meaning. li sten to her. Id like to slip the bone to her, said respect Antalvo, whod kissed a rod on his Kawasaki to remain ever nineteen.Which one? Marty cackled.The new Christmas tree sounds lovely, said Esther. I do hope they sing Good King Wenceslas this year.If they do, spouted the frowsty book dealer, youll find me justly spinning in my grave.You wish, said Jimmy Antalvo. Hell, I wish.The dead did not spin in their graves, they did not hunt nor could they speak, except to one another, voices without air. What they did was sleep, awakening to listen, to chat a bit, then, eventually, to never wake again. Sometimes it took twenty years, sometimes as long as cardinal before they took the big sleep, but no one could remember audition a voice from longer ago than that.Six feet above them, Molly punctuated her last few convulsive climactic bucks with, I AM SO GOING TO WASH YOUR VOLVO WHEN WE GET HOME YES YES YESThen she sighed and fell preceding to nuzz le Theos chest as she caught her breath.I dont know what that means, Theo said.It means Im going to wash your car for you.Oh, its not a euphemism, like, wash the old Volvo. Wink, wink, jog, nudge?Nope. Its your reward.Now that they were finished, Theo was having a hard time ignoring the plastic flowers that were impressed in his bare backside. I thought this was my reward. He gestured to her bare thighs on each side of him, the divots her knees had made in the dirt, her hair played out across his chest.Molly pushed up and looked down at him. No, this was your reward for helping me with the Christmas tree. lavation your car is your reward for this.Oh, Theo said. I love you.Oh, I think Im going to be sick, said a newly dead voice from across the woods.Whos the new guy? asked Marty in the Morning.The radio on Theos belt, which was down around his knees, crackled. Pine Cove Constable, come in. Theo?Theo did an awkward sit-up and grabbed the radio. Go ahead, Dispatch.Theo, we have a tw o-oh-seven-A at six-seven-one Worchester Street. The victim is alone and the suspect may still be in the area. Ive dispatched two units, but theyre twenty minutes out.I can be there in five minutes, Theo said.Suspect is a whiten male, over six feet, long blond hair, wearing a long black raincoat or overcoat.Roger, Dispatch. Im on my way. Theo was trying to pull his pants up with one hand while working the radio with the other.Molly was on her feet already, naked from the waist down, holding her jeans and sneakers rolled up under her left arm. She extended a hand to help Theo up.Whats a two-oh-seven?Not sure, said Theo, letting her lever him to his feet. Either an attempted kidnapping or a possum with a handgun.You have plastic flowers stuck to your butt.Probably the former, she didnt say anything about shots fired.No, leave them. Theyre cute.