The Great Reindeer Caper Heather Graham #3
“Just like Terrance said. It’s medieval—and people lived in dangerous worlds back then, too,” Angela murmured.
“May I see?” she asked, as he took the object from the case Angela quickly donned a pair of gloves she kept in her pocket.
Dozens of people might have touched it since it had been used—as it seemed many people used it to commit murder. Still.
First up, of course, she studied it as a whole,
Quickly.
Then she noted the inlays, took a step back, and pressed one hard.
A slender, piercing blade shot out from the far end of the object.
It was still covered with dried blood.
“So, now we must give it to that man at the door, and he’ll see to it that the thing disappears, and a man who committed heinous murders—” Austin began.
“We will give it to him, but trust me,” Angela told him. “We’re not going to let him get away.”
“So, you really are—”
“Agents.”
“Chasing the guy.”
“No, we were just headed for McSorley’s enjoying the Christmas decorations everywhere,” Angela said. “And then—”
“The great reindeer caper began!” Austin said dryly.
“Something like that,” Angela said.
“And you need to get out there! Now!” the ghost of Benedict’s mom said desperately. “It was one thing . . . my husband and I. But please! Don’t let them hurt our son!”
“We’re going, we’re going!” Angela said, causing Austin to look at her strangely. She smiled. Mr. Austin evidently hadn’t “felt” the ghost at her side.
She headed back toward the main room of the shop, Austin at her heels. Knowing she had her husband, the best backup in the world, she strode straight to the man at the door.
Almost straight. She kept to the side enough to allow Jackson—who hadn’t taken his eyes off the man—or the point of his Glock—since they’d left the room.
“Here!” She declared. “Here is what you’re after, although how you managed to get involved with a human being who committed such horrid murders is beyond me, unless you’re another like him and—”
Zing!
She had done it just right; the man at the door had given her his attention, reaching out with his free hand to take the flute.
And Jackson was a crack shot.
Truly, a crack shot.
The gun went flying from the man’s hand as Jackson’s bullet exploded against his wrist.
Screaming in pain, he still tried to reach for the flute.
Angela hit the release for the blade, stabbing him through the offending hand.
And then, of course, everything happened at once.
EMTs arrived with NYPD right behind them. The injured man tried to babble something out about them attacking him, but the police noted the mask he was wearing; and, of course, Angela and Jackson quickly had pulled out their credentials. One of the officers almost punched the man in the mask.
The best thing, of course, was that no one had been killed. And they had the murder weapon which would be turned over to the police immediately, tested for fingerprints and DNA, and used when a killer attempted to escape his sentence.
And the bad . . .
The mass confusion and chaos, Mr. Austin trying to deny the fact that he really needed to be checked out at a hospital, the masked man trying to claim that he was the one being attacked, and both Benedict and Terence shouting their own version of everything that had happened.
And somehow, thankfully, there were no serious injuries in the great pile-up. As one of the officers told Angela and Jackson, the good thing about massive traffic that moved at about a mile a minute was that wrecks didn’t tend to be deadly.
“So!” the ghost said to Angela as they stood, waiting for the EMTs to take the masked man with mangled hand away, “Thank you, thank you! Thank you for my son!”
“I’m so very sorry for what happened to you!” Angela whispered to her.
“What was that?” one of the officers asked her.
“Oh, I was just being grateful that . . .”
“That the great reindeer caper ended with no fatalities!” an EMT called out.
And looking at the officer, Angela shrugged. “Right!” she said softly.
“You know the rest of you need to come to the station—”
“Of course we know,” Jackson said. “Statements. So, let’s do it.”
It took most of the night, but Mr. Austin was quickly released from the hospital, and he was true to his word.
He didn’t want to cause any further pain to Benedict; and as it happened, he wanted a young clerk to help him out.
Benedict had been looking for work, and a true friendship was born.
As far as anyone knew, the danger had come from the masked man; and the NYPD were glad that agents had been in the store—just browsing, of course.
What else could one do in the middle of a reindeer caper at Christmas?
The “masked” man turned out to be a cousin of the murderer, someone who had been coerced into believing a lie.
He’d go to jail himself—but not for nearly as long as he might have gone had he carried out his determination to secure the flute to a point where he had shot someone.
He swore he would never really shoot anyone, Of course, for the pain he had received for holding a loaded gun on others, he was going to have a long, long healing process.
Thankfully, Mary Tiger was in the city with them.
She took the kids to see Santa Claus. And even though Corby was a teenager who no longer believed in Santa Claus, he always pretended to for his little sister.
And again, thankfully, they gave statements, careful that they told the truth.
But, of course, the truth in this situation could be seen in various ways.
It was natural that Benedict might have been in the shop having recently learned that Mr. Austin had acquired such a treasure.
It wasn’t until the wee hours of the morning that they left the police precinct.
And it was there that the ghost of Benedict’s mother met them. Angela realized that she had been waiting for them all the time that they’d been there.
She’d been able to see that Benedict and Terrance had both been released.
Angela hadn’t been sure at first how Terrance had managed to go free when the police must have discovered the gun on him, but it had turned out to be a realistic toy gun.
And possibly because it was Christmas time, he’d gotten a severe warning on how not to own or carry such a “toy.”
Both of them had left for home. And they were about to receive a ride out to their home-away-from-home.
Angela had learned that while he was over eighteen now and an adult, Benedict lived with his aunt and uncle in the Bronx.
He was going to be very happy to tell them that his parents’ killer was unlikely to go free—and, he’d heard about the flute in the antique shop and, hm, yeah, they’d just happened to be there.
The ghost of the woman threw herself at Angela when she stepped out of the station, thanking her over—and over—again, and then thanked Jackson. Of course, they attempted to hug her in return.
Angela should have been accustomed to it, but it was still such a strange feeling to be hugged by a ghost. There was the sensation of touch as if by air or clouds, and feelings strangely of both heat and cold.
“Oh, first, I’m Nancy. I know you know I’m Benedict’s mom, but I’m Nancy, And .
. . wow. Thank you, thank you, thank you, both!
I may be in a different world, but . . .
you’ve given me the best Christmas ever!
We’re fine . . . I swear to you, we’re fine, my husband and myself, and .
. . Maybe I can join him now, moving on, the sweetness of a promised peace and beauty .
. . but I knew. I knew I had to make sure that Benedict would be all right, and thanks to you, he’s not in jail, he will feel that he’s done all that he can, and .
. . thank you, and may you have the best and merriest Christmas ever! ” she told them.
“Thank you. And we know your son is a good young man and that . . . well, he loved you so much. We understand and . . . for you! I’m so very happy that you’re happy and feeling at peace and . . . and Merry Christmas to you, too!”
“The best ever. And I’m sorry. Go! You’re law enforcement, but . . . married? You have a family?”
“We are married; strange situation, special unit—” Jackson began.
“Because you can see me!” Nancy said with awe.
Jackson smiled and shrugged.
“And you have kids. Here? In the city?” Nancy asked.
“Yes, they’re here,” Jackson told her.
“Oh! Go, I’m sorry to stop you—”
“No, it’s been a pleasure to meet you, Nancy. And they have an officer coming around to get us back in a second—” Angela said.
“Thank you, Merry Christmas! And again, please know you’ve been the best Christmas present for me ever!”
With that, Nancy was quickly gone, hurrying down the street, disappearing into the night.
The officer who had promised to drive them out to Forest Hills was there for them.
Late that night, they reached their children at last.
The kids were in their room in the little house in Forest Hills and Mary was in hers.
All sleeping peacefully. Of course, in the morning, they learned that Mary and the kids had heard about the “Great Reindeer Caper.” The media had, of course, finally gotten hold of the fact that the entire traffic fiasco in Manhattan had been caused by a would-be thief.
And knowing how late they’d be, they’d made sure to tell Mary what was going on and to assure her, of course, that yes while they’d been involved, they were fine.
They still had one day left before Christmas Eve.
And they could get that last minute Christmas shopping done because the kids loved the program at the museum and needed to get back to finish their projects.
They were all in Manhattan by ten, Mary and the kids off in one direction: Jackson and Angela in another.
“The early Christians were smart,” Jackson Crow said, staring at the brilliantly lit beauty of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center.