The Crazy Christmas Angel Mystery (4 page)

Gulp! Eric scratched his head. He must have left them outside. His face was getting hot. It was his own fault. His, and that crazy angel's!

“Wait, Grandpa. I'll be right back,” Eric said. He flew down the stairs, yanked at his coat, and ran outside.

Eric scrambled across the street to the snowman. He leaned over to look. Nothing.

He got down on his hands and knees. He patted the snowy ground. Nothing.

Grandpa's field glasses were gone!

Eric felt the lump in his throat grow bigger. He stood up and leaned against the snowman. He brushed the snow off his jeans.

When he looked up, the field glasses were staring at him. Carefully, he picked them off the snowman's shoulder.

Eric held them up and looked through them.

Whew! They were okay.

While he was checking them, something caught his eye. Across the street, at Mr. Tressler's house things were crazy. Crazier than ever!

Eric tuned up the field glasses. Could it be true? Were his eyes playing tricks?

Slowly, Eric moved towards Mr. Tressler's house. He got as close as the hedge.

Field glasses do not lie.

The angels had multiplied! Dozens were flying around the old man. He was swaying this way and that way. Mr. Tressler was dancing with the angels. It looked like he was having the time of his life.

Eric wanted to watch forever. Something deep inside him sprang up. It was a strange, warm feeling and it wouldn't go away. He knew he had to meet Mr. Tressler. Face-to-face!

Eric rushed to the old man's front porch. He shook as he stuffed the field glasses into his pocket. More than anything, he wanted to ring the doorbell. But his finger wouldn't
move. He forced his arm up—shaking with fear.

“Eric!” It was Grandpa's voice.

Eric jumped a foot. The second time tonight. He leaped over the snowy walkway to his house. He held up the field glasses. “Here they are, Grandpa.”

Grandpa frowned.

“I'm sorry about your glasses” Eric said. He was sorry about something else, too. Not getting to meet Mr. Tressler.

“Those glasses were expensive,” Grandpa said, shaking his finger at Eric.

Eric looked up at Grandpa's soft blue eyes. “It won't happen again. I promise.”

“And that is the truth,” Grandpa muttered. He climbed the stairs, grunting all the way.

So much for borrowing Grandpa's stuff. Eric dashed upstairs to finish his book report.

Then he thought of something. If he hadn't left Grandpa's glasses outside, he might have missed the strange sight next door. The angels had multiplied!

Now Eric had a big mystery on his hands. And he didn't know what to do about it.

Then he had an idea. It might not solve the mystery, but it would show a little kindness.

EIGHT

The next morning, Eric trudged through the snow. He headed to Mr. Tressler's house—to deliver a newspaper free of charge. Eric would pay for it himself, out of his earnings.

Eric tiptoed up the porch steps. He turned the handle on the storm door. And he placed the paper in the space between two doors.

Inside, a cuckoo clock sang out the time. Six cuckoos in a row.

Eric checked his watch. Six o'clock, right on the dot. He turned to leave, but the sound of a flute stopped him. It was coming from inside Mr. Tressler's house.

Eric froze in his tracks.

Mr. Tressler plays the flute
.

Eric listened.

It was music for the angels! He chuckled to himself as silver full-moon sounds floated around him.

He leaned against the porch railing and felt lucky—the only one to hear the magic. He breathed it in and held it close.

Then the music stopped. And the front door opened. Eric sprang off the porch and dashed down the street.

After supper, the Cul-de-sac Kids met in Stacy's front yard as planned. Abby was president, so she called the meeting to order. That was easy. The only reason for the meeting was to see the angels. At Mr. Tressler's house.

Dunkum set up his telescope. Eric had first look. The angels were flying all right. And Mr. Tressler was prancing and swaying.

Carly and Dee Dee took turns looking through the telescope. Shawn and Jimmy were next.

Jason couldn't wait his turn. “If there's a man dancing with angels, I've got to see it!” He walked across the street for a closer look. Dunkum followed.

Eric stayed behind with Abby and Stacy, near the snowman.

“I should invite Mr. Tressler to our Christmas play,” Abby said. “He could appear to the shepherds and bring his heavenly host.”

Stacy laughed. “Good idea.”

“What do you think makes them fly, Eric?” Abby said, after her turn.

“Batteries, probably,” said Eric. But he didn't know. Not really. He watched as the angels circled Mr. Tressler's head.

Carly asked, “Do the batteries ever run down?”

“Sooner or later,” Eric said, like he knew.

Just then, Dunkum and Jason came running. “Huddle up,” Dunkum called.

The kids grabbed each other's arms and made a circle.

Dunkum had a plan. “Let's take a Christmas present to Mr. Tressler. Then we can find out what's going on in there.”

“We've done enough spying,” said Abby. “Let's sing Christmas carols for him. To welcome him to the cul-de-sac.”

Everyone liked that idea. Everyone but Eric.

“I sing flat,” Eric said.

“You could whistle,” Abby suggested.

Leave it to Abby
, thought Eric.

“Someone needs to introduce us after we sing,” Abby said.

The kids looked at Eric.

“Why me?” Eric said.

“You got us out here,” said Dunkum.

“Yeah, hurry up, it's cold,” said Dee Dee.

Eric didn't want to do the talking. He didn't want to whistle Christmas carols. Besides, what if Mr. Tressler was real creepy and scared everyone away?

What then?

NINE

“It's too late to go caroling now,” Eric said. He was chickening out.

Abby stuck up for him. “Eric's right—besides, we need to practice first.”

“How about everyone giving Mr. Tressler a gift? I'll make him a Christmas card,” Stacy said. She was good at that.

“Definitely,” said Abby.

“Don't forget the Christmas cookies,” Dee Dee piped up.

Shawn wanted to give something, too. “I teach Mr. Tressler Korean folk tune.”

Jimmy jumped up and down. “I sing, too!”

“Hey, great idea,” said Dunkum.

“What about you?” Eric asked him. “What will you bring?”

Dunkum laughed. “Maybe I could write a poem about angels and mysteries. You know, from the Christmas spelling list.”

Eric liked that. So did the others.

Jason couldn't stand still. He was like that when his hyper medicine wore off. “I could dance with Mr. Tressler's angels,” said Jason. He jigged around the snowman.

Dee Dee giggled. “Me too!”

“If we sing the carols loud enough, he might open the door,” said Jason. “Then we can see those flying Christmas angels of his.”

“Wait a minute,” Carly spoke up. “I thought we were doing it to be friendly—
not
to spy.”

Abby put her arm around her little sister. Carly grinned up at Abby in the moonlit night.

The moonlight reminded Eric of Mr. Tressler's flute. That strange, warm feeling stirred inside him again. Maybe caroling for Mr.
Tressler wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe he would give the old man a gift after all.

“I want to give our new neighbor something he'll never forget,” Eric said.

“What is it?” the kids shouted.

“A friend,” Eric said. He was thinking of his grandpa.

“Now everyone has something to give,” said Abby. “Meet tomorrow after school at Dunkum's.”

The kids scattered and went home.

Eric still wasn't sure about those angels. Did they run on batteries? Maybe not. Maybe Mr. Tressler was a true angel keeper. If so, Grandpa might be just the friend for him.

Sometimes, late at night, Eric could hear Grandpa talking to God. Some people called it praying. But with Grandpa it was just plain talking.

Eric went to his room and put on his pajamas. He thought about Mr. Tressler. How could the old man dance with angels and still be so creepy?

TEN

It was December 15th.

After school, the Cul-de-sac Kids met at Dunkum's. They practiced five songs. They sang them five times in a row. “Silent Night” and “Jingle Bells” were good, but “Angels We Have Heard on High” was the best.

Eric whistled. Jason jigged. And Abby said they sounded double dabble good.