The Kid Who Stole Christmas (11 page)

They both paused at one of the store’s huge display windows. It faced the wide expanse of interlocking mountain ranges that served as Denver’s western boundary.

“Up there,” Shannon said, pointing out the window.

Rick nodded. “Somewhere.”

While they stood pondering the vast area those mountains encompassed, Paul came up to them. Even for him, he seemed on edge.

“Heard the latest?” he asked.

Shannon filled him in on
her
latest first, which Paul absorbed with obvious puzzlement, and to which he summed up his reaction quite nicely in one word.

“Weird,” he said. “Now read this.”

Rick took the newspaper Paul gave him and held it so Shannon could see it, too. It wasn’t front-page news, but had made a fairly big splash in the business section.

“Boy, eight, caught up in a web of intrigue surrounding Arnie the Arachnid,” Shannon read aloud. “Retail tigers Lyon’s and Bayer’s at it again.” She looked up at Paul. “Pop seen this?”

“You mean you didn’t hear the windows rattling on your way inside?”

“Oh, brother,” she muttered. “I wonder who leaked the story to the press.”

Paul shrugged. “Who knows? The old man’s pretty ticked about it, though. The thing is, I’m not so sure it’s all bad.”

“What do you mean?” Rick asked.

“The phones haven’t stopped ringing this morning,” Paul explained. “It’s as if everyone is taking this personally. People want those spiders, and since Lyon’s is where the Arnies are supposed to be, that’s apparently where most folks want the Arnies to go. We’ve had offers of everything from legitimate legal help to vigilante search parties.”

Rick leaned against the nearest wall and groaned. “In return for a guarantee they’ll get an Arnie, of course.”

“Oh, naturally,” Paul returned. “But some people have even promised to do all their shopping at Lyon’s. You’d think that would put a smile on Pop’s face, wouldn’t you?”

“Only if he can
keep
the Arnies,” Shannon said pointedly. “If he has to give them away, those people will promise the same thing to Bayer’s.” She grasped Rick’s hand and led him toward the elevator. “Which leads me to think he might be more receptive to what Rick and I have in mind.”

Paul noticed the hand-holding, smiled and tactfully didn’t mention it. “Okay, but I did warn you about his mood.”

“Thanks. Oh, Paul?” Shannon said. “Would you talk to the cleaning crew before they leave? Just to see if they found anything unusual lying around.”

“Sure thing.”

It was quiet up on the fourth floor, where most of Lyon’s business offices were. Everyone was walking as if on eggshells. When they saw Shannon and Rick heading for Pop’s office, a good many decided to take an early coffee break. Pop’s personal secretary, Carla, just raised her eyebrows and waved them on through, as if to say better them than her.

Pop’s nurse was in attendance, taking his blood pressure. Although Shannon was pretty sure he would like what she had to say, she decided to wait until the reading had been taken.

But Pop beat her to it. “You saw the paper?” he asked perfunctorily, as if that were the only thing that mattered.

“Yes, Pop,” Shannon replied.

“The media.” He screwed up his wizened features as if the words left a bad taste in his mouth. “How dare those fiends call themselves journalists! All they want to see is blood! Blood to dip their poison pens in and play God with people’s lives. But this time, they had help opening the vein.” He looked at Shannon. “Do you know who told?”

She shook her head vehemently. “No, Pop.”

Rick was next to be pinned by those stern, appraising eyes, and he was already shaking his head. “Don’t look at me, Mr. Lyon,” he said. “I have no idea who leaked the story. But I must say, I can’t see why you’re so upset about it.”

Shannon’s eyes went wide as she looked at Rick, then abruptly turned to Pop. “What he means is—”

“Tut!” Pop held up his hand to cut her off. He was still looking at Rick. “Mr. Hastings was perfectly capable of making himself and his meaning clear last night. I don’t imagine that has changed. Go on, Mr. Hastings.”

“I prefer Rick.”

“And I prefer Pop,” the older man told him. “Or I do when addressed by friends. Are you a friend, Mr. Hastings?”

Rick couldn’t help smiling. “Well, I think I’ll call you Pop, no matter what,” he said. “Because it fits. You remind me of my father. He’s a foul-tempered, crusty old curmudgeon with an ax to grind, too.”

Shannon cringed and waited for the explosion. Instead, Pop chuckled. Then he laughed out loud.

“Sounds as if I might like your father, Rick,” he said.

“You would, Pop,” Rick assured him. “If you ever get to Las Vegas, look him up. He’ll be the oldest old coot at any poker table with more interest in pinching the cocktail waitress than in who won the last hand.”

“Like father, like son?” Shannon asked dryly.

Rick shrugged. “Ask me again when I’m seventy-five.”

Pop dismissed his nurse, then motioned for them to have a seat on an old leather sofa near the window. He rolled his wheelchair closer to them so he could see better.

“So, Rick,” Pop continued. “Tell me why you don’t think I should be angry that someone leaked news of Leo’s abduction.”

“I didn’t say that. Go ahead and be angry if you want,” Rick said. “It won’t get the story out of the paper or help you find out who the leak is, though. Nothing can do the first, and the latter doesn’t really make any difference.”

“No?”

“No. What’s done is done. There is no such thing as bad publicity. When life hands you a lemon, make lemonade.” Rick grinned. “I think I’ll stop now. As the eldest here, the right to spout clichés is yours.”

Pop glanced at Shannon. “Where did you find this guy?”

“He found me,” Shannon replied. “And under somewhat erroneous circumstances, too, I might add.”

“Tell me,” the old man prompted.

“You already know that Rick was once married to Nathan Bayer’s wife, Angela, and that their divorce was less than amicable,” Shannon began.

“It was a creeping case of the plague,” Rick inserted with a grimace. “And call that understatement.”

“At any rate,” Shannon continued, “I have heard enough about it now to be certain Rick owes nothing to the Bayers except the retribution they so richly deserve.” She smiled at Pop’s impatient frown. “In other words, he’s on our side, Pop. I also found out something else last night.”

Pop raised his bushy gray eyebrows. “Last night, eh?”

“Over a stout at the local pub, you dirty old man.”

“At my age, young lady, that’s a compliment. And it’s what happened
after
the drink that has my filthy mind working overtime.”

“Nothing,” Shannon told him sternly.

Pop shook his head. “That’s a shame. Life is precious, and our time on this earth so short.” He looked at Rick and winked. “That’s one of my best. How am I doing?”

“I’m taking notes,” Rick assured him.

Shannon cleared her throat loudly. “Anyway, I found out that Rick is an agent for the Arachnid Arnie company.”

“Arnie the Arachnid,” Rick corrected. “It’s patented.”

“Whatever.” Shannon was looking at Pop. He had a very unusual expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Hmm?” Pop blinked a few times. “Oh! Nothing, really. An old mind will wander, you know.” He smiled at Rick. “So, you have a vested interest in this, eh? No wonder the story in the paper didn’t bother you.”

“It shouldn’t bother you, either, Pop,” Rick said. “I saw the Lyon’s name right next to Arnie’s in that article.”

The morning sun streaming in through the office window caught Pop at the wrong angle, so he moved his wheelchair a bit. Shannon still thought she saw something odd in those pale blue eyes, but shrugged it off as her imagination. Just because Pop treated everyone in his company like part of the family, that didn’t mean they knew his every little nuance.

“That’s true, Rick,” Pop agreed. “But the affiliation won’t do Lyon’s a lick of good if it’s Bayer’s that has the spiders, now, will it?”

“Which brings us to the reason we’re here,” Shannon said.

Pop held up his hand. “I’m sorry to keep cutting you off, Shannon. I know you’re busting to tell me something and I promise I’ll hear you out. But I want to ask our Arnie rep here something before I forget.”

“Shoot,” Rick told him, expecting the usual.

“Exactly why was Lyon’s chosen as the sole supplier for the Denver area?”

The question took Rick by surprise. He smiled, his mind searching furiously for an answer any self-respecting field representative would have had on the tip of his tongue.

“The owner is a big fan,” he said.

“Of Lyon’s?”

Rick nodded. “Of you, too. And all toy makers. In fact, he has one of your original Leo the Lions in his collection.”

“Does he now?” Pop’s expressive gray eyebrows went up. “I’m touched. And what is this person’s name?”

Rick had thought the old man was trying to trip him up, but now realized Pop was just being cagey. “I’m not at liberty to divulge that information,” Rick replied with a grin.

“That’s the same thing he said when I asked if he knew when the shipment was coming in,” she told Pop.

Pop was still studying Rick intently. But salvation was at hand, and Rick grabbed it. “Actually, I have some news in that area,” he announced. “In all the excitement this morning, I forgot to tell you.”

Shannon spun her head toward him and leaned close. “The shipment arrived!” she exclaimed.

“No, not yet.” Rick smiled at her sympathetically. “But I did get a report that delivery will be made in New York early this afternoon.”

Pop was nodding his head. “And in Los Angeles at about the same time, correct?”

“That’s right,” Rick confirmed. “Allowing for the time difference, of course. How did you know?” he asked curiously.

“I didn’t. It was just an experienced old retailer’s guess,” Pop returned. “I don’t think anyone is going to have trouble selling out of Arnies, but that will be especially true on both coasts. Middle America has always been a harder sell, traditionally.”

Shannon agreed. “Will it play in Peoria?”

“Correct.” Pop smiled at her like a proud father. “So, I imagine the shipments will be delivered in stages, in two waves, if you will, starting at the coasts and moving toward the center of the country. Probably meet up along or around the Mississippi River.” He glanced at Rick. “Right?”

He cleared his throat. “You’ll be hearing about it soon enough, so I guess I can tell you. That’s exactly right.”

And it was, or close. There would be a little glitch along the way, and he wouldn’t put it past this wily veteran to figure that out, too. Maybe he already had.

“I thought so,” Pop said. “That way, by the time Arnie reaches Peoria, so to speak, even reclusive farmers will have heard about him. Smart man, this employer of yours.”

“You said it,” Rick told him.

Pop smiled, then laughed. “Yes, I did, didn’t I?” With one last twitch of his eyebrows, Pop turned his attention from Rick to Shannon. “Now, what’s on your mind?”

Shannon was glad to comply. “Obviously, Rick isn’t here by coincidence. There were indications the Bayers might try to interfere with or intercept our shipment, and since Rick has had dealings with them before, he was chosen to watch over it.”

“By playing Santa Claus?”

“He’s just moonlighting. Evidently, the Arnie campaign is on a budget,” Shannon said before Rick could open his mouth. It couldn’t be easy for him to keep explaining his situation.

“I can well imagine,” Pop said, smiling slightly.

Shannon didn’t know any other way to put this, so she just said it. “But now he wants to help me get Leo back.”

Pop’s smile disintegrated into a scowl. “I believe you know how I feel about that, young lady,” he said sternly.

He sounded very much the perturbed parent. And Shannon felt like a high school girl trying to convince her father to let her use the car.

“But Pop, we have to at least try,” she objected.

“Absolutely not! I forbid it!”

Rick was chuckling. “I bet if I were to light you a cigar and close my eyes, I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between you and my dad.”

“Now, you listen to me, young man—”

“No, I won’t,” Rick interrupted happily. “Because I don’t have to. You’re not my father. In fact, you’re only marginally my employer. I could go bounce boxes around for a lot more money than I’m getting here, so don’t even bother threatening to fire me.”

“I’ll fire Shannon then. Just for subjecting me to you.”

“One of your best managers?” Rick laughed. “Even you aren’t that much of a curmudgeon. Besides, it’s obvious you think of her as a daughter. No, you’ll just have to listen to me, old man.”

“I was afraid of that,” Pop muttered.

“Whether you like it or not, I’m going to try to find Leo. In the process, I’ll also try to pin the kidnapping on the Bayers. Failing that, I’ll try to catch them in the act of unlawfully taking control of the Arnie shipment. One way or another, I intend to get something on Nathan and Angela.”

Pop met Rick’s defiant gaze without blinking. “They’ll squash you like a bug.”

“They tried that once before, and I came crawling back,” Rick told him. “This time I’m going to sting them.”

Pop turned his wheelchair so he could look out the window. He was silent for a long time. Finally, he appeared to come to a decision, and turned to face the pair on the couch. For Shannon, who knew him well, the sparkle in his eyes told the story.

“Go find my grandson, Rick,” Pop said. “And do whatever damage you can to Nathan Bayer. I’m behind you all the way.” He smiled at Shannon. “Both of you. Do you have a plan?”

“First, we’re going to poke around Bayer’s, maybe even go undercover there if we can,” Shannon informed him. “Which means we’ll need some time away from the store, I’m afraid.”

Pop started to wheel himself toward his desk. Rick got off the couch and helped him. “Covering for Rick won’t be easy,” Pop agreed. “But if you hold off till lunchtime, I’ll hit the cafeteria. The man who signs the Christmas bonus checks is a hard man to refuse a favor.”