The Kid Who Stole Christmas (26 page)

“I love him,” Shannon said. “And I would do absolutely anything for him. What else is there?”

“Leo needs a family, Shannon,” Pop replied.

She looked away from his intense gaze. “Oh.”

“I think that’s why he got along so famously with Joey and Irv. They were like the brothers he never had.” He looked at Rick. “And that, young man, is what I meant when I said you had potential.”

Rick arched his eyebrows. “As a... You mean to say that you thought... You were playing Cupid!” he managed to exclaim at last. “Why, you tricky old goat!”

“It worked, too, I think. You pulled together. Together you made a unit stronger than the sum of your parts. And that, my children, is the essence of a good marriage.”

“Whoa, there!” Shannon interjected, rejoining the discussion. “Nothing has been said about marriage. And at any rate, I am not marrying a man with two names.”

Pop looked at him. “It’s your turn, I believe. But be brief.” He glanced at the clock on his wall. “I had intended to let all this reach a natural conclusion up there in the snow, but circumstances have changed. I have it on good, if somewhat liquor-soaked authority, that the Arnies you had hidden in the warehouse have been stolen by Angela Bayer and her chauffeur.”

“But they’re not Arnies, Pop,” Shannon said. “Rick told me. They’re fakes.”

“Well, actually, that’s not quite true,” Rick said.

Shannon turned and glowered at him. “No, of course not!” She folded her arms and slumped on the sofa in total disgust. “Tell me, Rick. Is there anything you’ve ever said to me that
is
true?”

“Plenty,” he told her. He touched her arm and his tone turned serious. “And I never really out-and-out lied to you. I could usually manage to just agree with what you wanted to believe at the moment. You said it, not me.”

Pop chuckled. “
You said it.
Interesting phrase, isn’t it? One can use it to avoid all sorts of things.”

“That’s right,” he admitted sheepishly. “Both you and Shannon said I was an employee of the Arnie company, not me.”

Shannon was now totally befuddled. “Meaning you’re not?”

“I
am
the company,” Rick said. “I invented Arnie the Arachnid and orchestrated this entire campaign. My lawyer friend, Charlie Prine, set up a blind corporation for me under the name Bonner. That way, if Angela got wind of anything before I had some kind of leverage against her and Nathan, she couldn’t use her black-eye story to smear my name—or extort the profits out of me. A toy maker with an abuse charge in his background wouldn’t stand a chance with today’s media. That’s why I was so secretive. I had no choice.”

“I thought it was something like that,” Pop said.

That surprised Rick. “How?”

“Your tale about the head of the Arnie company having one of my lions,” Pop said. He clucked his tongue. “There are only three of those in this country, son. And while one does belong to the head of a toy company back East, he happens to be a friend of mine. So I called Ivan to see if he had some Arnies up his sleeve. Turns out he didn’t even have any plain old spiders. Seems some bright young inventor came along and took them off his hands, millions of ‘em. And even at a few pennies apiece, Ivan figured he’d ripped the boy off.”

“Good old Ivan,” Rick said. “In a way, he really is responsible for the birth of Arnie. If it hadn’t been for the job he gave me on his loading dock, I wouldn’t have had all those toy spiders to fool around with.” He chuckled, albeit without much humor. “I owe some to Angela, too. I was dreaming of horrible ways to get back at her one day. I knew she was afraid of spiders. So I came up with a way to make one that couldn’t be brushed off.”

“So are the spiders they stole real Arnies?” Shannon demanded in exasperation.

“Not yet, but they can be, with a splash of the right formula.” Rick grinned.

Shannon’s mouth had dropped open. She was only beginning to comprehend the real meaning of everything that had just been said. Something this huge was going to take a while to soak in.

There was one thing she did realize, however. “You still don’t have the leverage you need against the Bayers, do you?”

Rick sighed. “No. I had hoped to somehow orchestrate it so they could be caught taking the fakes. Obviously, that’s out. And calling the police won’t do much good—if they’re smart, they’ve already transferred those bugs to the black market. Besides, involving the law in this would be tricky indeed, for the same reason it won’t do any good to try to pin the kidnapping on them now.”

“No,” Joey agreed. He and Irv were looking uneasily at each other. “That wouldn’t be such a hot idea.”

“I’ll just have to think of something else,” Rick said. “But first, there are going to be an awful lot of disappointed Denver-area residents in the morning if I don’t get busy.”

“Then you can save the day?” Pop asked hopefully.

Rick nodded. “All I need is a little time, some help and the contents of that box.” He pointed to the box that had been in the warehouse and was now sitting beside Pop’s desk. “Dare I ask how you came to be in possession of that?”

“The same old man who brought the information about the spiders being stolen gave it to me,” Pop replied. “He said you were kind to him and he was just repaying the favor.”

“Where is he now?” Rick asked. “We owe him, big time. It would take a few precious hours to get more supplies.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

L
ast night’s storm had left another inch of snow on the ground, but no one minded standing in its slushy remnants. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful Friday morning and tomorrow night was Christmas Eve. Best of all, the Arnies had arrived, and even though the line to get one was over a block long, no one seemed to mind standing in that, either.

Pop had hired some musicians to rove the streets outside Lyon’s and lead the crowd in carols. He had also set up a stand where people could get a free cup of coffee or hot cocoa while they waited.

Not that the wait was terribly long, in any case. Inside, Shannon had several clerks manning registers that were handling nothing but Arnie sales. There were, after all, a few people who had other shopping to do, and didn’t want to battle the Arnie-buying crowds. They had crowds of their own to contend with. Simply put, Lyon’s was a madhouse.

A similar condition existed in the storeroom, where an assembly line had been going since early that morning, with the goal of making sure as many people got as many Arnies as was humanly possible. Rick had ordered extras. And for labor, he hadn’t had to look any farther than the nearest shelter. The work was boring and repetitive, but it was a happy group, nevertheless. In addition to their wage, each employee would receive an Arnie, as well as one for each of their children.

The process was extremely simple. Each six-inch-long rubber spider was dipped legs first into a small tray of what Rick called activator. It was then placed into a plastic bag, sealed tightly and sent along the line to be labeled as an official Arnie the Arachnid. Only Rick was allowed to touch the gallon jugs of Arnie activator, and he jealously guarded each drop. He also kept a sharp eye on the process, to make sure nothing but activated Arnies left in those bags.

Shannon had gone home to soothe and feed her cats, and to grab a shower and change of clothes. But Rick had insisted on staying to set everything up.

“You look amazingly chipper,” she told him.

“I went down to the warehouse to check on things, and took the opportunity to shower and change. Did you miss me?”

“A little bit,” she admitted, permitting herself a small, reluctant smile. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you. You could have made these things at any time. You should have trusted me.”

“You’re right. I’ve said I was sorry about a hundred times.”

“Then try a hundred more.”

Rick suddenly decided he couldn’t take it any longer. He swept her into his arms and kissed her soundly on the lips, much to the appreciation of his workers.

“So?” he asked her.

Shannon sighed. “A hundred more of those might help.”

Pop came careening into the storeroom. With Leo sitting on his lap as navigator and Irv providing the thrust, what he needed was a horn to warn of his arrival. Instead, Joey just strolled along behind them, picking up anything or anyone they might knock over.

“Your public is clamoring for you, Rick,” Pop said, giving him a knowing wink. “And the television crew is all set up for your so-called interview.”

“So soon?” He nervously squeezed Shannon’s hand. “I know we have this planned out, but suddenly, I’m not so sure.”

Shannon hugged him. “Go on. It’ll work. She’ll fall for the bait like a hungry carp. Not a bad analogy, at that.”

“She’d better,” Rick said.

With a fatalistic shrug, he headed for the exit and the awaiting TV cameras, with his entourage following close on his heels. His expression was somber. Shannon reached out and poked him in the back.

“Smile,” she ordered. “It’s Christmas.”

Rick did manage to smile, even though temporarily blinded by the television crew’s lights. A woman with a microphone and a large, hungry-looking smile pounced on him immediately.

“Okay,” the newswoman said quietly. “Everything is set. We even planted some of our people in the audience to give them the right idea when the time comes.” She led him to some marks that had been put on the floor with blue tape near the giant dollhouse. “This is going to make great television.”

“Right,” Rick said, still a bit rattled.

One of the crew members pointed at the woman and she started asking him questions. His mind desperately shifted gears.

“Excuse me?” he asked.

She laughed, and her audience laughed with her. “I guess that is a pretty wild question, isn’t it? But really, how does it feel to be a millionaire?”

“Well, I’m not really a millionaire,” Rick told her. “At least, not yet. The store receipts for each location have to be tabulated, and then the percentage calculated for each one. There are also a few loans to be paid off and development costs to be considered. Eventually—”

“Eventually, you’ll be a very rich man,” the newswoman interrupted. She wasn’t interested in the details. What she wanted was drama. “Tell us a little about why you chose our own fair city of Denver as the spot from which to direct this brilliant campaign. Is this the center of Arnie’s web?”

“Well, it really wasn’t planned this way.”

Off camera, Shannon winked at him as he spun a web of his own, keeping the onlookers interested while not telling them very much at all. Meanwhile, Leo, Irv and Joey had taken up a position near the television crew’s monitor bank.

Joey’s interest was fixed upon the monitor hooked up to the outside camera. It showed the activities of the crowd waiting in line for Arnies.

“There,” Joey said, pointing at the screen.

“What?” Leo wanted to know. The adults had planned something while he slept last night and so far he hadn’t been able to figure out what they were up to. “What’s there?”

Irv was nodding. “That’s her, all right.”

“Who?” Leo demanded. “Is she a spy?”

“That’s right, kid,” Joey replied. “Of the worst kind.”

He waved at Pop, who nodded and whispered to Shannon. She, in turn, alerted Rick and the newswoman. Rick smiled, and kept answering her inane questions.

Outside, Angela was making her way alongside the line of people, muttering under her breath. Nathan was right behind her, hurrying to catch up. Until a moment ago, they had been standing in Nathan’s office, looking out the window. When she had heard Rick’s voice on television, however, something inside her had evidently snapped.

“Angela!” Nathan called out. “Where are you going?”

She paused until he was by her side. “Where else?”

“Lyon’s?” He looked around at the milling crowd and kept his voice low. “I thought we agreed it would be easier to let him be for now, and then go after his profits later, when all the attention has died down.”

“I just want him to see my face, Nathan,” she told him.

“But why?”

“Because he’s enjoying himself too much, that’s why!”

She strode onward, with Nathan right behind her. Now he was the one muttering under his breath. “You’re an evil woman, Angela.”

It took her a while to work her way close to the dollhouse, where the interview was still going on. But finally she managed, and positioned herself right in Rick’s line of sight. She smiled at him and waved. Rick frowned.

The newswoman, quick to pick up on the arrival of her guest of honor, noticed this exchange and immediately worked it into her dialogue.

“And who is this in the crowd, Rick?” she asked, pointing to the beautiful woman in the low-cut sweater. “A special admirer, perhaps?”

“In a way, Sue, you could call her Arnie’s mother,” Rick told her, taking the opportunity to go on a first-name basis with the newswoman. He was also suddenly all smiles. The audience was laughing. “Seriously, this is my ex-wife.”

“Isn’t that interesting!” newswoman Sue exclaimed.

The camera operator took the cue and immediately focused on Angela. For a brief second, she looked alarmed, but quickly recovered. The camera loved her. The camera operator, a young male, loved her even more. He moved in for a close-up.

“Hi!” Angela said breathlessly.

“Wait a minute!” Sue cried, in a flawless pretense of surprise. “Ladies and gentlemen, will you please put your hands together for none other than Angela Bayer. Are you here on behalf of Bayer’s Department Store?”

Angela nodded, her blond hair catching the lights and shimmering. “Yes, Sue. We’re just delighted with the way things turned out.” She looked directly at Rick. “And I hope my ex-husband understands that the future of our relationship with Lyon’s rests in his hands.”

Rick leaned closer to Sue’s microphone. “That sounds like a threat, Angela.”

“Take it however you like, Rick,” Angela told him.

She suddenly sensed that something was wrong and turned to go. The huge crowd, however, had other ideas. They closed in around her like a wall.