Christmas at Timberwoods - Fern Michaels [74]
One by one, Charlie Roman closed the whitefur-covered snaps on the jacket of the old Santa Claus suit he’d found in a box in the dressing area for employees. He threw a red sack over his shoulders. He didn’t have to look in a mirror to see what he looked like. Santa was Santa, someone Charlie had never wanted to be. But it would do for a disguise and this wasn’t the first time he’d used it. Nick Anastasios was the mall’s main Santa, but the kindly old man wasn’t the only one. Some of the individual stores hired walk-arounds in red velour, too.
No one would give him a second glance. But then no one ever had, Charlie thought. The happy interlude with Angela was something he’d forced himself to forget. He was alone again. By himself. But somehow complete. The strange feeling of being split in two that had plagued him for so long had gone away when she did.
He was stronger now that he was whole. Strong enough to strike back at everyone who’d treated him like he was nobody. The plans he’d made were foolproof, the orderly product of a disordered mind. There was a certain satisfaction in knowing that no one else could pull off the lethal scheme. No one had the know-how . . . or the triggering rage. Charlie had to go back up on the roof to be certain that none of the equipment near the fresh-air duct had been discovered or disturbed. The plan—his plan—had gone from hypothetical to real. Given that first lucky break of a very large propane canister right where he’d needed it, he’d made the most of it. The prep work was over, all was in readiness, but something could still go wrong. Should he go up now or wait until lunchtime? Was it taking too much of a chance to go on the roof in the Santa suit, or should he change?
He didn’t really have the time to switch outfits, he decided. The red velour and beard would keep a passerby from remembering him, though one of the guys still might. If so, he’d bluff—and dash up as soon as he could. Better to go now while it was still snowing, he decided. That way his footprints would be covered if someone else from the maintenance department went up there later.
Now. Now. He kept saying it to himself as he worked his way down the mall and up the escalator to the promenade level. Down past the community room and up the ramp to the exit. Once the doors had closed behind him, he moved more quickly.
“Dammit,” he muttered as he walked over to the fresh-air duct on the vast expanse of the roof. He hadn’t thought of how he was going to explain if anyone asked why the borrowed suit was wet. So were his shoes. Someone was sure to notice. He would have to go into the bathroom and try to dry off.
Satisfied that his setup was untouched and the red cylinder was just as he had left it, Charlie stood erect and picked up the sackful of coloring books and candy canes. Suddenly he realized that he could be seen from the highway.
Timberwoods Mall had been erected in a gully, and the old highway where the hospital was looked down upon it. This fact gave Charlie quite a jolt; then it seemed humorous.
Dressed in his Santa suit he would probably just be mistaken for part of a publicity stunt for Timberwoods. He was so relieved he waved his arms and laughed. “Ho! Ho! Ho!” he roared, just as a rooftop Santa should.
Maria Andretti raised a frail arm and waved wildly. He had seen her and waved to her! Her pale little face flushed; her eyes were bright and sparkling. He was her own special miracle.
Angela had left Amy Summers with a brief wave, promising to get back as soon as possible and help her. It was going to be a long, cold walk to Timberwoods Mall to pick up her car. But with any luck, Charlie would be working and she would be able to apologize for leaving without telling him. She’d decided to tell him that Mrs. Summers had needed her. It hadn’t been the reason she had left in the first place, of course, but it was the reason she’d stayed away so long, and the reason she was going back. The detective’s wife had really reached out to her, and seemed to instinctively understand a