The Fat Man_ A Tale of North Pole Noir - Ken Harmon [15]
“Not that I can tell,” I said. “Why does everyone seem to think that Santa is in Cane’s sights?”
“’Cause I hear that Cane heads up the Misfit Mafia,” Sherlock said. I thought he had been asleep.
“What’s the Misfit Mafia?”
“Rubbish,” Zsa Zsa said, smacking Sherlock in the head with a rolling pin. “Sherlock, here, tinks he stumbled on a couple of Misfits who are planning to take over zee world vit dark, evil plans. Vhat he found vas a couple of Goodfella action figures throwing darts at a picture of Santa. Sherlock should take more naps.”
“They told me Cane would get me if I tried to rustle them in,” Sherlock said. “I believed them.”
“Humbug!” Zsa Zsa said, smacking him again.
“So why were these toys throwing darts at Santa’s pic?” I asked.
“Because der a couple of Misfits,” Zsa Zsa said, shaking her head. “Ve all feel like dat from time to time. Santa vill never understand how much it hurts to be on zis island sometimes. He can see it vit kinder, lumping bad in vit good, but not vit toys. Sad, it is.”
“Is that what you think he’s doing by getting rid of me?” I asked. “Making bad children the same as good?”
“Ya, maybe.”
“I never thought of it that way,” I said, helping myself to a sausage. “And I don’t like thinking about it that way, either.”
“No?”
“No,” I said. “Good kids aren’t the same as bad kids and bad kids shouldn’t get rewarded like they’re good. Where’s the justice in that? I don’t like it.”
Sherlock leaned in close and whispered, “I deduce that you’re gonna do something about it, Bumdrop. Am I right?”
“Maybe.”
Zsa Zsa gave the dough another lethal twist. “Be careful my vittle Gumdrop. Just be careful.”
CHAPTER 6
Later On, We’ll Conspire
THE MARSHMALLOW WORLD GAZETTE
Not So Wonderful Winter Wonderland
Police report that yesterday, Mr. Snowman was attacked. “We were just having fun with Mr. Snowman,” said Wendell Spindle of Kringle Town, “and then these little hoodlums knocked him down.” Witnesses were unable to give a clear description of the attackers, but some claim to have heard the gang yell, “The Fat Man is next! The Fat Man is next!” Santa said he was “disturbed” by the incident, but did not fear for his safety. If you have any information, please contact the Kringle Town police.
I stayed with Sherlock Stetson and Zsa Zsa for a couple of weeks, spending most of my time eating, refereeing their skirmishes, and trying to avoid being alone with Zsa Zsa. “I could make vittle Gumdrop happy,” she said one night in the kitchen. I couldn’t help but notice she was charring the bratwurst—or that Sherlock was sitting three feet away trying to grasp the idea of a yo-yo.
“You have a husband, Zsa,” I said, trying to make a joke of it. “And I’m sure I would disappoint you.”
“Sherlock, bah,” Zsa Zsa said. “I’d rather have a Lincoln Log. Let’s run avay from zis Misfit place, Gumdrop. Even if I am a toy, I am all voman—no assembly required, eh?”
I left right after dinner that night.
When I got home, I found Dingleberry pacing in front of my door, in a dither. “Where have you been?” he said. I could tell the old boy had been crying. “You said you would call! You didn’t call! I thought something bad happened to you!”
“I’m fine, Dingleberry,” I said, motioning him in from the cold. “I spent some time over on the Misfit island. I just needed to get away. Thanks for worrying, though. What’s the news here? Has Candy Cane conquered the world yet?”
Dingleberry’s lips disappeared and his pupils got glossy. “He told me that he was keeping an eye on me. He doesn’t know if he can trust me because ...” Dingleberry was scared to say more. I said it for him.
“Because of me. I’m sorry you got dragged into this, Ding. What happened?”
Dingleberry stared at the floor, ashamed to look at me. I guess he thought I would clobber him. I gave him a pat on the arm and made him look me in the eye so he would know everything was jake between us. “I don’t know what happened,” he said finally. “I went to see him about his toy reviews, and he started saying things like he had