The Fat Man_ A Tale of North Pole Noir - Ken Harmon [28]
“Relax, Ralphie,” I told him. “You’re not being robbed.” Though I must admit that I kept the Red Ryder aimed just above Ralphie’s head.
“Gumdrop,” the kid managed to get out between the thumping of his heart. “What are you doing here?”
“Just dropping in on an old pal,” I said. “You seem kind of surprised to see me, kid. Why is that?”
“I wasn’t expecting to run into someone pointing a gun at me,” he said. “What’s so strange about that?”
“Nothing, I guess. Why don’t you relax? I just need to ask you a couple of questions.”
Ralphie didn’t budge. His arms were still frozen above his head. “I can’t put my arms down,” he said. “I’m scared.”
Feeling ashamed, I lowered the gun. Even if Ralphie was guilty, I had no business pointing a rifle at a kid. “Easy, buddy,” I said. “I was just looking at your rifle. Sit down. Do you know why I’m here?”
Without taking his eyes off me, Ralphie found a chair. He sat quiet for a minute and then tears started to well up behind those big round glasses. “I heard on the radio that you did something bad, Gumdrop,” he blubbered. “You killed that man. You tricked me into giving you my BB gun and you killed him! And now you’re going to say it was me who did it and it wasn’t! It wasn’t me!”
The kid was out of control now. He was sobbing and shaking. Tears poured out of his eyes, and his nose was Niagara Falls. I had to get him calmed down before he started losing his dinner. I sat down beside him and gave him a hankie. I patted him on the back and tried to stay calm despite knowing that something was going on in Kringle Town and that I was in the middle of it.
“Calm down, kid,” I said. “Calm down. I know you didn’t do it and I’m not here to make you take the blame.” Ralphie eased off the sobbing throttle a bit, so I plowed on. “I didn’t kill Raymond Hall. I hurt him last week, but he was alive. Whoever killed him tonight wants it to look like I did it and I need your help to find out who it is. Do you think you can help me?”
My hankie would have been drier if it had come out of the ocean. After Ralphie got finished filling it with his sinuses, he seemed a little less unhinged. I needed to get answers out of him in a hurry, but I didn’t want to set him off again. “Let’s start at the beginning, kid,” I told him. “What makes you think I tricked you into giving me your BB gun?”
“You sent me a note saying that you wanted to borrow it,” he said. “You said that if I let you borrow it, you would give me what I really wanted.”
“What’s that?”
“To grow up.” Ralphie’s face started to melt into tears again. “I’m tired of being a kid! I want to grow up and do other things. I want to get tall and finally outgrow that stupid, dupid bunny suit! I want a red car. I want a mustache! You said you could make it happen if I let you borrow Red Ryder!”
Poor kid. I guess Ralphie’s mission in life was getting to him and he wasn’t happy with what he had. Most of us in Kringle Town are content to stay more or less the same, so you folks in the human world can have your holiday traditions. Oh sure, along about July, everybody gets a little itch to break out of the mold, but most of us are happy to do our jobs. Ralphie was having a hard time adjusting. He has to stay the same soap-eating, theme-writing, bunny-suit-wearing boy forever—and that was no picnic. “Ralphie, were the notes signed by me?” I asked.
Ralphie pinched up his face in hard thought and then shook his head. “No. After I heard the news tonight, I just thought the note was from you.” Ralphie fished a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me.
Dear Ralphie,
I need your help to play a trick on someone. Cupid over in Valentine Town has challenged me to a target contest. He thinks he is going to win because he is so good with that bow and arrow. But here’s the thing: Cupid never said that I had to use a bow and arrow! Now everyone kows that the Official Red Ryder Carbine-Actio