The Fat Man_ A Tale of North Pole Noir - Ken Harmon [47]
When I turned back, Ghost was pulling the sheet over Cane. “Wait,” I said. “I wonder if the reason you didn’t expect Cane to die so early is because there was a change in the cause of death.”
“Heart attack is listed,” said Ghost, but something told me different. I gave Cane the once-over, looking for wounds, but came up empty. I was about to give up, but I looked inside Cane’s mouth. That’s when I saw it. It had been lodged in his throat, slowly choking him to death and stopping his ability to talk. It was probably poison too.
Zsu Zsu’s petals.
As I pulled the leaves out of Cane’s mouth, I could hear the surprise in Ghost’s voice. “What does it mean?” he asked.
It meant I was one unlucky son of a blitzen. It meant that Cane was murdered and I knew where the killer was hiding.
“It means I have to go to Pottersville.”
CHAPTER 18
Baby, It’s Cold Outside
THE MARSHMALLOW WORLD GAZETTE
Charles Foster “Candy” Cane Dead! Deathbed Scandal Uncovers a Life Not So Sweet
Rosebud Jubilee
Kringle Town’s Kublai Khan is gone. Charles Cane, nicknamed “Candy” for his uncommon sweetness, died alone in his fairy-tale mansion, Xanadu, surrounded by secrets, scandal and shame. The elf tycoon was discovered to have a clandestine stash of millions of toys. Though the investigation is in its initial stages, sources believe Cane’s ambition was to stage a coup d’état and force Santa Claus out of the toy business. Authorities believe Cane then planned to become the giver of toys, the beloved elf of children around the world once Santa was disposed. Sources also told me that Cane used his considerable influence with Santa to remove Gumdrop Coal from duty. Coal was fired as enforcer of naughty children. With Coal out, all children would receive toys so production would have to increase, causing the elves to be hurried and less organized, and Cane was allowed to steal undetected. “I am very sad at both Candy’s death and what was apparently a very selfish plan,” Santa Claus said. At this moment, Cane cannot be directly linked to the murder of Raymond Hall and the other assaults connected to Gumdrop Coal, so the search for the fugitive elf continues. Although why anyone would ever want to see the good-for-nothing rat loser ever again this reporter cannot understand.
If I were an honest elf, I would admit that, deep down, I was maybe made to live in Pottersville. Pottersville was cold and bleak, sucking all hope and happiness into its shadows. It was the complete opposite of Kringle Town, my elf world in reverse. Just across the tracks, Potter lorded over the town like a buzzard, circling and smiling at the suffering down below. The old man took everything good in Kringle Town and twisted it into despair in Pottersville, creating a world where getting through life was an empty, joyless chore. In Potter’s world, they would not exchange presents in The Gift of the Magi. They would exchange lead. The moon was big and full when I arrived, but it didn’t add any romance to the view. In any light, Pottersville was ugly, crooked and in bad need of a coat of paint. But pastels would have been wasted on the place. Pottersville was quicksand to anything light or bright or happy. Because of my dark mood, the truth was that I felt right at home when I stood in Potter’s Field looking at the sorry excuse for a town across the river.
I should have seen Potter was behind this all along. The warped, frustrated old man always hated Santa and would do anything to tarnish what the Fat Man stood for. Potter recruited Cane and told him to get me out of the way and start stashing toys. Then Potter double-crossed Cane and slipped him a couple of Zsu Zsu’s petals as a funeral wreath. Genius. The worst part was that I was afraid once I was around Potter’s scum, the pool and hooch halls with their hard hearts, that I would like it and never come back. My wonderful life,