Chapter Seven
The Crazed Grinch
The computer screen glowed eerily in the dark basement. Clicking on a diamond and emerald–studded tennis bracelet, he leaned back in his chair and smiled broadly. The bracelets listed on various online stores were selling for three to four thousand dollars. All he had to do was list it and wait for the bids to come in. Glancing at the Christmas tag that read “To Glenda, with all my love, Phil,” he took the jewelry out of the green velvet box and ran his smooth fingers over the stones. Grabbing his camera, he switched on the overhead light and positioned the item on a black cloth.
“It’s almost one o’clock. You’re going to be late.” His wife’s voice washed over him as he hunched over, trying to get the perfect shot. He glanced at the time on the computer. Shit. “Are you going in today? I thought you told me you were. I don’t know why you volunteered to do this on your weekends. You’re gone most of the time as it is.”
Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch! “I’m coming. I didn’t forget.”
His footsteps clumped on the stairs, and he brushed past his wife seated at the kitchen table, thumbing through a magazine, a cup of something in her hand. Probably her favorite drink—tea spiked with scotch.
They didn’t say anything to each other. They rarely did; they merely coexisted in their home, picking fights on occasion when the silence and boredom became too stifling. That day, she wanted her booze and a magazine, and he wanted to get the hell away from her.
Picking up his keys from the counter, he trudged out to the garage and closed the door behind him. His wife never went into the basement, so the stash of gifts he’d stolen at the various homes he’d broken into were quite safe. He’d make a nice sum of money after he’d listed everything that night. When he’d first started destroying Christmas, he hadn’t taken any of the presents, his only goal to destroy as many decorations as he could. But after he’d found a ten-thousand-dollar necklace in one of the brightly wrapped gifts, he’d decided that making a profit from his hatred of the holiday wasn’t a bad idea. It was a double whammy for the victims, and he enjoyed that very much.
“Goddamn holiday,” he cussed under his breath as he maneuvered his car up and down the lanes searching for a parking space. He hated that time of year with a passion, and he wished they would abolish it. If he had to hear another fucking Christmas carol again, he couldn’t be held responsible for what he’d do.
Turning sharply, he nabbed a space, lifted a small suitcase on wheels out of the back of his car, and headed for the entrance of the Aspen Grove Mall. The stench of hot dogs, pine, and kids clobbered him in the face when he entered the shopping center. The place was packed and he moved through the wall of people, trying not to run into the pop-up kiosks that always invaded the mall during the holiday season. Vendors called out to him as he walked by ignoring them.
Up ahead, Santa’s village loomed. He gripped the handle on his suitcase tighter and fought through the crowd until he was in the back of the makeshift mountain. In front of it, hordes of children stood in line as elves in all sizes and shapes handed out suckers to them. Parents stared vacantly ahead, several of them glancing at their watches as they waited for Santa to take his place again.
Opening the back door, he nodded to the employees on break and slipped into the dressing room. Several minutes later, he came out and took his seat on the golden throne, adjusting the long white beard hanging from his face. Children cheered and adults looked relieved when a petite elf unhooked the velour-covered rope and let the first group of children through.
When he’d seen the ad for a Santa position at the mall, he thought the irony of him playing Santa was too good to pass up, so he applied. The notion was quite ingenious, and he patted himself on the back when he actually landed the damn job. His wife couldn’t believe he even wanted to do it knowing how much he detested the season, but he enjoyed whispering into the young children’s ears that he knew they’d been really naughty all year, and he couldn’t promise he’d stop by on Christmas Eve. The misanthrope made sure he didn’t say it to every kid, just to a smattering of children. The real bonus was getting names from the sign-up list for coupons and free goodies, or from the credit card receipts. Later, when he returned home, he’d input the names and search if they owned any property in the county. If they did, he’d drive by, and nine times out of ten, their houses proved to be garish and had at least one inflatable something in the yard. He’d then add the names to his list. If he regretted anything, it was that there wasn’t enough time to destroy all the homes he’d written down.
An hour into his shift, a cute blonde girl came over to him and he settled her on his lap. She waved at the crowd and he watched as a pretty blonde woman waved back. For a moment, he was taken with her beauty, and then he frowned when he saw a tall man in a leather jacket put his arm around her and kiss her quickly. The angry Santa hated men who wore leather jackets and the women who swooned over them. He bet if he approached the pretty woman, she’d never give him the time of day. She’s probably some cheapie.
“Hi, Santa,” the girl said, bringing him back to the task at hand.
“Have you been a good girl?”
The girl nodded. “Mommy and Daddy say I have.”
“Are those your parents? Your dad in the leather jacket?”
“Yeah. He rides a big motorcycle and belongs to a club. He took me around the block once, but Mommy got real mad and he can’t do that until I grow bigger.”
So, he’s one of those assholes who parade around town thinking they own it. The Insurgents. His wife’s definitely a slut.
“What’s your name?”
“Paisley, but Mommy calls me Paisey.”
“What do you want for Christmas?”
“LuvaBella, the genie dream place, the kitchen with food and pots and pans, and that’s it.”
“Do you think you’ve been a good enough girl to get all that?”
Paisley nodded. “Mommy and Daddy told me I am.”
“But they’re not with you all the time, are they. Do you really think you’ve been good all year?”
The little girl hung her head down and shook it. “Can I get LuvaBella?” she whispered.
“I’ll have to see. Do you know where you live?”
She jerked her head up. “You’re supposed to. You’re Santa Claus.”
He laughed dryly. “Answering like that isn’t nice, and it makes me not want to visit your home.”
Her big blue eyes glistened and he smiled inwardly. “Sorry,” she said through the fingers over her mouth. “My house is thirty-seven something Meadows Street.”
He patted her knee. “That’s very good. Don’t tell your mommy or daddy, because I’m bringing you something real special and I want it to be a surprise for you and them. Okay?”
She bobbed her head up and down, her pigtails bouncing around her head.
He glanced over at the photographer, who pointed at her watch. He cleared his throat. “Now, smile big for the camera, Paisley.” Helping her down, he leaned in close. “Remember our secret. I’m bringing you a very big surprise.”
“I won’t say anything.” She jumped down and ran over to the man in the leather jacket. The pretty woman hugged Paisley, then grasped her hand. The man clutched her other one and they walked toward the booth to retrieve their photographs. The back of the man’s jacket read “Insurgents MC.”
Curling his lip, he had a sour taste in his mouth. He had every intention of paying a visit to Paisley’s home. It would be his biggest challenge to date. I’ll have to watch the house and see what their pattern is. The last thing he wanted was to run into the biker. If Paisley and her mother happened to be there, that would make it all the more exciting.
The Crazed Grinch couldn’t wait to return home and start planning his next break-ins.