Santa Goes Bananas: A Cozy Christmas Mystery Page 7

  After the advert had ended, it took an effort of will for Santa to uproot himself from the spot and return himself to the delivery van. But no sooner had he done so than he realised the kind of trouble he was in. The dashboard in front of him had lost half of its features in his absence. Meanwhile, the remaining dials and gauges looked half-melted, like so much heated up wax. Looking about him, Santa saw that this same smeary quality extended to the rest of the cabin also, which was extremely troubling.

  But that was not the half of it.

  Turning his attention back to the steering wheel, he was shocked by the startling transformation it had undergone. Morphing into the grinning face of the obese Santa Claus who continued to dog his every step. A most horrible replacement that he had hold of by the ears.

  “Wooah there, bro!” Easy with the death grip – you’re cutting off my blood flow!” The steering wheel shouted at him.

  Santa, royally dumbfounded, wasn’t able to form a reply.

  Now the face’s beady eyes started looking all about it, taking obvious pleasure in the meltdown that was underway.

  “Oh boy, now you’ve gone and done it! Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you – you’re way too old for this racket!”

  Again Santa could say nothing. It was a silence that clearly pleased the gloating apparition and it let out an uproarious laugh.

  “Man, it’s going to take some scraping you off the pavement tomorrow morning! Those Aussie street-sweepers are going to have themselves one hell of a job!”

  Santa tried looking away, but there was no looking away from the grinning spectre, because the face was everywhere now – woven into the very fabric of the delivery van. Appearing over and over like some ghastly wallpaper, leering at him every which way. Thousands of pairs of eyes bulging from their sockets, fit to burst. Then, one by one, the eyes popped out, and their faces popped out with them, leaving nothing behind except thin air. Until there was nothing left of the delivery van except the remodelled steering wheel, which Santa still had hold of by the ears.

  And then that, too, was gone.

  With the stripping away of his last lifeline, Santa started to drop like a lead-weight through the sky, letting out a scream of sheer panic as he plummeted these first few thousand feet. His body in free-fall, and his fate seemingly inevitable, there was time enough for a few last thoughts to flash by.

  First, Santa thought about the parachute he’d meant to buy, and how not buying it had turned out to be a pretty big oversight. Then he thought about those poor street-sweepers his alter ego had mentioned and how it was true they’d have one hell of a job on their hands. Then finally – achingly – he thought about his wife and daughter, and how he was destined to go to the grave without burying the hatchet with either one of them. And it was then, while experiencing the deepest regret imaginable, that Santa landed on something hard but also springy, and bounced up and down on it several times before his backside came to a rest.

  Not knowing in those first few seconds what the hell was going on, he was already thankful for it. Then, looking down, Santa recognised the familiar crimson upholstery of his sleigh. And when he looked up, and ahead of him, he understood what was powering the blessed vehicle. A grand total of twenty four reindeer. The old guard and the youngbloods having come together to create the greatest pack ever to grace the skies of planet earth.

  It was, as such, truly a sight to behold. And as Santa marvelled at the nature of it, he realised that they must have been shadowing his movements all evening, intent on saving him from himself.

  At the forefront of the group, Rudolph and Naima were bounding forth, side by side. Their two red noses pulsing with light, a couple of glorious pathfinders. And to see such harmony between parent and child, so soon after his near-death experience, was enough to break Santa’s heart wide open in just the way it needed to break.

  Leaning forwards to take up the reins, the tears were streaming from his eyes already and he made no attempt to hold them back. Santa’s heart overflowing with the purest emotion it had ever been his privilege to know. A love that was dazzlingly rich, and daringly selfless, and wanted only to give of itself. And as his heart blazed with it, it began to travel outwards, so that instead of drawing against the magic of Christmas, and counting upon it for his survival, Santa sparked the precious gift into life. A radiant energy that passed through the reins, reaching the harnesses of the reindeer, causing their flanks to glitter and glow.

  Then, with the magic supercharging his friends and saviours, and his own heart rampant with it, Santa threw back his head and let out a roar.

  “Yo-ho-ho!!!!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jon Moran was up at the crack of dawn on Christmas Day morning, sat in his opulent study behind his ten thousand dollar desk. Already, he’d taken care of several work related matters, aware that Bianca would be sore with him if he did these things any later in the day.

  Not that his wife wasn’t unhappy already. The fallout from last night’s dust-up had yet to clear and Jon Moran knew himself to be in the doghouse. But if Bianca could have seen what he was doing now, she would have been absolutely furious. For having dealt with pressing business, he had turned his attention to his son’s girlfriend. Amka Jennings. Or, at least, the young woman who went by that name.

  For, as it turned out, it was not the name she was born with, but one that

  she’d adopted for reasons still unclear. The same could be said for the rest of her bogus identity. In fact, this mysterious young woman had gone to great lengths to obscure her origins and bury them deep.

  Jon Moran knew so because he’d contacted a private instigator and put the man on Amka Jennings’ case. Now, thirty-six hours later, the initial findings of the P.I were there on his desk, spread out over the tabletop. And as he sifted through the report, Jon was very much gratified by the dubious nature of it. Without doubt, there were enough red flags here to justify his decision to pursue the matter. Something was up this young woman. Whatever she was hiding, it was big.

  Wholly absorbed in the dossier, Jon failed to notice when his son pushed back the door and entered the room quietly. Lost to his feverish suspicions, it was not until Kyle Moran had crossed the length of the room, and stopped before his desk, and spent some time studying the contents of it, that his father finally looked up.

  When Jon Moran did raise his head, and notice his son standing there, his first impulse was to sweep away whatever incriminating evidence there was to be seen. But judging by Kyle’s face, it was too late to act the innocent and he had no option but to tough the situation out.

  Turning the dossier around, Jon tossed it over as far as the desk’s edge. “Well. There it is. You might as well take a long, hard look at it. Your girlfriend, for all her ample charms, is not who she appears to be.”

  Kyle’s voice was very quiet when he finally answered his father. Ominously so. “You’ve had her spied on, is that what you’re telling me?”

  “I’m not going to deny it, son. But before you jump the gun and get on your high horse, you need to study these findings closely.”

  Kyle, by way of reply, let out a sadly despairing laugh.

  “You know it was Amka who told me to come here and make my peace with you so we could somehow salvage Christmas Day.”

  At this, Jon nodded knowingly. “Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.”

  “So you’re saying what – that this is another part of her cunning master plan?”

  “You’re young,” his father answered. “You’ve no idea how this world operates. Maybe I should have done more to fill you in.”

  At this, Kyle laughed again. This time with real bitterness. “You’ve been ramming life lessons down my throat just as long as I can remember. Jeez, even when I was four years old, I remember you telling me to view the other kids in my class as obstacles to overcome.”

  Shrugging off the criticism, Jon Moran defended his world view. “A lesson that’s served you very well. It’s why you
finished top of that class. It’s why you’ve finished top of every class you’ve ever taken for that matter. As outcomes go, I’d say that’s pretty good.”

  “It’s also meant that for years and years I’ve been stuck with this tunnel vision, turning life into a series of hoops to jump through. Not once did I ever stop to think about what I wanted from life. Never mind, what I might be able to give.”

  It was spoken from the heart, this confession, but Jon Moran had no time for it. Instead he returned to the attack. “None of this changes the fact that Amka Jennings is not who she claims to be. Who she is, I haven’t got to the bottom of yet, but mark my words, I will.”

  Bringing a hand to his head, Kyle buried it in his thick black hair while staring down at the carpet. “If you must know, her father is someone who’s even more famous than you,” he murmured.

  Jon Moran scoffed at the notion. “That’s what she’s told you? Now that I very much doubt.”

  Kyle looked up at his father. “Its true, nonetheless.”

  “Alright, enough of the suspense – who is he then?”

  “Santa Claus,” Kyle said.

  “Santa Claus.”

  “That’s right. Santa Claus. Father Christmas. Call him what you will.”

  The sheer absurdity annoyed Jon Moran. “Whatever point you’re trying to make here, Kyle, I’m afraid it’s lost on me.”

  “I’m telling you the truth is all. Amka is Santa’s daughter. That’s the big secret here. And I know it’s a lot for you to get your head round – I won’t deny it – but this is where we are.”

  The incredible statement, and the sincerity with which it was spoken, robbed Jon Moran of speech. For several moments his mouth hung open and

  he breathed through it labouredly, horrified by the true extent of his son’s delusions. Finally, shaking himself from the stupor, he leaned forwards in his chair and put all the weight on his elbows, hands out before him as if in prayer.

  “Before I was pretty worried about you, but now I’m firmly of the opinion you need medical help,” he said.

  Again Kyle laughed despairingly. “Right. Men in white coats. That’d be just the thing, wouldn’t it? Put me in a straitjacket and send me off to a clinic – that way you wouldn’t have to worry about me exercising free will.”

  It was an accusation that stung his father.

  “I would never do that to you, Kyle, but you are sick and you do need to see a doctor – it couldn’t be any clearer you require expert help.”

  The two of them had reached a total impasse and nothing either man could say was ever going to dispel it. The misunderstanding was absolute and it was going to take a miracle to blow it away.

  The first indication of that miracle took the form of a cluster of lights up in the sky. Kyle, facing the bay windows, was the first to notice the stunning development and stare at it long and hard in the way of something truly inexplicable. There were two pulsing red lights he could see, with a cluster of golden lights away behind them, and the whole uncanny aggregate was moving at incredible speed.

  To begin with, Kyle’s rational mind went into overdrive and he tried comparing the sighting to that of an aeroplane coming into land. And yet it was definitely no such thing. Then he considered the possibility that he was staring at a UFO. But no sooner had the idea registered with him than the spectacle had gotten so close, and dropped so low, as to reveal its true nature. At which point, Kyle knew it for what it was.

  Now a dazzling radiance came through the window panes and fell across the desk, illuminating the whole study. Panicked by the flood of light, Jon Moran span around and went looking for its source – locating it on top of his private heli-pad in the form of twenty-four magical reindeer, one colorful sleigh, and the driver of said vehicle. A man whose identity – unlike that of his daughter – was transparently clear.

  Chapter Twenty

  Not knowing what else to do, Jon Moran opened up the full length windows and stepped outdoors in something of a trance. He had his shoes on already, but didn’t bother to slip on a jacket although the morning was an icy one. Jon, though, felt nothing of it. At one remove from the freezing temperatures as he was hardly aware of the snow underfoot, or Kyle’s presence at his side. Lumbering forwards, he kept on gawking at the famous reindeer, and at the man who’d stepped down from the fantastical sleigh, waiting for these bizarre elements to do the decent thing and disappear before he’d reached them. That way, he could start to get his reality back on track.

  It was in this dazed state that Jon Moran came to a stop ten feet from Santa Claus, who stayed as he was, smiling broadly, radiating what appeared to be goodwill. At this distance, the mythical figure held his hands up and tried to smooth out the situation. “Jon, apologies, I know it must be pretty alarming – me turning up like this out of the blue.”

  For several seconds, Jon Moran simply stared at the gravelly-voiced speaker. Only then did his brain kick into gear and one of his faculties re-establish itself – the fact that he never forgot a face.

  “I know you,” he murmured.

  At this Santa winced, stung by the memory. “That’s right, we met back at the opening of your Manhattan flag-store, although I’m afraid we didn’t get off to the best of starts.”

  Turning his head stiltedly, Jon Moran stared at the two dozen luminous reindeer to see if they were any more likely to own up and out themselves as a bad dream. That way he’d be able to snap out of this trippy nightmare and get his day started properly. A day just like the day before.

  But instead of waking from the hallucination, it kept on widening and deepening, and now his wife joined the very weird scene. Bianca stepping smartly across the snow-covered grounds, still wearing pajamas and a quilted dressing gown; a yellow bobble-hat covering her short black hair and a pair of Caterpillar boots on her feet. At the same time, as she came forwards, she laughed loudly and repeatedly. Not in the way of a demented person, or a lunatic, despite the madness of the situation. No, it was the laugh of someone for whom everything had just fallen into place.

  “Santa Claus!” she said, stopping in front of their unscheduled visitor, a whole lot closer than her husband had chosen to get.

  “The very same,” Santa answered with a small, courtly bow.

  “So you’re Amka’a father!”

  “My proudest achievement, although you’d hardly know it from the way I’ve been acting lately” he admitted. “Truth is, I haven’t been much of a father at all these last few weeks.”

  “Well you’re hardly alone in that,” Bianca answered, turning to face her husband with one eyebrow raised.

  At any other time, Jon Moran would have defended himself at length, and with vigour, wanting the last word, as he wanted the last word on all things. But now he said nothing again.

  Employing the silence, Santa turned his attention to Kyle, who was stood by his father’s side at a wary distance.

  “You must be Kyle then,” he said, cracking a wide grin.

  “Yep. That’s me,” the young man answered, a little cautiously.

  Taking the bull by the horns, Santa swept forwards and stuck his hand out as he did so, attempting to banish any unease. “Excellent. Glad to meet you. It’s way past time we were properly introduced.”

  Staring down at the offered hand, Kyle placed his own hand into it and the two men pressed each other’s flesh, smiling as they did so, on much firmer footing than at any time before.

  It was then that a fifth party arrived on the scene, completing the overall picture. Amka Claus walking out in a grey hoodie, blue jogging bottoms, and a pair of green Nikes. Her own movements neither hurried nor hesitant. The expression on her face neither spooked nor celebratory, making her own feelings on the subject of Santa Claus, and his surprise appearance, a whole lot harder to judge.

  Halting in her tracks, she came to a stop a full five meters from her father, leaving him with plenty of work still to do. A task that Santa set about immediately by making an appeal that was
painstakingly heartfelt, his voice all broken up and raw.

  “Amka, light of my life, can you ever forgive this old idiot for all his stupid vanity and self-absorption?”

  The question hung in the air for several seconds and Amka took her time replying to it. But when that answer came, it could not have been any more bold or decisive. Straight away, she rushed over to her father and into those arms that he was already holding out. Then they hugged each other tightly, crushing the life out of their miserable separation. No words were spoken for the duration. Nor were any needed. Still, they succeeded in reclaiming what was theirs.

  “Oh, what marvellous creatures!”

  Bianca Moran, having wandered over to the pack, was running a hand over the back of Rudolph’s head. The most famous reindeer of all leaning into the affectionate gesture.

  Santa, resting his chin on Amka’s right shoulder, smiled over at them. “Which kind of brings me to why I’m here. I wondered if you’d consider joining me for Christmas dinner back at my place? Probably not as grand as what you’re used to, but I like to think it’d be worth the trip.”

  At this, Bianca clapped her hands together and her voice went up a half-octave . “Really! At the North Pole! You mean we’re going on a sleigh-ride together!”

  “That’s kind of what I was hoping,” Santa replied, chuckling at her obvious delight. Then he turned and put it to her husband as well.

  “Jon? What do you think? How does that sound to you? I think it’d be a good chance for us to find some middle ground and set aside our differences.”

  “You mean we’re going on a sleigh ride together?” Jon Moran answered, repeating his wife’s exclamation, although he said it with considerably less pleasure than her.