Polterheist(26)

"I would be delighted to be your guest," I said, knowing that he could go on in this vein for some time if I didn't distract him. "What time does your feast start?"

"Why an ancient Roman festival?" Lucky asked with a puzzled frown.

"It seems suitably ecumenical," Max said. "Although I was baptized as a Christian for simple reasons of self-preservation . . . That is to say, the world used to be an even more intolerant place than it is now-"

"That's true enough," said Lucky, who believed Max to be roughly a contemporary of his. "Ain't no denying some things is a lot better now than they was when I was young."

"In any event, while I admire a great deal about the teachings of the individual commonly known to history as Jesus Christ, and whereas I have the most sincerely profound admiration for those who actually practice what he preached-which includes, of course, far, far fewer people than call themselves Christians . . ." Max paused for a moment, trying unravel his own syntax. "Er, well, the fact is, I do not and have never considered myself a Christian. Indeed, although I have traveled far from my origins, I was actually raised in the Hermetic tradition, rather than in any-"

"You were raised as a hermit?" Lucky asked.

"No, my family practiced Hermeticism." Seeing our blank looks, Max explained, "It is a collection, one might say, of philosophical and mystical beliefs, albeit with an emphasis on the healthy spirit of inquiry, largely based on writings somewhat loosely attributed to Hermes Trismegistus."

"Oh, him," I said. "Of course."

"I considered hosting a Hanukkah feast, since that would be in keeping with Esther's inherited traditions, but then I realized that the Jewish festival of lights is already over."

"Oh, yeah." Lucky asked me, "Why does that move around so much? I never know when it's supposed to happen."

"Jewish and Muslim holidays are determined by lunar calendars," I said. "Christian holidays are determined by a solar calendar. And eastern and western Christianity use different calendars, too."

"I always find it so confusing," Lucky complained. "They couldn't all get together on this? Would that be so hard?"

I replied, "Oh, I think the calendar is a fairly minor matter in the things that Christians, Jews, and Muslims have never really all been able to get together on, Lucky."

He gave a sort of Talmudic shrug in acknowledgment of this point.

"So I thought that Saturnalia would be a fittingly inclusive theme for my holiday feast, since the Romans celebrated it on the same day that Christmas is now celebrated."

"A Jewish elf, a Hermetic mage, a pagan festival . . ." I nodded with approval. "It works for me. I think it's a lovely idea, Max."

"Would there be any chance," Max asked Lucky, "of a Roman Catholic joining us for this celebration?"

"Well, now that you mention it," Lucky said with a pleased smile, "my daughter and that schmuck she married aren't flying in for the holidays. And since I can't go out there this year, on account of I gotta clear up this problem the Gambello family has got with Fenster's . . . Thank you, Doc. I'd love to come. I'll bring the cannoli."

"Excellent!" Max said, pleased that his guest list was shaping up.

"Speaking of Fenster's . . ." I said.

"Ah, yes," said Max. "How are you faring at Fenster and Company, Esther? And, Lucky, what's this about a problem between your famiglia and the store?"

"Actually, Max, something pretty strange is going on there. Something . . ." I glanced at Lucky, wondering exactly where to start the story.

"I was thinking about this on the subway," Lucky said to me. "And I got a theory."

"Well, since I certainly don't," I said, "the floor is all yours."

"Doc," he said to Max, "do you think it's possible that Constance Fenster, the Iron Matriarch, is haunting Fenster and Co.?"
                       
       
           



       
11





Jeff said to me, "Has it occurred to you-because it has certainly occurred to me-that this might be the very worst idea you've ever had? And I am including the time you convinced me to meet your parents."

(They hadn't minded that my boyfriend was black; they minded that he wasn't Jewish. And whenever Jeff brought up that occasion, I still automatically apologized to him for it. As I did now.)

Wearing his Santa costume and ready to go on the floor, Jeff gave a weary sigh. "Esther, I know from long and bitter experience that I'm wasting my breath on you, so I suppose I'm really just saying this for the sake of my conscience: Don't do this."

"Don't we look suitable?" Max asked with concern.

"You look fine," I said. "All of you."

"Esther, Esther . . ." Jeff shook his head. "Okay, you asked for some help, I gave you some help. Now let's agree that I don't know anything about this. Fair enough?"

Lucky was studying his reflection in the mirror of the men's locker room at Fenster's. "Kid, don't listen to Mr. Negative over there," he said to me. "We're gonna be fine. My own mother, God rest her soul, wouldn't know me in this get-up."

"Indeed, I hardly recognize you myself!" Max said enthusiastically.

During our discussion last night, the three of us had agreed that Max and Lucky should meet me at Fenster's today to infiltrate the store in search of whatever entity was wreaking havoc here. Given the high turnover of seasonal staff, as well as the large supply of old costumes that I had discovered yesterday up on the sixth floor, it had seemed obvious to me during our late-night discussion that my friends should disguise themselves as elves.

Now that I looked at them, though, I was fighting a morbid fear that Jeff might not be entirely wrong about the quality of this idea.

The two covert undercover investigative elves both turned and faced Jeff-along with their faithful reindeer companion, Nelli.

Jeff, who had agreed today (after a little shrill nagging on my part) to help me with their costumes and makeup, took a long look at them. Then he made a horrible little sound of mingled dread, pity, and grief. He turned around and trudged out of the room, saying over his shoulder, "I'll be on the floor if anyone needs . . . No, actually, I'll just be on the floor. Period. Full stop."

"Ignore him," I said. "This will work."

God, I hoped I was right. Lopez, who'd be poking around the store again today, knew both of these men, and he was certainly observant enough to recognize them even in costume and makeup. We had concealed their features as best we could, but I wouldn't want to risk close scrutiny by a cop who would unquestionably misinterpret their reasons for being here.

"Just be wary, and make sure you avoid contact with Detective Lopez," I said.

"Gee, y'think?" said Lucky.

"Understood," said Max.

Finding costumes upstairs that fit them had not been easy, since neither man was shaped like a young, fit actor, which was the body type that most of the elf costumes had been made for over the years. It would be much easier to find a good fit, of course, if I could liberate a couple of Santa costumes for them . . . But there were too many logistical problems with that identity, since only one Santa at a time could be on the floor, and he was confined to the throne room. Any deviation from this pattern would instantly attract attention to the, er, undercover operatives.

I also hated to imagine what would happen if Lopez stumbled across a furtive Santa Claus who was sneaking around the basement or hiding in a closet at Fenster's. The poor man might never recover from a shock like that.

Anyhow, unlike Father Christmas, there were quite a few elves in the building, and we weren't confined to any particular spot-or even to any particular floor. In their counterfeit elf identities, Max and Lucky could move around the whole building with relative impunity.

It was a shame, though, that I'd been unsuccessful in finding costumes in which they looked more credible. Then again, I was also in costume now, and when I looked at my own reflection and saw Dreidel, "credible" certainly wasn't among the first thirty words that came to mind.

Unfortunately, the fitted tunic, shorts, and tights that characterized the standard male elf outfit at Fenster's mercilessly revealed Lucky's bony legs and poor posture, as well as Max's tendency to slight chubbiness. The cruel truth was that elf costumes did not lend dignity to gentlemen of a certain age.

I had also confiscated Jeff's ruined Santa beard, the one that he had bled on yesterday. He'd collected a new one from the costumer today, and I draped his damaged one over Lucky's face, after concealing the spots of dried blood with some white chalk.

Looking at it now, though, I said, "Oh, I'm not sure about the beard, Lucky . . ." It had looked absurdly fake on Diversity Santa; on a sixtysomething man in an ill-fitting elf-costume, it seemed almost tragic.

"Nah, it'll work," the old mobster said with confidence. "Hides my face. That's what we need."

I hadn't expected Max and Lucky to bring Nelli with them today; I suppose I should have, though, since she was a mystical familiar who had entered this dimension to confront Evil-and that was certainly what we seemed to be haunted by at Fenster's. Nelli was wearing a festive Christmas doggy jacket of red and green, brightly decorated with sparkling silver accents. Max (who tended to spoil her) had also bought her a matching red leash with jingling silver bells on it. At his urging, I had found a reindeer headdress for Nelli in the costume storage room. It was made for a human head rather than a canine one, but with some ingenuity and a stapler swiped from Miles' office, Jeff and I had managed to fit it to her so that it stayed on. So now she sported an impressive pair of squishy fake reindeer antlers.