The stupidest angel: a heartwarming tale of Christmas terror

you gonna do?" Tuck dazzled a perfect grin. "So, you found this guy's truck? Not him, though?"

    "No. It was made to look like he was washed into the ocean while fishing off the rocks."

    "Made to look? So, you suspect foul play?" Tuck bounced his eyebrows.

    Theo thought the pilot should be taking this more seriously. It was time to drop the bomb. "Yes. First, he never came home after the Caribou Christmas party Tuesday night, where he played the joke Santa. No one goes surf-fishing in the middle of the night, wearing a Santa suit. We found the Santa hat still in the truck, and I found hairs from a Micronesian fruit bat on the headrest."

    "Well, that's a coincidence. Jeez, that's got to make you suspicious, doesn't it?" Tucker Case got up and went over to the counter. "Coffee? I just made it."

    Theo stood up, too, just because he didn't want the suspect to get away, or maybe to show that he was taller, because it seemed like the only advantage he had over the pilot.

    "Yes, it is suspicious. And I talked to a kid Tuesday night who said he saw a woman killing Santa Claus with a shovel. I didn't think anything of it then, but now I think the kid might have actually seen something."

    Tucker Case was busying himself with getting cups out of the cupboard, milk out of the fridge. "So, you did tell the kid that there's no Santa, right?"

    "No, I didn't."

    Now Tucker Case turned, coffeepot in hand, and regarded Theo. "You know that there is no Santa, don't you, Constable?"

    "This is not a joke," Theo said. He hated this – hated being the MAN. He was supposed to be the smart-ass in the face of authority figures.

    "Cream?"

    Theo sighed. "Sure. And sugar, please."

    Tuck finished preparing the coffee, brought the cups to the table, and sat down.

    "Look, I see where you're going with this, Theo. Can I call you Theo?"

    Theo nodded.

    "Thanks. Anyway, Lena was with me Tuesday night, all night."

    "Really? I saw Lena on Monday. She didn't mention you. Where did you meet?"

    "At the Thrifty-Mart. She was a Salvation Army Santa. I thought she was attractive, so I asked her out. We hit it off."

    "You make it a habit of hitting on the Salvation Army Santas?"

    "Lena said that you're married to a scream queen called Kendra, Warrior Babe of the Outland."

    Theo nearly shot coffee out his nose. "That was a character she used to play."

    "Yeah, Lena says sometimes that's not so clear to her. My point is: Love is where you find it."

    Theo nodded. Yeah, that was true. Before he drifted into a wistful state of mind, Theo reminded himself that this guy was, in an offhand way, attacking the woman he loved. "Hey," Theo said.

    "It's okay? Who am I to judge? I married an island girl who had never seen indoor plumbing until I brought her to the States. Didn't work out – "

    "Fruit-bat hair in the truck," Theo interrupted.

    "Yeah, I knew you'd come back to that. Well, who knows? Roberto goes out on his own from time to time. Maybe he met this Dale guy. Maybe they hit it off. You know, love is where you find it. I doubt it, though. I hear that this Dale guy was a real creep."

    "Are you implying that your bat may have something to do with the disappearance of Dale Pearson?"

    "No, you nitwit, I'm saying that my bat may have had something to do with bat hair, which, even you, with your Sherlock Holmes-like powers of observation, may have noticed he is all covered with."

    "I can't believe you're a cop," Theo said, getting truly angry now.

    "I'm not a cop. I just fly the helicopter for the DEA. They hire me by the season, and this is close to the harvest season in Big Sur and surrounding areas, so here I am, flying around looking in the forest for dark green patches while the agents in the back look at it through infrared and record everything on GPS so they can get specific warrants. And man, do they pay well. 'Vive la war on drugs,' I say. But no, I'm not a cop."

    "I didn't think so."

    "Funny thing is, I have learned to spot the right color of green from the sky, and usually the infrared confirms my suspicions. This morning I spotted about a thousand-square-foot patch of marijuana growing just north of the Beer-Bar Ranch. You know where that is?" Theo felt a lump in his throat the size of one of Gabe's dead rats. "Yes."

    "Man, that's a lot of pot, even by commercial growers' standards. Felony quantity. I turned the helicopter – steered away without calling it to the agent's attention, but weather permitting, we could go back.