Twisted (43 page)

L
arry grinned as he walked through the deserted mall. He felt almost like a young teenager again, escaping the watchful eyes of his parents. It was nice of Jay and Diana to be so concerned about him, but they were being ridiculously paranoid. Larry wasn't a bit worried about the present with the note inside. There were probably a bunch of presents with lyrics from “Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town” inside. It was someone's idea of a joke, and the culprit had probably left with the group that had driven out before they were snowbound.

There was a noise behind him, and Larry froze in his tracks. It had sounded like stealthy footsteps, and he turned around quickly, peering into the shadows. Of course no one was there. He was the only one awake. Perhaps Jay and Diana's paranoia was contagious. For a second there, he'd been almost scared.

Larry had waited until everyone was asleep, and then he'd left the Crossroads Pub. He was thirsty and he'd decided to go to the bowling alley for a beer. He knew that if he'd poured himself a beer at the pub, he might wake Jay and Diana. The last thing he wanted was to wake up the prophets of doom and disaster!

As Larry passed the mall Christmas tree, he gave an amused chuckle. It was pure coincidence that the other two people who'd opened similar packages had been killed. Take Sue, for instance. She'd been drunk, and she'd wandered outside in the worst winter storm of the decade. It was too bad that she'd been standing in the wrong spot when the wind had blown over that planter, but it had been an accident, and the package she'd opened had absolutely nothing to do with her bad luck.

Dave was another case in point. He'd been careless, and that was what had cost him his life. Everyone knew that it was dangerous to stand in a puddle and fool around with something electrical. They taught you stuff like that in grade school! Sure, Dave's death had been awful, but it had been an accident. And now Jay and Diana were worried because they thought the lyrics in the presents were some sort of omen of impending death.

Larry opened the door to the bowling alley and stepped inside. He didn't bother to flick on the main lights. There was a dim light over the bar and that was good enough for him. He walked around the bar, drew a glass of beer, and chugged it down. There was nothing like beer when you were thirsty. Then he filled his glass again, and sat down at a table with a view of the interior of the mall.

All the stores were decorated for Christmas, but Larry couldn't see the window displays in the dark. There was only one bright window and that was in the huge sporting goods store directly across from him. Larry watched their mechanical Santa for a while. It was really fascinating, and he wondered why he hadn't noticed it earlier.

Santa was sitting in a rocking chair, rocking back and forth as he stared out the window and smiled. Every so often, he would turn his head or touch his beard with his hand. The mechanics were very realistic, and Larry was sure that the sophisticated display must have cost big bucks.

Larry downed his second glass of beer, and got up to pour another. But he didn't sit back down again. He carried his glass out the door and walked over to the sporting goods store for a closer look at the mechanical Santa.

As Larry watched, the Santa stood up and walked to the window. It was really amazing how real he looked. He turned to the left, and then to the right, seeming to search through the darkened mall for customers. And then he faced straight ahead and smiled, directly at Larry.

Larry smiled back. He couldn't help it. The Santa looked so real. Of course, he was getting a buzz from his third glass of beer, and that could have accounted for it.

“Hey, Santa”—Larry chuckled and walked closer—“how about if I tell you what I want for Christmas?”

Santa nodded, and Larry chuckled again. He knew the nod was programmed into Santa's mechanics, but it had come at the perfect time.

“I'd really like a Ferrari.” Larry grinned. “Red with white leather upholstery. What do you think, Santa? Can you fit a Ferrari on your sleigh?”

Santa nodded again. And then he did something that absolutely blew Larry's mind. His arm came up and he crooked his finger for Larry to come closer.

“Okay, okay. I'm coming.” Larry laughed and stepped closer. “What do you want?”

“Ho, ho,
ho!”

Larry took a hasty step back as he heard Santa's voice, but then he realized that there was no reason why this Santa couldn't talk. He seemed to be able to do everything else, and the talking feature was probably nothing more than a looped tape fed through a speaker.

“Hey, Santa. Can you say anything else? Ho, ho, ho is pretty boring.”

“Ho, ho,
ho!”

Larry laughed and took another sip of beer. “I guess that's it, huh?”

Santa crooked his finger again, and Larry grinned. He drained his glass of beer, set it down on the floor, and moved up to the glass again. “Okay. I'm here. Now let's get personal. What do you think I should get my dad for Christmas?”

Santa seemed to consider it for a moment, and then he opened his mouth. “Fishing tackle makes a wonderful Christmas gift.”

“Wow!” Larry blinked, and then he started to grin. “I get it. They programmed you with ads for the store. But my dad doesn't have time to fish anymore. What else have you got?”

“We have hand-tied flies that will please even the most discriminating fly fisherman.”

“No way!” Larry chuckled as he realized that he was talking to a mechanical doll. But there was no one else here, so it really didn't matter. “Sorry, Santa. My dad hasn't done any fly casting in years.”

Santa took a step forward and smiled. He was so close, his belly was almost pressing up against the glass, and he stared at Larry as he spoke again. “Our flies are tied by a local expert, a man who fished the river that once ran right through this store, the real winner of the tri-city father-andson fishing contest held on this site, twelve years ago.”

Larry didn't stop to wonder how Santa knew all this. He just moved up until he was nose to nose with Santa. “You're wrong, Santa. I was in that contest, and my dad and I won first prize.”

“You cheated.” Santa's eyes glittered dangerously. “You won because you poured glue all over an old man's tackle box. And you ruined the sport of fly fishing for him.”

Larry was so shocked, he was frozen in place. “But . . . but no one knew about that! What's going on here?!”

“I'm going to punish you, Larry.” Santa put both palms against the glass. “You've been a bad little boy and you deserve to be punished. Ho . . . ho . . . ho!”

Larry's mouth opened in a soundless scream. But before he could turn and run for his life, Santa pushed against the glass and it shattered, knocking him to the floor. And then Santa was there, standing over him with a stern expression on his face and a long, sharp sliver of glass in his mittened hand.

“No! It was all my father's idea! And I was just a little kid! I never meant to . . .”

But Santa didn't give Larry a chance to finish. His hand slashed down with deadly force. And the shard of razor-sharp glass buried itself deeply in Larry's heart, stilling it forever.

D
iana and Jay were sitting in a booth at the Crossroads Bistro, watching the storm outside the windows. The snow had combined with ice crystals to form tiny particles of sleet. The wind drove them against the windows, and they rattled and bounced against the glass. The noise they made reminded Diana of one long drum-roll, building up to something horrible. The tension was unnerving, and it made her want to go back to bed to pull the covers over her head.

Jay had been up early, at six o'clock. When he'd realized that Larry was missing, he'd organized a search party with Hal and Paul. The girls had stayed in the pub, huddled together in a tight group, hoping that they'd walk in any second with Larry in tow. Of course, that hadn't happened. Larry was dead, just like Sue and Dave.

Now it was eight in the morning, but it was still very dark. The blowing snow had completely obscured the sun, and the day was a somber, slate-gray color. Perhaps she wouldn't have panicked if the sun had shone brightly and the skies had been bright blue. But suddenly everything seemed horrendously frightening.

“It wasn't just another accident! You know it wasn't!” Diana's hands were trembling so hard, she could barely hold the cup of coffee that Jay had poured for her.

“Di . . . please.” Jay hugged her to him, and stroked her hair. “You've got to calm down. If you get hysterical, everyone else is going to panic. And then we'll have real trouble.”

“We've already
got
real trouble! Three of us are dead. Isn't that trouble enough?”

Jay nodded. He looked tired, and Diana almost relented. But she had to convince him that they were in terrible danger.

“Listen to me, Jay. You know that window didn't just pop out of its frame and kill Larry. Somebody moved the safety bar and pushed out the window.”

“No, Diana.” Jay shook his head. “The safety bar was in place. I checked it.”

“Then Larry's murderer put it back! Somebody's trying to kill us, Jay. And he's succeeding!”

Jay opened his mouth to deny it, but he closed it again without speaking. And then he nodded. “You're right. I didn't want to admit it, but you're definitely right. But who's doing it? And why?”

“I don't know who. But I do know he's crazy. And that Christmas carol must've set him off. That's why he writes down the words and wraps them up like presents for his victims.”

Jay nodded. “Okay. But who is it? There's only six of us left.”

“It's not me, and it's not you. That leaves only four. And it's certainly not Cindy or . . . Heather?” Diana's face turned white. “Heather was really mad at Larry last night. She was so mad she pretended that he was standing in front of the pins when she bowled that last strike.”

Jay shook his head. “No. It can't be Heather. She's a total waste when it comes to anything mechanical. There's no way she could have taken off the safety bar and put it back on again.”

“Okay.” Diana drew a deep sigh of relief. “I'm glad it's not Heather. I'm actually beginning to like her. You don't think . . . it couldn't be Hal, could it?”

“That doesn't make any sense. He's got no motive, and I've gotten to know him pretty well in the past couple of days. He's a really nice guy.”

Diana nodded. “That's true. He was really nice to me the night we found Dave. And he was great when he described my outfit for the fashion tape. But if it's not Hal, the only one left is . . .”

“Paul.” Jay looked very uncomfortable. “It's awful to suspect my sister's boyfriend, but we really don't know him that well. I guess he could be unstable, but . . . it just doesn't make sense. He's got no reason to try to kill us. He didn't even know us until we all got snowbound out here.”

“But there's no one else here!” The hair on the back of Diana's neck started to prickle a warning. “Is there?”

Jay caught her meaning, and he frowned. “I don't know. I guess there could be. This is a big mall and there's a million places to hide out. Somebody could have stayed behind when everyone else left.”

“Or someone could have walked in, the day the storm started, and just stayed. It's a perfect place to hide if you're avoiding the law, and Greystone Prison is just up the road.” Diana shivered again. “Do you think they had an escape?”

“It's possible. There's no way to warn us if they did. We're completely cut off out here.”

“Oh, my God, Jay!” Diana's voice was shaking. “We could be locked in here with a psychotic killer!”

Jay laughed and hugged her tightly. “Relax, Diana. They don't keep psychotic killers at Greystone Prison. It's not even a prison anymore. It's a minimum security correctional facility.”

“What does that mean?” Diana wasn't reassured.

“They only handle white-collar offenders, and they're not violent. Most of their inmates have passed bad checks, or been convicted of real estate fraud. The guys at Greystone are criminals, but they're not the type to write down lyrics from ‘Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town,' and then murder us. Besides, the killer can't be a stranger.”

“Why not?” Diana was puzzled.

“He knows our names. He writes them on the tags.”

“Oh, my God! You're right!” Diana shivered and moved closer to Jay. Somehow it was even more awful if the killer was someone they knew.

“It'll be okay.” Jay gave her another hug and then he stood up. “Come on, Diana. We'll go round up some weapons. And then we'll find everybody else and pass them out. We've got to fight back!”

Diana nodded and let Jay pull her to her feet. She felt a little better, now that they had a plan of action.

“Don't worry, Diana.” Jay smiled down at her. “We'll be safe if we go everywhere together in a group. There's no way anybody's going to attack all six of us at once.”

“Are you sure?” Diana's voice was shaking.

“I'm positive. This storm can't last much longer, and the police will be here soon. As long as we stick together and watch our backs, we're going to be just fine.”

But as they walked through the mall, Diana's knees continued to shake. She knew Jay would do his best to protect them. But what if Jay's best wasn't enough?

 

He glanced down at his list and smiled as he crossed out Larry's name. They were beginning to get suspicious, and he knew that he would have to move fast. Not even Santa had the power to make the storm last forever, and everything had to be done before the highway patrol came out to check on them again.

The package was ready, wrapped in a foil paper that she'd be sure to notice. It was her favorite color, deep purple. She'd mentioned that the first night, when she'd picked out a bright purple satin comforter to put on her bed in the furniture store. The lyrics from “Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town” were inside, the lines he'd especially chosen for her. He'd planned everything very carefully so the others wouldn't see her when she opened her present. If they knew she'd received it, they'd crowd around her in a protective circle. This naughty girl deserved to be punished, and Santa would do it before anyone realized that she was his next victim.

As he stuck a beautiful silver bow on top of the package, he thought back to that awful day when she'd hurt Grandma's feelings. She might not remember, but he did.

She'd come to the farm with her high school home economics class to watch Grandma make strawberry jam. Grandma's strawberry jam had won blue ribbons at the county fair for three years running, and the teacher had asked her to give a demonstration.

Grandma had been very proud that the school wanted her to teach jam making. There were twelve girls in the class and she'd made out labels with their names to put on the jam when it was finished. Each girl would get her own jar to take home and enjoy with her family. Grandma had even spent the money to buy pretty jars, and they hadn't come cheap.

The girls had been very polite as they'd watched Grandma make the jam. And they'd oohed and aahed over the pretty jars with their names on them. When the jam had cooled enough to take home, they had thanked Grandma and left. He could still remember how happy Grandma had been when she'd called to tell him about it.

But the next day, when he'd come out to visit, Grandma hadn't been happy. And when he'd asked her what was wrong, she'd told him that one of the girls had thrown away her jar of jam. She'd tossed it out on the road, as if it had been worth less than nothing. And Grandma knew which girl it had been because her name had been on the jar.

He'd done his best to make Grandma feel better. Perhaps the jam had fallen out of the car accidentally. But Grandma said no, Gramps had seen her toss it out. He hadn't wanted to tell her at first, but she'd wormed it out of him. Imagine throwing away her prize-winning jam! The girl could have given it to someone else if she hadn't liked it, but she'd thrown it out on the side of the road as if it were garbage!

Even though he'd always been allergic to strawberries, he'd eaten Grandma's jam on his toast all that summer. It had given him a horrible rash, but it had been worth it to see her smile. Perhaps Grandma had forgiven the girl for throwing out her jam, but he hadn't. His skin still prickled when he remembered that rash.

He picked up the package and hurried out to the mall. He had to get it in place before anyone noticed. Santa would punish the girl for hurting Grandma's feelings, and there was nothing the others could do to protect her.

 

Cindy and Paul had wanted her to stay with them, but Heather just felt like being alone. She felt terribly guilty for being so mad at Larry last night. Of course, she knew that imagining Larry in front of the pins hadn't had anything to do with his accident, but she wished she'd picked someone else's image to mow down with her bowling ball.

Perhaps shopping would make her feel better. Heather rode the escalator up to the second level and walked into the most expensive women's clothing store in the mall. Elaine's Boutique was cheap, compared to Le Dome. Le Dome carried only designer originals, and Heather had heard that their prices were astronomical.

Heather flicked on the lights and smiled as five cut-glass chandeliers began to glow softly. There were no racks. The clothing at Le Dome was hung in closets.

When she'd found the closet with her size, Heather opened the door and began to examine the dresses. There were no price tags. If you had to ask, you couldn't afford it. That was the way it worked in exclusive shops.

Heather took a dress from the rack and sighed happily. It was a gorgeous shade of deep royal purple that would look lovely on her. The sleeves and neckline were trimmed with tiny bands of pearls, and she was willing to bet that they weren't synthetic. If the dress looked as stunning on her as she thought it would, she'd make Daddy buy it for her Christmas present.

There were three dressing rooms in the back of the store, and Heather gasped as she entered one. It was a sitting room in miniature. Two wing-back chairs upholstered in a warm, cream-colored velvet were arranged against one wall, with a beautifully carved, rosewood table between them. The three-way mirror was spectacular, with three oval-shaped panes of beveled glass, surrounded by an antique gold frame.

Heather slipped out of her shoes and wiggled her toes in the deep pile carpet. It was also a rich shade of cream, a little darker than the wing chairs. The walls were covered with gorgeous tapestry, and all the lighting was recessed. It was a lovely room that would show off the beautiful clothes to their full advantage.

There was a small closet in the far corner, a free-standing rosewood piece that was carved with the same design as the table. Heather opened the door and saw that there were two satin-covered hangers, waiting to receive her clothes. She slipped off her jeans, and laughed as she hung them up on one of the hangers. It was probably the first and last time these hangers would hold a pair of jeans and a college sweatshirt. And then she slipped on the dress.

As she twirled in front of the mirror, Heather wore a satisfied smile. The dress was perfect for her. She decided to wear it down to the pub, to show the other girls, but her tennis shoes wouldn't do at all. She needed something glamorous, and she'd noticed that Le Dome also carried designer shoes. She'd find the perfect pair and waltz into the pub with a complete outfit.

Heather gave one last glance in the mirror, and opened the door to step out. She was on her way to the designer shoe display, when she spotted a gift-wrapped package on the counter. It was her favorite color, deep purple, and it matched her dress perfectly.

There was a frown on Heather's face as she read the name on the tag. Her name. This present was for her. But no one knew that she'd gone to Le Dome, unless . . .

Heather almost bolted for the door. Sue had received a package with her name on it and now she was dead. And so had Dave. Larry had opened his package last night, and he was dead, too. Heather's hands were shaking as she opened the package. It was empty, except for a folded piece of paper in the bottom. She unfolded it and gasped as she saw the words that were printed inside.
He sees you when you're sleeping; He knows when you're awake.
They were lyrics to “Santa Claus Is Comin' To Town!”

Her hands were trembling so hard, the paper fluttered to the floor. It was like Sue's package. And Dave's. And there had been a piece of paper in Larry's, too, although Jay had taken it away before he could read it. She had to get back to the group! It wasn't safe for her to be alone!

Heather didn't even think about going back to get her tennis shoes. She just bolted for the door. But as she ran out into the mall, she saw something that made her feel much, much better. One of the guys had dressed up as Santa and he was sitting on the bench right in front of Le Dome. She was so relieved, she didn't even stop to wonder why he was dressed in costume. She just hurtled straight into his arms.