***<\/p>\n
Angel wondered if a man\u2019s place at the mall was solely to sit around and wait for people. He and Cordelia were perched on the low couch in the Management Office\u2019s reception area, waiting for Wesley to come out. The severe-faced woman at the desk said he was \u2018being interviewed.\u2019<\/p>\n
The room was sterile, cream-on-cream, with recessed lighting, and more of the potted palms that filled the rest of the mall. Prints of famous paintings hung on the walls, set in generic chrome frames that insulted the genius of the work contained within.<\/p>\n
A corridor ran off to the left, office doors set at regular intervals between the ceiling-to-floor one-way windows that served as walls. One of them contained Wesley — his smell hung in the air, proving he\u2019d passed this way recently.<\/p>\n
With a sigh Angel picked up a magazine, flicking the pages with little interest. Perhaps there was some enchantment placed on waiting rooms which made time move slower there than in other parts of the universe. At least in hell things had rollicked along at a fair old pace\u2026<\/p>\n
A sense of release washed over him. The sun was down. Even buried here, encased in the monolith that was the mall, he felt it slip below the horizon. Now, if he wanted to, he could leave. He rose, more out of frustration than actual intent to follow through on his instinct.<\/p>\n
\u201cAngel, what are you doing?\u201d Cordelia asked, the tone of her voice clearly transforming the words to \u2018leave now, buddy, and I\u2019ll stake you dead.\u2019<\/p>\n
He raised a finger to his lips. He could hear voices. She opened her mouth again, but stopped as he cocked his ear closer to the source of the sound.<\/p>\n
A woman was talking, her voice raised, which is what had brought it into his hearing range. \u201cHe\u2019s just gone, and that\u2019s not like him. He\u2019s usually so reliable. I can\u2019t get hold of him at any of his numbers — it\u2019s like he vanished without a trace. That\u2019s both of them now. We should call the police.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI said *no*. We don\u2019t want that sort of publicity,\u201d a man\u2019s voice replied, semi-threatening.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, what do you want me to do, just hire another, pretend nothing happened?\u201d the woman snapped back.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, that\u2019s what I want you to do. Get another stupid Santa, or get yourself a new job.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you know how hard it is to find a good Santa at this time of year? And what happens if the next one disappears too?\u201d The woman\u2019s voice held a touch of panic now.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t care. Just get another one.\u201d The man\u2019s voice grew louder, and the door of the closest office flew open. The owner of the voice stormed out, and down the hallway, where he went into another office and slammed the door behind him. The glass wall rattled.<\/p>\n
Angel took his opportunity, and slipped into the room the man had just vacated. The woman — a nicely dressed lady in her late thirties — looked at him with misty eyes. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, sir. The public aren\u2019t allowed in here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened to the Santas?\u201d Angel asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, God.\u201d She went very pale, and sank down into the chair behind her desk.<\/p>\n
Cordelia came in the doorway behind him. \u201cAngel?\u201d<\/p>\n
He motioned for her to enter, and she closed the door before sitting down.<\/p>\n
Angel produced a business card from the pocket of his duster, placing it on the desk where the woman could see it. \u201cI know you have a problem, and I think we can help. I\u2019m Angel.\u201d He held out his hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cMiriam Saunders.\u201d The woman shook it, business-like, but he could feel the tremor in her fingers. \u201cHave a seat, please.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo, what\u2019s going on?\u201d he said, settling into a chair.<\/p>\n
Miriam studied the card for a long time, and it was obvious she was debating whether to tell him everything, or throw him and Cordelia out. Finally, she took a deep breath. \u201cI know this sounds crazy, but both of our Santas have disappeared. They went home two days ago, and never showed up for their next shifts. Nobody has heard from, or seen either of them since. It\u2019s like they\u2019ve vanished into thin air. It\u2019s — frightening.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, boy, have you picked the right team for the job,\u201d Cordelia said, bursting into her less-than-subtle sales pitch. \u201cAt Angel Investigations we specialize in unusual cases, for a reasonable fee — or store credit.\u201d<\/p>\n
Angel groaned inwardly, but Miriam seemed more than happy to consider what Cordelia was saying. \u201cIf you\u2019d like to see the grotto, maybe you could find some clues?\u201d she said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll consider taking the case, on one condition,\u201d Angel said, wincing as Cordelia elbowed him in the ribs.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d Miriam rubbed her temples with both forefingers.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat you release our friend. He was in Victoria\u2019s Secret\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, yes, the peeper. I suppose so, as long as nothing like that ever happens again,\u201d Miriam said, frowning at Cordelia\u2019s snort of laughter.<\/p>\n
It was Angel\u2019s turn to elbow Cordelia. \u201cI promise, Ms Saunders. He\u2019ll be perfectly well behaved.\u201d<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
Cordelia watched, rather bored, as Wesley and Angel strode around the periphery of the empty grotto that she\u2019d seen in her vision. As grottos went, it was nothing special. A two-foot high white picket fence surrounded a sugar-pink castle, in the doorway of which stood a large gold and velvet throne.<\/p>\n
Leading up to that was a meandering fake brick path, weaving between plastic fur trees covered in artificial snow and red glass baubles. At the entrance to the whole thing was a gate, adorned with a sign that advised the grotto was currently closed. Overall, the effect was pretty tacky.<\/p>\n
Miriam Saunders stood to one side, her face displaying an odd mixture of scepticism and expectation.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, dear, another one gone?\u201d An older man\u2019s voice over Cordelia\u2019s left shoulder made her gasp and wheel around. \u201cSorry sweetie, didn\u2019t mean to startle ya,\u201d he said, his face crinkling into a warm smile.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s okay — Jack,\u201d she said, reading his name badge, which also proclaimed that he was store security. He looked way too old and frail to be able to secure anything, but to say so would be rude. Not that it usually stopped her, but he had such a pleasant, grandfatherly quality about him, she decided to hold her tongue on this occasion.<\/p>\n
\u201cSuch a darn shame. The little kiddies will be so disappointed if there\u2019s no Santa,\u201d Jack said, his blue eyes peering at her through thick, wire-rimmed spectacles.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you see what happened to them?\u201d she asked. Surely a security guard would need to be perceptive as part of his job.<\/p>\n
He shrugged. \u201cWell, Missy, yes and no. I seen \u2018em all right, but nothing funny happened while they were here. They just went home and never came back, both of \u2018em. Breaks my heart to see the little\u2019uns disappointed. I\u2019d volunteer myself if I wasn\u2019t so old and skinny.\u201d<\/p>\n
Cordelia nodded and sighed. A five-year-old would probably crush him. She wondered why he was still working, instead of enjoying a nice retirement with his wife and family. Maybe he didn\u2019t have anyone. Like her.<\/p>\n
Jack glanced at Miriam, and then smiled at Cordelia. \u201cBetter be on my way, don\u2019t want to get in trouble for loitering. Nice to meet you.\u201d He tipped his cap and ambled off.<\/p>\n
Wesley approached her, looking puzzled. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t appear to be in any of the more common mystical formations.\u201d He glanced up at the turret of the fake castle.<\/p>\n
Cordelia couldn\u2019t help herself. \u201cPeeper, Wesley?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou had to bring it up.\u201d He crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at her.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry, it\u2019s just — what on earth were you doing?\u201d She tried to suppress a grin.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was so sure she was a vampire,\u201d he said, bewildered. \u201cVery pale, you see. I ran in after her and she started screaming. I can assure you I had only your safety in mind.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell that\u2019s a relief.\u201d Cordelia attempted to remain straight-faced. \u201cI don\u2019t think I could bring myself to shop for your present at \u2018Dirty-Old-Men-R-Us\u2019s House of Trenchcoats\u2019.\u201d<\/p>\n
To her surprise, Wesley\u2019s face lit up. \u201cYou\u2019re buying me a Christmas present? I\u2019m so touched.\u201d<\/p>\n
She smiled and nodded, regretting her runaway mouth for one of the few times in her life. Not only did she not have enough money for new underwear, now she didn\u2019t have enough money for Wesley\u2019s present either. What did stuffy English guys like, anyway? Bowler Hats? Umbrellas?<\/p>\n
Angel\u2019s voice broke her train of thought, as he stopped beside them. \u201cI can\u2019t find anything unusual.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNor I. It would really help if we could interview one of the Santas — see if they\u2019d noticed anything out of the ordinary,\u201d Wesley said.<\/p>\n
Cordelia rolled her eyes. \u201cIf the Santas were around to be interviewed, then Miriam over there wouldn\u2019t need us in the first place.\u201d<\/p>\n
At the mention of her name, Miriam Saunders began to approach, her expression now a mixture of scepticism, expectation and hope.<\/p>\n
\u201cPerhaps we could hang around the next Santa, watch for — something,\u201d Angel said with a marked lack of enthusiasm, like the last thing he wanted to do was return to the mall.<\/p>\n
Miriam sighed; obviously realising they\u2019d come up with nothing. \u201cFinding a decent Santa at this time of year is going to be difficult, maybe impossible.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about the last two, do you have their addresses?\u201d Wesley asked.<\/p>\n
She nodded. \u201cWe keep comprehensive records on all our Santas. You can\u2019t be too careful these days, considering they have close contact with children. There\u2019s a lot of weirdos about.\u201d Her eyes narrowed at Wesley, who turned a vivid shade of pink again.<\/p>\n
Cordelia wondered how she could ever have seen such a 007 quality in someone who turned out to be, well, just a 0 really.<\/p>\n
Angel looked eager at the prospect of moving their investigation elsewhere. \u201cIf we could have their details, please, we\u2019ll investigate their homes. Look for signs of foul play.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re not supposed to give that information out\u2026\u201d Miriam hesitated, perhaps still wary of revealing everything to three strangers, and then shrugged. \u201cOne can\u2019t hurt, I guess. They\u2019re back in the office.\u201d<\/p>\n
Angel turned so fast that his coat flew out in a wide arc behind him. For a split second Cordelia smiled as she remembered Doyle\u2019s comment about how hot it made the vampire look. What did you call something that made you sad and happy all at once? Bittersweet?<\/p>\n
Then she realized Angel was covering ground at significant pace, and took off at a jog to keep up.<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
Cordelia screwed up her nose in distaste as they drove along the dingy street. She studied the square of memo paper that Miriam had scrawled the name and address on. Bob Kowalczyk. Just another faceless victim in the procession of people who lost themselves in LA every day.<\/p>\n
Shit, she\u2019d spent too much time hanging around with Angel — now she was starting to think like him.<\/p>\n
\u201cHere, stop!\u201d she shouted, snapping out of her reverie just in time to realize they were about to sail past Bob Kowalczyk\u2019s apartment building. Cursing under his breath, Angel braked hard, sliding the back end of the Plymouth around and fishtailing slightly as he managed to make the driveway — just.<\/p>\n
\u201cJeez, and you complain about my driving,\u201d Cordelia muttered, climbing out into the parking area. Angel looked like he was about to protest, but just shook his head instead.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhich one is it?\u201d Wesley said, trying to extricate himself from the back seat and straighten his glasses at the same time.<\/p>\n
She peered at the address again. \u201cApartment 10.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOver there,\u201d Angel pointed to a ground floor dwelling. The lights were all on, and the door stood wide open.<\/p>\n
They all gathered in the little covered porch, looking inside. Wesley took a small axe out of his jacket.<\/p>\n
\u201cWesley, you took that to the mall?\u201d Cordelia gasped.<\/p>\n
\u201cShoppers can be brutal,\u201d he replied in a hushed voice, stepping into the apartment with care, weapon at the ready. \u201cI once got a black eye at the Harrods sale. Who knew that half-priced cashmere sweaters could turn people into complete maniacs?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThank God the mall guards didn\u2019t search you, or you\u2019d been in jail by now,\u201d she muttered, following close behind him.<\/p>\n
Angel waved a hand in the doorway, and then slipped inside. \u201cHe\u2019s dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
Cordelia\u2019s skin prickled. \u201cHow can you tell?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wouldn\u2019t have been able to come in otherwise.\u201d<\/p>\n
She scanned the small, shabby room. It was a dump. Perhaps that was why, even with the front door wide open, it hadn\u2019t been robbed. Nothing worth stealing.<\/p>\n
The dining table was covered in what looked like bills. A Santa hat sat in forlorn solitude in the middle of the pile of envelopes and paper. The sofa looked like an over-cuddled teddy bear; you knew it used to have a pile to the fabric, but it had long since been worn away — yuck, by people\u2019s butts — and now it was only visible in any great quantity on the cushion corners and along the top of the backrest.<\/p>\n
An empty bottle of scotch lay on the floor in front of it. There were no signs of a struggle, no blood, no nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt looks like Bob owed quite a few people money,\u201d Wesley said, leafing through some of the correspondence. \u201cPerhaps someone came to collect on a debt.\u201d<\/p>\n
Cordelia took a wad from the table, and surveyed them with growing scepticism. \u201cSomehow I don\u2019t think the power company is in the habit of murdering their customers. Or California Bank & Trust. Or Visa. Or American Express. Or MasterCard\u2026\u201d she said, tossing each bill back on the pile as she went. \u201cBoy, he owed a lot. Maybe he killed himself. Bills this big would make me pretty suicidal.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot out of the question I guess,\u201d Angel said, shrugging, his eyes scanning the room.<\/p>\n
A cockroach scuttled across the floor. Since the plague in Cordelia\u2019s old apartment, they freaked her out even more than usual.<\/p>\n
She screamed, loud and long, bounding onto the couch, and making Wesley throw his handful of final demand notices in the air.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood Lord, Cordelia, it\u2019s just an insect,\u201d he chastised, as the bills fluttered to the floor around his feet — poor man\u2019s confetti.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think I\u2019ve got Post Dramatic Stress Disorder.\u201d She slumped into a sitting position, then thought better of it, and stood up again, the old springs creaking in protest.<\/p>\n
Wesley rolled his eyes. \u201cThat\u2019s Post *Traumatic* Stress Disorder, and I very much doubt you have it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, well you\u2019re not the one having the big bug flashbacks,\u201d she snapped, flapping her hands and looking around the floor to see where the disgusting thing had gone.<\/p>\n
\u201cI cannot believe that after all your years living on the Hellmouth, you place the common cockroach at the top of your list of scary things,\u201d he said, shaking his head.<\/p>\n
God, Wesley could be a pain in the ass. She took a deep, patient breath. \u201cOne: I happen to have had a very bad cockroach experience recently,\u201d she said, \u201cand two: they\u2019re not *top* of the list. Roman sandals are. Especially worn over socks.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGuys, in here.\u201d Angel popped his head out of the bathroom door. Cordelia shot Wesley her best aggrieved look, and went first, keeping an eye out for the cockroach.<\/p>\n
As soon as she got in there, she wished she\u2019d let him go ahead of her. The room reeked of mildew, and there was a nasty ring around the tub. She didn\u2019t even want to look at the toilet.<\/p>\n
\u201cYech. I don\u2019t think anything demonic killed Bob. I think his own lack of personal hygiene did him in.\u201d She wrinkled her nose.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can smell it,\u201d Angel said, his nose twitching.<\/p>\n
She rolled her eyes. \u201cYou and everyone for six blocks. Someone really should have introduced the guy to bleach.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot the mildew. Fear,\u201d Angel replied. \u201cIt\u2019s stale, but still quite strong. He was terrified.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd now I\u2019m so pleased I didn\u2019t have time for dinner,\u201d Cordelia said, turning and pushing her way back out, past Wesley.<\/p>\n
She hesitated in the middle of the living room, wondering if she was safer in there with the cockroach, or outside with people from the lower socio-economic bracket.<\/p>\n
Wait a second, she *was* the lower socio-economic bracket. Okay, now she was in serious danger of feeling sorry for herself again, and she\u2019d decided against that. Suck it up, Cor, find some clues.<\/p>\n
The front door still stood ajar, and she automatically went to close it. It had a bunch of locks on the back, all unbolted. She stared at them for a moment. There was no damage to the door — so the guy had let himself out, and left the door open. Must have been in a hurry. Angel said he smelled fear. Something had scared Bob Kowalczyk enough for him to bolt from his apartment and leave it wide open. Maybe it was the cockroach.<\/p>\n
\u201cI seem to have come up with more of nothing than usual,\u201d Wesley said, as he and Angel emerged from the bathroom-from-the-black-lagoon.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe ran out of here, scared out of his wits, and never came back,\u201d Cordelia said, pointing to the door.<\/p>\n
Angel appeared to take a deep breath. \u201cNo demons have been in here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUgh, enough with the bloodhound act,\u201d she said, an involuntary shudder dancing down her back. \u201cI just want to go home and take a shower.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll call Miriam in the morning and tell her that Santa is dead,\u201d Wesley said.<\/p>\n
Santa is dead. God, it sounded so morbid. Cordelia sighed — what else could she have expected from spending Christmas with a tortured vampire and the world\u2019s worst Watcher?<\/p>\n
\u201cGreat, excellent, that\u2019s settled then. Now can we go?\u201d She headed for the door.<\/p>\n
If anything else squicked her out tonight, this was going to gown down in history as the Christmas of Barfing.<\/p>\n