08bis Visions of Sugar Plums
actually been borderline bogus, and Briggs was ultimately released without penalty.
    "And why are we doing this?" Diesel asked, climbing the stairs to the second floor.
    "There was a want ad in the paper for toy makers. When I called and inquired about Sandy Claws I got disconnected."
    "And in your mind, this indicates that Claws is part of the toy maker operation."
    "I think it's suspicious and warrants further investigation. I'm going to ask this guy I know to help infiltrate the operation."
    "Is he a toy maker?"
    "No. He has other talents."
    We were in the stairwell and all of a sudden we were plunged into total darkness. I felt Diesel step closer, felt his hand protectively settle at my waist.
    "Power blackout," I said. "Morelli told me they were happening all over Trenton."
    "Great," Diesel said. "Just what I need. Power blackouts."
    "Not a big deal," I told him. "Morelli said they last long enough to snarl traffic and then disappear."
    "Sunshine, it's a bigger deal than you could possibly imagine."
    I had no idea what he meant by that, but it didn't sound good. I was about to ask him when the lights popped back on, and we took the rest of the stairs to the second floor. I rapped on the door to 2B and there was no response. I put my ear to the door and listened.
    "Hear anything?" Diesel asked.
    "Television."
    I rapped again. "Open the door, Randy. I know you're in there."
    "Go away," Randy called. "I'm working."
    "You're not working. You're watching television." The door was wrenched open, and Randy glared out at me.
    "What?"
    Diesel looked down at Randy. "You're a midget."
    "No shit, Sherlock," Randy said. "And, just for the record, midget is no longer politically correct."
    "So, what do you like?" Diesel asked. "How about little dude?"
    Randy was holding a soup ladle, and he whacked Diesel in the knee with it. "Don't mess with me, wise-ass.”
    Diesel reached down, grabbed Briggs by the front of his shirt, and lifted him three feet off the floor so they were eye level. "You need to get a sense of humor," Diesel said. "And you want to lose the soup ladle."
    The soup ladle slid through Randy's fingers and clattered onto the parquet floor.
    "So you don't want to be called a little dude," Diesel said. "What do you want to be called?"
    "I'm a little person" Randy said, feet dangling in the air.
    Diesel grinned at Randy. "Little person? That's the best you can do?"
    Diesel set Randy back down on the floor, and Randy gave himself a shake, looking a lot like a bird settling its feathers.
    "So," I said, "now that we have that straightened out..."
    Briggs looked at me. "Here it comes."
    "Have I ever asked for a favor?"
    "Yes."
    "Okay, but I saved your life."
    "My life wouldn't have been in danger in the first place if it wasn't for you!"
    "All I want is for you to pose as an elf."
    Diesel gave a snort of laughter.
    I cut my eyes to him, and he squelched the laughter down to a grin.
    "I am not an elf," Briggs said. "Do I have pointy ears? No. Do I wear shoes that turn up on the ends? No. Do I enjoy this humiliation? No, no, no."
    "I'll pay you for your time."
    "Oh," Briggs said. "That's different."
    I handed the ad over to Briggs. "All you have to do is answer this ad. Probably you don't even have to say you're an elf. Probably you could just tell him you're... qualified. And then when you go for the job interview, keep your eyes open for a guy named Sandy Claws. He's FTA."
    "Give me a break. Santa Claus is FTA. How about the Easter Bunny? Is the Easter Bunny FTA, too?"
    I flashed the photo of Sandy Claws at Briggs, and I spelled the name for him. I gave Briggs my card with my cell phone and pager number. And I left, not wanting to overstay my welcome, not wanting to give him time to change his mind.
    I looked over at Diesel's knee when we were in the car. "Are you okay?"
    "Yeah. He hits like a girl. Someone needs to show him how to swing a soup ladle."

THREE
     
     
    C ONNIE ROSOLLI MANAGES MY COUSIN Vinnie's bail bonds office.

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