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December 19, 8:57 A.M.

    6 Days To Christmas

    COLE'S SANTA CHARGED WITH ASSAULT!
    The next morning, every newspaper headline in New York screamed the news about Kriss Kringle.
    On page two of every newspaper was a fullpage ad for Shopper's Express—including the words YES, NEW YORK, THERE IS A SANTA over a photo of Victor Lamberg. Grinning happily next to Lamberg were a smiling Jack Duff and Alberta Leonard.
    On the eighth floor of Cole's, a sign hung across the entrance to Santa's Workshop: Santa Has Gone To Feed The Reindeer .
    Denice and Tricia sat by Kriss Kringle's empty throne, sobbing softly with the rest of Santa's helpers.
    "Excuse me . . . excuse me. . . . please—"
    Outside, Dorey Walker wound her way through the small crowd at Cole's front door. She gazed into the sad, disappointed eyes of the shoppers.
    All she could think about were Kriss Kringle's words. The words that had haunted her all night in her sleep: " I'm a symbol of the human ability to suppress the selfish, hateful tendencies that rule so much of our lives. If you can't believe, if you can't accept anything on faith, then you are doomed to a lifetime dominated by doubt. "
    Dorey knew the words by heart now. She found herself whispering them.
    Dominated by doubt? Not anymore.
    When she got inside, she sprinted to her office and shouted to Myrna, "Get Mr. Bedford on the phone!"
    By the time she took off her coat and threw it on the chair, the phone rang.
    "Bryan!" she shouted, grabbing the receiver.
    "I know," Bryan's voice replied. "I read the papers.
    "I want you to help him," Dorey barged on. "He's at Bellevue, the psychiatric ward. I don't know what's happening, but he's alone and he shouldn't be."
    "What's Cole's position?" Bryan asked. "Do their attorneys have an opinion?"
    "This isn't about Cole's," Dorey retorted. "This is about someone who's had something very wrong
    done to him. It's about someone you care about—someone you believe in."
    Bryan's reply was firm. "I'll get on it right away.
    Judge Henry Harper sat heavily behind his desk. He scanned the docket of cases he'd be facing this morning.
    His eyes stopped at the first one:

    December 19, 9:00 A.M.

    New York State v. Kriss Kringle
    He vaguely remembered Kriss Kringle. He was the old man who spoke to his grandson Ryan at the Cole's Thanksgiving Day Parade. The old geezer who claimed to be Santa Claus.
    The court clerk peeked into the empty room and asked, "Do you have a moment for Ed Collins?"
    Collins was the prosecutor. He was as crooked as they came. He could be bought with a bribe.
    But he liked to share his bribes with judges, too. "Send him in," Judge Harper said.
    Collins marched in. His thinning hair was slicked back, his expensive suit freshly pressed. He dumped on Judge Harper's desk a sheaf of papers marked Mental Competency Report—john Doe/Kress Kringle.
    "Commitment papers," Collins said. "For the Cole's Santa. Sign them. It's a slam dunk. The guy's out of his mind. He failed his mental exam. We'd like it over quick."
    " We? " Judge Harper asked.
    Collins gave a sly smile. "Victor Lamberg."
    "Oh, yeah." Judge Harper figured Lamberg was up to something. "Justice will have to prevail, of course," he reminded Collins.
    "Of course. The publicity will burn itself out soon. This Kringle has no family. No funds. And I doubt Cole's is interested in supporting a Santa Claus impersonator who's about to be committed to a mental hospital."
    "I suppose Cole's difficulties benefit Mr. Lamberg, hmm?" Judge Harper asked. "A quick resolution would make his takeover attempt easier, wouldn't it?"
    "I'm sure it would," Collins answered.
    Judge Harper raised an eyebrow. "Money makes the world go round, Mr. Collins."
    "Uh, speaking of money—" Collins leaned doser to Judge Harper—"Mr. Lamberg wanted me to mention that he's aware you're up for re-election in the spring."
    Judge Harper smiled. "Tell him I would welcome his support."
    The court clerk poked her head into the