jg.skippingchristmas-第7章

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that　everybody　else　was　out　there　shopping。　He　settled　low　in　his　seat　with　his　popcorn；　and　went　to　sleep。
　He　awoke　with　an　elbow　in　his　ribs。　
　〃You're　snoring；〃　Nora　hissed　at　him。
　〃Who　cares？　The　place　is　empty。〃
　〃Hush　up；　Luther。〃
　He　watched　the　movie；　but　after　five　minutes　had　had　enough；　〃I'll　be　back；〃　he　whispered；　and　left。　He'd　rather　fight　through　the　mob　and　get　stepped　on　than　watch　such　foolishness。　He　rode　the　escalator　to　the　upper　level；　where　he　leaned　on　the　rail　and　watched　the　chaos　below。　A　Santa　was　holding　court　on　his　throne　and　the　line　was　moving　very　slowly。　Over　at　the　ice　rink　the　music　blared　from　scratchy　speakers　while　kids　in　elf　costumes　skated　around　some　stuffed　creature　that　appeared　to　be　a　reindeer。　Every　parent　watched　through　the　lens　of　a　videocamera。　Weary　shoppers　trudged　along；　lugging　shopping　bags；　bumping　into　others；　fighting　with　their　children。
　Luther　had　never　felt　prouder。
　Across　the　way；　he　saw　a　new　sporting　goods　store。　He　strolled　over；　noticing　through　the　window　that　there　was　a　crowd　inside　and　certainly　not　enough　cashiers。　He　was　just　browsing；　though。　He　found　the　snorkel　gear　in　the　back；　a　rather　slim　selection；　but　it　was　December。　The　swimsuits　were　of　the　Speedo　variety；　breathtakingly　narrow　all　the　way　around　and　designed　solely　for　Olympic　swimmers　under　the　age　of　twenty。　More　of　a　pouch　than　a　garment。　He　was　afraid　to　touch　them。　He'd　get　himself　a　catalog　and　shop　from　the　safety　of　his　home。
　As　he　left　the　store　an　argument　was　raging　at　a　checkout；　something　about　a　layaway　that　got　lost。　What　fools。
　He　bought　himself　a　fat…free　yogurt　and　killed　time　strolling　along　the　upper　concourse；　smiling　smugly　at　the　harried　souls　burning　their　way　through　their　paychecks。　He　stopped　and　gawked　at　a　life…sized　poster　of　a　gorgeous　young　thing　in　a　string　bikini；　her　skin　perfectly　tanned。　She　was　inviting　him　to　step　inside　a　small　salon　called　Tans　Forever。　Luther　glanced　around　as　if　it　were　an　adult　bookstore；　then　ducked　inside　where　Daisy　was　waiting　behind　a　magazine。　Her　brown　face　forced　a　smile　and　seemed　to　crack　along　the　forehead　and　around　the　eyes。　Her　teeth　had　been　whitened；　her　hair　lightened；　her　skin　darkened；　and　for　a　second　Luther　wondered　what　she　looked　like　before　the　project。
　Not　surprisingly；　Daisy　said　it　was　the　best　time　of　the　year　to　purchase　a　package。　Their　Christmas　special　was　twelve　sessions　for　60。　Only　one　session　every　other　day；　fifteen　minutes　at　first；　but　working　up　to　a　max　of　twenty…five。　When　the　package　was　over；　Luther　would　be　superbly　tanned　and　certainly　prepared　for　anything　the　Caribbean　sun　could　throw　at　him。
　He　followed　her　a　few　steps　to　a　row　of　booths…flimsy　little　rooms　with　a　tanning　bed　each　and　not　much　else。　They　were　now　featuring　state…of…the…art　FX…2000　BronzeMats；　straight　from　Sweden；　as　if　the　Swedes　knew　everything　about　sunbathing。　At　first　glance；　the　BronzeMat　horrified　Luther。　Daisy　explained　that　you　simply　undressed；　yes；　everything；　she　purred；　slid　into　the　unit；　and　pulled　the　top　down　in　a　manner　that　reminded　Luther　of　a　waffle　iron。　Cook　for　fifteen　or　twenty　minutes；　a　timer　goes　off；　get　up；　get　dressed。　Nothing　to　it。
　〃How　much　do　you　sweat？〃　Luther　asked；　struggling　with　the　image　of　himself　lying　pletely　exposed　while　eighty　lamps　baked　all　parts　of　his　body。
　She　explained　that　things　got　warm。　Once　done；　you　simply　wiped　off　your　BronzeMat　with　a　spray　and　paper　towels；　and　things　were　suitable　for　the　next　guy。
　Skin　cancer？　he　inquired。　She　offered　a　phony　laugh。　No　way。　Perhaps　with　the　older　units　before　they　perfected　the　technology　to　virtually　eliminate　ultraviolet　rays　and　such。　The　new　BronzeMats　were　actually　safer　than　the　sun　itself。　She'd　been　tanning　for　eleven　years。
　And　your　skin　looks　like　burnt　cowhide；　Luther　mused　to　himself。
　He　signed　up　for　two　packages　for　120。　He　left　the　salon　with　the　determination　to　get　himself　tanned；　however　unfortable　it　would　be。　And　he　chuckled　at　the　thought　of　Nora　stripping　down　behind　paper…thin　walls　and　inserting　herself　into　the　BronzeMat。
　
　
　Seven
　
　The　officer's　name　was　Salino；　and　he　came　around　every　year。　He　was　portly；　wore　no　gun　or　vest；　no　Mace　or　nightstick；　no　flashlight　or　silver　bullets；　no　handcuffs　or　radio；　none　of　the　mandatory　gadgetry　that　his　brethren　loved　to　affix　to　their　belts　and　bodies。　Salino　looked　bad　in　his　uniform；　but　he'd　been　looking　bad　for　so　long　that　no　one　cared。　He　patrolled　the　southeast；　the　neighborhoods　around　Hemlock；　the　affluent　suburbs　where　the　only　crime　was　an　occasional　stolen　bike　or　a　speeding　car。　
　Salino's　partner　for　the　evening　was　a　beefy；　lockjawed　young　lad　with　a　roll　of　muscle　bulging　from　the　collar　of　his　navy　shirt。　Treen　was　his　name；　and　Treen　wore　every　device　and　doohickey　that　Salino　did　not。
　When　Luther　saw　them　through　the　blinds　on　his　front　door；　standing　there　pressing　his　doorbell；　he　instantly　thought　of　Frohmeyer。　Frohmeyer　could　summon　the　police　to　Hemlock　faster　than　the　Chief　himself。
　He　opened　the　door；　made　the　obligatory　hellos　and　good　evenings；　then　asked　them　to　step　inside。　He　didn't　want　them　inside；　but　he　knew　they　would　not　leave　until　they　pleted　the　ritual。　Treen　was　grasping　a　plain　white　tube　that　held　the　calendar。
　Nora；　who　just　seconds　ago　had　been　watching　television　with　her　husband；　had　suddenly　vanished；　though　Luther　knew　she　was　just　beyond　the　French　doors；　hiding　in　the　kitchen；　missing　not　a　word。
　Salino　did　all　the　talking。　Luther　figured　this　was　because　his　hulking　partner　probably　possessed　a　limited　vocabulary。　The　Police　Benevolent　Association　was　once　again　working　at　full　throttle　to　do　all　sorts　of　wonderful　things　for　the　munity。　Toys　for　tots。　Christmas　baskets　for　the　less　Fortunate。　Visits　by　Santa。　Ice　skating　adventures。　Trips　to　the　zoo。　And　they　were　delivering　gifts　to　the　old　folks　in　the　nursing　homes　and　to　the　veterans　tucked　away　in　wards。　Salino　had　perfected　his　presentation。　Luther　had　heard　it　before。
　To　help　defray　the　costs　of　their　worthy　projects　this　year；　the　Police　Benevolent　Association　had　once　again　put　together　a　handsome　calendar　for　next　year；　one　that　again　featured　some　of　its　members　in　action　shots　as　they　served　the　people。　Treen　on　cue　whipped　out　Luther's　calendar；　unrolled　it；　and　flipped　the　rather　large　sheets　as　Salino　did　the　play　by　play。　For　January　it　was　a　traffic　cop　with　a　warm　smile　waving　little　kindergartners　across　the　street。　For　February；　it　was　a　cop　even　beefier　than　Treen　helping　a　stranded　motorist　change　a　tire。　Somehow　in　the　midst　of　the　effort　the　policeman　had　managed　a　smile。　For　March　it　was　a　rather　tense　scene　at　a　nighttime　accident　with　lights　flashing　all　around　and　three　men　in　blue　conferring　with　frowns。
　Luther　admired　the　photos　and　artwork　without　a　word　as　the　months　marched　along。
　What　about　the　leopard　print　briefs？　he　wanted　to　ask。　Or　the　steam　room？　Or　the　lifeguard　with　just　a　towel　around　his　waist？　Three　years　earlier；　the　PBA　had　succumbed　to　trendier　tastes　and　published　a　calendar　filled　with　photos　of　its　leaner　and　younger　members；　all　clad　in　virtually　nothing；　half　grinning　goofily　at　the　camera；　the　other　half　straining　with　the　tortured　I…hate…modeling　veneer　of　contemporary　fashion。　Practically　R…rated；　a　big　story　about　it　made　the　front　page。
　Quite　a　brouhaha　erupted　overnight。　The　Mayor　was　incensed　as　plaints　flooded　city　hall。　The　director　of　the　PBA　got　fired。　The　undistributed　calendars　were　pulled　and　burned　while　the　local　TV　station　recorded　it　Live！
　Nora　kept　theirs　in　the　basement；　where　she　secretly　enjoyed　it　all　year。　
　The　beefcake　calendar　was　a　financial　disaster　for　all　concerned；　but　it　created　more　interest　the　following　Christmas。　Sales　almost　doubled。
　Luther　bought　one　every　year；　but　only　because　it　was　expected。　Oddly；　there　was　no　price　attached　to　the　calendars；　at　least　not　to　the　ones　delivered　personally　by　the　likes　of　Salino　and　Treen。　Their　personal　touch　cost　something　more；　an　additional　layer　of　goodwill　that　people　like　Luther　were　expected　to　fork　over　simply　because　that　was　the　way　it　was　done。　It　was　this　coerced；　above…the…table　bribery　that　Luther　hated。　Last　year　he'd　written　a　check　for　a　hundred　bucks　to　the　PBA；　but　not　this　year。
　When　the　presentation　was　over；　Luther　stood　tall　and　said；　〃I　don't　need　one。〃　Salino　cocked　his　head　to　one　side　as　if　he'd　misunderstood。　Treen's　neck　puffed　out　another　inch。
　Salino's　face　turned　into　a　smirk。　You　may　not　need　one；　the　smirk　said；　but　you'll　buy　it　anyway。　〃Why's　that？〃　he　said。
　〃I　already　have　calendars　for　next　year。〃　That　was　news　to　Nora；　who　was　biting　a　fingernail　and　holding　her　breath。
　〃But　not　like　this；〃　Treen　managed　to　grunt。　Salino　shot　him　a　look　that　said；　〃Be　quiet！〃
　〃I　have　two　calendars　in　my　office　and　two　on　my　desk；〃　Luther　said。　〃We　have　one　by　the　phone　in　the　kitchen。　My　watch　tells　me　precisely　what　day　it　is；　as　does　my　puter。　Haven't　missed　a　day　in　years。〃
　〃We're　raising　money　for　crippled　children；　Mr。　Krank；〃　Salino　said；　his　voice　suddenly　soft　and　scratchy。　Nora　felt　a　tear　ing。
　〃We　give　to　crippled　children；　Officer；〃　Luther　shot　back。　〃Through　the　United　Way　and　our　church　and　our　taxes　we　give　to　every　needy　group　you　can　possibly　name。〃
　〃You're　not　proud　of　your　policemen？〃　Treen　said　roughly；　no　doubt　repeating　a　line　he'd　heard　Salino　use　on　others。
　Luther　caught　himself　for　a　second　and　allowed　his　anger　to　settle　in。　As　if　buying　a　calendar　was　the　only　measure　of　his　pride　in　the　local　police　force。　As　if　forking　over　a　bribe　in　the　middle　of　his　living　room　was　proof　that　he；　Luther　Krank；　stood　solidly　behind　the　boys　in　blue。
　〃I　paid　thirteen　hundred　bucks　in　city　taxes　last　year；〃　Luther　said；　his　eyes　flashing　hot　and　settling　on　young　Treen。　〃A　portion　of　which　went　to　pay　your　salary。　Another　portion　went　to　pay　the　firemen；　the　ambulance　drivers；　the　schoolteachers；　the　sanitation　workers；　the　street　cleaners；　the　Mayor　and　his　rather　prehensive　staff；　the　judges；　the　bailiffs；　the　jailers；　all　those　clerks　down　at　city　hall；　all　those　folks　down　at　Mercy　Hospital。　They　do　a　great　job。　You；　sir；　do　a　great　job。　I'm　proud　of　all　our　city　employees。　But　what's　a　calendar　got　to　do　with　anything？〃
　Of　course　Treen　had　never　had　it　put　to　him　in　such　a　logical　manner；　and　he　had　no　response。　Salino　either；　for　that　matter。　A　tense　pause　followed。
　Since　Treen　could　think　of　no　intelligent　retort；　he　grew　hot　too　and　decided　he　would　get　Krank's　license　plate　number　and　lie　in　ambush　somewhere；　maybe　catch　him　speeding　or　sneaking　through　a　stop　sign。　Pull　him　over；　wait　for　a　sarcastic　ment；　yank　him　out；　sprawl　him　across　the　hood　while　cars　eased　by；　slap　the　handcuffs　on　him；　haul　him　to　jail。
　Such　pleasant　thoughts　made　Treen　smile。　Salino；　however；　was　not　smiling。　He'd　heard　the　rumors　about　Luther　Krank　and　his　goofy　plans　for　Christmas。　Frohmeyer'd　told　him。　He'd　driven　by　the　night　before　and　seen　the　handsome　undecorated　house　with　no　Frosty；　just　sitting　alone；　peacefully　yet　oddly　so　different。
　〃I'm　sorry　you　feel　that　way；　Salino　said；　s