08bis Visions of Sugar Plums Read Free Page A

high on my list of favorite activities.
    "I smell gingerbread," Diesel said to Elaine. "I bet you're baking cookies."
    "I bake cookies every day," she told him. "Yesterday I made sugar cookies with colored sprinkles and today I'm making gingerbread."
    "I love gingerbread," Diesel said. He slid past Elaine and found his way to her kitchen. He selected a cookie from a plate heaped with cookies, took a bite, and smiled. "I bet you add vinegar to your cookie dough."
    "It's my secret ingredient," Elaine said.
    "So where is the old guy?" Diesel asked. "Where's Sandy?"
    "He's probably at his workshop. He makes a lot of his own toys, you know."
    Diesel wandered to the back door and looked out. "And where's the workshop?"
    "There's a small workshop behind the store. And then there's the main workshop. I don't know exactly where the main workshop is. I've never been there. I'm always too busy with the cookies."
    "Is it in Trenton?" Diesel asked.
    Elaine looked thoughtful. "Isn't that something?" she said. "I don't know. Sandy talks about the toys and about the labor problem, but I can't remember him ever talking about the workshop."
    Diesel took a cookie for the road, thanked Elaine, and we left.
    "Want some of my cookie?" Diesel asked, the cookie held between perfect white teeth while he clicked the seat belt into place.
    "I do not."
    He had a nice voice. Slightly husky and hinting of a smile. His eyes fit the voice. I really hated that I liked the voice and the eyes. My life is already complicated by two men. One is my mentor and tormentor, a Cuban-American bounty hunter/businessman named Ranger. He was currently out of town. No one knew where he was or when he'd return. This was normal. The other man in my life is a Trenton cop named Joe Morelli. When I was a kid, Morelli lured me into his father's garage and taught me how to play choochoo. I was the tunnel and Morelli was the train, if you get the picture. When I was a teen working at Tasty Pastry Bakery, Morelli sweet-talked me onto the floor after hours and performed a more adult version of choochoo behind the case. We've both grown up some since then. The attraction is still there. It's been enhanced by genuine affection... maybe even love. We haven't totally mastered trust and the ability to commit. I really didn't need a third potentially nonhuman guy in my life.
    "I bet you're worried about the way those jeans are fitting, right?" Diesel asked. "Afraid to add cookie calories?"
    "Wrong! My jeans fit just fine." I didn't want a cookie with Diesel spit on it. I mean, what do I know about him? And okay, so my jeans actually were a little tight. Yeesh.
    He bit off the gingerbread man's head. "What's next? Does Claws have kids we can interrogate? I think I'm getting the hang of this."
    "No kids. I ran a check on him, and he has no relatives in the area. Same with Elaine. She's widowed with no children."
    "That must be hard on Elaine. A woman gets those urges, you know."
    I narrowed my eyes. "Urges?"
    "Kids. Procreation. Maternal urges."
    "Who are you?"
    "That's a good question," Diesel said. "I'm not sure I fully know the answer to that. Do any of us truly know who we are?"
    Great. Now he's a philosopher.
    "Don't you have maternal urges?" he asked. "Don't you hear that biological clock ticking? Tick, tick, tick," he said, smiling again, having some fun with it.
    "I have a hamster."
    "Hey, you couldn't ask for more than that. Hamsters are cool. Personally, I think kids are overrated."
    I was getting an eye twitch. I put my finger to my eye to stop the fluttering. "I'd rather not get into this right now."
    Diesel held his hands up. "No problemo. Don't want to make you uncomfortable."
    Yeah, right.
    "Back to the big manhunt. Have you got a plan here?" he asked.
    "I'm going back to the store. I didn't realize there was a workshop attached."
    Twenty minutes later we stood at the front door to the store, staring at the small, handwritten cardboard sign in the window. CLOSED. Diesel put