The Crazy Christmas Angel Mystery Read Free

Tressler was putting up a Christmas tree.

    Eric couldn’t see clearly through the sheer curtain. But he could see Mr. Tressler’s long nose and pointy chin.
    Eric shivered in the darkness. The whole thing was creepy. He moved closer to get a better look.
    Candles flickered in the window. Moon shadows danced on the snow. Then Mister Whiskers meowed like a trumpet in the stillness.
    â€œBe quiet!” Eric shouted.
    FLASH—the porch light.
    Eric spun around and ran for his life!

SIX
    Eric slammed his front door. He leaned hard against it, gasping for breath. He was safe!
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” his mother asked.
    Eric tossed his jacket onto the hook in the closet. His chest moved up and down. He could hardly talk.
    â€œEric, are you all right?” she said.
    He waved his hands in front of his face. “It’s Mister Whiskers . . . he’s out there . . . in the cold . . . somewhere.”
    â€œThat poor little thing?”
    Eric nodded. “I was trying to catch himand take him home.” It was only half the truth.
    â€œWell, I think you’d better bundle up and try again.” She pulled his coat down off the hook and held it up.
    Eric didn’t say a word. He was too scared. Too scared to go back out there and look for Mister Whiskers. Closing the door behind him, Eric stayed on his front porch. It felt safer there.
    He looked at Mr. Tressler’s house. The porch light was still on. But Mister Whiskers was nowhere to be seen.
    Slowly, Eric crept into the night.
    He studied the shadows behind the living room curtains. It looked like Mr. Tressler was decorating his tree.
    If only he had Grandpa’s field glasses. His grandpa used them for bird-watching in the spring. Eric wished he had them now. He could stay far enough away from the old man’s house.
    Eric went back inside. He asked Grandpa for the field glasses—very politely.
    â€œWhy do you want them?” Grandpa asked.
    â€œThey might help me find Mister Whiskers.” Eric felt bad about lying to Grandpa.
    â€œHow can you find a cat in the dark?” his grandfather asked.
    â€œPlease, just let me try?” Eric pleaded.
    Grandpa pulled himself up out of his chair. He muttered something and went upstairs.
    Eric crossed his fingers, hoping.
    When his grandpa came down, Eric saw the field glasses. Yes!
    Promising to take care of them, Eric dashed outside. Now . . . for a good hiding place.
    He looked around the cul-de-sac. His eyes stopped in front of Stacy’s house. There stood her fat snowman. It was perfect!
    He crossed the street and headed for the snowman.
    Crouching down, Eric held the glasses. He turned the button. Slowly, Mr. Tressler’s livingroom came into view. Candles flickered everywhere.
    Through the curtains, Eric saw Mr. Tressler hang a string of Christmas lights. He wondered if the old man was smiling. He wished he could see his face. Eric remembered the scary face and changed his mind.
    Mr. Tressler hung up some round ornaments. Last, the Christmas angel.
    Eric could almost hear Mr. Tressler grunting and groaning as he reached up. Just like Grandpa. The angel came to rest at the top. The old man stepped back for a long look.
    Then the most shocking thing happened. Mr. Tressler stepped closer to the tree. He reached up to touch the angel and . . .
    It began to fly! Around and around the room it glided.
    Eric felt glued to the spot behind the snowman. Reading about stuff like this was one thing. But seeing it? Wait till he told the Cul-de-sac Kids!
    He stood on his toes for a better look. Theangel was still doing its thing. Drifting through the air, around the living room!
    â€œWhatcha doin’?” someone said behind him.
    Eric jumped a foot high.
    It was Dee Dee Winters.
    â€œYou should never sneak up behind someone like that!” Eric scolded.
    â€œMister Whiskers is lost!”
    â€œI know. I’ll help you in a second,” Eric said. “Here,