The Crazy Christmas Angel Mystery Read Free Page A

look through these first.” He held the field glasses up for Dee Dee. “See that angel flying around?”
    Dee Dee was silent as she watched. Little puffs of air came out of her nose. Finally, she said, “Wow! What’s happenin’ over there?”
    â€œCrazy, isn’t it?” Eric said.
    Dee Dee nodded. Her eyes grew bigger and bigger. “I’ve never seen a real angel before.”
    â€œMe neither.”
    Dee Dee was shivering hard.
    â€œCome on, I’ll help you find your cat,” Eric said.
    They crossed the street together.
    Meow. Meow .
    Eric stopped. “Did you hear that?”
    Dee Dee called, “Here, Mister Whiskers.”
    More meows. Shaky, shivery meows.
    They found frosty Mister Whiskers under Eric’s porch. Dee Dee bent down and picked him up. “Thank you, Eric.”
    â€œIt was nothing,” he said. “Hurry home. And be careful who you talk to—about Mr. Tressler’s angel.”
    â€œI’m gonna call Carly right away.” And she turned around and left.
    Eric darted into his house. He had to make some phone calls, too.
    The crazy Christmas angel was stranger than any mystery he had ever read!

SEVEN
    Eric called Dunkum first. “You’ll never believe what I saw tonight,” he bragged.
    Dunkum was all ears. He wanted to see for himself. Abby and Jason and Stacy did too.
    So . . . Eric had a plan. The Cul-de-sac Kids would have a meeting tomorrow night—behind the snowman in Stacy’s yard.
    Terrific!
    He zipped off to his room to do his homework. The book report was due tomorrow. He would have to write fast to get it done.
    Knock, knock .
    â€œCome in,” Eric called.
    It was Grandpa. He wanted his field glasses back.
    Gulp! Eric scratched his head. He must have left them outside. His face was getting hot. It was his own fault. His, and that crazy angel’s!
    â€œWait, Grandpa. I’ll be right back,” Eric said. He flew down the stairs, yanked at his coat, and ran outside.
    Eric scrambled across the street to the snowman. He leaned over to look. Nothing.
    He got down on his hands and knees. He patted the snowy ground. Nothing.
    Grandpa’s field glasses were gone!
    Eric felt the lump in his throat grow bigger. He stood up and leaned against the snowman. He brushed the snow off his jeans.
    When he looked up, the field glasses were staring at him. Carefully, he picked them off the snowman’s shoulder.
    Eric held them up and looked through them.
    Whew! They were okay.
    While he was checking them, something caught his eye. Across the street, at Mr. Tressler’s house things were crazy. Crazier than ever!
    Eric tuned up the field glasses. Could it be true? Were his eyes playing tricks?
    Slowly, Eric moved towards Mr. Tressler’s house. He got as close as the hedge.
    Field glasses do not lie.
    The angels had multiplied! Dozens were flying around the old man. He was swaying this way and that way. Mr. Tressler was dancing with the angels. It looked like he was having the time of his life.
    Eric wanted to watch forever. Something deep inside him sprang up. It was a strange, warm feeling and it wouldn’t go away. He knew he had to meet Mr. Tressler. Face-to-face!
    Eric rushed to the old man’s front porch. He shook as he stuffed the field glasses into his pocket. More than anything, he wanted to ring the doorbell. But his finger wouldn’tmove. He forced his arm up—shaking with fear.
    â€œEric!” It was Grandpa’s voice.
    Eric jumped a foot. The second time tonight. He leaped over the snowy walkway to his house. He held up the field glasses. “Here they are, Grandpa.”
    Grandpa frowned.
    â€œI’m sorry about your glasses” Eric said. He was sorry about something else, too. Not getting to meet Mr. Tressler.
    â€œThose glasses were expensive,” Grandpa said, shaking his finger at Eric.
    Eric looked up at Grandpa’s soft blue eyes. “It