Date: Fri, 17 Dec 1993 02:15:02 EST Christmas Challenge Story #5--Part 1 'Tis the Seasoning A Forever Knight Story by Susan M. Garrett Schanke pushed open the door to the coroner's lab, knocking on it as he passed through. "Knock, knock. Sorry, kids. Am I interrupting anything?" Nick, sitting on a counter and reading something from the desk looked up simply shook his head. "Nothing that would interest you, Schank." Natalie, stood beside him, wearing her lab clothes. She quickly hustled away a sheaf of papers. They didn't look all that interesting--probably yet another of Nick's wonder cases. He was beginning to suspect the secret of Knight's success. "You know," he said thoughtfully, pointing a finger at Nick, "I think I' finally figured out your secret, partner." Nick glanced quickly at Natalie, whose eyes were very wide. "Thought so cried Schanke in triumph. "Behind every hot-shot detective is an A-1 coroner. Fess up, Doc, you've been cracking the boy wonder's latest cases." "You're mixing your metaphors again, Schanke," warned Natalie, flashing a smile. She walked over to a filing cabinet and opened a drawer. "The Boy Wonder works with Batman." "Hey, I'm not that far off," countered Schanke quickly. "They got a new name for him now, right? The . . . uh . . . Dark Knight. Yeah, that's it." Gesturing toward his partner, he added, "And don't go telling me he's not the type to put on a pair of tights to save the world." Nick slipped off the counter. His feet on the floor, he smoothed out th front of his jacket. "So that's where your check goes every month--you need your comic book fix." "Naw, I just read Jenny's when she's through with them. They got real investment potential. And speaking of my darling daughter--" He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a very crumpled red piece of paper, which he presented proudly to Nick. "Check it out--second billing, under shepherds." His partner took the paper hesitantly, his eyes following as Schanke poi at his daughter's name and role. "Sheep Detective?" asked Nick. Even Natalie turned from the files. Schanke nodded proudly, tucking his thumbs in his lapels. "Yep. It was Jenny's idea. They let her wear a trenchcoat and a holster. After all, somebody has to check out missing sheep, known wolves in the area, take statements, that kind of thing. It was one heck of a play this year." "Sorry I missed it," said Nick, patting his partner on the shoulder. "B aren't you here to pick me up? I think Stonetree's gonna be pretty ticked if we wander in late for three straight shifts." Schanke shrugged. "It's not like we've got anything major going on. An I'm here to pick up the results on that jumper from last Monday." "That's what I'm looking for," said Natalie. A second later, she pulled file folder from the drawer and handed it to him. "Final's yet to be typed--we've been kind of busy this week. I'd say the soonest you're going to get the paper is the day after Christmas." Shoving the program from Jenny's Christmas Pageant into his pocket, Schanke took the file folder from her and opened it. "By the way," he said, as he let his eyes wander over the pertinent information, "Myra says she wants you there at seven. She knows Nick's only got an hour for dinner break, so we're having buffet style." "Wait a minute, I never said--" "He'll be there," promised Natalie, as Schanke looked up from the folder She gave him a wink. "I'll make sure of it." He matched her smile, trying not to meet Nick's eyes because he knew he' find an argument there. "Damn! And I had a bet with Myra that you'd cancel out this year, just like last year. It figures, the way my week's been going." Closing the folder, he handed it back to Natalie. "Take your time on the final. Looks like a suicide to me." Nick glanced at Natalie, then took the folder from her. "We've got no witnesses, just a body in an alley, and you come up with a suicide?" "You call it, Lambert," said Schanke, crossing his arms. "Say Nic here jumps off a forty foot ledge--does he land feet first or head first?" Natalie smiled, meeting Nick's gaze. "I'd say he probably doesn't ." Schanke hopped forward, t pointed toward the ground with his hand. "Feet first. Somebody who falls or gets pushed usually goes head first." "You've still got ten percent to work with," warned Natalie. Schanke made a clicking sound with his tongue and, making his hand into gun, 'shot' her. "That's why we've got , Nat--you even out the percentages. But I'll lay you even money he's a jumper." It surprised him that Nick paid such close attention when he spouted off--he'd figure anybody with a win/loss ratio like Nick's knew this stuff cold. But there was a lot of stuff about Nick that surprised him. "And . . . we gotta make a stop on the way," he warned Nick, as his part headed for the door. Closing his eyes, Nick groaned and pretended to stumble into the wall. "Schanke, not fruit cake run?" "Wait," called Natalie, returning the folder to the filing cabinet, "I haven't heard this one. Get back here, now." "You explain it." Nick waved his hand at Schanke, his forehead leaning against the wall. "I can't deal with it anymore." "Can I help it Myra's sister got sick?" Sighing, Schanke shook his head sadly, then turned toward Natalie. "See, Myra's sister makes all time greatest fruitcake in the world. But she's been sick this year. And she won't give Myra her recipe. So I've been looking for a fruitcake that comes as close to--" Natalie had seated herself on the edge of her desk. Holding up her hand she stared at him, a horrified expression on her face. "You're not telling me you those things?" "Of I eat them," declared Schanke defensively. He pointed towa Nick, who was still leaning against the wall. "What it with you people? Fruitcake is an art form. And Christmas is Christmas without the right fruitcake." "Please, Nat, talk some sense into him," said Nick, turning to face her. tried to explain to him--how there's only really one fruitcake and it just gets passed from person to person because nobody really eats them." "That's a lie, promoted by the anti-fruit cake lobby." "It's a ," corrected Natalie. She narrowed her eyes suspiciousl "You eat the whole thing? Even the little green pieces?" " the little green pieces." She shuddered and turned away. "Nick's right--you're certifiable." "Oh, you haven't heard the best part yet," said Nick. He straightened a pointed dramatically at Schanke. "He's made me stop in every food store, mini-mart, bakery, and gourmet shop we pass. And he's been fruit cakes." "I've gotta find the right one," explained Schanke, for what seemed to h like the hundredth time. Giving up, he threw his hands in the air. "Let's move, partner. There's a store on eighth--" Nick dropped to his knees before Natalie. "Please, call me a cab. Rent a car. " Stunned, she stared down at him. "Where's your caddy?" "In the shop." Schanke smirked, as Nick rose to his feet and dusted him off. "Somebody got a teeny scratch on his bumper because he got a little too close to a concrete divider." "We got an arson-in-progress call," said Nick, casting a glare at Schank " we were at a mini-mart on a fruit cake run." "They should control the traffic flow in those lots a little better," sa Schanke. Waving over his shoulder at his partner, he called, "Next stop, Lynn's Haven of Pies--" He wasn't immediately certain whether the sound he heard was Nick whimpering, or Natalie choking back laughter. *** There were at least fifteen people in his living room that he didn't kno Adding that to the twenty-odd he did know and the number of assorted children running around the house--he was forced to stop in mid-stride as a nerf arrow crossed his path, followed quickly by a four foot ninja wearing Batman sneakers--Schanke was pretty sure they'd just about reached capacity. Then the doorbell rang . . . again. "I'll get it," he called, hoping th Myra would hear him above the chatter, the Christmas music playing on the stereo, and the death cries of warring children. But he made it through the holiday greenery and to the front door without incident. Nick and Natalie stood on the porch, Natalie in mid-sentence. "--You ar going to eat--" She stopped when the she realized the door was open. "Merry Christmas, Schanke." "Same to you." He leaned forward as she gave him a peck on the cheek, t stood to one side, letting her enter. "Ah, the famous chicken marsala," he noted, catching sight of the aluminum foil covered dish in her hands. "Kitchen's in the back, like always. Throw your coats on the bed. Just watch out for the ninjas." "Ninjas?" asked Nick, pausing on the threshold and peering into the hous "Yeah. I think they're playing ninjas against Batman. Last I saw, Batm was winning." Clapping his partner on the shoulder, he asked, "You gonna come in or what? Myra can't collect until you actually set foot in the house. So if you want, I'll make you up a plate and you can stand there--" "I'll come in," Nick decided quickly. When Schanke reached for his leat jacket, he shook his head. "Sorry, I can't stay that long. I picked up Nat on the way over, so if you could drop her home--" "No problem. Too bad you're the heroic type who doesn't mind working on holidays so us poor family slobs can spend time with the wife and kids." Leaning closer to Nick, he added, "I'm working next year. on it. Between Myra's relatives and the Batman brigade, I'm ready for a quiet murder-suicide, with some vice detail work on the half-shell." "We'll see what we can work out," promised Nick. "Can I get you a little holiday cheer?" He rubbed his hands together an headed for the living room. "No thanks, I'm on duty. But I like to see the hostess." "She's in the kitchen. And if you're willing to take your life in your hands by going in there--?" When Nick shrugged, he led the way down the hall. "Jenny's around here somewhere. I think it's her turn to be Batman--so keep an eye out for a cape." He paused at the entrance to the kitchen and peeked his head around the door. "Honey, Nick's here--" And all he saw was fruitcake. Mounds and mounds of glistening, golden fruitcakes. Oh, yeah, some were off-white, pale and sickly, some too brown and there was one colored a very violent shade of pink . . . but most of them were shimmering yellow, sparkling with a promised sugar high he never expected to find in this lifetime. Schanke stepped forward, dazed and awestruck. Closing his eyes, he snif and a thousand different aromas wafted from the kitchen table--cinnamon and candied cherries, pineapple and macadamia nuts, rum and spiced wine . . . all melded with that wonderful, fresh dough smell of a seasoned, well-prepared fruitcake. "Surprised?" asked Nick, from behind him. He spun around and found Nick and Natalie grinning at him like kids. "Y did this, for ?" "Well, it was either that or commit you," said Nick. When Natalie punch him in the shoulder, he added, "Or me. You see, Schanke, not everybody feels the way you do about fruitcake. So I asked around. And this is what turned up." "He's been making non-stop phone calls for the past two days," explained Natalie. "Then we called Myra and told her what was up--" "You and that big trunk of yours!" declared Schanke. Nick nodded, the slightest tinge of unhappiness on his face. "That 'sti big trunk of mine. And there's more in the back seat. Maybe you can lasso the ninjas to help us carry it all inside?" "Oh, they don't listen to me. You'd have to get Myra for that." Half-turning, lured by the smell of so many riches, Schanke was almost dumbstruck. "Nick, Nat--I don't know what to say--" "How about 'Merry Christmas'?" said Natalie, walking past him, toward th back kitchen door. "And a promise to get Nick's car cleaned?" "Oh, yeah. Sure. Anything." Running up to Nick, Schanke grabbed his h and shook it. "Merry Christmas, partner." "Yeah. Merry Christmas." Shaking his head in amazement, Nick followed Natalie out the back door. Schanke wanted to follow. He tried--but the fruitcakes lured him back t the table. Taking a deep breath, he inhaled all of those wonderful fragrances again . . . and a thought struck him. He really blessed that so many people in the station would be willing to give up fruitcakes to make Christmas special for . He owed them. He'd get the list of names and addresses from Nick, as soon as possible. This year, they'd get thank you notes. And next year . . . . Nick and Nat's names would be at the top of the biggest, bestest fruit cake gift list in the world. The End