A/N: It's been a year. It's been a helluva horrible awful year, health-wise & financial-wise, awful enough that it killed my writing & creativity for a while. But...now...hopefully we're struggling back to a somewhat even keel. This past NaNoWriMo, I finished not only this tale, but The SF Vampire: look for Vampire to start re-posting after the holidays. I've corrected a lot of time-line & back-story errors in the first tale, Voodoo Doll, too; I'll shortly be replacing the current chapters of Vampire with the corrected versions. For now, though, we pick this tale back up! Happy Whatever-You-Celebrate!

# # #


# # #

Joe had no idea what the big deal was. Frank and Dad had gone so red that their faces looked like a tomatoes, and Aunt Gertrude had gone on a rampage, nearly throwing the whole box in the trash. Which meant the gift probably had something to do with boy-girl stuff, and Joe wouldn't be told at all. It wasn't fair. Frank was only a year older, after all.

But why would Mar call back to San Francisco over that, or Dad the cops?

"C'mon, Joe," Frank said, dragging Joe out of the kitchen as Dad went to the phone and Aunt Gertrude ferociously scrubbed the table down with lemon juice and vinegar. "Poor Tag. I want to find the guy who did this and…and…" Frank bit his words back.

Joe looked at his brother in surprise. "You think it's a guy?"

"A girl wouldn't…I mean, they just wouldn't. Mr. Hopper wouldn't sell it to them." Frank's face was even redder.

Mr. Hopper owned the drugstore, which only confused Joe more. "What's Mr. Hopper got to do with it?"

Frank stopped, breathed out. "C'mon." He dragged Joe upstairs and went over to his desk, pulling out a book out of the drawer: Our Bodies, Ourselves.

It was Kris's book, actually. Mar had gotten it for her from some women's health group in Boston, and Frank had borrowed it, though he'd been very careful to keep it out of sight of Aunt Gertrude. Joe had glanced through it, and while the pictures of women's internal organs had been interesting, nothing else had really caught his eye.

Now Frank paged through it, found the section he wanted, then shoved it towards Joe. "There."

Dad had given Joe the Talk just last month, when Joe had asked an innocent question over a magazine he'd seen at a Boston newsstand when Aunt Gertrude had taken him and Frank clothes-shopping. The Talk hadn't gone over anything like those square packages, but this book did. Confused, Joe read the page over and over, trying to make sense of it…then it clicked. All those horrible, nightmare-inducing case studies that he and Frank had read…

Joe shoved the book back at his brother. He couldn't get rid of it fast enough. If that was what adulthood was all about, the adults could keep it.

"Don't you get it?" Frank said, putting the book back. "They're scared Tag's original parents are here. That has to be it. Only adults could get those things, and they'd be the only ones who'd know that stuff would freak Tag out. That's why Mar's calling San Francisco. And Tag knows it. That's why she freaked yesterday."

"That makes no sense, Frank." Joe shook his head. "I mean, if it is is them, why me? They can't know who I am. And if they do, why aren't they giving you stuff, too?"

"I don't know." Frank's sober expression made him look much older than twelve. "But it's only been two gifts, one for you, and one for Kris. Maybe I'm next."

"But how are they getting into school? Someone would see them. I mean, everyone knows everyone around here."

"I don't know," Frank said again. "It might not even be her parents. Maybe it's one of those weird strangers the police told us about."

That had been an odd, serious day at school. Chief Collig had come around to all the middle school classes to talk about strangers, not to trust them, and not to take gifts or rides or anything from people you didn't know. The thought of that made the whole thing even scarier, that some unknown person could be targeting Joe and Kris for some weird reason…at Christmas-time again.

"Still the same problem," Joe said.

"I know," Frank said. "It doesn't make sense to me, either."

"I still say it's a rotten prank of Angie's. I mean, she could've stolen those things. Or maybe she got someone to buy them for her. Y'know, since she called Kris my girlfriend." Girls did all kinds of mean things for reasons Joe couldn't figure out, after all; they got even nastier than the boys.

"Worse," Frank said. "What if it's whoever kidnapped us last year? What if they're going to try again?"

"Why'd they wait a whole year? And why tip everyone off by giving us this stuff?"

"Frank, Joe?" Aunt Gertrude called from the stairs. "They're back. Time to eat."

Joe heaved a sigh and followed Frank down the stairs. Standing in the doorway with Charlie and Mar, Kris had her arms full — a wooden statue of a seated woman surrounded by bamboo and an envelope of pictures. Despite what had happened, she looked calmer, but Joe had a hard time looking at her, now that he knew about those things and why she'd probably freaked.

"Joshua," Kris said as an explanation, not looking at them, either. She set the carving and photos down on the coffee table, along with a thick letter. "He sent tons of pictures of Saigon."

"Wow," Frank said, examining the statue. "That's cool. Does he know Charlie?"

Standing in the dining room doorway, Charlie laughed. "Not hardly. Air Force and Army hate each other, don't you know that? They're jealous because we've got Snoopy, and they're stuck with that goofy song." He grinned at Kris. "Maybe I'll write him and see if he's interested in betting on the Army-Navy game."

"Joe, come set the table," Aunt Gertrude said.

Figured. But Kris left the statue and photos for Frank, and followed Joe to help. Mar had brought over a big batch of cornbread with fresh butter from Mortons' farm. But after eyeing Charlie, Dad, and the brothers, Mar had decided to fry up another batch — Aunt Gertrude running interference to keep Charlie from snatching samples — so the kitchen now smelled of sweet corn and pot roast.

"Kris told me about Bell Book and Candle," Charlie said to Dad, as they ate. "If it's okay with your two assistants there, I was thinking it'd be a good idea if I went along with them. If Mrs. Bell says it's okay, of course."

Joe perked up. Charlie thought they really were Dad's assistants? And he was volunteering to help?

"That gives us five people to cover the place," Frank said. "We'll really catch the thief now."

"You catch the thief," Kris said. "Me and Sharon'll be looking for Mr. Bell."

Joe rolled his eyes.

"I don't like it, Fenton," Aunt Gertrude said. "Especially now. What if that…that…person…decides to go after them? And what happened last year. What if it's the same person?"

"I don't think so, Gert," Dad said, after a glance at Mar. "Whoever did that wouldn't have waited a whole year to strike again. They had plenty of other chances to strike, and they wouldn't tip us off first by doing something like this. This has the hallmarks of someone who gets his kicks by scaring others."

Grinning, Joe glanced at his brother. Just what Joe had thought — and Dad thought it, too.

"We go all over Bayport all the time," Frank said, his usual common-sense Older Brother act. "And Tag goes out to the old Applegate farm a lot. They could've grabbed her then. It doesn't make sense that they'd break into a store to get us, when they could grab us easier lots of other times."

"The old Applegate farm?" Charlie said, looking at Kris.

Kris went red, mumbled something.

"Old Man Applegate used to own it," Joe said. "Everyone thought there was treasure buried out there, but there wasn't. Me and Frank found it," he added proudly. "Lots and lots of gold doubloons."

"And nearly got yourselves killed by that awful tramp," Aunt Gertrude said. "Really, this detective nonsense is not right for boys your age."

"Boys love adventure, ma'am," Charlie said, grinning at the brothers. "That's how I ended up flying jets, after all."

"No argument there," Mar said dryly. "I'll put Charlie's antics up against your two any day, Gert."

"Girls like adventure, too," Kris piped up. "We're just smarter about it."

"Are not," Joe said. "You kept trying to pick up snakes before Frank stopped you."

"Are, too! You were just going to run off last year without —"

"Children," Fenton broke in, but Joe eyed Kris. Run off? When?

"And when you make it these three," Mar said to Charlie, "they've got you beat."

Charlie laughed. All through dinner, he encouraged Joe and Frank to tell him about the Applegate treasure, and then about Mr. Mack's lab. And when Joe was putting the finishing touches on how he and Frank had caught the vandals red-handed, Charlie nodded, then asked — asked — if he could sign on for the stake-out at Bell Book and Candle.

"Under your command, of course." Charlie sounded serious, not the joking tone that most adults used when Frank and Joe said they were detectives.

"Sure!" Joe blurted out, then looked at Frank a bit guiltily. "If it's okay with you, I mean."

But to Joe's surprise, Frank didn't look so certain now. "I don't know," Frank said. "I mean, thinking about it, it would give us another pair of eyes. But us being kids, the thief wouldn't be careful. If he sees an adult there, he might avoid the place."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "You've got brains, kiddo. I'm impressed."

"If you go in after hours, that'd be a problem," Dad said. "But if all of you go in as customers while the store is still open, then just don't leave, well, the thief might not notice that."

Charlie nodded. "Like ol' Sarge Deeker says. No one pays any attention to rude, drunk soldiers, because we're just rude, drunk soldiers." He grinned at Kris. "I suspect your Army friend knows that real well, shi deezhí."

"Josh doesn't write about that stuff. He kinda hints, but that's about it." Kris looked up at Joe and Frank. "His letter says he's up for the Green Berets."

"Really?" Joe said, impressed. "Like the song and everything?"

Kris nodded, then heaved a sigh. "Now I've gotta find him a special gift, too."

"Tons of cookies," Charlie advised her. "Believe me, homemade cookies make you extremely popular with your unit. Something other than chocolate chip, though. Everyone sends those, and you get sick of them real quick."

"But someone would pay attention to drunk soldiers," Frank said to Charlie. "Anyone smart, I mean. Because if you're drunk, that means you'll talk without watching what you say."

"Like Uncle Jack, you mean," Joe said, making a face, and Dad and Aunt Gertrude somehow got coughing fits at the same time.

"Like I said, you've got brains," Charlie said to Frank. "More than most of our officers, I'll say that. However, you didn't answer my question. Your brother deferred to you as commanding officer, after all."

Frank blinked, then straightened. "Sure…I mean, yes, sir!"

Charlie ripped off a precise salute. "Ok, then. Let's hear the recon. Have you figured out who'll be where and what your setup will be?"

Dad had already gone over that with them, and Joe and Frank both dove in, describing what they'd planned for. But through the rest of dinner, Joe kept catching Frank frowning — well, so were Dad, Aunt Gertrude, and Mar, but Joe had expected that, especially Aunt Gertrude. After dinner, as the Mountainhawks were gathering their coats and getting ready to go back home, Frank pulled both Joe and Kris aside.

"I think we need to put this off. Until Dad catches whoever's doing the gifts."

"What?" Joe stared at his brother. "Frank, you can't mean that. It's a real case!"

Frank glanced towards the front stoop, where the adults were chatting. "Joe, come on, think a moment. That's why Charlie volunteered. He's playing babysitter. They're scared it's…I mean…um, Tag…"

"That it's the Joneses," Kris whispered. "I know, big brother. But…it can't be them. It can't. Papa…I mean, him…he hated bookstores, so he wouldn't go in one like that. And our old station wagon couldn't have made it out here, it's worse than Mr. Morton's car, and we were always broke, so they couldn't buy plane tickets. Papa — him, I mean — he was always cussing the wagon out."

"They couldn't be getting into the school, Frank," Joe said. "They'd stand out. And how'd they get into our lockers?"

Kris opened her mouth, then shut it, looked away.

"You gave Sharon the combination so you could help her," Frank said to Joe. "Maybe she lost the paper."

"There's…um…I mean, I can do it without the combination," Kris said, then blushed, looked at her feet. "It's not hard."

"Magic tricks, you mean," Frank said. "You know how to pick locks?"

Kris shook her head.

Frank looked annoyed; Joe elbowed him. Now wasn't the time to argue with Kris about her fantasy. But it was a valid point — if Kris could do it with stage magic stuff, then so could anyone, really.

"Still," Frank said, "it might be best if you stayed home, Tag. Just in case."

"No!" Kris glared up. "If it is…um, them…it won't matter where I'm at. I wouldn't be any safer here than at Bell Book and Candle."

"It'd be a lot harder for those people to get in the store when we're there, Frank," Joe said. "We'd see them, especially after it's closed. And Tag's good at hiding, and how would those people even know she's there? They'd have no reason to think that."

"They figured out enough to give you one of those gifts," Frank said.

"Kris?" Mar said from the door, and Kris scooped up the statue and photos and ran after Mar and Charlie.

Scowling, Frank sighed. "I wish there was some way we could stake out our lockers and catch whoever's doing this. Someone has to have seen something."