Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no profit. "Peter Gunn" was created by Blake Edwards and produced by Spartan Productions.
A/N: This is a series of short Christmas-themed ficlets involving Peter Gunn and Edie Hart. All the action takes place during December 1960. There will be 31 entries, one for each day of the month.
Christmas Traditions: 1960
• Monday, December 5
Softly closing the door behind him, Peter Gunn walked a few silent steps to the maitre d' stand, shoved both hands into the pockets of his dark gray pants and stood watching the quiet bustle of the supper club. Leslie greeted him with a restrained smile, Emmett Ward nodded at him from the piano and Edie Hart offered him one of those expressions that said Where have you been? Why are you so late? Is everything all right? which she somehow managed to combine with a cheeky come-hither look. She was singing a new song she'd been practicing with the combo for a few days and wore a mid-calf black dress that Pete couldn't find words to describe. He gave her a not-so-surreptitious wink and turned his attention to Leslie, who appeared uncharacteristically hot and bothered.
"Problem, Leslie?"
"Problem is not the word for it, Mr. Gunn."
"What is the word for it?" The PI brought his hands out of his pockets and clasped them in front of him, trying to put up a serious front.
"Catastrophe would be grimly inadequate." The tall, dark-haired maitre d' sported a sour grimace behind thinly pursed lips, and a deep frown furrowed his lofty forehead. "As would calamity. Or fiasco." He flipped a page of the reservation book with a reserved snap. "Perhaps the word tragedy would best describe the situation in which we've found ourselves."
"We?" Pete wondered if he should be alarmed. "Care to talk about it, Leslie?"
"It would seem the holiday linens have been lost in transit." Leslie snatched a half-sheet of paper from beside the telephone and waved it at Pete, then slapped it back down. "As well as two cases of the finest champagne ordered specifically for New Year's Eve. How companies of this type remain in business is beyond me. All they can tell us is that both are somewhere on a train between San Francisco and Atlanta." He sighed and shook his head dismally. "They were being shipped from Pittsburgh."
Pete hid a smile at the man's doomsday attitude.
"Keep the faith, Leslie. As a very wise man once said, it's always darkest just before the dawn." He clapped the man on the shoulder and slipped by behind him, missing the dark look that was sent his way.
"There's another cliché you may be familiar with, Mr. Gunn."
"Oh? What's that, Leslie?" Pete paused and turned half-way around.
"There's always a lull before the storm."
The PI reached a hand to straighten his necktie, slowly raising his eyebrows at the sense of impending disaster in Leslie's tone.
"Miss Hart ordered a tree for the dining room – " the maitre d' murmured, a glimmer of devilish humor finding its way into his brown gaze " – a rather immense blue spruce which will be delivered this coming Saturday. The decorations were delivered this afternoon." His left cheek dimpled saucily. "Many, many, many wonderful decorations for the tree and for the room. The grapevine informs me the ladies are planning a tree trimming party for Sunday afternoon." Leslie now sported a full-fledged grin. "You'll undoubtedly be receiving your own personal invitation. After all, they most certainly will need help setting up the tree, unpacking all those boxes, climbing ladders, hanging garlands, decking the proverbial halls... – I suppose it was too good to be true that those wreaths on the front doors would be the extent of our festooning."
"Fest– I see. Well, er- thanks for the warning, Leslie."
Pete quickly wound his way through the crowd along the bar, feeling Leslie's gaze the entire way and knowing the man was having a good laugh at his expense. He returned a cheery greeting from bartender Charlie O'Brien and crossed the short hallway to Edie's combination office/dressing room. Wondering at the assortment of small cardboard boxes strewn about on her desk, he quietly closed the door and moved to stand behind her. His long arms encircled her and pulled her close.
"Pete! Be careful, you're smashing my ornaments!"
He kissed the side of her neck but didn't let go, if anything his arms tightened further. A smile curved against her skin and he chuckled, then rested his chin on her shoulder.
"I've heard them called a lot of things – " His position allowed him a birds-eye view of the curve of her breasts beneath the lacy bodice of her dress. " – but that's a new one." He loosened his grip and turned her around and surveyed her at arms-length. "Though come to think of it – "
"Pete!" the blonde warned, but her voice seemed feeble to her own ears.
" – they are."
"Are what?"
"Quite ornamental." His lips tilted in a smile as a pink flush suffused Edie's cheeks.
"You, Mr. Peter Gunn, are a nut."
She gently straightened the bent corners of the four-pack of Shiny Brite glass baubles she held and then opened the box to make certain the delicate decorations had escaped injury. Satisfied that each of the four was in one bright shiny piece, and informing Pete that such was the case, she replaced the lid and set the box on her desk with the others.
"You'll be happy to know I won't be calling the Christmas police on you." She smiled and wound her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with the back of his collar.
"That's good to know." He leaned in for a kiss, their warm breaths mingling. "Wouldn't look very good on my record, being arrested for assault and battery of a Christmas tree ornament."
"Don't worry, I'd bail you out." Edie smiled, her cornflower-blue gaze roaming his face. "And I'd serve as a character witness."
"Oh?" He leaned back and looked into her eyes.
"Uh huh. I'd tell them just what a character you are!"
The PI chuckled. "Some help you'd be. They'd probably toss me right back in the clink and throw away the key." He pulled her close and kissed her again, reveling in the feel of her arms tightening around his shoulders as she strained against him. His hands roamed her back, and lower, and he finally had to push her away before things became any more intense. After all, he did have a client to meet in under an hour. He stepped back out of temptation's reach and straightened his tie.
"Leslie has himself turned inside out over your missing napkins and bubbly." The PI's lips slanted in a smile as he buttoned his suit jacket.
"Leslie worries too much."
"Leslie worries too much?"
"Mmm." Edie reached to tuck in the handkerchief that graced his breast pocket. "Pete?"
"Yes, love?"
"Do you have any plans for Sunday afternoon...?"
