A/N: Thanks for the reviews, folks! I'm dedicating this tale to Chy Johnson & Carson Jones of Queen Creek, Arizona - Google 'em to read the whole heartwarming story...and have your faith restored in humanity.

Note for non-US readers: "Old Spice" is a popular cheap men's aftershave (cologne) that's been around since the 1930s.

Joe was almost dancing as he and Frank left Bell Book and Candle — despite the Santa gift thing, the whole day was awesome, wonderful, totally killer. They'd been asked — no, hired! — to solve a real mystery, just like real detectives!

"Sometimes you're positively brilliant, you know that?" Frank said, grinning.

"Wow, he admits it," Joe said to the open air and falling snowflakes. "My brother realizes that I'm the real genius of the family."

The snowball caught him square in the back of the head.

The gleeful snowball fight lasted all the way home, and snow was falling hard enough that Joe felt like he was in the middle of a shaken-up snow-globe. He stopped for a moment, admiring their weathered, old stone house. Dad's car was in the driveway; he must have finished up that divorce case faster than he'd thought. Dad had gotten the clunky red and blue lights up to outline the front porch, door, and garage, with the newer, small multi-color lights entwined in the bushes; the big plastic Santa Claus blinked on and off on the porch. A big pine wreath hung on the front door, pine roping was twisted around the porch posts and decked the old stone wall running the length of the driveway, and Christmas-light candles shone in all the front windows.

Frank and Joe ran into the open garage to stomp off their snowy boots on the rubber mat right outside the garage-entry door; the new snow-blower smelled 'hot' and dripped melted snow — Joe had noticed that all the sidewalks on their side of the street had been blown clean. Dad must've gotten done real early, to have done so much.

Boots de-snowed, they went in, stopping on yet another mat to get their coats off. Dad stood in the dining-room doorway, drinking a steaming cup of coffee. The house smelled of rosemary-roasted chicken and cornbread stuffing, and Aunt Gertrude was on her Christmas-music kick: Burl Ives's "Holly Jolly Christmas" was playing on the stereo.

Aunt Gertrude poked her head into the living room; she'd moved in during Mom's long illness to help Dad with "raising those boys right". "Close the garage before you get your boots off," she warned, before the brothers moved off the mat; a red-and-green apron covered in flour smudges was wrapped around her waist. "Dinner's in an hour. What's all this about Bell Book and Candle?"

"We've got a mystery to solve," Joe burst out. "A real mystery! We're real detectives now!"

"Two of them," Frank said, as they followed Dad into the kitchen. "But we need help with one. Joe, show Dad the card."

"Two of them?" Dad said, raising an eyebrow. He was a middle-aged man, graying temples, and a real, professional detective. Both Frank and Joe wanted to be detectives, too, just like Dad, but Dad refused to let them help with his work, saying they were too young. Even more unfair, Dad got real evasive when Joe tried to pin him down on exactly when he and Frank could start helping. "When you're older" could mean anything.

"This detective nonsense is not healthy at your age," Aunt Gertrude said, as she scraped biscuit dough onto the floured board. "You're too young — stop that." She whacked Joe's knuckles with the rubber spatula, as Joe was reaching for the cookie plate. "After dinner, young man. Not before."

Grown-ups. Joe had already resolved to remember all this if he ever had kids, and he'd be tons more fair to them than Dad and Aunt Gertrude were to him and Frank.

Still, if Joe and Frank could prove to Dad that they could do it, if they solved whatever was going at Bell Book and Candle, maybe Dad would relent.

Once ensconced at the table with hot chocolate, Joe brought out the card and the Old Spice box; he'd wrapped it all in his handkerchief, so he wouldn't ruin any fingerprints. As Joe explained what had happened, Dad scowled at the card, then looked over the box and bottle, not touching either.

Aunt Gertrude looked over Dad's shoulder to read the card, and gasped. "Oh my heavens. Fenton, you need to have a word with his teacher. I knew the school was asking for trouble with this whole Secret Santa thing."

"Before I say anything, boys," Dad said, "look at the box and the bottle. Just look. What can you tell me about it?"

"It sloshes a lot," Joe said promptly. He'd noticed that when he was examining it before math class. "It felt kinda empty. And there's dried gunk around the nozzle." Bad enough getting aftershave from his Secret Santa, but getting it used, along with the note…

"The box is old," Frank said. "The top printing is rubbed off and the corners are all worn white. So it's been used."

"I was going to check it for fingerprints, Dad," Joe added. "That'd rule out Kris and Sharon, if Sharon'll let me print her."

"Maybe we can print your whole class," Frank said.

"Let's not go that far," Dad said. "I don't think Kris gave you this — where would she have gotten a used bottle of Old Spice?"

"Maybe Sharon got it from her father," Joe said, then frowned, thinking. "No, wait…he'd notice if a bottle of his aftershave went missing."

"The handwriting on that card looks male," Frank said.

"And you're a handwriting expert, of course," Dad said, smiling.

"Well, not really, but…"

"No 'buts'," Dad said firmly. "Handwriting can be disguised."

Frank and Joe exchanged looks.

"However," Dad went on, "there's limited access to your locker, Joe. So either one of the girls left it, someone else had them leave it, or…"Dad raised his voice just enough override Joe's protest, "someone found out the combination from them."

Joe opened his mouth, not seeing how…then sank back in his chair. "I wrote it down for Sharon. Both mine and Kris's."

"There you go. Someone might have stolen that piece of paper. So our first solution is to buy you new combination locks. And we'll tell Mar, so she'll do the same for Kris, and none of you three tell anyone what the new combinations are. Not even each other."

"But Kris has that trouble with Angie, Dad —"

"Then it's time your little tagalong stood up to that spoiled brat on her own," Dad said sternly.

Joe exchanged scowls with Frank. That wasn't any fair. Angie had all her friends, and Dad had no clue how mean those girls got.

"First step, though," Dad said, "is we ask Mar and Kris to come over so we can show them this."

"Fenton, do you think that's wise?" Aunt Gertrude said. "That card might scare Kris too badly."

"Forewarned is forearmed," Dad said. "But we can also find out if Kris is just giving you another mystery, Joe, and if she is, we can explain to her why this was a bad idea. Or if she put the package there for someone else — in which case, then we'll know who asked her. Same with Sharon. I'll call her dad."

"Dad, I don't want to get them in trouble!"

"You won't," Dad said gently. "At worst, Kris just imitated a bad detective novel. You wouldn't be angry if it was her, would you?"

Mutely, Joe shook his head. Kris had problems figuring out friend-stuff; both he and Frank still had to explain a lot to their little tagalong. Things they took for granted would completely confuse her, and sometimes she was rude but didn't realize it, or understand why.

"It's the fault of whoever did that package, Joe, if it wasn't Kris," Frank said.

That was another big problem, if whoever did it thought Kris or Sharon might've tattled. "Let me fingerprint it before you call Kris," Joe begged Dad. "I can tell if Kris touched it, at least. If she didn't, then we don't have to sound like we're accusing her of doing the package."

Smiling, Dad ruffled Joe's hair. "Now that's thinking it through. Okay. So what's this about two mysteries?"

"Bell Book and Candle," Aunt Gertrude sniffed, as she pulled the chicken out of the oven. "Joe, it's your turn to set the table."

The full explanation and what Mrs. Bell had told them took up most of dinner, and from there, Joe also went into what Kris had said about Tina.

At that, Aunt Gertrude clucked her tongue. "Poor child. You can certainly have cookies for her, Joe. I have a spare snowman tin. She'd probably like that."

"We can talk with everyone else, too," Frank said, to Joe. "You know Callie'd want to do something, and I'll bet Tony would, because of his baby sister. And Iola's in your class."

"She's friends with Angie, though," Joe said, scowling. "Because they're cheerleaders." It was only middle-school basketball, which no one cared about, but you couldn't tell any of those girls that.

"With someone like Tina," Dad said, "it doesn't have to be anything big. Simple things will work just as well, as long as you're sincere about it."

"Kris said she invited Tina over tonight," Joe said, as he spooned more gravy onto his second helping of mashed potatoes. "I was going to go over, too, and take some cookies…um…" He fidgeted under Aunt Gertrude's gaze.

"She really did, Aunt Gertrude," Frank said. "I heard her say it. Joe'll need tons of cookies for everyone."

Joe kicked his brother under the table. He didn't need the help, not with that expression on Aunt Gertrude's face. "Both Tina and Sharon, Kris said. I was thinking that if I find out what else Tina likes, I can help Kris with her Santa stuff."

"The world'll end. My baby boy is planning." Dad smiled fondly at Joe. "Now…about Bell Book and Candle. You can certainly spend a night there, as long as it's not a school night. You'll have to ask Mar and Bill and Connie about their daughters, though."

"We will, Dad," Joe said. Bill and Connie Anderson were Sharon's parents; her dad was their family doctor.

"It worries me, Fenton," Aunt Gertrude said. "What if someone is breaking into that store? Children shouldn't take the place of the police."

"We'll call here every half-hour or so, I promise," Frank said. "And if we let Chief Collig know we're there, he can have Officer Harlan check in on us, too."

"If someone was breaking in, Mrs. Bell would've noticed," Dad said to Aunt Gertrude. "I think they'll be safe enough, especially with what Frank said." He pushed away from the table. "While the boys are cleaning up…" Dad grinned again at Frank and Joe, "…I'll go talk to Mar."

"I'll handle cleanup," Aunt Gertrude said. "Let the boys go with you. That way they're not pestering Kris for whatever you and Mar find out."

Aunt Gertrude, offering to do their chores? Joe blinked, then started grinning.

"Just this once, mind," Aunt Gertrude said to him.

At that point, the phone rang; Dad picked it up with a "hello", listened for a moment, then held it out to Frank and Joe; Joe took it. "It's Kris."

"Joe! Tina's here, and Sharon — Shimá called their moms and they all came over for dinner." Kris's words tumbled over each other, before Joe even got his own 'hello' out. "She said if your dad and aunt come over, there'll be enough for a decent hand of five-card stud — Shimá!"

Kris's voice abruptly faded to the background; the phone jostled a bit. "Joe, dear," Mar said, "put your dad or aunt back on, please."

"Mar came back on," Joe said to Dad, as he handed the phone over.

Aunt Gertrude was already putting cookies on a platter.

"We can take Tag to Green Earth and help her pick out some crystals," Frank said to Joe, as Dad spoke with Mar. "I bet Tina would go nuts over those."

Green Earth was a camper's store, but the owner was a rockhound. Joe nodded, thinking. He'd gotten Kris a good-sized chunk of a gorgeous amethyst geode for Christmas from there, really cheap — it'd originally been a huge sparkling half-geode priced at over a hundred dollars, until a delivery man had knocked its stand over with the package dolly.

Dad hung up the phone. "Boys, come on. Mar's invited us all over. No, Joe, there's no need to do fingerprints. Gert, just use the dishwasher for tonight. I did buy it for that purpose."

Aunt Gertrude sniffed. "It's a waste of energy, Fenton. We have two perfectly good dishwashers right here."

Joe rolled his eyes; that really wasn't fair. When Aunt Gertrude had to clean up, she got to use the dishwasher, but when it was his and Frank's turn, the dishwasher was "a waste of energy".

But Aunt Gertrude finally relented. Dad picked up two big bags of M&Ms from the Christmas candy stash — "for the card game", he said, grinning — and Aunt Gertrude made Frank carry the cookie platter, after shooing Joe away from it twice.

Kris, Sharon and Tina were in the living room, with several big bowls of bright colored salt-dough that they were shaping into cartoony animals. Kris scrambled up to take coats as Mar welcomed the Hardy family inside; Joe helped her carry them upstairs to the spare bedroom.

"We're making Nativity figures," Kris said to Joe. "Tina liked that wooden one Shi cheii carved for me — um, that's Mar's dad, my new grandpa — so we're making her one." Kris made a face. "The grown-ups are playing cards in the kitchen, and Mar says we're too young to learn poker."

"Maybe we can teach Tina cutthroat Uno," Joe said, then had Kris repeat the Navajo until he had it. He was learning Navajo from Mar; according to her, the US used it as a code during World War II, and the Germans never broke it. He and Frank hadn't been able to find any books on that, which had gotten Mar muttering about "white folks writing us out of history again." Still, the idea of being able to speak in an unbreakable code sounded good and detective-ish. "When's Charlie coming in?"

"Thursday. Shimá's going to get the tree tomorrow, so it'll be all decorated and everything when he gets here, so we're doing more decorations, too."

Joe couldn't wait — he'd get to meet a real Indian warrior for Christmas, even if that warrior flew jet fighters instead of riding horses with bows and arrows. Somehow, jet fighters just made it all cooler.

The Mountainhawk home smelled of pine and cedar, cornbread and chili, and Mar had the radio on — WVBF out of Boston, Joe realized, delighted, though Aunt Gertrude frowned when Rod Stewart's "Maggie May" came on. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and bowls of popcorn, peanut brittle, and chips were also spaced around the girls on the floor, along with bottles of root beer and cream soda. Frank was already helping Sharon figure out how to attach a salt-dough head to the body of a shepherd…so Joe added gruesome, gurgling sounds when Sharon drove a toothpick through the dough ball and into the torso.

At that point, the salt-dough Nativity threatened to become the Manson Family as Sharon, Frank, and Joe all tried to outdo each other in making horror-movie versions of the Nativity, until Kris reached over and firmly put the box of toothpicks between herself and Tina. Grinning, Joe went back to the kitchen to grab more soda for everyone; he came back to the living room, plopped down, then saw the sheep Tina was working on. They looked like clumps of Fruit Loops with Cookie-Monster eyes.

"Sheep are white, you know," Joe said.

"N-n-not…m-my…sh-sheep," Tina said; her round dough-face bore an intense look of concentration as she used a toothpick to etch a mouth onto the sheep's face. "W-w-white's b-b-boring. C-can…I…have…ch-ch-cho-co-late…c-c-cows?"

"Chocolate?" Confused, Joe looked at Kris.

"Brown cows," Kris informed him. "Brown cows give chocolate milk. Red cows do strawberry Quik."

"He's just a boy." Sharon rolled a small dough oval, placed it in a dough-manger. "He wouldn't know that."

"Yeah, Joe," Frank said, grinning. "Don't you know anything?"

"So that means green cows do mint milkshakes for St. Patrick's Day," Joe said, rolling his eyes.

"N-n-no, th-they…d-d-don't," Tina said. "Everyone…kn-kn-knows c-cows aren't…g-gr-green, s-s-si-silly."

Both Sharon and Kris giggled,and Kris giggling was rare enough that Joe stared at her…then Frank cracked up, and that did it. Joe lost it, then no one could stop laughing — every time they looked at each other, it set them off again. Tina had a wonderful laugh, loud and giddy like a little kid, and it just made everything funnier.

"Hey kids," Mrs. Collins — Tina's mom — stood in the hallway, speaking loud enough to be heard over the hysterics. "Your parents want to see you in the kitchen. I'll keep Tina company."

That cut the laughter cold with a verbal thud. Kris and Sharon looked at each other, then, openly suspicious, Kris looked at Joe and Frank. "Okay. What'd you two do now?"

Joe got to his feet. "Another mystery. We need your help in figuring it out."

"A bad one," Frank added, as they passed Mrs. Collins. "Tag…it's really bad."

That made Kris stop.

"Come on back, girls," Mar said, from the kitchen. "It's serious."

Even Joe stopped at seeing the grim-faced adults. Sharon's mom and dad were there, too: Connie was short, plump, brown-haired, Bill tall and blonde. Neither were smiling.

The bottle of Old Spice and the box sat on the table, with the card beside it. Mar gave Dad and Aunt Gertrude aquestioning look; Dad nodded.

"Kris, Sharon," Mar said, "we know the Secret Santa at school is supposed to be a secret, but this is too important to continue to be one. Did anyone ask either of you to place a gift in Joe's locker?"

Both girls shook their heads. "You mean that box?" Sharon said to Joe, and Joe nodded. "It was already there when I…uh…I mean…" She reddened, glanced at Kris.

"When you what, Sharon?" Mar said.

"I'm helping her with her Secret Santa," Joe said, before Sharon could open her mouth. "The person's…uh…in one of my classes." Mar raised an eyebrow, and Joe hurried on, "It's easier for me to sneak Sharon's gift to them than it is for her." Thankfully, not a lie. "Like a secret double agent."

"So you put your Santa gift in Joe's locker and the other one was already there," Dad said, and Sharon nodded. "You didn't see anyone? Notice anyone hanging around?"

Sharon shook her head. "Just everyone else."

"Shiché'é," Mar said to Kris, "this is serious. Did you place this stuff in Joe's locker?"

Kris shook her head, too.

"She couldn't have," Frank said. "She got in too late — she told me and Callie about Charlie. I was at Joe's locker right before he left. I stayed there to watch Kris's locker because of Angie. Kris only got in hers. She got a Secret Santa gift, but she never got in Joe's."

"I'd already gotten it by then," Joe said.

"But someone could've put it there Friday, after school," Dad reminded them. "What was your gift, Kris?"

Trembling, Kris crossed her arms and looked down at the floor. "A quartz crystal. Um, I threw the card away, Mr. Hardy. It just said 'from your Santa'. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do anything wrong."

"You didn't," Dad said gently. "We're not angry at you, Kris. We're just trying to figure out who did this."

"I saw the rock," Joe said. "It was killer."

"You didn't show me," Mar said to Kris.

"I…um…gave it to Tina," Kris said, looking around at the adults. "After she told me what Angie Thompson said to her."

"She told me and Sharon about that in Mr. Mack's class," Joe said.

"Joe?" Kris said, in a small voice. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Someone wrote something bad with that Old Spice," Joe said.

"Come here, squirrel." Mar placed a hand on Kris's shoulder when Kris got near the table. "You need to see this, and I'm sorry. Does the handwriting look familiar to you at all?"

Kris looked down at the card, gasped, then, before Mar could stop her, Kris turned and fled. Her footsteps pounded up the stairs, followed by a door slam.

Sharon had edged closer to see the card, and her eyes went wide.

Joe didn't care. He took off after Kris, Frank right at his heels. He'd recognized her expression.

Terror…