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Streets of Joy is a mystery and a Christmas story. It will be available here for one week only.

A private eye helps out a neighbor when she needs an emergency babysitter. When he's called upon to find a missing homeless man he has no choice but to take his young charge out into the cold and snow with him.

Streets of Joy

by 

Charley Marsh

                                                      

Cooper wrapped the faded quilt tighter around his body and tried to ignore the breeze blowing through the cracks around the edges of the bedroom’s rattling windows. Snow ticked lightly against the glass, making the room feel colder. The old steam radiator hissed and clanked as it failed to keep up with the winter storm that had descended on the city nearly twenty-four hours before, shutting down all but the dingy neighborhood bars that never seemed to close.

Four hours of sleep was nowhere near enough.

He had just managed to doze off again when a knock sounded on his door.

“Go away!” There was no one he wanted to see. No one he expected to see.

“Mr. Cooper,” called a woman’s voice.

“I said, go away!”

The knocking continued, a strangely rhythmic staccato on his solid wooden door. The rest of the two-room bedsit might be falling down around his ears, but he swore that door would last forever.

“Dammit.” Cooper rolled off the thin mattress and onto his feet, wrapped the quilt around his shoulders, and shuffled barefoot across the rough wooden floor. He yanked open the door and scowled at the two people standing there.

“What? What is so godawful important?”

“Mr. Cooper. Please. Language.” Shawna Wright frowned at him and covered her young daughter’s ears. Cooper gave his upstairs neighbor a hard stare before lowering his gaze to the six-year old firecracker that couldn’t have weighed more than thirty pounds, yet managed to sound like a linebacker when stomping around overhead.

“Hi, Mr. Cooper.” The firecracker gave him a gap-toothed smile, hazel eyes bright with interest. Her chestnut hair had been tamed into a dozen pigtails that stuck out from her head in every direction. The kid was going to be a knock-out when she grew up.

“It’s just Cooper,” he corrected for the thousandth time.

Shawna ignored him–again. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cooper, but I’m desperate. Amy’s bus has been delayed and Mr. Findley insists I come in to serve breakfast or he’ll fire me. I can’t take Rose with me. Could you watch her until Amy gets home?”

Cooper narrowed his eyes at Rose. What he knew about children could fit inside a shot glass. He’d rather serve breakfast at Findley’s. He opened his mouth to say just that, but Rose was already inside. Shawna gave him a warm smile and thrust a pink backpack into his chest. He grabbed it without thinking.

“Thank you. I’ll bake you some cookies when I get home.”

“I don’t like coo–” Too late. She was gone. Cooper turned to stare at Rose, who had already removed her coat and hat and boots and left them in a heap by the door. She circled the space that passed for Cooper’s living room and kitchen, inspecting the sparse furnishings with a slight moue of disgust that looked better suited for an adult’s face, and finally settled on the sagging couch.

His scowl deepened.

“Where’s your tree?”

“What do I need a tree for?”

“Well, you could put the presents you give to your friends under it. Besides, how will Santa know where to leave your presents if you don’t put up a tree?”

“Kid, you’ve got a lot to learn. Stay here while I get dressed.”

“You’re already dressed,” Rose pointed out. He slept in long thermal underwear. If he didn’t, he’d have frozen to death by now.

“I need to dress my feet.” He retired to the bedroom and shut the door behind him. He held no hope that Amy’s bus would arrive. Not the way it’d been snowing all night. He had things to do and babysitting was not one of them. What the hell was he supposed to do with the kid all day?

Not trusting that she would stay where he left her, he remembered to shut the bathroom door while he took a leak. He searched his reflection in the cracked mirror over the toilet, but nothing had changed. A reporter once described his face as “creased and droopy, as if the things Cooper has witnessed have weighed him down so much he has given up trying to hold it in place."

The words were truer than he cared to admit.

Another knock sounded as he pulled insulated coveralls over his underwear. He grabbed his heavy socks and hurried to answer it. Perhaps Amy had made it home after all.

“Do not open that door.” Rose took her small hand from the dead bolt.

“You have company.”

“Doubtful. Move away from the door.” There was no telling who would be on the other side and he didn’t want to have to explain to Shawna that the kid had gotten in the way of a fist or a knife. He waited until she retreated to the couch, trying and failing to ignore the hurt expression on her face, and scowled even more fiercely because he wasn’t going to let this little spitfire get to him. He turned back to the door.

“Who is it?”

Silence.

“I said, who is it? I’m not opening this door until you answer.”

“Mabel.” The rest was lost in a mumble.

Mabel, a street person of indeterminate age, never entered a building if she could help it. She claimed she felt too confined when inside. She was one of the more lucid street people Cooper often dealt with. Only something serious could force her to his door. He slapped back the dead bolt and opened the door.

“What’s wrong?” No point in beating around the bush. Cooper knew from experience that the more time Mabel spent indoors, the less coherent she became.

“Goose is missing.” Blue jeans peeked out from beneath the bedraggled, dirt-stained flounce of Mabel’s flannel nightgown. Like many street dwellers, she wore multiple layers of clothing. A three-quarter length men’s wool coat engulfed her round form. Her fingers, exposed in the fingerless gloves she favored, plucked and danced at her side. Behind her stood the wheelie cart that held her worldly possessions.

Cooper didn’t judge. He lived barely a half-step better than citizens like Mabel.

“How long?”

The fingers began to jerk. “Last night. On Wednesday. We pick Deering Street on Wednesday. We start at opposite ends, meet in the middle.” Her fingers flashed. “We switch ends cause it’s only fair. Some houses are better picking than others.”

“What happened?”

“Goose never met me. I checked his sleeping spot. He never showed.”

Cooper nodded. “Could he have found a half empty bottle?” He of all people knew how a person could get lost in a bottle.

Mabel shook her head. “Nah. Goose doesn’t drink. I hafta go. You’ll look for him?”

“Yeah, I’ll look. Soon as I can.”

“Usual fee? Don’t wait too long. He missed his insulin shot this morning.” Mabel grabbed the wheelie’s handle and hurried down the hall, one wheel squeaking. The urge to stop her and lubricate the wheel was strong, but Cooper resisted. Mabel had reached her indoor limit. He’d have to get the wheel another time. He wondered what half-broken item she’d pull from the cart to pay him with.

When he turned around he saw that Rose had put on her jacket and boots and was digging through the pink backpack. Crayons and a coloring book, a Christmas story book, and a small stuffed dog with one ear were spread across the couch.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

She pulled a pair of mittens from the bottom of the backpack with a triumphant smile. “We have to go look for your friend.”

“He’s not my–” He didn’t do friends, but if he did, the street people were the closest he came.

Rose pulled on her hat and mittens and waited by the door. “Goose needs you. You can’t leave me here alone, so I have to come with you to help you look.”

Cooper hated that the kid was right. Goose missing was troubling, especially with the spate of recent deaths among the city’s homeless population. Mabel had a legitimate reason to be worried.

He pointed a finger at her. “You have to do what I say, and no arguing."

He didn’t trust the grin she gave him, not one little bit.

#

Five minutes later, Cooper was striding over the cobbled streets in his waterfront neighborhood with Rose on his shoulders. She wore his windbreaker over her winter coat, the end of the sleeves in fat puffy rolls up to her tiny mittens. He’d tied a clean pair of long underwear around her neck and lower face while she giggled, doing his best to make her cold-proof.

The snow still fell, albeit slower, and the wind had died. The flakes were bigger, which meant the air was beginning to warm, and the night had lightened to a cold pewter gray.

A fluffy coat of white softened the old red brick buildings and hid the cars parked along the streets. He walked in the snowy street, the usual city traffic absent. A tom cat yowled in a nearby alley. A street plow rumbled up near the city center, its yellow lights flashing. A few industrious tenants were already out shoveling the sidewalks in front of their buildings. Several wished them a good morning. Cooper was content to let Rose answer.

Deering Street, where Goose had been last seen, lay on the opposite side of the peninsula and one street down from Congress Street, which followed the elevated spine of the city.

As they climbed the gradual rise, Rose’s muffled chatter faded into the background. A police car traveled toward them on the empty street, slowed down, and flashed their lights. Cooper gave a half-wave and kept walking.

He considered the unusual number of deaths among the homeless over the the previous five days. While winter was typically hard on street dwellers, this December’s weather had been relatively mild up until the previous night’s snowstorm and therefore couldn’t be blamed for the increase in deaths.

“Oooh, Mr. Cooper, look! So pretty.” Rose kicked her boots against Cooper’s chest in excitement. The art school, which had taken over one of the city’s oldest and largest department store buildings when it closed, had turned the large display windows into scenes from beloved Christmas classics.

“It’s the Grinch!” Rose pointed at a window with a strange green creature, a sleigh filled with wrapped gifts, and a little dog.

“And Rudolph!” Rose’s hands patted Cooper’s head in time with naming all of Santa’s reindeer. “I love Christmas.” Her tone changed, became wistful. “I hope Amy can get home. We’re supposed to decorate our tree tonight.”

“Your tree isn’t up yet?” He was surprised. With a child in the house, he assumed Shawna would be on top of all that Christmas hoo-rah.

“Mama needed a few more tips before we can buy a tree. Amy needed new boots ‘cause her feet grew and boots are more important than a tree.”

Rose didn’t sound upset or disgusted that Amy’s “feet grew”–she sounded matter-of-fact, like sacrificing for unexpected expenses was an expected part of life. For the first time, Cooper considered the private life of a single mother earning a low wage and trying to provide a safe home for her children.

They crossed over the eerily empty main street and headed one block west to Deering Street. Mabel had told him that Goose had taken the far end of Deering, so he walked to the middle of the four-block street and began his search.

Cooper knew that Goose would not have taken off on Mabel. The pair had developed a bond when they met three years earlier and had stuck together since, watching each other’s backs. 

Deering Street boasted large, old brick buildings that once housed Portland’s upper-middle class. Long since broken up into duplexes and apartments, the neighborhood still retained its privileged air. Every building had a side yard, most enclosed by a short, wrought-iron fence. In anticipation of the snow, the trash bins Goose and Mabel were searching had been brought in.

Because of the city’s parking ban, cars lined only one side of the street. Lights were on in many of the buildings as the residents prepared for their day. The sound of a shovel scraping against the brick sidewalk two blocks away rang clearly in the silent world. The smell of coffee, grease, and sugar wafted down from Dunkin Donuts on Congress Street, making Cooper’s stomach growl. When had he last eaten? Despite feeling hungry, he’d been too tired to whip anything up when he’d got in, falling face down on his bed instead.

Cooper stood in the middle of the street and wondered what to do. Rose had grown silent. What sort of trauma would he introduce to the child if they found Goose dead and frozen in the snow? He should take her back and look for Goose later, when Shawna finished work.

“We have to look for Goose,” Rose said, as if reading his thoughts. “He might be hurt and need our help.”

Cooper agreed. He plowed through a three foot deep snowbank and onto the sidewalk, none of which had been cleared. If Goose had been checking trash bins, he would have done it from the walk and not the street.

He spotted a dark boot sticking out of a pile of snow half under a large pine in the next yard and knew they’d found Goose. Turning away, he pulled his cheap cell from an inside chest pocket and hit number one on speed dial.

“Found another one.” He gave the address and slipped the phone back into the pocket.

“Rose.”

“Did we find Goose?”

The kid’s intelligence spooked him. No six-year old should have anything to do with dead bodies.

“Yeah, we found him. A policewoman is on her way. I want you to wait for me in her car where it will be warmer.”

“Okay.” Just like that. Okay. He relaxed slightly. Maybe he was better at this kid thing than he’d thought.

“Can I flash the lights and make the siren go?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Mama says because is no answer. I want to stay with you.”

“I need you to wait in the car.” He did not want Rose to see Goose when they dug him out.

“You’re supposed to be watching me. You can’t watch me in the car.”

And maybe he sucked at the kid thing if a six-year old could out-maneuver him.

Before he could argue further, a police car pulled up beside them and a woman dressed in a puffy dark blue down parka climbed out. Despite not being able to see her face, Cooper could feel Rose’s delight over seeing a female cop.

“Simmons. Thanks for coming so quickly.” He had worked with Detective Simmons several times over the last year and knew her to be good at her job. Good enough to earn her the first number on his speed dial.

“Where?”

“Over there, under the pine. Goes by the name of Goose. In decent health when I last saw him a few nights ago.” He took a deep breath, huffed it out in a white cloud. “I should have been out here. I might have stopped it.”

Simmons narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been burning the candle at both ends for a week now. Hate to break it to you, but even Superman has to sleep sometime.”

The sky had eased from dark pewter to pale gray and the snow stopped.

“I’ll call it in. Go home, Coop. We’ll talk later.”

“Right.” Cooper headed back toward Congress Street and Dunkin Donuts. He could use a cup of hot coffee and they had hot chocolate for the kid. He really should get Rose back to the apartment in case Amy came home, but he couldn’t. Not just yet.

“I have something I need to do before we go home,” he told Rose, watching her carefully spoon a tiny marshmallow from her chocolate and slurp it up with a satisfied smile. The coffee shop windows were steamed up, the floor muddied with clumps of melting snow and dirt. Several regulars sat at the counter, talking in low voices. The sole waitress stared at her phone and snapped gum while she waited for another customer to walk in.

Rose turned her killer eyes on him. “Are we going to look for someone else? Do you need to find Mabel and tell her Goose is dead?”

“How  did you know–never mind.” These days children were exposed to violence on tv and in movies and video games at a young age. He thought it was travesty but he couldn’t stop it.

“Yes, we need to look for someone else, but not Mabel.” Mabel could wait. He didn’t want to tell her Goose was dead without knowing how the man had died.

“Who are we looking for now?”

“His name is Milo. Drink up. We need to get going.” Rose had stripped off all the outerwear while he was getting their drinks. Suppressing a sigh, Cooper began the process of making her as weatherproof as he could. Finally they stood outside, Rose riding his shoulders once again. He didn’t want to admit that her presence felt strangely comforting.

Which way? He’d spent most of the night searching for Milo with no luck. His father avoided the homeless shelters, declaring them cesspools of germs and crazies. Like Mabel, Milo preferred the outdoors.

Deering Oaks Park. The location came to him unbidden. Unlike bridges over well-traveled streets, the park not only had a wide stone bridge to sleep under; the children’s playground equipment could also be used for shelter. He headed west toward the park, taking the sidewalks where they were cleared and the plowed High Street where they weren’t. The kid seemed to sense his need to concentrate and ceased her chatter.

He’d been searching for his father for two days now with increasing worry. Someone had begun smothering street people while they slept or were too out of it on drugs or booze to defend themselves. Four dead in five days. And now Goose. Goose wouldn’t have been asleep when attacked. The killer was escalating.

Milo, once a respected police detective, had lost everything to the bottle. Rather than continue to be a drag on his wife and fourteen year old son, he had packed a small canvas backpack with a change of clothes and walked out fifteen years before. Cooper had found him by chance one day when tracking down a missing teenaged girl. He’d found the girl living in a one-room slum with her loser boyfriend. The girl had been only too happy to be “forced” to go home.

Cooper had made a point of tracking down his father at least once a week after that and offering him a little money or a hot meal. Sometimes his father accepted, more often he refused. Whether because of shame or pride, Cooper couldn’t guess. They were two sides of the same coin.

It really didn’t matter. As long as Milo lived on the streets, Cooper would do what he could to protect him.

The storm had turned the fifty-five acre park into a winter wonderland, frosting the trees in white and covering the land in undulating waves of snow. They found two homeless men sleeping under the stone bridge. Cooper woke them and asked after Milo. One told him to try the playground and asked for money for food. Cooper slipped him a ten, knowing full well that little of it would go to nourish the man’s stomach.

The plows had yet to clear the park roads, so Cooper headed cross-country, taking the most direct route to the children’s playground. The snow reached his knees in the open and he was soon sweating under his insulated coveralls.

“I see someone!” Rose said, excitedly. She’d been quiet since they entered the park. Cooper had grown so used to her weight on his shoulders he’d almost forgotten she was there.

“Where?”

“Over by the slide.” Cooper swerved in that direction and saw a man kneeling in the snow by the bottom of the slide. His build didn’t look right for Milo, but he could ask after the old man.

The closer he drew, the odder the scene became. There was a second man lying under the slide, batting feebly at the kneeling man, but hindered by the slide over his head. It wasn’t until they were almost on top of them that Cooper understood what was happening. He whipped Rose off his shoulders and set her at the top of the slide.

“Stay there.”

The kneeling man went down easily under his tackle.

“Doc,” Cooper said, surprised. No one knew if Doc had truly been a doctor; it was his street name, accepted by all.

Excited brown eyes looked back at him. “Get off me, Coop. I need to help him sleep.”

Cooper glanced at his father gasping for air under the slide, then looked back at Doc, still on his back.

“Why do you help them sleep?”

Doc shook his head and looked determined. “Winters are too hard for them, Coop. It’s better if they go to sleep and don’t wake up. I help them. They need me, Coop. Let me up.”

Cooper stared at Doc for a long minute, before putting his knee on the man’s chest to hold him while he took out his phone.

“Simmons. I have your murderer. We’re at the Oaks playground.” He ended the call and put away his phone, but remained kneeling on Doc’s chest.

“Milo, you okay?”

“Maybe.” His voice rasped. “I thought I hallucinated a small child.”

The kid chose that moment to plow her way down the slide. She ignored Doc and crawled beneath the slide.

“Are you Mr. Milo? My name is Rose. Mama and Amy and me live upstairs from Mr. Cooper. Did you really sleep here in the snow?”

“Rose,” Cooper warned.

“Is she yours, Coop? Gonna be a knockout when she grows up. You’ll have your hands full protecting her.”

“No, Dad, she’s not mine.” Rose might not be his, but something told him his father was right–he was going to have his hands full protecting her.

A siren pierced the quiet. A plow that had been following it pulled ahead and cleared the park road by the playground. Detective Simmons pulled up, followed by a second cruiser. She was smiling when she joined them by the slide.

“Caught him in the act, huh? That’s great, Cooper. We’ll take it from here.” She gestured to the beat cops from the second car to take Doc and charge him with attempted murder. Bending at the waist she looked at the man under the slide.

“Mr. Milo? I’m a great fan of yours. I’m glad you’re all right, sir. If you’d like to come with me I can get your statement and take you to a shelter after.”

“That’s very kind of you, Detective, but no thank you.”

She straightened and looked at Cooper. “Tomorrow will be soon enough to come down to the station and file your report. Go home. Get some sleep.” She headed back to her car, but turned before she reached it.

“And Cooper–Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, Detective.”

Cooper turned his attention back to Milo and Rose and found the pair sizing one another up.

“Dad.”

“Milo.”

Cooper suppressed a sigh. “Milo. Tonight is Christmas Eve. Spend the night with me. I have a couch.”

“It’s pretty lumpy,” Rose pointed out. Cooper glared at her.

“You aren’t helping.”

Milo smiled. Had he ever seen his father smile? Cooper searched his memory but came up blank.

“You know, the couch might be just the ticket.” Milo rolled out the opposite side of the slide and stood. He pulled the canvas backpack, now stained and worn through in spots, onto one shoulder.

Cooper had no clue why, after fifteen years of asking his father to stay with him and being turned down every time, the old man decided to say yes. It didn’t matter, he realized. At least for tonight he’d know his father had shelter and was safe.

“Come on, kid. Up you go.” He settled the familiar weight on his shoulders and jerked his head toward the road. “Ready?” he asked his father.

“Lead on, MacBeth.”

“His name’s Mr. Cooper. Did you forget already?”

A strange creaky sound escaped both men’s lips. When had he last laughed? Certainly before Milo had left. Cooper glanced sideways at his father and saw a wide smile on the old man’s face. The kid had done the impossible. She had given them both something to smile about.

“Mr. Cooper?”

“Yes, Rose.”

“Now will you get a tree?”

“How about this? Why don’t we get a tree for your place and surprise your mother?” Silence greeted his suggestion.

“Rose?”

“Then we need two trees, Mr. Cooper. Don’t worry, I’ll help you pick out good ones.”

Cooper suppressed a smile. The kid was going to run circles around him if he wasn’t careful.

“All right, Rose. Just this once, we’ll get two trees.”

It was a small price to pay for the sound of his father’s laugh.

Copyright © 2023 by Charley Marsh
First published in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine, Jan/Feb 2024, edited by Janet Hutchings 

This story is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this story are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This story, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.