All Hallow's Eve
by Pho
'Nuts, I need nuts.' Peter frantically foraged through the bags in the shelter kitchen. "God, I must be nuts. Why did I volunteer for this? Ah HA!" Snatching the oversized can of Planter's mixed nuts from its hiding place near the stove, Peter thrust it into the hands of a child no older than ten, "Here, Beatrice, take that to Father Bishop."
The little girl's short curls shook as she struggled not to laugh. "'kay, but he needs the ... butter mints too." Her tone indicated a lack of familiarity with the item she'd been sent to fetch, and Peter smiled as he cupped her elfin face in his hand.
"And he shall have them, my dear," He purred in his best imitation of Wolf Gannett - star of surprisingly popular martial art flicks. Producing the can from another sack, he smiled. "Would you like one?"
"I guess so." The child's words said yes, but her body language said no as her face crinkled in disgust. "But..."
Peter popped a pink mint into her mouth before she could finish her protest. Green eyes widened as the sugary treat melted on her tongue. "Oh! They don't taste like butter at all!"
"No, they don't. Now don't eat them all, just yet." He laughed as she confiscated a few more. "Take the nuts and the mints to Father Bishop."
"Yes, sir."
"Mr. Caine?" A little boy of about eight appeared in the doorway, eyes wide as saucers. "Mr. Batman wants to know who has the black and orange crate paper."
"Crate paper? Oh, crepe paper. Blast, I thought I..." Peter's words died away as he fumbled in yet another paper sack. "Yes! Here it is, Alfonzo. Take it to Ker...Batman."
"Cool!" Tiny feet shod in shoes almost too small propelled the boy out of the kitchen.
Peter sighed, then turned back to the bags. "Where are the apples? Can't go bobbing for apples without apples. I know I bought them or did I?"
"You did not, my son. Master Lo Si and I purchased them in the market on the way over here." Kwai Chang Caine's always sedate tones were music to Peter's ears.
"Thanks ... Pop." Peter's voice faded away as he stared at the pair before him. Lo Si was dressed all in black; the stereotypical garb of a Dark Ninja, complete with rubber ninja stars. At least Peter hoped they were rubber. "Lo Si, you look wicked. Absolutely wicked."
The old man's eyes crinkled with his laughter. "Thank you, Young Caine. And ... they are rubber."
Peter shook his head, laughing as he turned to greet his father, who was elegantly dressed as a Chinese War Lord. "Glad you could come, Pop. You look ... great. Where'd you get the duds?"
"The duds, as you say, were a gift from the Emperor. He regrets he cannot attend this function himself, but perilous times keep him in hiding."
"Where would you like us?" Lo Si interrupted.
"Oh. Well, Lo Si, I think your get-up makes you perfect for the Haunted House, and Pop, would you please run the wishing well?"
"Wishing Well?" A brief look of confusion crossed Caine's face before he could prevent it.
Peter nodded eagerly. "Yeah, all the folks at the 101st and the Chinatown Fire Department took up a collection and bought small prizes that the kids will wish for. They'll make a wish, and toss a fake coin into the well. Then they'll get a prize. The trick will be in picking out the perfect prize for the child since they won't be able to tell what they're wishing for. But most of these kids have so little, anything will seem like magic to them."
Caine nodded, his smile betraying his pride in his only child. "I would be honored, my son."
"Terrific, thanks Pop. Ya know, I really hope this goes well. Father Bishop's never had a Halloween fundraiser for the homeless shelter before. He might not have agreed to let us run one this time, if this building didn't need a roof so badly. Look at the size of that leak." Peter pointed upwards to a large water stain on the ceiling.
Caine's reply was interrupted by a female voice.
"Peter, get a move on with those chips and I want to put out a second punch bowl. You did remember to pick up the one at the parsonage, didn't you? Oh, Master Caine, Lo Si, good to see you here. Well, Peter?" Simms put her hands on her hips, then sighed as she repositioned the toy gun at her side again. "Darn thing keeps slipping."
Lo Si smiled slyly. "I will assist you in stopping the slippage, my dear, but who are you dressed as?"
Karen snorted a laugh. "Bonnie, of Bonnie and Clyde fame. Frank came as Clyde." She eyed Peter doubtfully. "The punchbowl?"
"Right here, Captain." Peter breathed a sigh of relief as he found it behind three large bags of chips. "Don't bleed in it."
"Very funny." She glanced down at her blouse, which was covered with fake bullet holes and blood. "You don't think I'll scare the kids, do you?"
Peter frowned, and looked troubled. "Unfortunately, no. They've all seen it before, but for real, dammit. They probably won't even notice the fake stuff."
Simms nodded solemnly, reluctantly agreeing with his assessment, "Too true, but maybe they'll have some fun tonight."
"Tonight? Skipper, those kids have been having a blast decorating this place. I'm not sure I want to know how, but Kermit's managed to use up seven, no eight rolls of crepe paper. And four cans of that Silly String stuff too."
Karen grinned broadly. "You haven't seen the haunted house, have you?"
"Uh, no."
"Drop in, I'm told the spider's web is enormous." Gathering the bowl, chips and a jug of punch into her arms, the captain made her way back to the main room.
Peter gasped as the clock chimed half-past five. "Five-thirty? No. It can't be. Pop, Lo Si, will you please make sure everyone's about ready. The doors open for business at six and I'm hoping for a good turnout." He sighed as a piece of plaster fell from the ceiling. "Like I said, this shelter can really use a new roof."
"There is already a long line out front, my son."
"How long?"
"It stretches around the corner, and...." Caine looked concerned as Peter's face turned grave. "What is wrong, Peter?"
"In this neighborhood, we'll probably have a fight any minute. Blast!"
"Oh I don't think so, Peter my boy." A heavyset woman of about fifty bustled her way into the kitchen. "My girls have it under control. Now, what do you need me to do?"
"Just stand there and look beautiful, Mother Angelica."
"Well, my lad, I can do that, but I'm thinking the Good Lord would rather I be useful. Would you like me to take over unloading the sacks and organizing the kitchen? You don't seem to have made much progress."
Peter blushed, then cringed as he ran his fingers through his slicked back hair. Grabbing a dishtowel, he frantically rubbed the goo off. "Ugh. Nasty stuff." Smiling at the Mother Superior, he responded. "And thanks, taking charge of the kitchen would really be a help. The local merchants have been really generous. I didn't expect nearly this much ... stuff. Besides, I need to make sure Kermit hasn't rigged the weight booth to give some poor person a heart attack."
"I do agree, now scoot, the lot of you. Let a woman show you how it's done."
Lo Si and Caine bowed respectfully to the woman, who merely beamed at them as they left. Peter, however, stopped in the doorway. "Mother, how are your nuns controlling the crowd?"
"Why with a bake sale, my boy. This place could use a roof. Now be off with ya!" She snapped a dishtowel at him, causing him to yelp and dodge as he fled the kitchen.
******
Thirty minutes later, Sister Naomi and Sister Ruth opened the doors. The door fee of 'whatever you can afford' gained the entrant access to most of the activities available to their age group. From pennies to dollars to twenties, the fees were paid. Even the most stalwart of the area residents fell victim to the knowing stares of the two nuns, contributing, in most cases, more than they'd originally planned.
Peter struggled to avoid looking at the over-large cardboard cutouts of the man he was imitating. It was too much like looking in a mirror - which, he reminded himself, was why he'd been picked as Wolf's stunt double for his second, or was it third, film. It was also why he'd been blessed with several cases of 'signed' pictures of the actor himself to be distributed.
To his surprise, the Wolf booth, with the famous Wolf howl in the background, became an instant hit among boys and girls. And both sexes wanted to see the famous back kick that had saved the actor so many times in the movies. Sighing, he rose, and demonstrated a back kick. Almost immediately, a chorus of young voices pronounced it wrong. Mentally kicking himself for not remembering the flowery nonsense that Wolf had added to the kick, Peter forced himself to laugh. "So you really were paying attention." Screams of "YES" almost deafened him. Maintaining his smile, he launched into Wolf's version of the kick, to the oooh's and ahhh's of his audience.
"Excellent, Peter, but a little ... athletic for indoors, don't you think?" Father Bishop smiled as he approached the booth.
"Sorry, Father. But my public demanded a demo."
"Well, one's enough. Tell you what, you make yourself useful - minus the kicks, of course - elsewhere, and I'll hand out the autographed photos of the Wolfman." Deliberately getting the name wrong, the priest and the cop barely restrained their mirth as the children loudly corrected him. As the priest laughingly took his seat behind a card table, Peter slipped away into the crowd.
He cheerfully wandered amid the chaos, listening as childish squeals of delight filled the air. Screams interrupted the children's laughter as yet another set of terrified visitors fled the haunted house. Moving closer, Peter caught sight of Lo Si's smiling face peering out of a barred window. Moving closer, he whispered, "Lo Si, just what are you doing?"
"Nothing, Young Caine, the spirits are most willing to aid us in our goal tonight. After all, it is Halloween."
"Yes, but..." Peter caught sight of a giggling woman exiting the fortune-teller's booth. "Carry on, Lo-Si."
Moving quickly to head off the next entrant into the booth, Peter slipped through the canvas door, throwing a couple of dollars into the exhibit's contribution basket as he went. The lantern cast an eerie glow on the walls, and a crystal ball shone mysteriously in the middle of circular table. A woman's voice spoke softly, seductively, "Welcome to Elvira's world, where I am mistress of the dark. I know all, see all, tell all---"
"Truer words were never spoken."
"Put a lid on it, Peter." Mary Margaret looked mildly offended as she brushed back the hair from her long, black wig. "What do you want?"
"Just curious about why the widow Marchant is giggling like a school girl?"
"Oh, I told her she has a secret admirer."
"Skalany!"
"But she does, Peter. Mr. Spencer down on Seventh has wanted to ask her out for years. When he comes in, I'm going to tell him too. Those two have been alone entirely too long."
"What if he doesn't come in? What then?"
"Oh he'll come in, all right. Elvira's charms are not to be denied. Besides..."
"Besides what?" Peter crossed his arms and looked suspiciously at the woman.
"He's number five in line, I can see him through my peephole."
"Mary Margaret, you are incorrigible."
"Why thank you, Peter, that's the nicest thing you've said to me in a very long time. Now get out."
"Yes, Ma'am." He ducked out the entryway as she hurled a glove, dodged a group of way-too-sugared children, eyed a group of elaborately dressed goblins suspiciously, and then headed for the booth where Count Dracula was surrounded by a wide variety of costumed critters.
"TJ...uh, Count? Need some help?" Peter's voice barely carried over the shouting contestants.
TJ's heavily made-up face looked definitely relieved as he responded. "Yes, please. Just got a new group in and I can't seem to set up fast enough. Hey! Let go of the cape!"
"Excuse me, pardon me, let me through." The polite catch phrases weren't working. Peter didn't want to dampen the good mood by becoming loud and obnoxious, but ... He was momentarily distracted by the sudden appearance of Red Riding Hood. Red cape, blonde curls, shapely legs - very shapely legs - and a short red dress. Very short. The basket she carried was covered in red lace, in keeping with her outfit.
"Don't stare, Peter, it's not polite." Jody turned her charms on the older teens waiting to throw orange and black beanbags at the images of witches, scarecrows, pumpkins, and black cats lining the shelves of the 'toss and win' game. "Excuse me, gentlemen." Smiling she eased her way through the all-too-ogling teens, the predominately male crowd parting like the Red Sea before Moses as she made her way to the booth. "Count, where do you want me?"
TJ fought back a strong desire to lust after the woman in red, carefully schooling his pasty white face, with bloodstained lips into a mask of what he hoped was evil. "Ah, my dear Miss Red, if you'll be so kind as to hand out the prizes to the winners, I'll set back up after each person tosses his, or her, limit." Turning to the crowd surrounding him, he continued, "Which is three tosses per person. Want to give as many folks as possible a chance to win."
"What do we gotta knock over to win Red Riding Hood there, Count?" A leering teen smirked as his friends added their cheers to his question.
Before TJ could recover, Jody smilingly responded, "A bank, but then of course you'd get my company, the count's, and a jury of twelve as a send-off down the river. Now who's next?" Her eyes settled on a small boy and girl, obviously siblings, who'd managed to make it to the front of the 'line'. Their dark brown eyes glowed with excitement as she handed the orange and brown beanbags to the boy. "Throw three times, honey, then let your sister try." Focusing her attention on the remaining crowd, she let some of her cop voice come through. "Two lines, one behind her, the other behind him. The rules are simple, not in line, no throw. Now move it people, and have a good time."
Shaking his head, Peter headed toward the 'guess your weight' game run by Batman. Edging up to the Caped Crusader, he asked, "Wouldn't you have been more comfortable coming as the Green Lantern? After all, your car..."
"Not funny, Caine. Batman's much more popular with the little ones." Kermit's mask emphasized his eyes, which seemed somehow, much more humorless than usual.
Noting his friend's severe look, Peter asked, "Problems?"
"Not any more. Couple of folks wanted to argue with my guesses."
"The nerve of some people."
"True. So true. But they saw the error of their ways."
"I see." He peered into the contribution basket. "You seem to be making a good bit on the *voluntary* contributions, Kermit. People must really want their weight guessed."
"Oh yeah!" The sparkle in the ex-mercenary's eyes told Peter it was time to move on. No sense spoiling the older man's fun, and after all, it was for a good cause.
Childish wails caught his attention, and he whirled to see if there was a problem. The sight that met his eyes caused him to laugh out loud. Frank, aka Clyde, Strenlich was completely soaked as he stood dazed, holding a tub of apples in his arms. Karen, aka Bonnie, Simms was dabbing at the floor with a towel while one of the street cops, Natalie Murray, consoled a little girl with a knot on her head. "It's okay, honey, as soon as we're set up, you can go again, only this time, don't climb on the edge of the tub." Peter headed over to help only to have an efficient crew of shelter volunteers fly by with mops, brooms and towels. Grinning as he realized the helpers were all dressed as witches, he opted to leave the clean up to their capable hands.
Passing the large community sleeping area, Peter paused in the doorway to watch as the vice cops conducted a dance competition ... for money of course. The contestants paid to compete, then danced to win dance lessons at Madame Larosa's School of Hot Feet. All in all, a bizarre set-up run by a group of brightly dressed men and their scantily clad partners, making good use of their normal undercover outfits. Shaking his head, he moved away from the door, and headed for the Wishing Well to see how his father was coping with the hordes of small children the game was designed to attract.
Sure enough, there was a veritable sea of kids, of all shapes, sizes, and costumes gathered squealing around the well. An authentic-looking rainbow started at the edge of the 'lawn' surrounding the well, and ended inside the well. In keeping with the Halloween theme, an animated leprechaun gave chase to a black cat, complete with stolen gold piece, across a misty pond. Taking note that he'd soon need another piece of dry ice to keep the effect going, Peter eased his way through the children toward his father. The younger Caine smiled softly as he watched Beatrice toss her token tentatively into the well. He watched along with the other children as a Barbie doll, in Halloween costume rose from the bowels of the well. Grinning as the delighted child pulled the doll into a loving embrace, Peter suddenly frowned as he realized two things, one, there'd been no Barbie dolls in their inventory of prizes, and two, the doll hadn't been tied to anything. Moving to stand beside Caine, Peter whispered, "Pop, whatcha doing?"
Caine glanced at his son. "I am performing my function as a Wishing Well proprietor."
"But...but the doll wasn't tied to anything."
Caine merely shrugged.
"And, there wasn't a Barbie in the inventory."
Caine's eyebrow arched. "It was my understanding that the purpose of this event was to give each child the perfect prize."
"Yes, but..."
"*That* is what I am doing, my son. If you are not here to assist, perhaps you should empty the contribution baskets? They appear to be quite successful."
More than a little startled at the dismissal in his father's voice, Peter, aka Wolf Gannet - movie star, wandered off to do as he was told, leaving his father to satisfy the desires of his next small customer.
******
The witching hour had come and gone by the time all the 'guests' had been herded from the shelter. The resident adults then set to work to put the place back together. Meanwhile, the shelter's children were mesmerized by stories told by Kwai Chang Caine and Lo Si. Stories designed to enthrall at first, in keeping with the wired, sugar-loaded little bodies. Gradually the stories calmed in pace, leaving the children blinking sleepily as the grown-ups came to steer them to their beds.
Back in the kitchen, the detectives of the 101st counted, and guarded, the money. The take from the doors had exceeded $500.00, and the early count of the contributions added another $127.00 to that total. The bake sale had netted $152.75. Grand total - $779.75. Not quite enough for a new roof, but it was a good start. Hoping the remaining contributions would bring the total to $1000.00, the officers counted each basket with care. A cheer went up as the next to the last basket brought the total to $975.82. If the average per basket kept up, they'd easily reach their goal. Kermit frowned as he lifted the last basket onto the table.
"Too heavy for ya, Kermit?" Jody teased.
"No. Too light. Way too light."
Not a word was spoken as he eased back the cover to reveal a nearly empty basket. The collective groan of disappointment was replaced by a gasp of astonishment as a crisp, new $1000.00 bill was placed on the table.
Father Bishop, whose parish had operated the shelter for years, was beaming with delight. "Who...who could have been so generous? With the amount we've collected, the volunteer labor, and the discounted supplies, we can get the roof replaced before Thanksgiving."
Karen swallowed back the lump in her throat. "We'll probably never know. But I'll take the money home with me, and deposit into the shelter's account in the morning. I don't want your people at risk with such a large amount of cash on hand."
"Thank you." Father Bishop smiled, "You've all been very kind, but you must be exhausted."
Several detectives immediately swallowed yawns as a chorus of "you're welcome, and we're fine" reached his ears. Simms shook her head. "Let's head home, people, we've got a busy day tomorrow, and we're all on duty. And yes, if you wish to wear your costumes in, it's allowed, provided they don't interfere with your job. Good night and thanks to everyone, but a special thank you to Peter Caine, who did an outstanding job of organizing this event."
Peter blushed bright red as the applause rang out. An urgent 'shush', from Simms quieted the group before they could wake the sleeping kids, and the volunteers quickly departed in hopes of catching a few hours of sleep before they had to head for the office. Peter hurried to catch up with Caine and Lo Si, who had eluded him as they left the shelter.
"Pop, Lo Si, wait up!" He jogged after the pair as they ambled down the sidewalk. Turning to wait for the younger man, the Chinese War Lord, and the Ninja looked inscrutable and menacing where they stood in the moonlight.
"Yes, Peter?" Caine noticed that his son had managed to remove all traces of the 'make-up' he'd worn for the better part of the evening.
"I just wanted to thank you both for coming tonight. I'm sure the haunted house and the wishing well wouldn't have been the same without you."
Lo Si's eyes were gleaming in delight. Rubbing his hands together, he replied. "It was, as you say, no problem, young Caine. I have not had so much fun in years."
"Indeed, Peter, it was our pleasure. I believe everyone had a wonderful time."
Running his fingers nervously through his hair, Peter asked, "The $1000.00 bill came from the Emperor, didn't it? I mean, he was here tonight, wasn't he?"
"Was he?"
"Come off it, Pop. That group of goblins were the Emperor and his guards, weren't they?"
"Why do you think that, young Caine?"
"Well, it was kinda obvious, at least to me. Their costumes had the imperial seal on them. I didn't get a chance to corner them, but I'm certain that's who they were."
Lo Si shook his head. "No, Peter, the Emperor is studying for an exam in his archaeology class. He went nowhere tonight. And I'm afraid that your goblins did not come into the haunted house."
"Pop, you saw them, didn't you?"
Caine shook his head. "I did not, but the building was very crowded."
Peter turned to stare at the shelter, and gasped, "There they are, on the sidewalk on the next corner."
The two older men peered into the darkness, then Caine spoke up gently, "There is no one there, my son."
"But Pop, Lo Si, they're right ... gone. They're gone. But where?"
"It is All Hallow's Eve, my son. The legends surrounding this night are many."
"I do not believe in ghosts, Pop."
"As you wish, Peter." The elder Shaolins exchanged knowing looks.
"But...but... you're not saying they weren't real, are you?"
"You are the one who saw them, young Caine, and the imperial seal as well. Our young emperor is not the only one of his line who has had the best interests of his people in his heart." With that, Lo Si and Caine walked away from the dumbfounded detective.
Peter watched the pair for a moment, wondering if it was Halloween or April Fool's, then glanced at the street corner where a single goblin now stood. To his astonishment, the goblin gave the Shaolin salute, then removed his mask to reveal an empty chasm where a face should be. Eyes glowed in the hollow recess as the 'goblin' faded into the darkness.
As the entity vanished, Peter stiffened as a cold chill ran down his spine. "I did *not* see that. I really did *not* see that. All Hallow's Eve, ghosts, right. Uh, Pop, Lo Si, wait for me!"
The End
and
Happy Halloween!!!
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