Page 50 of A Dye Hard Holiday

“I did no such thing.”

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” Robert replied smugly.

“I hate to break up this touching family moment here,” I said, interrupting them, “but I fail to see where a baggie with two joints is connected to the Christmas Bandits.”

“Where’s he getting the money to pay for his drug habit?” she asked me, then turned to face her son. “Care to tell us that?”

“I make ten dollars an hour at the McDonald’s in Goodville,” he told me. “I’m a recreational user, so I don’t spend a lot. Anyway, Captain, they caught me crawling into my window after I had a joint. I’m not your Christmas Bandit.”

“It’s a pathway drug, Robert.”

“Gateway, Matilda, and that’s debatable.”

Then the two of them began to argue back and forth about respecting each other and their spaces. Robert was pissed that Matilda searched his room and turned him in. She burst into tears and claimed she failed him as a mother.

“Excuse me,” I said, raising my voice to be heard. “I’m going to confiscate the weed—”

“Hey!”

“Do you have a prescription, Robert?”

“No,” he said, slumping in his chair.

“I’m confiscating the weed, as it is still an illegal substance in the state of Ohio.”

“You’ll probably smoke it yourself after I leave.”

Ignoring his remark, I said, “You’re free to go.”

“Wait! You’re not going to arrest him?”

“For what? Two joints? No, I’m not going to arrest him.” I took a calming breath before I continued. “You don’t have any evidence to connect him to the burglaries and acts of vandalism, so there’s nothing I can do on that front either.”

“Fine,” Matilda said, as she rose to her feet. “I might as well turn over the rest of his drug tools.”

“Paraphernalia,” Robert corrected. “And I don’t have any.”

“Oh, yes you do! I did another sweep of your room while you were in the shower this morning and found some things we overlooked last night.” She reached back into her purse and pulled out a plastic tube and dropped it onto my desk with athunk. “Here’s his pipe.”

“Oh my God,” Robert whined. I never knew a person’s face could turn that shade of red. I feared he would combust at any second. “I can’t believe you, Matilda!”

“I’m doing this for your own good, Robert. No more pipe or joints.”

The red faded from his cheeks and an ornery gleam sparked in his light eyes. “That’s not a pipe, Matilda.”

“Sure it is.” She nodded at me, expecting that I would back her up.

“It’s not a pipe,” I told her.

“Then what is it?” She picked it up and looked down one end of it. She eased a finger inside it. “It’s made from a weird, fleshy rubber.”

Robert smiled wickedly, and I could see him mentally counting down for the big moment. Three, two, one… “It’s a Fleshlight, Matilda. I use it to masturbate.”

“What?” She screeched then dropped it back onto my desk. “When did using your hand go out of style?”

“That’s so nineties, Matilda.”

“Well,” she said huffily. “We’ve wasted enough of the chief’s—um, captain’s—time. Let’s go home, Robert.”