The Singing Santa - Part 4 - A Craven Danger Mystery

Craven Danger took a seat on the number six downtown train and fiddled with his ukulele.

“Are you gonna sing to your reindeer?” said a little girl sitting opposite.

“Excuse me?” said Craven.

“I never seen Santa with a ukulele before, is all,” said the girl. “I thought maybe you sing your reindeer to sleep like my daddy does for me.”

“Oh, no,” said Craven. “I’m just goin’ ta work at the Empire State Building.”

“Ain’t it a little pointy?” said the girl.

“Is what pointy?”

“The Empire State Building,” said the girl. “For landing your reindeer, I mean.”

I knew I shouldn’t a wore the suit, thought Craven. Now I got everybody starin’ at me.

“Where are your reindeer?” continued the little girl.

”Oh, Im not really--”

“They don’t allow animals on the subway,” interrupted the girls mother. “Santa Claus here is going to meet them on the observation deck of the Empire State Building. Plenty of room up there. Isn’t that right, Santa?”

“That’s right,” said the girl’s grandmother. “The Empire State Building is where the reindeer get fed before visiting the homes of all the good little boys and girls in New York. Isn’t that right Santa?”

“That’s right,” said an elderly man sitting next to Craven. “And I know for a fact that Santa does sing his reindeer to sleep. And I’ll bet, if you ask him, Santa would be happy to sing a song for you right now. Isn’t that right, Santa?”

Craven Danger mulled it over, but figured slugging an old guy while dressed in his Santa suit might not sit well with this subway crowd. Especially on Christmas Eve.

“I suppose I could sing something,” said Craven.

“How about Santa Claus is Comin’ ta Town?”

“Yes!” said the girl. “I know that one!”

“Hey!” said the elderly man. “Listen up everybody! Santa’s going to sing us all a song!”

Now I know I can’t slug him, thought Craven. Too many witnesses.

“Can I sit on your lap?” said the girl.

“Of course you can,” said the elderly man. “He’s just been waiting for you to ask him.”

The girl climbed onto Craven’s lap and handed him a piece of paper.

“What’s this?” said Craven.

“It’s my Christmas list,” said the little girl. “I had to make a few adjustments since I wrote you the first time. So it’s a good thing I caught up with you. Must be my lucky day. I know you’re busy, Santa, but can read it when you get to your sleigh?“

“Sure," said Craven. “I’m a sucker for little sweetie pie’s."

Craven wrapped an arm around the girl’s waist, plucked a few notes on his ukulele and began to sing.

Oh, ya betta watch out.
Ya betta not cry.
ya betta not pout.
Im tellin’ ya why. . .

Soon, the number six downtown train was ringing with the voices of a few dozen strap hangers. Everyone a stranger. Except for this one warm and wonderful Christmas Eve.