Home Alone 2

  "Sure." The men smiled.

  "I'm outta here!" Kevin was off the bench and out of the steam room in a flash.

  December 23

  Motel Two

  Miami, Florida

  9 P.M.

  Rain pelted the windows. The motel room smelled like someone's basement. The walls were covered with peeling yellow wallpaper. There were black cigarette burns on the windowsill and in the faded orange carpet.

  Sitting on the bed, Buzz stared out the window at the rusting car up on cinder blocks, the dead palm trees strung with fading Christmas lights, and the busted neon sign that had long since fallen down. Behind him Uncle Frank belched and scratched his stomach through his T-shirt.

  "I swear, Buzz," he said. "This place sure didn't look this bad when your Aunt Leslie and I honeymooned here."

  Buzz wished Uncle Frank would disappear. Then, as if a miracle had occurred, Uncle Frank did leave. Buzz smiled to himself and continued to stare out through the rain. But a moment later the door opened again.

  Darn it, Buzz thought. Why can't they leave me alone?

  "Buzz?" It was his brother Jeff.

  "What?" Buzz answered without turning around.

  "You're really upset, huh?" Jeff sat down on the bed.

  With his back to his brother, Buzz rolled his eyes. "Very."

  "Are you crying?" Jeff asked gently like he was some kind of therapist or something.

  Buzz smirked, but all Jeff saw were his brother's shoulders heave. "Not yet."

  "It's not your fault Kevin's gone," Jeff said as he started to undress. "We were all lousy to him. But it's gonna be okay. He's a tough little guy. He'll make it . . . wherever he is."

  Buzz nodded, but didn't reply. Jeff got into bed and turned off the light. "Try to get some sleep, Buzz. You'll go nuts staring out the window like that."

  Buzz nodded again, but didn't take his eyes off the window. In a motel room across the way, there was a gorgeous woman. She'd neglected to pull her shade down. Now that Jeff had turned off the light, it was a lot easier to see her. Buzz smiled to himself. He'd have to thank his brother someday.

  In the room next door, Kate also sat by a window. She had someone else in mind as she picked up the motel phone and dialed her home number.

  As she listened to the phone ring on the other end, she stared at the dusty plastic Christmas tree the motel staff had put on the nicked coffee table. What a sad Christmas this was turning out to be.

  Peter came out of the bathroom. He looked pale and his eyes were puffy. "Anything?"

  Kate shook her head and hung up the phone. "I tried the house. I thought he might be home."

  Peter slumped down on the bed next to her. "We'll just have to keep waiting."

  "Do you think he's okay?" Kate's eyes were filled with hope and worry. Peter didn't want to disappoint her, so he nodded. But the truth was, neither of them knew.

  December 23

  The Plaza Hotel

  10 P.M.

  Kevin was stretched out on the king-size bed, eating a large hot fudge sundae and watching a black-and-white gangster tape he'd rented from the hotel.

  Now this is a vacation! he thought with a big smile. On the TV screen a shapely woman let herself into a dimly lit room and tiptoed past the dark silhouette of a Christmas tree.

  "Hold it right there!" a raspy voice ordered.

  The startled woman gasped. "It's just me, Johnny."

  The lights went on, revealing Johnny, a tough-looking man with greased back hair, wearing a satin smoking jacket. He was a gangster.

  "I knew it was you, Carlotta," Johnny said. "I could smell ya gettin' off the elevator."

  "It's gardenias, Johnny," Carlotta said nervously. "Your favorite."

  Johnny didn't seem impressed. "You was here last night, too, wasn't ya?"

  "No, I was singin' at the Blue Monkey last night," Carlotta replied.

  On the bed, Kevin shook his head. "Don't listen to her, Johnny."

  Johnny didn't. "No you wasn't. You was here."

  "That's a dirty rotten lie, Johnny." Carlotta sounded hurt.

  "Don't gimme that," Johnny snarled.

  "No, no." Carlotta shook her head. "You got me all wrong."

  "All right, I believe ya," Johnny said, reaching down behind his desk and bringing up a black machine gun. "But my tommy gun don't!"

  "Johnny!" Carlotta gasped and trembled. "I'm all wool and a yard wide! You're the only duck in my pond!"

  "Get down on your knees and tell me you love me." Johnny pointed the machine gun at the floor and Carlotta quickly dropped to one knee.

  "Baby, I'm over the moon for you," Carlotta begged.

  Johnny shook his head. "Ya gotta do better than that."

  "If my love was an ocean, Lindy'd have to take two airplanes to get across!" Carlotta cried.

  Johnny was quiet for a moment. "Maybe I'm off my hinges, but I believe you," he said, raising his gun. "That's why I'm gonna let you go."

  On the bed, Kevin stopped eating. "Forget it. She's rat bait."

  On the screen, Johnny leveled the tommy gun at Carlotta. "You got to the count of three to get your lousy, lyin', low-down, four-flushin' carcass out that door. One! . . . Two! . . ."

  Carlotta scrambled toward the door, but it was too late. The tommy gun roared and bright flashes of light burst from its muzzle. Kevin covered his eyes as Carlotta fell in a heap.

  Johnny lowered the smoking tommy gun and grinned sadistically. "Merry Christmas, ya two-timin' floozy!"

  Kevin turned off the TV and took a big breath. That was enough for now. Suddenly there was a sharp knock on the living room door. He'd been expecting trouble and it sounded like it had just arrived. Kevin quickly hopped off the bed, turned off the bedroom lights, and ran to the bathroom.

  Now the doorbell was ringing. In the bathroom, Kevin turned on the shower full blast. He made sure the inflatable clown was in the right position behind the shower curtain, then took the strings he'd attached to the clown's arms and head and hid behind the sink with his Talkboy.

  Back in the living room, the doorknob slowly turned and the door opened. A tall man in a dark suit peeked in. He was the hotel concierge. He was suspicious because the mysterious Mr. McCallister had never shown up to sign the credit card slip and hotel reservation papers. The concierge tiptoed through the dark living room and pushed the bedroom door. Kevin had left the bathroom door ajar. The concierge saw the light coming out and heard the sound of the running shower. He quietly stepped into the darkened bedroom.

  Crouched behind the sink, Kevin pressed "play" on his Talkboy and Uncle Frank's off-key rendition of "Cool Jerk" began to fill the steamy room.

  In the middle of the dark bedroom, the concierge froze and stared at the bathroom doorway. That wasn't a kid singing. He quietly crept toward the bathroom door and opened it just enough to look in.

  Kevin started pulling on the strings that made the inflatable clown's arms and legs jerk, imitating the dance Uncle Frank had done. At the doorway, the concierge saw a shadow moving inside the steamed-up shower. He pushed the bathroom door open a little more. Suddenly Kevin had the clown spin around and shake one arm angrily.

  "Get outta here, you nosy little jerk!" Frank's voice shouted angrily out of the Talkboy. "Or I'll come out and slap you silly!"

  The concierge's eyes went wide. The kid really did have a father! Knowing he could lose his job for sneaking into an occupied room, the concierge turned and hurried out of the bedroom.

  Uhgg! He tripped over a wing chair in the living room and fell to his knees. A moment later he crawled out the door.

  Kevin heard the concierge fall and the door shut. He came out from his hiding place and left the bathroom. In the bedroom he turned on the light and looked around to make sure nothing had been taken. The brown travel bag was lying on the bed and Kevin opened it just to make sure.

  Everything was there. But instead of closing the bag, Kevin picked up his father's address book and thumbed through it. Under M
he found:

  McCallister, Rob

  51 W. 95th Street

  New York, NY

  If Uncle Rob's back from Paris, he thought, I should pay him a visit. He usually gives pretty good presents.

  Kevin dropped the address book back into the bag and took out his father's wallet. Inside was a family photo taken the previous spring. Buzz had him in a stranglehold, Jeff was making rabbit ears over his mother's head. His father was trying to look very formal with his arms on Megan's and Linnie's shoulders, but Megan was blowing a bubble and Linnie was yawning.

  What a bunch of wahoo's, Kevin thought. Then he looked out the window at the vast, dark New York night. The streetlights in Central Park glowed and distant windows shimmered in the buildings that lined the park. Kevin imagined families being together inside those buildings. It was Christmas and his family was far away in Florida. They may have been wahoos, but they were his wahoos. For the first time since he'd gotten off the jet at La Guardia, Kevin felt an ache in his heart and knew he really missed them.

  December 24,

  The Day Before Christmas

  The Plaza Hotel

  7:30 A.M.

  Someone was knocking on his door.

  "Okay, Mom, I'm coming," Kevin mumbled in his sleep. He opened his eyes and found himself in a strange room. The memory of the previous day rushed back at him. He wasn't home in Oak Park, he was alone in a hotel suite in New York.

  Knock, knock.

  "Uh, just a minute," Kevin yelled. He hopped out of bed and pulled on the fluffy white hotel bathrobe he'd worn to the pool the day before. It was sort of big and dragged behind him on the floor, but it would do.

  Knock, knock, knock!

  "Okay, coming." Kevin went to the door and opened it. Out in the hall, the bellman was holding a hanger with Kevin's undershorts cleaned and folded under plastic.

  "Jeez! Don't flash these babies around. There could be girls on this floor." Kevin grabbed the hanger and pulled it inside the room. Then he stuck his head out and looked around. Fortunately the hall was empty.

  "I was very careful, sir," the bellman assured him.

  "When it comes to underwear, you can never be too careful," Kevin said. The bellman looked suitably humbled and Kevin felt a little sorry for him, so he gave him another stick of Juicy Fruit.

  Back in the bathroom, Kevin took his time showering and then stood before the mirror and slowly combed his hair. Ahead loomed a long, empty day. Kevin was starting to realize that he wasn't crazy about vacationing alone, especially in a place where he'd never been and didn't know anyone. He would have called his parents, but he didn't know where in Miami they were staying, and even though he had a return ticket to Chicago, there was no sense in going home to an empty house on a block where all the neighbors were away for the holidays. So he'd just have to make the best of the situation.

  At least staying at the Plaza had some rewards, like a bathroom counter covered with free stuff like combs and shavers and shampoos. Kevin spied a blue bottle of after-shave lotion. It had been a year since he'd last tried this stuff, and he thought he was probably old enough for it now. He spilled some onto his hands and rubbed them against his face.

  "Yaaaahhhhh!" His shrieks could be heard up and down the hall. Kevin quickly splashed cold water against his burning red cheeks and toweled them dry. Maybe he'd wait two years next time.

  Free toiletries weren't the only complimentary services the hotel provided. A little while later, Kevin went down to the concierge's desk in the lobby. The concierge straightened his suit and greeted Kevin with a plastic smile.

  "Is my transportation here?" Kevin asked.

  "Out in front, sir," the concierge replied. "A limousine and a pizza. Compliments of the Plaza Hotel."

  "New York's most exciting hotel experience." Kevin winked and started across the lobby.

  "Uh, sir?" the concierge stopped him. "I do hope your father understands that last night I was simply checking the room to make sure everything was in order."

  "He was pretty mad," Kevin replied. "He said he didn't come all the way to New York to get spied on."

  The concierge swallowed. "Of course not. Will he be down soon?"

  "He already left." Kevin lied smoothly.

  "Oh." The concierge looked disappointed. "I would like to have offered my personal apology."

  "If some guy looked at you in the shower, would you ever want to see him again?" Kevin asked.

  "I suppose not," the concierge admitted.

  "I don't think you'll see him for the rest of our trip," Kevin said. He turned away and hurried toward the front doors, hoping he had the concierge fooled. Behind him, the concierge watched and wondered. The kid's story sounded plausible, but something about it still bothered him. Stepping over to the reservations counter, he started to type some information on the computer. The first place he'd check was the credit card company. Maybe, just maybe, he could find an answer to this puzzle.

  At the Wollman Skating Rink in Central Park, Marv and Harry sat on a wooden bench at the edge of the ice, enjoying their newfound freedom. Harry read the newspaper. Marv watched the skaters. Without warning, a pigeon settled on Harry's shoulder.

  "Hey, get outa here!" Harry took a swipe at the bird with his paper and the pigeon flew away. "Jeez, you ever seen so many pigeons?"

  Marv didn't answer. He was too busy concentrating on a young boy skating toward them. Hanging from the boy's sleeves were a pair of blue mittens. As the boy came close, Marv reached out and grabbed one. The mittens were attached through the boy's jacket by a length of yarn, and as Marv pulled, the boy spun around like a top. A moment later the second mitten popped out. Marv waited while the boy stopped spinning and skated dizzily away. Then he turned to Harry.

  "Mittens?" he asked, offering them to his partner.

  "You wanna knock it off, Marv?" Harry was really annoyed with Marv's nickel-and-dime thefts.

  "But they're wool," Marv said.

  "Never mind the stupid mittens," Harry snapped. "We gotta face the facts. We don't got the tools to pull off a big robbery. Your banks, your jewelry stores . . ."

  "Your art museums," Marv added.

  "Exactly," Harry said. "They all take a good set of burglar's tools. Not only that, even if we had 'em and knocked off a big job, what would we do with the loot? We don't know no fences in New York."

  "Looks pretty bad for us," Marv said, keeping his eye on a teenaged girl skating nearby. A long red scarf flapped in the breeze behind her.

  "What we need is cash," said Harry.

  As the girl skated past, Marv reached out and gave the scarf a sharp yank. It was in his pocket before she crashed to the ice.

  "How about hotels?" Marv asked as the girl lay on the ice, looking bewildered. "Tourists carry cash."

  "With our luck we'd hold up some guy carrying traveler's checks," Harry said, thumbing through the paper. "I got a better idea. Look at all these Christmas ads. All these stores are open the day before Christmas, but they ain't gonna make deposits on Christmas Eve."

  "So they gotta keep the cash in the store until the day after Christmas," Marv said.

  "Right." Harry nodded. "Now what store is gonna do the most cash business on Christmas Eve that nobody's gonna think to rob?"

  Marv scratched his head. "Liquor store?"

  "No, dimwit, even nine-year-olds know how to rob liquor stores," Harry replied impatiently. "This is what I had in mind."

  He pointed down at a large ad in the paper for Duncan's Toy Chest, the world-famous toy emporium.

  "A toy store!" Marv gasped. "That's brilliant, Harry."

  Harry grinned and his silver tooth glistened in the winter sun. "There's nobody dumb enough to knock off a toy store on Christmas Eve."

  "There is now." Marv grinned back.

  December 24

  New York City

  9:30 A.M.

  Kevin sat in the red leather seat of the long white stretch limo as it cruised slowly through the city. He had just f
inished his pizza breakfast, and was watching Pink Panther cartoons on the limo's TV. This is the life, he thought. Buzz, if only you could see me now.

  As the limo turned up Fifth Avenue, Kevin glanced out the window and saw something that made his eyes bulge—an old building painted in bright blues, reds, and yellows with windows filled with amazing displays of Christmas toys. A sign above the door said:

  Duncan's Toy Chest

  Kevin quickly reached for the intercom that connected him to the driver. "Please drop me off here."

  The limo pulled to the curb and the driver hopped out and opened Kevin's door. "When should I come back for you, sir?"

  "What time is it now?" Kevin asked.

  The driver checked his watch. "Nine-thirty, sir."

  "How about three o'clock?" Kevin said.

  "Three?" the driver frowned. "That's five and a half hours, sir."

  "You're right," Kevin said. "Better make it three-thirty."

  The driver looked puzzled, but he left. Kevin pulled his coat tight and walked through the cold air and into the toy store.

  Inside he stopped and looked around. He'd never seen anything like it. The ground floor was two stories high and every inch was filled with toys. Model trains tooted and puffed white smoke as they raced along tracks mounted on the walls, and electric boats sailed around a giant, plastic water tank. A popcorn machine dispensed free popcorn, a soda fountain free soda. Best of all was the huge demonstration area where kids could sample all kinds of games and toys.

  Wow, Kevin thought as he watched a radio-controlled model airplane circle over his head, coming to New York just could be the greatest accident of my life!

  And without a moment's hesitation, he dove right in.

  Kevin wasn't the only person from Illinois exploring Duncan's Toy Chest. On the second floor, where the tents, tree forts, and playground sets were on display, Marv and Harry stepped out of two large wooden playhouses.