The Big Book of Christmas Mysteries Part 53

Dillinger said, "What's this boy scout's angle?"

Stone said, "We been kicking that boy scout back twenty percent of what his firm pays us since day one. I don't know how Jake knew him, but Consolidated was the account that let us leave DeKalb and set up shop in the Loop."

"How'd your Uncle Bob feel about you leaving the force?"

"He d.a.m.n near cried ... he always figured I'd step in and fill his shoes someday. Poor yokel ... just didn't have a clue-all that corruption going on right under his nose."

"By his deputy chief and his nephew, you mean."

Stone said nothing, but the five-years-ago him was saying to Marley, "Look-this insurance racket is swell. But the real dough is in divorce work."

"You're right, keed. I'm ahead of you ... we get the incriminating photos of the cheating spouse, then sell 'em to the highest bidder."

"Sweet! That's what they get for not love, honor, and obeyin'."

The private eyes shared a big horse laugh. Katie looked their way and smiled, glad to see her bosses enjoying themselves on Christmas Eve.

"Come on," Dillinger said, summoning Stone with a crooked finger.

And the late bank robber walked Stone through a wall into the alley where Jake Marley lay crumpled against a brick wall, between two garbage cans, holes shot in the front of him, eyes wide and empty and staring.

Sgt. Hank Ross was showing the body to Stone. "Thought you better see this, pal. Poor slob never even got his gun out. Still tucked away under his b.u.t.toned-up topcoat. Shooter musta been somebody who knew him, don't ya figure?"

Stone shrugged. "You're the homicide d.i.c.k."

"Now, Stoney ... I don't want you looking into this. I know he was your partner, and your friend, but ..."

"You talked me out of it." Stone lighted up a Lucky. "I'll take care of informin' the widow."

Ross just looked at him. Then he said, "Merry G.o.dd.a.m.n Christmas, Stoney."

"In a rat's a.s.s," he said, turning away from his dead partner.

"Jeez!" Dillinger said. "That's cold! Couldn't ya squeeze out just one tear for your old pal?"

Stone said nothing. His year-ago self walked right through him.

"You want the truth, Dillin-ger? All I was thinkin' was, with all the people he jacked around, Jake was lucky to've lived this long. And how our partners.h.i.+p agreement spelled out that the business was mine, now."

"h.e.l.l! I thought Gillis was cold."

"Gillis?"

"Lester Gillis. Baby Face Nelson to you. Come on, sonny. You and me reached the end of the line."

And Dillinger shoved Stone, hard-right through the brick wall; and when the detective blinked again, he was alone on his bed, in his apartment.

He sat up; rubbed his eyes, scratched his head. "Meat shortage or not, that salami gets pitched...."

He flopped back on the bed, still fully dressed, and stared at the ceiling; the dream was hanging with him-thoughts, images, of his mother, father, brother, even Marley, floated in front of him, speaking to him....

Out in the other room, the doorbell rang, startling him. He checked the round bakelite clock on his nightstand: two a.m. Who in h.e.l.l would be calling on him at this hour?

On the other hand, he thought as he stumbled out to his door, talking to somebody with a pulse would be nice for a change....

And there on his doorstep was a crisply uniformed soldier, a freshly scrubbed young man with his overseas cap tugged down onto his forehead.

"Mr. Stone?"

"Ben? Is that you? Ben Crockett!" Stone's grin split his face. "Katie's little brother, back from the wars-is she gonna be tickled!"

The boy seemed somewhat dazed as he stepped inside.

"Uh, Ben ... if you're lookin' for Katie, she's at her place tonight."

"I'm here to see you, Mr. Stone."

"Well, that's swell, kid ... but why?"

"I'm not really sure," the boy said. "May I sit down?"

"Sure, kid, sure! You want something to drink?"

"No thanks. You'll have to excuse me, sir-I'm kinda confused. The briefing I got ... it was pretty screwy."

"Briefing?"

"Yeah. This is a temporary a.s.signment. But they said I was 'uniquely qualified' for this mission."

"What do they want you to do, kid? Haul me down for another physical?"

"That reminds me!" Private Crockett dug into a pocket and found a sc.r.a.p of paper. "Does this mean anything to you? 'Tell the 4-F Mr. Stone he really does have flat feet and the doctor he paid off was scamming him.' "

Stone's mouth dropped open, then he laughed. "Well, that's a Chicago doc for ya. So, is that the extent of your 'mission'?"

The boy tucked the sc.r.a.p of paper away. "No. There's more ... and it's weird. I'm supposed to tell you to go look in the mirror."

"Look in the mirror?"

"Yeah-that one over there, I guess."

"Kid ..."

"Please, Mr. Stone. I don't think I get to go home for Christmas till I get this done."

Stone sighed, said okay, and shuffled over to the mirror near his console radio; he saw his now unshaven, slightly bleary-eyed reflection, and the boy in his trim overseas cap looking gravely over his shoulder. "Now what, kid?"

"You're supposed to look in there, is all. I was told you're gonna see tomorrow ... or, actually, it's after midnight already, ain't it? Anyway, Christmas Day, 1942 ..."

And the mirror before Stone became a window.

Through the window, he saw Maggie Marley and Larry Turner, the insurance company V. P., toasting c.o.c.ktail gla.s.ses-Maggie in a negligee, Turner in a silk smoking jacket; they were snuggled on a couch in her fancy apartment.

"What the h.e.l.l's this?" Stone asked. "Maggie and that snake Turner ... since when are they an item?"

"How much longer," Maggie was saying to Turner, "do I have to put up with him?"

"You need Stone," Turner said, nuzzling her neck. "He's your alibi, baby."

"But I didn't kill Jake!"

"Sure you didn't. Sure you didn't ... anyway, string him along a little way, then let him down easy.... Right now you still need him in your pocket. He helped you get Eddie off your tail, didn't he?"

Maggie frowned. "Well ... you're right about that. But his touch ... it makes my skin crawl...."

"Why you little ..." Stone began.

But the images in the mirror blurred, and were replaced with another image: Eddie Marley, in his sleazy little apartment, not answering his door, cowering as somebody out there was banging with a fist.

"Let us in, Eddie! We got a Christmas present for ya!"

Eddie, sweating, shaking like crazy, looked at a framed photo of his late brother Jake.

"How could you do this to me, Jake?" he whispered. "You promised you'd take care of me...."

The door splintered open and two Outfit thugs-huge hulking faceless creatures in topcoats and fedoras-cornered him quickly.

"Gimme another week, fellas! I can get ya five C's today, to tide us over till then!"

"Too late, Eddie," one ominous goon said. "You kept the Outfit waitin' just one time too many...."

A hand filled itself with a .45 automatic that erupted once, twice, three times. Eddie crumpled to the floor, bleeding. Dying.

"Jake ... Jake ... you let me down ... you promised...."

The mirror blurred again. Stone looked at Private Crockett. "Is that a done deal, kid? If that's gonna happen Christmas Day, can't I still bail that little weasel out ...?"

"I don't know, Mr. Stone. They didn't tell me that."

A new image began to form in the mirror: Stone's young employee, Joey Ernest, seated in his living room, by a fireplace, looking glum-in fact, he seemed on the verge of tears. Nearby, his little boy of six and his little girl of four were playing with some nice new toys under a tree bright with Christmas lights.

Joey's wife Linda, a pretty blonde in a red Christmas dress, came over and slipped an arm around him.

"Why are you so blue, darling?"

"I can't help it ... I know I should be happy. It's been a great Christmas ... but I feel so ... so ashamed...."

"Darling ..."

"Other guys my age, they're fighting on b.l.o.o.d.y beaches to preserve the honor and glory of G.o.d and country. Me, I crawl around under beds and hide in hotel closets and take dirty pictures of adulterers."

"Joey! The children!"

"I know! The children ... I want to give them a good life ... but do I have to do it like this? Covering up for my philandering boss, among a million other indignities? I'm quitting! I swear, I'm quitting Monday!"

She kissed his cheek. "Then I'll stand right beside you."

He gave her a hangdog look. "I shouldn't have got us so far in over our heads with all these time payments.... How are we gonna make it, Linda?"

"I'm going to take that job at the defense plant. Mom can look after the kids, when one of us isn't here. It's going to be fine."

"Aw, Linda. I love you so much. Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas, darling."

They were embracing as the image blurred.

Now the mirror filled with a tableau of homeless men in a soup kitchen. They were standing in line, receiving soup and bread and a hot meal. Serving them was the pretty young Salvation Army worker Stone made a pa.s.s at, at the office. In the background, voices of men at the mission were singing a carol: "G.o.d Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen."

"We used to sing that song at home," Stone told the soldier. "My ma would play the piano. Christ! What a heel."

"Who, Mr. Stone?"

But the image on the mirror was different again: Katie Crockett and a plump older woman and a frail-looking older man ...

"Hey, kid," Stone said, "it's your sister!"

"And my folks," he said quietly.

... sitting around the Christmas tree in Katie's little apartment, opening presents and chatting happily. The doorbell rang, and Katie bounced up to answer it.

But she didn't come bouncing back.

"It's ... it's a telegram from the war department," Katie said.

"Oh no!" her mother said. "Not ..."

"It's Ben, isn't it?" her father said.

They huddled together and read the telegram and tears streamed down their faces.

"Well, that's wrong, kid," Stone said to Private Crockett. "You gotta go there tomorrow, and straighten that out. It's breaking their hearts-they think you're dead!"

"Mr. Stone," the boy said, removing his overseas cap, revealing the bullet hole in the center of his forehead, "I'm afraid they're right."

"G.o.d ..."

"I have to go home now," he said. "Tell sis I love her, would you, Mr. Stone? And the folks, too?"