The cold pavements, the slush of the streets came through the thinness of Anna’s soles. She had forgotten to line them with newspaper. Thinking of that, her eyes brightened. She could lose some time doing that; maybe as much as a half hour! She turned toward home, loitering. After that … but she would not think of their troubles; or think of anything else.
Anna knew now that she and Tom had been foolish in their careless bravery, marrying in the face of times like these, in defiance of what her father had said.
“You can come home whenever you’re ready, Anna,” she could hear the sharp practical accents of his voice so clearly. “But I’m not prepared to support an indigent son-in-law. You’re a couple of inexperienced fools.”
Tom had been so earnest, so … young. “You see, sir, we love each other, and I’m not afraid of work. It may be tough—but not so tough a man can’t provide for his wife, sir!”
Anna could even remember how his voice had softened when he said “wife.” It was so new to her ears, so sweet.… Maybe Tom was already home! Maybe he had the promise of some work after Christmas! Anna began to run along the wind-gutted streets, a tiny thing whose dark eyes seemed too big for the thinness of her face.…
Tom wasn’t home, and after she had lined her shoes, it didn’t seem worthwhile going out again. Anna sat by the window with her hands limp in her lap and watched the grey day gather into dusk, watched the silly people hurrying along with their silly smiles.…
“Please, Tom,” she whispered. “Not anything foolish …”
It was after dark when Anna realized she was shivering with cold—and she couldn’t see the street any more except where lights made swaying, cold white puddles on the walk. She had to do her shopping. She had already calculated every penny of her purchases. Hamburger was twenty-three cents a pound, so that in buying only a half-pound, you had to pay that extra half cent. Clever, weren’t they, getting that extra half cent! She’d fool them this time. She … she would buy a whole pound of hamburger for Christmas dinner! Anna’s cheeks flushed a little. She held her money tightly in her hand and went down the steps rapidly—before she should change her mind.
The wind made her cheeks ache, gnawed at her knees. It was colder, and the slush was frozen again into rough hummocks of ice. If she fell and hurt herself, would her father relent, she wondered? A broken leg … Tom would notify her father to make sure she received proper care. He had been urging her to go home.…
“Why should you put up with a failure like me?” he pleaded sometimes when the money just wouldn’t stretch; when he couldn’t find a job. “Why should you suffer …”
Anna wondered if a broken leg hurt much. She ran recklessly across the icy street and a car skittered to a halt just in time.
“Look out, kid,” the driver shouted. “It won’t be a Merry Christmas in the hospital.”
Anna ran on. She was glad now she hadn’t been hit. Tom would only blame himself, and … and she might be hurt even worse. She might be killed! Tom would be left alone.… There were tears stinging her eyes. She whispered, “Oh, thank you, God. I—I didn’t really mean it!”
She turned the corner with her head down and somebody bumped into her and muttered, “ ’Scuse me, lady.” It was a delivery boy with a box of groceries on his shoulder, and there at the curb was the delivery truck from Osterschmidt’s, heaped up with piles of food. Big boxes safely tucked away behind a locked iron grill. They might at least have solid doors, so people couldn’t see.…
Anna moved closer. Just inside the grating was the biggest box of all, the biggest turkey … The wind snatched at Anna’s coat, blundered against the truck and, with a rasping creak, the iron grating swung open. Why, it wasn’t locked at all! The boy must have forgotten.… The biggest turkey of all, and the gate open so invitingly …
There was a weary drag to the way Tom Mann moved in his polished, shabby shoes. His shoulders ached from consciously bracing them all day long as he went futilely from shop to shop hunting even a promise of work. The Christmas rush was over and the proprietors only shrugged, “Maybe by February .…” How in hell did they expect a man and his wife to live until then? How … for all his efforts. Tom’s shoulders sagged. It was not other peoples’ responsibility. It was his … and he had failed.
Tom slipped, stepping down from a curb, and caught himself frantically. Now, that would be a swell Christmas present for Anne, wouldn’t it, breaking a leg! Or maybe it would be the best present of all! She’d have to go home to her father then. Tom stood on the curb and stared out across the icy street and his young, thin face was suddenly old-looking.… Reluctantly, he turned toward home. The sole of his right shoe had come loose a little, and his feet made small scuffing sounds that kept time to his thoughts. Failure, failure, failure …
Ahead of him, Tom saw a mail-man, bowed under a heavily loaded bag, turn up the steps of a house. Tom’s eyes clung in fascination to the grey-uniformed man. Lucky people, getting Christmas presents; maybe even money! Yes, it was money, a registered letter. They were signing for it at the door.
“Merry Christmas,” the lucky woman said, and closed the door.
Tom smothered a laugh that was bitter in his throat. If he had any guts, he’d make this a Merry Christmas for Anna! There was money within reach, a dozen registered letters in the postman’s hand as he stumped down the steps—and it was dark here between the street lights.… Tom shook his head. Anna wouldn’t want it that way.
“Merry Christmas,” he called to the descending postman.
The man grinned. “Nuts to you. I still got five hours’ work.”
Tom thought, “But you’ve got work.” He didn’t say it, and the postman stepped down to the pavement … and slipped. His arms flew wide in an effort to catch his balance. Letters scattered from his hands—and Tom caught him just as he was falling. The wrench almost yanked Tom off his feet. He hadn’t realized he was so weak.
He said, panting, “You almost got out of that five hours’ work.”
The postman swore and began to pick up letters. “Thanks, buddy,” he said. “Now I got an extra hour re-sorting this damned stuff.…”
Tom began to pick up letters and hand them to the postman. It was an accident that he noticed the extra postage and “Registered” stamp on a letter half-hidden in the shadow beside the steps. It was almost an accident that he covered it with his foot.…
Tom stood there until he saw the postman turn into a lunch-room to re-sort the mail. The carrier would miss this registered letter in a few moments, probably, and the law would be after Tom at once. He was a fool to think he could get away with this. By tomorrow morning they’d trace him. Christmas morning. Better to take the letter to the postman and explain he had found it later in the dark. Tom picked it up, and the envelope was thick between his cold fingers. It made a faint, crackling sound.… Tom’s hands trembled.
What the hell difference did it make if the police came for him in the morning? He and Anna would have had a happy evening together: a big dinner, presents. And tomorrow? Why, let the police come! With him in jail, Anna would have to go home where she could be taken care of. Her father would see that Anna divorced him. God, he couldn’t lose Anna. He … But he had already lost her, because he was a failure. Grimly, he ripped open the envelope before he lost courage, felt a thick sheaf of money. He ducked around the corner. He had to get rid of the envelope. It was evidence, wasn’t it? Tom laughed shakily, stuffed the money in his pocket and, as he walked rapidly on, dropped the letter to the sidewalk.
“Hey!” A man’s voice boomed out behind him. “Hey, there! Wait a minute!”
Out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw a man in a policeman’s blue uniform hurrying toward him. Good God! Were they after him so soon? Tom pretended he hadn’t heard and ducked around the corner. Anna had to have this one night.… Tom broke into a run, ducked into an alley before the policeman turned the corner. Tom was panting, his whole body shaking with the effort. He hurried on.
First, he
went to Osterschmidt’s for the biggest turkey he had. Then some presents for Anna. There was a feverish light in Tom’s eyes as he thumbed through the money. Fifty-sixty-seventy … He didn’t dare count any farther. He hadn’t held so much money at one time since … since … oh, God, did it matter? One happy evening with Anna!
There was a perky, thick coat that he had seen Anna eye longingly, when she thought he didn’t see, and in the same shop window a hood of soft, red wool and mittens. Warm … He’d make Anna take a walk tonight just for the fun of seeing her warm for once. She wouldn’t go back home looking like a beggar. Or would they take the things from her when they came in the morning? The thought stopped Tom in front of a florist window. Red roses … great, long-stemmed, red roses. There was something they couldn’t take from her! Crazy laughter was on his lips as he staggered into the shop.
Afterward, he almost ran along the street. Only three blocks to home; no, only two … How Anna’s eyes would light up when she saw him coming! The groceries were already there, probably, and the big turkey. She would know fortune had smiled on them. Or maybe, the groceries would be delayed in the rush. That would be better still! Anna would clap her hands and laugh again; laugh without that queer, tight look of worry in her eyes.
One more block. He turned the corner—and stopped. There in front of the lodging house, looking up at the door, was a policeman! Tom’s shoulders sagged. Couldn’t they have even their one night together? He was willing to pay.… Tom stumbled back around the corner, walking slowly, heavily.…
Back on wind-swept Fenton Street, the policeman rang the doorbell long and insistently, but presently went away and when he had gone, a girl popped around the other corner of the block. She was staggering under a weight of groceries. Her face was white and her eyes were huge, but she ran … she ran with a dogged little trot while her arms strained around that great box of food. Her lips were tight, and sobs kept pushing at them.
“Oh, please,” she whispered. “Please, let me make it! Don’t let them find me yet!”
She had her key in her hand and somehow she got the door open; made the long climb up the stairs and into their one little room. She stood against the door to listen, shivering. Presently she drew in a quavering breath of relief. Not yet. How she flew about the room! She had set the table hours ago and now she ran, stowing away the food on the kitchen shelves where Tom could see. She had her story all set. Mr. Osterschmidt had been so nice. When she had told him about the lead nickel and he had understood how much it meant to her, he had insisted on her taking a great load of groceries and a turkey.
That was what she would say when Tom came … when Tom came. Anna realized suddenly how late it was. Why didn’t Tom come? Anna was abruptly standing very still. Dear God, let nothing happen to Tom! Not because of what she had done! That wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t … oh, if any one must pay, let it be herself! That was fair, wasn’t it? Please, God, that was fair.…
Fear drew her white hands twisting together. Perhaps that policeman hadn’t been after her. Perhaps Tom had done something foolish, and they were after him. Or—or maybe he had been hurt. That was the way they notified you when you didn’t have a telephone. They sent around a policeman.…
Anna rushed to the window and peered down into the dark windy canyon of Fenton Street. Nobody down there now. Anna’s hands ached with twisting. There mustn’t be anything like that. Please, let Tom come home. Please … She’d take all the food back. She could wrap it back up just like it came from the store.
Anna ran to the door and listened, painfully. Yes, there were footsteps on the stairs, a heavy portentous tread. It sounded a little like Tom when he was very tired, but so heavy, heavy.
The police? Anna leaned over the stairwell and peered down. No, not a policeman. She saw somebody’s grey sleeve and a lot of bundles, moving upward. Probably Mr. Sacco on the second floor. No, the man was coming on past. Then it would be Mr. France or Mr. Getty on the third floor.… But the man was walking toward the flight that led to the fourth floor. Oh …
“Tom,” Anna cried. “Oh, Tom!”
She stood staring down at him in the dim-lit hall, at his face smiling over a great armload of bundles. Tom …
“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Mann,” he called.
Anna tried to smile. She was grateful, very grateful, God, but … all those packages! He hadn’t … he couldn’t have done anything foolish. Anna was running down the steps.
“Oh, Tom, you foolish boy,” she panted. “What have you done?”
Tom grinned at her, “Is that any way to greet Santa Claus?”
“Tom,” she cried. “You’re teasing. Here, let me—” She took some of the bundles and ran ahead of him. Her feet made little dancing steps on the rickety stairs and Tom followed, making himself laugh. What the hell? He had this moment anyhow.… In the room, he gravely told her about a kind man whose wallet he had found and returned. It must have been loaded with money!
“He had white hair exactly like Santa Claus,” Tom told her, “and a big fur collar on his coat, and his belly shook just exactly like a bowl full of jelly.… ‘By Gadfrey,’ he said, ‘an honest man, and on Christmas Eve, too! Here, buy yourself a Christmas present!’ And he handed me … a hundred-dollar bill!”
“He never did,” Anna cried. “Oh the good, wonderful man. And, darling, Mr. Osterschmidt was playing Santa Claus today, too. Look—look at all these wonderful things he gave us. A big turkey …”
Tom threw himself into the rickety old chair by the window. “You’ve got a surprise coming to you, young lady,” he cried. “We’re going to have two turkeys for Christmas. I went by Osterschmidt’s and ordered the biggest bird in the shop. It should be here any minute now, I guess.”
Anna said slowly, “Oh—oh, two turkeys. How wonderful!” She turned toward the tiny little kitchen. So she had stolen when there was no need at all! And now, when they came after her … Oh, what would Tom do? Frantically, she caught up the big box of roses Tom had brought her. “Roses! Oh, Tom, you dear foolish boy … I’ve got to kiss you for that!”
Tom pushed out a laugh, but it wasn’t coming off. Damn it, their one night … and it wasn’t coming off. Anna knew he was lying, and she was trying gallantly. To hell with it. This was their night. He picked up the box with the red hood and the mittens and … he couldn’t help it … he stole a glance down at the street. The policeman was walking toward the house again!
Tom’s hands shook as he drew the red hood snugly down over Anna’s black curls, kissed her smiling lips … and Anna sobbed, and put her arms around his neck and clung.
“Oh, Tom,” she cried. “I can’t keep it up! I can’t lie to you. I … I stole the groceries! The wagon gate was unlocked and the wind blew it open, like it was asking me in. And there was this big turkey, the biggest one Mr. Osterschmidt ever had. And …”
The bell made its sharp, whirring clatter, and Anna whipped out of Tom’s arms and faced the door. “Oh,” she whispered. “Oh, they’re coming for me!”
Tom said, “Nonsense.” His voice sounded strained. “The biggest bird Osterschmidt had … Darling, did you look to see whose groceries they were? Did you?”
“Oh,” Anna gasped. “Oh, you mean—” She was on her knees in an instant, searching among all that mess of paper off the packages, brushing it aside, hunting furiously with that red hood so snug about her head. Then she whirled toward Tom with a slip trembling in her hand. She swallowed hard, twice, before she got out words.
“Oh, Tommy, you’re right. I—I stole our own groceries! Oh, now everything is all right. Oh, I’ve never been so happy. I’ll never do a foolish thing like that again. It isn’t worth it, is it, Tommy?”
Tom said dryly, “No, Mrs. Mann, it isn’t worth it.” But he was gazing into the glisten of her dark eyes and drinking in the smile on her lips … and he thought that what he had done was worth it.… The doorbell whirred again.
Tom said hurriedly, “That’s probably the delivery boy checking up
to see if the stuff reached you all right. And I want some cigarettes, haven’t had any in a long time. I’ll just run down and see the boy and get the cigarettes. I’ll be back in a little while.” He was straining his ears, listening. Somebody must have opened the front door because there were voices in the hall; a man’s deep voice, and afterward feet climbing the stairs steadily. Tom moved sharply toward the door. He couldn’t let Anna know yet. Let her be happy, waiting for him to come back—for a little while.…
Anna stopped him at the door … Anna with tears trembling on her lashes, and a small smile on her lips. She said, so low he could hardly hear her, “It’s the police, isn’t it, Tommy?”
Tom tried to think of a lie, and he couldn’t.
He stood and looked at Anna and, presently, he put his arms about her and hugged her tight, tight.… Tight enough to last forever. It would have to. The footsteps were on the second floor now.
“I knew who it was,” Anna said rapidly. “I saw the policeman waiting outside the door just before I came in with the groceries. And now I know that he wasn’t coming after me. Why—why, Tom, even good kind men don’t hand out hundred-dollar rewards.”
Tom said slowly, because he couldn’t make the words clear any other way, “It’s all right, kid. And you’re right. I—I stole a registered letter a postman dropped. You go to your father and just forget … forget about me. It’s best this way. I haven’t been exactly … exactly the husband I had planned to be, Mrs. Mann.”
Anna said violently, “You darned old fool, you’re just exactly the only husband in the world that’s worth a damn! You—I won’t let you go. I’ll tell them that I—”
And a man’s fist knocked at the door. Tom’s smile got a little twisted. He braced his shoulders. Well, this was something he could face like a man. He opened the door and the policeman was standing there.
“Mrs. Thomas Mann?” he said.
The Big Book of Christmas Mysteries Page 42
