Unforgettable Christmas Dreams: Gifts of Joy

by Rebecca York

  “Thanks,” Vinny said, then headed through the door the distracted receptionist indicated. That was easier than I thought!

  Ten minutes after searching the files by dates, Vinny found what he was looking for. “Voila!” He snapped a photo of the data, not wanting to email or save it to any cloud service. He looked innocent enough, but if he did anything but view it, it would raise a flag that it was important to someone.

  “Ephraim Heddlestoff, you sly fly on the wall. Looks like I found the source of your start-up money. Let’s begin with a phone call, shall we?”

  Vinny left the office with a nod, then noticed the receptionist wasn’t paying attention to anything but her chipped fingernail. He was in the clear, ready to move forward.

  It took a while, but Vinny finally found a payphone in a convenience store parking lot. He dropped in quarters, then placed the call to the corporate towers of the infamous millionaire and entrepreneur, Ephraim Heddlestoff. The hermit had enough innovative ideas to keep ten businesses going. He was aloof, but also human. His weakness for gambling was renown in the underworld. The man would bet on anything. Time to test his theory.

  “Yes, this is Doctor Thaddeus Daniels calling for Mr. Heddlestoff. Please tell him this call is urgent. Yes, I’ll hold, but only for sixty seconds. I’m sure he’ll take the call if you tell him who I am.”

  Less the thirty seconds later, Ephraim was on the phone. “Thad?” he asked, a squeak of fear in his voice.

  “Nope, but close. We have some very influential people in common,” Vinny said. “I could explain how I know you and of your relationship to our dear departed doctor playboy, but I’ll save us both time and trouble. Who was the one who actually delivered Zelda Van der Cleft?”

  “Wha…what are you talking about?” Ephraim asked. “How would I know?”

  Vinny laughed notoriously, then said, “Ephraim, Ephraim, Ephraim. You and I both know you can’t lie worth a damn. Whether you’re holding a pair of threes and betting like you have a royal flush, or you’re lying to me over the telephone, it’s the same problem. You’re headed for trouble. Just tell me who was involved and if there really were twins, and I’ll let you live to play the ponies another day. Do we have an understanding?”

  Gulp. The audible sound of swallowing in fear came through loud and clear. Vinny had him.

  Ephraim looked up at the calendar on the wall and paled. His latest venture was on the rocks and the deadline was approaching. If he disappeared now to protect his own hide, more than just his funds would disappear. Word on the street was Doc Daniels had taken a long time to die. He didn’t want to best his old friend’s time in the ‘How long does it take you to die?’ challenge the takedown squads had set up.

  “Wagner,” Ephraim blurted out. “That was her name. She was the midwife. Doc gave her the runt twin Zelda didn’t want. He gave me money to give her so she’d disappear. He didn’t want her coming back to him or the Van der Clefts, looking for support money. Plus, they were identical twins. I told her to stay away from the East Coast. Doc didn’t want paparazzi to see a kid with the same face as the boy’s, and put two and two together. Or one and one. Just the same, she convinced her husband that someone would kidnap their son if they knew what he looked like. The boy was always shuffled off incognito to schools all over the world. He’s dead, though.”

  “Who’s dead?” Vinny asked. “Doc?”

  “No, I mean, yes. Doc’s dead, but my sources said Zelda’s all jazzed up about being the sole heir again. The old man is at death’s door. Again or still, one of the other.”

  Vinny huffed in frustration. Another rumor gone wrong. “Give me more about Wagner. How about a first name, address, where she was going. Something.”

  “I can’t remember the first name, but she lived in a high-rise apartment in Flushing near the Expressway. Sorry, I can’t remember the address or her first name, but I think it started with a C. Nice lady, middle-aged, average height and weight.”

  “Grrr,” Vinny growled in the phone.

  “Sir, I really would like to help you more. Really, I would. But how many midwives named Wagner live in Flushing? Or did in ’92. I do remember I went there in a blizzard. I’m positive she moved after I gave her the money…”

  Ephraim paused, then smiled. “Sir, I may have something for you. Let me call you back in an hour…”

  “Grrr.”

  “All right, you call me back in an hour. I’m not trying to scam you or run away or anything like that. I just remembered. I have a picture of her for you. I had my little Instamatic and took a photo of her holding the envelope with the check in it. It’s somewhere in my cloud storage. It’ll just take me a while to research…”

  “I’ll hold,” Vinny said, then groaned as the ‘click-click’ came through, wanting more coins or a charge card. “On second thought, I’ll call you back in ten. You’d better make it snappy.”

  “Yes, Sir, I will,” Ephraim said, multitasking on his phone and his keyboard.

  Click!

  “Where oh where did I file you?” he asked the computer. “Who says being obsessive about saving everything digitally is a bad thing?”

  Eight minutes later, he had it. He opened the file and there she was. “Cecelia Wagner,” he said. He pasted the image into a search engine and found her. “Cecelia Wagner of Lakeview, Oregon donates a dozen frozen turkeys for the annual Christmas Event,” Ephraim read. “How about that? This article is only a week old. Looks like I get to keep all my body parts intact and on the same continent.”

  Buzz.

  “Sir, the man you were speaking with earlier is on the line again. Shall I tell him…”

  “No, no, Liz! Just put him through. And take the rest of the afternoon off.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you!”

  Taking a deep, calming breath, Ephraim spoke with a nervous smile in his voice. “I have good news for you, Sir. Not only do I have her name, but I know where she was last week. Cecelia Wagner donated goods to the Lakeview, Oregon Red Cross for their annual Christmas celebration. If you’d like, I can send you the newspaper article and the old picture I took?”

  “What in the hell do I want with an old picture? So, that’s Cecelia Wagner and Lakeview, Oregon. I don’t see why I can’t find the same picture by searching it with those words. Thanks for your assistance. Oh, and make sure your receptionist locks her car doors when she leaves. She really is a cutie. It’d be a shame for harm to come to her.”

  Click!

  Ephraim held the phone away from him, looking at the caller ID. Yes, he was definitely calling from a payphone, but the number prefix was local. Gulp. He opened his top desk drawer and lifted off the false cover from his address book, revealing a small handgun. “Nope. Not today. Let’s hope not ever. I really have to lay off those cards.”

  ***

  “Are you sure these slacks don’t make my butt look flat?” Zelda asked her personal assistant, pivoting in front of her three-sided mirror.

  The pinch-faced brunette with freckles and horn-rimmed glasses knew not to speak her mind. “Wow!” she said, with feigned enthusiasm. “I wish I could wear clothes like you do.”

  “So, you think Sixty-eight will like this outfit?”

  “How could he not? If he doesn’t, he’s drunk, blind, or on his way out the door. I have a delectable Sixty-nine on reserve if you’re tired of ‘Eight.’”

  Zelda giggled. “I love it when you call Eight that nickname. On second thought, why don’t you ring up Sixty-nine and see if he’s amenable to a little getting-to-know-each-other threesome adventure with a new friend? I’ll break him in gently. If he isn’t up to my standards, I’ll keep Eight around for another few weeks. He does know how to tickle a girl’s fancy,” she said, squirming seductively.

  “Sounds like a great plan. I’ll call him right now,” Friday said with a nod, excusing herself to the privacy of her sanctuary, also called an in-mansion office.

  The converted bedroom suite had everything a businesswoma
n could want: a huge walnut desk, a skyline view, a jacuzzi hot tub with a retractable entertainment system and a comfortable king-sized bed. Her actual workstation — a laptop computer — was lightweight and loaded with the latest technology and programs, ready to be packed into her standby luggage whenever Zelda got the urge to travel. There wasn’t a file cabinet in sight: everything she needed was stored digitally.

  Although Zelda was a flighty boss and quick to fire those who displeased her, she had kept Friday employed for five years. That was a longevity record for anyone other than her personal cuisine wizard. Early on, he had discovered that the secret to keeping Zelda happy was his secret ‘spice.’ No matter what dish he created for her — from soup to eggs to mousse — Cookie topped it with a generous pinch of cocaine. Like everyone else, employees were either assigned a title — such as Friday the personal assistant, Driver the chauffeur — or given a number, like her lovers.

  The numbered consorts had started at One, nearly thirty years earlier. When Zelda got to Ninety-nine, she decided to start again with One. After all, One-hundred-and-ninety-nine was such a long moniker to scream out in passion. It was Friday’s idea just to use the last number as a name. The male lovers seldom satisfied her tastes for more than a month, and none were memorable enough to recall from the previous year. Zelda was ruthless but efficient.

  Friday opened her laptop and checked her Swiss bank account. Yes! Just as he promised, Vinny had deposited the agreed-upon amount. She logged out and opened a search engine. “‘Islands for sale Caribbean’ ought to work. At least it’s a starting point. I can see the writing on the wall. Zelda’s face and ass are both sagging. She’ll find a way to blame me for both. Maybe Vinny can find a body double for me and knock her off. Death is probably the only way I’d be able to leave on good terms with Z.”

  Chapter 3: A Botched Break-In

  Rural Oregon

  December

  “Hey, Vinny. Are you sure we’re in the right spot? This is the smallest trailer park I ever saw.”

  “Those aren’t trailers, they’re RVs.”

  “Harveys?” Hugo asked, then squinted into his binoculars again.

  “Recreational vehicles,” Vinny said through clenched teeth. “They’re like trailers with motors. When folks don’t like the view or the weather, or they just want to get out of town, they simply turn the key and away they go.”

  “Wow! I think I’d rather have one of those than an island. I can go to the mountains in the summer and beach in the winter. People are pretty smart to live in those.” Hugo picked up the binoculars again. “Hey, look. They’re all getting into that minivan. I guess they keep a spare in case they wanna go somewhere and don’t want to carry their home with ‘em like a turtle.”

  “That’s right. And as soon as everyone’s gone, we’re going in. Time for a little shopping trip.”

  “What do they have that I need? Hey! Maybe I can just take the whole trailer.”

  “No, Hugo, we can’t do that. Those are easier to track down than a car. Come on. I’m shopping for clues. There’s got to be something in there that will tell me where to find Van. Since we know where this twin lives, we can come back here and take care of him whenever. First, I have to get pictures of the two of them together. If Old Man Van der Cleft doesn’t know his son’s still alive or that Van has a twin, let’s hope he’ll pay a bigger bounty for two living sons than the contract amount Zelda has for one dead one.”

  “Gee, you’re smart, Vinny. I never would have thought of that.”

  “Yeah, well, neither did Killer Queen. Still don’t know what happened to her.”

  “I was sure looking forward to squeezing her until she pissed her pants.”

  Vinny turned to Hugo in surprise and asked, “Huh?”

  “She did that to me once. I figure I’d pay her back, and then one-up it. Nobody’d pay nothin’ for a living Killer Queen,” Hugo said, his voice deep and passionate as he mimed twisting the head off a body.

  “Yeah, well, you got that right. Come on. They’re out of sight now. Just make sure you wipe your feet before we go in.”

  “Wow,” Hugo said once they were inside. “This looks like a real home…”

  “It is a real home. For them.” Vinny scanned the living room, not knowing what he was looking for, but certain he’d know when he found it. Not finding anything of interest, he headed to the bedrooms in the rear.

  Thunk. Vinny stopped at the familiar sound of a refrigerator door shutting, then went to the kitchen to investigate. “Hugo, get out of there! We can eat lunch after I find something good.”

  “I did find something good. Lookie. It’s a chocolate fudge cake. Someone already cut into it, so they won’t know if I take just a sliver of it.”

  Hugo slammed the butcher knife down on the dessert just as Vinny shouted, “No!”

  “Wha?” Hugo started to ask, then gasped in pain. Stunned, he looked down and saw the end of his index finger hanging off. Blood spurted like a squeezed ketchup bottle as both he and the cleaver fell to the floor.

  “Ah, crap, buddy,” Vinny groaned, rushing to his side. He grabbed a dishtowel from the counter and wrapped it around Hugo’s hand. “Can you stand up? We gotta get out of here. Shit! Where’s a good cleanup crew when you need one? Hell, we’re too far from civilization to get any help on this. It’s just you and me, buddy. Hang in there. I’m sure I saw a medical clinic when we pulled into town. I’ll get you taken care of first, and then come back. If we’re lucky, it’ll be a quick couple of stitches for you, and a day or two away for them. That’ll be plenty of time to search this place plus sanitize the mess. They’ll never know we were here.”

  “Hey, Vinny? I don’t feel too good.” Hugo’s eyes widened and his cheeks bulged, then he turned aside and puked. “Oh. Now I feel better.”

  “You could have turned the other way,” Vinny said, grabbing a patchwork-quilted placemat from the table to wipe the vomit from his jacket. “Come on. Let me help you up. Let’s hope the bear family doesn’t come back until Goldilocks can get this mess cleaned up.”

  “Bears? Goldilocks?” Hugo asked, stumbling to his feet.

  “Never mind. Let’s go.”

  ***

  “Hey!” Vinny hollered, shoving through the emergency room door towards the registration desk. “He needs a doc right away. He almost took a finger off with a knife.”

  Rosa grimaced and handed the shorter, non-bloodied man the clipboard with paperwork. Before she had a chance to give the standard spiel of, ‘Please fill out these forms and return them to me with your ID and insurance cards,’ Vinny cut her off and handed back the clipboard. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know the drill. I don’t have insurance and he lost his ID, but I’ll pay with a wad of bills that’d choke a hooker.”

  Rosa’s eyes widened with the coarse remark. “Just a moment,” she said and went to find a doctor.

  “Hey, Doc,” she said to the physician at the standup desk.

  “What’s up, Rosa? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “Worse. A couple of crooks just came in. One’s all bloodied. His friend or partner or whatever he is just made a real crude comment about having a lot of cash so he didn’t need paperwork. The other one’s hand is all wrapped up in a towel. He doesn’t look too good. You might want to check on him right away.”

  “Just give me a sec and let me finish my notes,” he said and turned back to the keyboard.

  “Doc, I’d really appreciate it if you took care of these guys first. I’m a tough cookie, but those two spooked me.”

  “All right, but call Sheriff O’Reilly and see if he’s around town. Have him drop in. Tell him what’s going on. He might know if they’re on someone’s watch list.”

  “Good idea. Thanks. I think I’ll stay in the ladies’ room until you get them settled in a room. The one who isn’t hurt scares me!”

  He patted her on the shoulder and winked. “I got this.”

  Dr. Ellington walked into the waiting area an
d gasped, then quickly composed himself. Rosa wasn’t exaggerating. “Looks like your friend needs some help,” he said to Vinny. “Come on back with me. I think we’d better get him a wheelchair.”

  “No!” Hugo groaned in protest, then stumbled forward. “Just let me lie down somewhere.”

  Vinny positioned himself under the big man’s shoulder and asked the doctor, “Which way?”

  “Let’s use room number three.”

  “What do you have for pain?” Vinny asked once they were in the room. “I think he’s lost a lot of blood, too. Is there a shot or a pill for that?”

  The doctor positioned his patient on the bed and was just about to unwrap the towel when he felt the shorter man’s breath on his neck. “Give him something for pain first, all right?”

  Gooseflesh covered his body with the perceived threat. “Yes, Sir. I can do that. Is he allergic to anything?” Doc asked as he took one step away.

  “Yeah,” Vinny said sarcastically. “Bullets and blades. Now, hop to it.”

  The doctor flung the curtain aside, then half-ran, half-walked to the locked pharmaceutical cabinet. He filled a syringe with the strongest painkiller he had, then decided to add an extra few milliliters, just to make sure the man felt no pain whatsoever. He put the syringe on a tray, covered it, and was back in the room in less than a minute.

  “What took you so long,” Hugo slurred. “I hurt.”

  “Not for long,” the doctor said. He realized it would cause additional pain to get the man’s jacket off. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just unbutton your shirt so I can get to your shoulder this way.”

  Hugo flinched, then nodded.

  “Just hurry,” Vinny said, still holding Hugo’s bandaged hand.