The Christmas Pudding Lie

by P. B. Phillips

  Anna can’t help it but she loves talking with him again. “Well you haven’t slowed down. You are as quick and as bright as I remembered. And probably ready to dash off to something important. So I won’t keep you.

  I’ve been keeping a low profile for the last couple of years. And I am calling from California.

  I called to apologize. I hope that JB didn’t bore you with his lame brain idea for a spy novel. He just can’t stand that I get to retire and he must work. I hope we haven’t put you out.”

  Dodd ignores her. “Not at all, a spy mystery was my suggestion. So for starters I want you to talk to my best mate, Mycroft. He is a first class espionage PI. You two need to get together, the sooner the better. Come for the Christmas. I will prepare all the fixings including my famous Christmas pudding.”

  Anna is not sure how to play this out. “Really..? First, I just retired to my country hermitage. Secondly, I don’t see any book materializing on the horizon anytime soon. Tell me this is a bit of Irish blarney. ”

  Dodd steers his own course. He is his own captain. He asserts “Well there is a lot of Irish in me, as you might recall. But Doc you can retire anytime. This may be your last chance for a great mystery. Link up with Mycroft he will sort out the plot for you. In fact, I am meeting with him over the weekend. I’ll alert him to your call. ”

  Hearing him refer to her as Doc, sets off glimmers from days at university. Dodd remains true to form. As he runs on about the merits of a mystery thriller she recalls their first meeting as clearly as if it were just the other day at tea time. It was at an American Historians Convention in New York at the Algonquin Hotel. She was not up to partying. Her heart was heavy with the recent deaths of her parents in a car accident. But to her good fortune, out of the blue, Doddie appeared. He jumped right into her life. He was launching a new political theory series. He wanted a book from her. He made it sound so simple. But it was his authentic English accent, his gift for gab, and yes his touch of blarney that got her to sign on the dotted line.

  She can see him still, outfitted in his worn brown leather jacket, Calvin Klein jeans and his signature Salvatore Ferragamo green snake skin cowboy boots. He aimed to make an impression. He could not be denied. And damn if it is not déjà vu all over. She needs to stop this. “Wait! I’m stalled here.”

  “Not to worry. It’s a mere introduction. Nothing formal, B.... Mycroft and you are made of the same stuff. He loves a good conspiracy. You will need help with the spy game. Mycroft is your eye. Understand! That’s all! ” Dodd fires back.

  If anything, Dodd has improved on his game of persuasion. She continues to put him off, “Umm, Doddie, as always you have a better hold on what lays ahead for me than I do. For you, I’ve penciled in his name and number.

  Really man you haven’t changed a bit. Talking with you now reminds me of our days at university. The world and all its gifts were before us. I read all about your great deeds. You have multiplied your blessings. I am touched that you remembered me. And thanks for taking care of that kid brother of mine. If you ever find yourself on the Pacific side of America, the welcome mat is out.”

  “Likewise I’m sure. I’ve been waiting a long time, Doc. But we’ll be at it again B. You mark my word. Until then may God hold you in the palm of his hand? A presto…!” Dodd concludes.

  “Ciao!” Anna hangs up. She is reeling.

  Like rain to an arthritic knee, her conspiratorial obsessions start acting up. It’s been decades since anyone called her Doc B. In a tone pitched with indignation, tossed with a large serving of bewilderment Anna tries to gather her thoughts,

  “What did he mean, ‘Mycroft is my ‘eye’ ‘understand’? Hanging out with the likes of Dodd is what turned me into a conspiracy junkie in the first place. But I do miss our late into the night philosophical debates.

  Why did I ever mention the S word to those brats Ada & JB? I swear that I will never ever mention another word about SPIES after this. Geez I hope that this doesn’t mean I have to move again. Yikes! If this doesn’t beat all…!’

  Come the next morning, Anna struggles to pry open a heavy eye-lid, looking for the first light of day. This small eye movement jump-starts her brain. Thoughts scurry and scramble to and fro as Dodd’s words play over and over in her mind.

  “Gee, I can’t help it. I am sure that Dodd was trying to tell me something. Why didn’t he just get on with it? Why leave me out in the cold trying to break the code with out the codebook?

  Damn I think that crickets have taken over my brain. I’ve got to get a grip. Doddie said the weekend. I still have time to put the kibosh on this whole thing. I’ve got to get out of this. I am going to call him right now. I don’t want him chatting me up to his ‘best mate’ Mycroft.

  I am retired. Why can’t people accept that? I came to the country to ease my load. I came here to leave the past behind. I’m not going to start calling up ghosts. Where’s the blasted phone?”

  While searching for the phone, Anna ponders an alternate strategy. Maybe she should call JB first? Get his take on all this. First things first, coffee! She puts on the first pot of coffee. While aromatic fumes swirl about her head, she plugs in the phone to call JB. As soon as the wire connects the phone rings.

  “Who could this be? If this is a telemarketer I’m going to scream.”

  Not fully awake yet and startled by the rings, she picks up. She silently listens for the dead air space of the telemarketer.

  “Hello, is this 555 6514? I am trying to contact Dr. B. Is this the right number?”

  She recognizes an English accent. “Yes, who is calling please?”

  A flurry of possibilities jams her brain waves. ‘Is this JB feigning an English accent? Man, he’s good. It could still be a sneaky snake of a telemarketer. You don’t think…? It couldn’t be ‘what’s his name?’”

  “My name is Mycroft. I am a close friend of Dodd from E Libris Press. He asked that I ring you straight away. So I am. He tells me that you are looking for a technical expert for your spy thriller. He assures me that you are indeed the genuine article. So I am calling to see when we can set up a meeting.”

  Anna’s heart is racing. ‘This could still be JB putting me on! I can’t make him though. I guess that I’m the straight guy again. Let’s see how long he can go before he cracks himself up!’

  Again she tries to assume a professorial tone, she replies, “Indeed, Mycroft, thank you for calling so quickly. Mr. Dodd talked to you already?”

  Mycroft replies “I just got off the line with him.”

  Anna swallows hard thinking that this Mycroft character sounds authentic. ‘Blast Dodd! It’s just like him to check my move,’

  She sputters, “Oh no! I must tell you in all honesty, as I told him, that a spy mystery is not on my ‘to do’ list. I’m not sold on the idea.”

  “Yes he did put me in the picture. He insists that I bring you over to his side. I am sure that when we meet, you will see the merits of this story of the secret cadre of wives to spies.”

  Mycroft’s perfect English accent begins to engender that familiar sense of authority.

  Anna rummages for the mute button. She mumbles, “This is why I don’t plug in this damn phone. It causes me nothing but grief. What is he talking about? Wives of spies…? Where would Dodd get such an idea? Now how do I put this in civil terms, ‘Dodd is out of his ‘bloody mind!’

  Mycroft assumes that the lull in the conversation is an invitation to take this idea to the next level. He proceeds. “If you will allow a small suggestion…”

  He doesn’t allow any airspace for objections. “I do believe that a novel on Lady Banks would be well-received. Dodd speaks well of your credentials and I trust his judgment. By exposing Lady Banks, we will put a fire under the spy boys’ game.”’

  Anna can’t believe that this man is still talking about a book. She cuts Mycroft off abruptly,

  “I’m so sorry. I do believe that you are an innocent bystander in an elaborate hoax conjured up by
my little brother. I’m not a mystery writer.”

  Mycroft laughs and says, “Oh! I assure you that this is not a joke. I gather from the tone in your voice that perhaps this is all new to you. I wouldn’t put it pass Dodd to launch a book without the author knowing about it. But how can I convince you that the idea of a novel with Lady Banks as the main character is long over due? I am amazed that no one has tackled it till now. Dodd is behind this one hundred percent. Shall we set up a meeting? When can you come to London?”

  Mycroft and Dodd are cut from the same cloth Anna realizes. She exclaims,

  “What? You can’t be serious. I don’t doubt that Dodd may be on to something. But let’s get real here. I know nothing about your so-called ‘Lady Banks.’ But I’ll admit that I am a tiny bit curious. However the timing is wrong, I just retired to the countryside.”

  “Oh yes, indeed, retirement. Dodd orders me to discourage you from retirement. We need to meet. We need to put the pieces of this puzzle together.”

  Mycroft keeps the conversation moving at such a pace that Anna finds it impossible to dissuade him of this silly notion. Mycroft attempts his close,

  “I’m your inside man into the world of secret agents. You understand? I have the template for this spy story. I am sure that it is worth your while.” Mycroft waits for a reply.

  She obliges, “You are very convincing. You make it sound like a walk along the Thames on a late autumn day.”

  Mycroft knows that she has slipped into his zone now. “What better way to start the holidays than a walk along the Thames. We can start the process with the seduction of Lady Banks. When you set your mind to this you might be surprised how much you come up with.”

  Anna believes that she can still hear JB laughing behind the scene. Without her first cup of coffee, Mycroft has the advantage. She ventures, “I need time to think. May I get back to you, sir?”

  “Splendid! I await your call. I’ll ring off now. The game is afoot.” Mycroft ends his pitch.

  “Ciao,” Anna signs off as well.

  “Ciao? What are you thinking woman, ‘I’ll get back to you?’ Are you crazy? ‘The game is a foot … damn, all this before my first cup of coffee!’

  Anna is thunderstruck. Alone and isolated, with no one to blame, her conspiring mind takes over.

  “What kind of a name is Mycroft? What if this is some kind of trap with me in the dark again? What if Doddie is a secret agent? Is he MI 5 or MI 6?”

  Within the clutches of her conspiratorial mind her past looms large. She chatters to herself,

  “The last time Doddie and I sat down together, as friends, was that weekend before Lent. Doddie was my guest in that old mausoleum of a house with its twenty five rooms, thirteen fireplaces and one hundred windows. Another one of my marriages was on the rocks. His next stop was Mardi Gras. He thought that I might need a change of venue.

  What if I had dared? Don’t go there! Stay in the moment! Get a grip. You still hold the trump card. ‘No thank you’ is the answer!”

  Anna finds it hard to sleep that night. Just past four in the morning, the Salad Bowl Express whistles through the valley below. With dawn but a few hours away, Anna decides to pass on sleep. She turns on the computer. Fifteen messages...most are ads. One is from her sister. It is short and sweet.

  ‘Call ASAP. I’ve got good news! No make that GREAT NEWS!!!”

  “Glory be, good news, great news, I could use a good serving of that.”

  She checks the time. “Back East it’s past seven. I can call.

  “What took you so long?” answers Ada.

  “I was looking for Batman.” Anna picks up on their last laugh.

  “Oh sorry, Batman just left with Robin. But Howard the Duck is on call,” she retorts effortlessly.

  “I’m not that desperate but what about a bag of good news, do you have any today?” Anna asks.

  “Yes! You’ll never guess what I won!”

  Her excitement ignites Anna’s. “A new car…?”

  “No, I just got a new Hummer.” Ada keeps her guessing.

  “A new vacuum cleaner,” Anna goes to silly.

  “How did you guess? No, I’ll tell you. It’s a two-week New York to London cruise: six days at sea, two days in London, and six days back.” Ada bubbles over.

  “What? That’s fabulous!” Anna is truly pleased.

  “Here’s the great news, it’s you and me Anna. What do you say?” Ada screams into the phone.

  Anna is floored. What is going on here? She doesn’t know what to say. She sputters instead,

  “Get outta here! You’re kiddin, right? Some joke… JB put you up to this. You really got me.” Anna slips back into her east coast slang.

  In the same project’s jargon, Ada answers, “No, honest to god, cross my heart and hope to die. I’m serious. You have to… you ‘gotta’ come. This might be our last chance. Remember why you moved to the country, we ain’t getting any younger. You know we are in overtime. Say yes, please, pretty please. We leave Friday.”

  Anna replies, “Friday, but that’s the thirteenth!”

  “What? No! Really... oh, you’re right it is. Maybe that’s why they call it a mystery cruise. Come! You can show me all the sights.” Ada pleads.

  “But today is Monday, that gives me less than at week to get it together. I can’t do this. It’s insane. Are you crazy? Are you taking those happy pills again?” Anna still can’t believe it.

  “Well you only have a day and a half really. I got you a ticket on Amtrak. You have a sleeper compartment. You change trains in Chicago and then it’s the Big Apple, Baby. You’ll be in Penn Station at 11 am Friday morning. It’s a five-minute taxi ride to the Mid-Town Passenger Ship Terminal on 12 at 55. We shove off at 1200 hours from Pier 33 Berth 3. I’ll meet you there. It’s kismet.” Ada has it all planned out.

  “Hey I am too old for this! You’re still a spring chicken in your fifties. But thanks, sis for asking.” Anna declines with a long silent sigh of regret.

  “No! I’m not going without you. It’s only fourteen days. Trust me you can leave the chickens by themselves. Just say yes and start packing. It’ll be laughs.”

  “I can’t. Geez, I feel like I fell into the rabbit’s hole.” Anna mutters.

  Ada interrupts, “Oh I get it now. All this time, I thought that you were kidding about Spiderman. But this is about your old boogey man. It’s Spy man that keeps you locked away in your monk cell. Right…?”

  Anna wants to answer ‘yeah that and the other thing.’ The other thing is the unspeakable, encroaching senility. Anna doesn’t want to be amongst strangers the day she can’t tell her left shoe from her right shoe.

  Ada is still going on about Spy man. “I know for a fact that Spy man gets seasick. So you have no excuse.”

  Thoroughly embarrassed by her sister’s calling her out on her obsession with spies, Anna accepts, “Well I guess I’ll start looking for a chicken sitter. Yikes my heart is skipping and my pulse is racing! I’m so excited. I still can’t believe this is all going to happen in a few days.”

  “Your ticket is on its way FedEx. I knew that I could talk you into it. Ciao.” Ada rings off quickly before her sister gets cold feet.

  Within the hour, FedEx is at the door. Anna signs the receipt. She can’t open the package fast enough. “These look genuine. Good god she’s made them out to Doc B! Looks like I’m going back to Europe after all these years? Two days in London? Do I dare? Why would I spoil a perfectly joyous vacation meeting up with a spook expert? But this whole thing does sound too fortuitous? Is there yet happenstance in this old life?

  So what if I find my way to Mycroft’s office? What’s the worst thing that can happen? ”

  Anna is too happy to consider the answer. “London will be as foreign to me as it was forty years ago when I made my first solo trip across the Atlantic.”

  Chapter Four

  At nine AM, Anna boards the sleek, silver California Zephyr and eagerly searches for the reserved sleeper. Up
on opening the compartment door, she lets out an audible, “Yikes.”

  The room is little more than a closet adorned with a wall-to-wall couch that serves as the bed. The opposite wall stows the sink, vanity and enclosed toilet which doubles for the shower. She slips into the narrow confine.

  “This will prove to be a feat of agility. Fifty plus hours in this compartment is a challenge even for a sardine.”

  Right on time, 9:15 a loud ‘ALL ABOARD’ bellows and the train jerks forward. As the train pulls out Anna remarks, “The die is cast. There’s no turning back.”

  The Zephyr gains speed unexpectedly fast. Anna’s heart rate accelerates with the rhythm of the train’s wheels. To calm her nerves she inventories the 36 sq ft.

  “Fresh towels, linens, nice; soap, bottled water, good; newspaper, fold down table, garment rack and reading lamp. I wonder if they change the sheets and towels. It even has air conditioning.

  Oh yes the schedule. First things first, the dining car hours are 6:30- 8:30 AM, 11:30- 1:30 and 5:30- 8:00 PM. Hmm let’s see that is six hours in the dining car.”

  Anna will not allow whimsy and mystery to define her adventure. A slave to the day-timer mentality, she charts out a schedule for the remaining fifty hours.

  “Let’s see thirty-five stops in all: seven in California, four in little Nevada, four more in Mormon country. Then it’s on to the Wild, Wild West with six stops in Colorado. Next five stops are in Nebraska. I wonder if Dorothy’s traveling this time of year.

  Another five stops in Iowa; I wonder what could be there. And then the last four stops in Illinois. Wow! 2,422 miles! Yikes we go from sea level to over 9000 ft.

  Now the big question is: Do I change my timepiece through the three times zones or just set it ahead for New York time or better yet, London time? I better not fool with the time. I might get off at the wrong stop thinking that I’m here when I’m still there.”