by Kacey Gene
Jake eyes Jennifer’s bag, confirming what she already suspected. The brown leather copy of A Christmas Carol that she took and that matches the sets in Fred’s and Earl’s place was the newest addition to Matt’s collection.
“We need a copy of that receipt,” Jennifer says.
“Already on it,” Jake says, pulling into his driveway. “My dad requested that Matt’s parents send a photo of the receipt, and he’s going to send it to me as soon as he gets it.”
“Anything else?” Jennifer asks, jokingly, but then she sees that there is more.
Jake unbuckles his seat belt. “Officer Holtz told me some information about the books before Sharb cut her off.”
“What is up with Sharb?” Jennifer asks, but Jake jumps right over that rhetorical question.
“Turns out that the Dickens novels in Earl’s place, guess what was on the inside cover of all of them?”
“A Pelznickel sticker?” Jennifer asks.
“Yep. And the exact same number combination as the book you saved from the fire at Fred’s house.”
“The ‘33314 to keep the Spirit of Christmas alive’ message?” Jennifer asks, also unbuckling her seatbelt.
“That inscription exactly. In every single Dickens book at Earl’s,” Jake says.
“But that doesn’t make any sense. Why would the books in Earl’s apartment be a code that leads to Earl’s apartment -- the 9N?” Jennifer asks.
“I don’t think the code is to lead people to 9N anymore,” Jake says, opening the car door.
“What’s it for, then?” Jennifer asks, quickly hopping out of the car and catching up with him.
“That’s what we’re going to figure out.”
Chapter Sixteen
Cracking the Christmas Carol Code
Jennifer and Jake walk up Jake’s driveway as he opens his garage door. Jake never parks the squad car in his garage -- that spot is reserved for his true love. His boat. It’s a gleaming white speed boat, and Jake has it hibernate in his garage during the winter. Come summer, though, he wakes up his bear of a boat and parks it in the bay. That way he can do what he loves to do everyday in the summer -- go out on the water in the early mornings and after he’s finished a day at work.
Jennifer runs her hand across the boat as they make their way to his door, and as soon as she steps into Jake’s house, she feels like she’s at home. This old craftsman house was built by Jake’s great-grandfather, and it’s been passed down in his family ever since. Jake’s older sister, Lindsey, who is a big-time photographer in L.A., didn’t want the house, but Jake did. And Jennifer is glad that he did.
This is the house where Jennifer and Jake played basketball in the driveway growing up, and this is the house where they chased each other around the yard and had water balloon fights. And this is the house Jennifer ran to when her parents would fight and when she found out that they were getting a divorce. It’s the only home of her childhood that’s still in her life, and that’s not something Jennifer wants to let go of.
“I’ve got to take a shower,” Jake says, disgustingly eyeing his hands that are covered in a skin of pudding. “You good down here?”
“Of course.”
“You know where the tea and everything is, so help yourself to anything, and your room is all made up.”
“I know. I know,” Jennifer says, playfully pushing on Jake’s back to get him out of the kitchen where they’re standing and into the shower where he wants to be. “I’ll be fine.”
Jake hustles upstairs to the shower, and Jennifer takes a mug from the cabinet. She knows her way around Jake’s kitchen like it’s her own -- the only difference being that Jake’s kitchen is easily double the size of her kitchen. It’s circular in shape with a large island in the middle of it that Jake built himself. It’s a full butcher block, and she and Jake have sat around that kitchen island hundreds of times trying to piece together crimes or coming up with lesson ideas for Jennifer’s second graders.
The island matches the butcher block countertops Jake installed on the cabinets that he refinished in a distressed white, at Jennifer’s suggestion. Running to the bedroom that Jake always has fixed up for her, she passes through the family room where Jake’s giant Christmas tree occupies the corner by the large windows that overlook his backyard.
When she gets into the bedroom, Jennifer throws her bag onto the navy duvet that’s neatly tucked into the corners of the mahogany sleigh bed. She turns toward the dresser Jake has on the sidewall and opens the top drawer. That’s where Jake’s old t-shirts are.
Jennifer slips out of her sweater and into his grey t-shirt that says, “Michigan” across the front of it. Jake went to school at Michigan, but Jennifer slides some University of Iowa Hawkeye gear from her alma mater into his shirts every once in awhile. Stepping out of her jeans, she pulls on a pair of shorts, and then she hears the whistling of the teapot.
She grabs the book, her yarn, and her crochet hook from her bag and runs back into the kitchen.
With her ginger chamomile tea steeping, Jennifer snuggles into Jake’s overstuffed grey couch that’s angled across from the Christmas tree in his family room. Flipping on the tree lights, she feels an ease come over her. Jake’s house smells like pine, his hardwood floors sparkle with glowing Christmas lights, and the puffy navy chair, his small cream rug, and the gas fireplace that has stockings hanging from it are all where they’re supposed to be.
Finally Jennifer can breath and just relax. And that relaxation stays with her as she pulls the yarn onto her lap and continues crocheting Julie’s baby-to-be’s stocking that she started this morning, which now feels like days ago.
Her mind focuses in on counting stitches and rows as she moves into building the heel of the stocking and finishing at the toe. This is one of the things she loves about crocheting. It is the one time that her mind can shut off from the rest of the world and just focus on the present.
Putting in the final slip stitch and weaving in the loose ends, Jennifer evaluates her work. The stocking is a bit smaller than she imagined, but it’s perfect for a baby’s first Christmas, and her sister-in-law Julie is going to love the country “Father Christmas” feel Jennifer created with the maroon and grey yarn.
Jennifer’s tea is almost empty, and she is starting to feel the chamomile pull on her eyelids. She thinks about curling up right here and pulling the soft fur blanket Jake has folded over the couch across her. She could simply fall asleep and forget all about the books, the murders, and what they still need to piece together to solve these crimes.
That dream is shattered, though, when Jake’s voice comes booming from above her.
Jake’s house has an upstairs loft that overlooks the family room, and Jake is standing right at the railing of it. “Do you know what I just realized?” Jake asks.
“That you take extremely long showers?” Jennifer playfully says as she tilts her head back and looks up at Jake.
“I had to soap three times,” Jake says. “There was just so much pudding.”
He turns away from the railing on the loft and runs down the stairs. He comes and plops right next to Jennifer on the couch. His dark hair is still wet, and he’s wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants and a navy University of Michigan hoodie. Jennifer remembers when he got that hoodie his freshman year of college. It was right before he came and visited Jennifer in Chicago for Christmas break. She refused to go to Middlebridge like she usually did for the holidays because her dad had gone on radio silence. Jake decided to be the buffer, and he wore that exact hoodie every day when he visited her. Jennifer thinks about how strange it is that Jake looks the same as he did then -- his bright blue eyes are still unwrinkled, his body is still fit and strong, and his dark, black hair is just as thick as it was then -- yet, so much has changed around them.
“Matt Kiley lived in apartment 3C, right?” Jake asks, breaking Jennifer’s observations.
“Right,” Jennifer says, tucking her legs beneath her.
“And
he had fourteen copies of A Christmas Carol.”
Jennifer knows exactly where Jake’s mind is going. It’s the combination. The “33314.” The Dickens novels weren’t leading to Earl’s apartment; they were leading to Matt’s apartment -- third floor, apartment 3C, with “C” being the third letter in the alphabet and the third “3” in the combination. And he had 14 copies of A Christmas Carol.
That’s why Fred sent Matt the plates, Jennifer thinks. The plates were a marker. A sign to whomever Fred was trying to communicate with to get this book. The plates would lead them to Matt’s apartment building -- seeing as Matt’s parking spot was outside the front of his building and visible to everyone -- and then the person would know to go to the third floor and apartment 3C. There they’d look for the 14th book of A Christmas Carol, which would be obvious since this copy matches the sets at both Fred’s and Earl’s place.
All of these pieces fuse together in Jennifer’s mind with the speed of electricity, and she spews them out to Jake just as quickly.
He listens intently, loving the way her brain sparks and works, and when she’s finished he says, “I think you’re right,” but then he pauses. He grabs the copy of A Christmas Carol and says, “But I also think that these number combinations are an old army code.”
“An army code?” Jennifer asks, not following at all.
“Let me show you,” Jake says, opening the book to page three, paragraph three, and the third letter in that paragraph. He puts his finger on that letter, and looks at Jennifer triumphantly.
“You have to be kidding me,” Jennifer says, as her eyes light up with the pattern Jake just revealed.
Chapter Seventeen
Christmas Cookies Begin
Jennifer stretches her arms and legs under the puffy duvet she snuggled under all night. It’s still dark outside, seeing as time has just turned past 5:30 AM, but Jennifer’s brain is wide awake as she remembers the discoveries they made last night, not to mention the new unanswered questions that kept them up until midnight.
The first number combination lead to the letter “e,” but even more importantly, right above that letter “e” was another number combination: 172414. Following the same pattern they used for the first combination, Jake and Jennifer turned to page one and looked for paragraph seven, but there wasn’t a paragraph seven on page one.
“The 172414 is six numbers instead of five, which is how many were in the first combination,” Jake said, trying to work through the new hurdle.
“And the last two numbers of both combinations is 14,” Jennfer added.
“I think the ‘14’ is a reference to the book,” Jake said. “For some reason, this book is known as the 14th book.”
“Okay,” Jennfer said, “so then what we really want to look at are the numbers prior to the ‘14.’”
“We should put the one and seven together,” Jake said, quickly. “Go to page 17.”
Page 17 was covered in dozens of number combinations, but Jake and Jennifer focused their eyes in on paragraph two and letter four. It lead to a “b,” and there was a new combination above that letter, and it ended in ‘14.’
They followed the number trail and flipped from page to page, writing down the combinations and the letters until they got to the last letter. It was an “e,” and they knew it was the last letter because the number combination above that “e” ended in a 13 instead of a 14. The combination changed, signaling that their path had ended, and they were left with the message:
ebenezer’s home
“Ebenezer’s home,” Jennifer quietly says to herself while still snuggling under the navy duvet. They didn’t know what those words meant last night, and she still can’t figure out their reference this morning. She knows that Ebenezer’s home in A Christmas Carol is in London, but she can’t even fathom hopping a plane to London with no clue other than “ebenezer’s home” to guide her. And what are they supposed to look for in that home? Or is this an actual, literal reference to a home or some kind of metaphor?
Jennifer climbs out of bed, knowing that there’s no way she’ll be able to get back to sleep now that her brain has jump-started like a motorcycle race. She stretches her rested body that she can feel wants more than a handful of hours of sleep. She fantasizes about the possibility of a nap today, but she knows that dream is going to remain in fantasy land. They have too much to do. She has too much to do, and that’s why she grabs her Ziploc full of cookie cutters and shuffles into Jake’s kitchen.
She flips on the lights, puts on the tea kettle, and pulls out the flour, sugar, eggs, and other ingredients she needs for the Christmas cookies. She flies out for Chicago tomorrow, so there’s no way she can delay making these cookies anymore. Luckily, she knew Jake would have all the ingredients; his kitchen is often better stocked than hers is.
Knowing that Jake won’t be up for another hour, Jennifer figures this is the time she can dedicate to her to-do list, which was priority number one before the murders knocked that to-do list fully out of her mind.
Sipping her tea as she sifts the flour, sugar, and baking powder together in a bowl, Jennifer softly hums “O Christmas Tree” to herself as she thinks about the different shapes she’ll form this dough into. Her mom always loves the Christmas tree cookies she makes -- the ones with the white icing and silver sprinkles that drape across the cookies like strands of silver ribbon. Her sister-in-law Julie always gravitates toward the candy cane cookies Jennifer meticulously ices with a combination of red and white icing, making sure to create strict divisions between the two colors. And her brother, Michael, never touches the cookies.
“I don’t do sugar,” he stubbornly says, and his wife Julie always beams at him with pride when he says this. She also then guiltily looks at her cookie and sets it down.
The oven beeps, letting Jennifer know that it’s preheated to 350 degrees, and Jennifer is like a one-woman assembly line rolling out the dough, cutting it into shapes, and getting the cookie sheets filled.
The cookies only take seven minutes to bake, so by 6:00 AM, Jake’s kitchen is filled with the smell of warm, baked dough. Jennifer puts in the last batch of cookies as she piles another set on the cooling rack next to the stove.
She turns off the kitchen lights, wanting to only be by candlelight as the sun starts to come up. Feeling productive with these batches of cookies made, Jennifer decides she’ll light the candles Jake has on his kitchen counter and get started on that tree skirt for Julie. It’s a difficult crochet pattern, so Jennifer knows she’ll need solid time working on it. Because Julie will expect it to be perfect.
When Jennifer is just about to strike a match to light the candles she’s gathered, she sees something move outside Jake’s back window. The object is swift and low to the ground. It also makes Jennifer’s heart beat so vigorously that she can feel it in her ears.
At first she thinks it’s an opossum or a big cat, but as her eyes focus in on the window, she sees that the figure is still there -- crouching down below Jake’s window. Taking a silent, barefoot step closer, she sees a curve of a back. A human back.
Someone is crouched below the window, and it looks like they’re digging something up in the bushes.
“This is the best smell to wake up to,” Jake says, mozying into the kitchen. “But why are you in the dark?” he asks, reaching out for the kitchen light, but Jennifer runs and leaps on Jake before he has a chance to flip on the light. “What are you doing?” Jake asks, eyeing Jennifer like she’s transformed into a rabid animal.
Silently, Jennifer points toward the window. At first Jake doesn’t see anything, but then he sees the curved figure move. “What is that?” Jake asks. A head pops up, and both Jake and Jennifer jump back. With the lights off, the person outside can’t see them inside, but Jake and Jennifer intently watch as the person pulls a bundle of what looks like string from the pocket of their sweatshirt.
“What did he just pull out?” Jennifer whispers, eyeing the bundle.
“I don’t
know for sure,” Jake says, “but none of this looks good.” So even though he’s in his pajamas, Jake swiftly heads to the front door, steps into his boots, opens the door, and disappears. Jennifer does the exact same, but she’s a few steps behind Jake.
She follows his boot prints in the thin snow that stretches across the grass like cotton candy. When she gets to him, they both silently stand at the corner where the side and the back of the house meet.
There’s a rustle, confirming that whomever was in Jake’s bushes is still in Jake’s bushes.
Jake looks over at Jennifer and mouths the words, “On three.”
Jennifer nods and keeps her eyes on Jake’s mouth as he holds up his fingers and whispers, “One. Two. Three.”
Chapter Eighteen
The Boy Beneath the Window
The perpetrator below Jake’s window immediately jumps into action when they surround him. Even though the sun is just starting to come up, they can see that he’s wearing thick sweats. He has a hoodie pulled over his head, so they can’t make out any specific facial features, but they can see that the man is fast and athletic.
But Jennifer is to his right, and Jake is to his left. He’ll have to run through one of them in order to get away.
He chooses Jennifer.
But she’s ready for him.
Even though the man is double her size and stealthy like a cheetah, Jennifer is quick-minded. She keeps her cool as the man takes his first and then second stride toward her, and just when he’s about to zip past her, she sticks out her boot-covered leg.
The man trips right over it and tumbles to the ground. Jake quickly jumps on top of the man and pins his arms behind his back.
Jennifer proudly crosses her arms and nods her head, giving herself a second to gloat over bringing down someone almost twice her size. Although, she can’t take full credit for this takedown. She learned all of her tripping tactics from monitoring second grade recess. Those kids may struggle with subtraction, but second graders sure do know how to trip someone.
