Solve by Christmas

by Amber Schamel

  He slogged from the alley and rushed toward his apartment. Denny should be waiting with Mr. Stosch’s file. Jasper already gained most of the information he sought, but it wouldn’t hurt to take a look. He had to figure out where these puzzle pieces fit into the picture before the Wobblies created more problems for Rudin Sugar Company.

  Shopkeepers added tinsel and brightly wrapped packages to their windows as he passed. One more reminder—his time was ticking away. When at last he reached the top of the stairs, Denny was leaning against the apartment door. “You look mad. What’d I miss?”

  Jasper unlocked the door and shooed the kid inside. “Do you have Stosch’s file?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was anyone else at the factory?”

  “Only Charlie. Said he’d come to check on things since he lives close by. He let me in for the file.” Denny raised one brow. “You know Bet won’t be happy to see a file missing, though.”

  “How will she know? Did you make it obvious you’d been there?”

  “I left a note on her chair. ‘With deepest affection, I have taken your files. Loving insults, Jasper.’”

  Were all seventeen-year-olds this annoying? Jasper shrugged out of his coat and plucked the file from Denny’s hand. “I’ve been spying on the Wobblies. Guess who I saw.”

  “Miss Leslie.”

  Jasper shot the kid a glare. One corner of Denny’s mouth twitched upward. “Okay, someone not so pretty.” Denny snapped his fingers. “I know, Benjamin Franklin.”

  “Mr. Stosch.” Jasper snatched up a towel and tossed it at wide-eyed Denny. “Clean up the mess you tracked in. You know, you can stomp off most of the snow before you enter the lobby.”

  Denny stooped and swiped the floor, then spoke with his head down as he worked. “Where did you see him?”

  “Two Wobblies were speaking near the Capitol Building. I followed them to the IWW headquarters and listened in on their meeting.” Jasper dropped the file on the table and sat.

  “What’d you find out?”

  “A detective doesn’t often ‘find out’ anything. He collects facts and resists drawing conclusions from said facts until he has enough of them to piece together a logical picture.” He flipped open the file. Just as he thought. “Frank Stosch, hired June 1904.”

  “Almost ten years of working for Mr. Rudin. Why would he try to harm the man after all that time?” Denny plunked into the chair across from Jasper and leaned over the table. “Any records of disputes? When was his last raise? Did he get passed up for a promotion?”

  Indeed, the man had been secretary to Mr. Rudin since Jasper had tagged along to the factory when he was Denny’s age. Of course, when he became the private investigator for the company four years ago, he had run checks on all of the current employees. They’d weeded out a few unsavory characters then. Had they missed one? Who else would have access to accomplish sabotage such as this?

  *****

  The next week brought sunshine and, with it, a breakthrough of gloom. Rays of rainbow light filtered through the stained-glass windows of the Holy Transfiguration Cathedral as Jasper exited the priest’s office and stepped into the sanctuary. He paused before the altar. Tiny flickers danced from the multitude of candles spread about it.

  Although he didn’t believe God needed a candle to hear him, he took a moment to breathe a prayer of thanksgiving. The streetcars had reopened, allowing him those last few interviews he’d needed. None too soon.

  Now, under his left arm, he cradled his report on the life of Mr. Rudin, along with notes from his conversation with the priest. By the time his employer finished reading it, he’d have no doubt that his life meant something. No one could deny the pages of testimony and figures he’d rounded up.

  “I see you’re still a praying man, Jasper boy.” Mr. Rudin’s mustached tone startled him. He hadn’t noticed him seated on the lone pew at the back of the room.

  The bench groaned as Jasper sat beside him. “My mother did raise me before she passed. I remember quite a few conversations about the subject between the two of you.”

  The man grunted. “Yes, seemed to be one of her favorite topics. I never could avoid it.”

  “Are you not here for prayer then, Mr. Rudin?”

  The old man’s mouth twisted. “I’m not sure, really. I wanted to see the place since they’ve made improvements. And I needed a quiet place to think. This seemed a logical location.”

  They sat in silence, eyes wandering from stained-glass windows, to paintings and relics, finally to the imitation of Christ hanging on the Cross.

  Mr. Rudin sighed and folded his arms. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you. Less than eighteen days left, you know.”

  Swallowing hard at the reminder, Jasper gripped the report. “Well, I think you will forget your countdown when you read this.” He set the stack of papers between them on the bench. “I must say I am amazed. Even with as much as I knew about you and what you’ve meant to my family.”

  A strange light flickered in the man’s ice-blue eyes. His fingers fidgeted on the bench before inching toward the report. “May I?”

  Jasper rose and brought a candle lamp nearer the bench. “Please do, sir.”

  After extracting spectacles from his pocket and adjusting them on his nose, Mr. Rudin picked up the report. His eyes slowly followed each line. Jasper paced to the front of the church and traced the embroidery of the silk linens draped across the pulpit. Somewhere beyond the iconed walls, a choir’s hymn echoed, lending to the celestial aura.

  “Oh, is that what they’ve done with that wing?” Mr. Rudin’s mustache twitched as he grinned. “I’m glad the orphanage has been putting it to good use. Bunks! What a lovely idea.”

  Jasper held a finger to his lips. “Please, sir, the church.”

  Mr. Rudin shrugged, flipped the page, and rested one elbow on the back of the pew as he continued reading.

  Folding his hands behind his back, Jasper returned to sit beside him. Indeed, the wing in the orphanage was a wonderful addition. Jasper’s mind wandered back to Eddie and the other children. He’d have to stop by on his way home. Mr. Rudin would probably even give him a sack of candy to take to them.

  Would Miss Leslie be going this afternoon? Perhaps he could catch her before she left, and they could walk there together. The thought sounded pleasant until he recalled her antagonistic nature.

  Never mind.

  “My wife said that?”

  Jasper looked up to see Mr. Rudin’s shadowed eyes pooling with tears, searching Jasper’s in the dim light as if for a life-and-death answer. “Yes, sir. It’s clear she admires you very much.”

  Mr. Rudin reached up and dabbed the edge of his eye. “She did at one time, but I’m afraid I ruined it long ago. If you ever marry, son, don’t fall off the hero’s pedestal she put you on.”

  Frowning, Jasper cocked his head to one side. He opened his mouth to ask more, but Mr. Rudin cleared his throat and tapped the paper. “Where did you come up with these figures?”

  “I—uh—calculated them myself based on the comments of those I spoke to.”

  An eyebrow ticked. Silent again, Mr. Rudin turned another page. He twisted his mustache. Gnawed his lower lip. Clicked his fingernails. Then chewed them. Finally, he flipped the last page and removed his spectacles.

  “It is a fine report, my boy. I never knew I hailed such praise from those around me.”

  A grin split Jasper’s face. This would do the trick.

  “It would make a fine eulogy at my funeral.”

  The grin disappeared. “What?”

  “I’d be pleased if you would read it at the service. Here, in this cathedral.”

  “B–but, Rudin—”

  “Yes, reading this I see that ending my life before the New Year is the best plan.”

  “Sir!” Jasper sprang to his feet, his protest amplified by echoing room. “How can you say that? Have you not understood a word you read?”

  “Calm down, Jasper. Of course, I
did.”

  The calmness in which Mr. Rudin spoke unnerved him. The elder man rose and waved him toward the door.

  “You can’t take your life. Don’t you see how much good you’ve done? How much you are revered throughout Denver?”

  When they exited through the strong oak doors, Mr. Rudin faced him. “Son, there comes a point in one’s life when you realize all the good you could ever do has already been done. Continuing on my current path, I will only tarnish what deeds and reputations I have previously earned.”

  Jasper wanted to grab the old man by the shoulders and give him a good shake. He waved his hands up toward the steeple towering over their heads. “Don’t you think that should be God’s call?”

  Mr. Rudin followed his indication, his gaze resting on the wooden Cross above the pointed arch doorway. “Sometimes God provides the means and leaves the end to us.”

  “What about those around you who will suffer grief? What about your wife and daughter?”

  “My daughter loves me only for the position and finances I gave her. I’ve made many mistakes in my life, one of them being a belief that a man could buy a child’s affection. It plows a shallow ditch where only superficial love can grow. Do you know I only see my grandchild once a year? We’ve deliberately crossed town to visit them, but she was so busy flitting from one social gathering to another that she didn’t even have time for her parents to kiss their grandson. She is content for us to send the child gifts several times a year.”

  “And your wife?”

  Mr. Rudin’s gaze faltered. He extracted gloves from his coat pocket and fit them on. “Olivia and I have seen better days. Her opinion of me is not what it used to be. My only hope is to keep it from tumbling further.”

  An icy breeze licked up snowflakes and flung them into Mr. Rudin’s eyes. He blinked rapidly and angled toward where his chauffeur waited beside his limousine. Jasper trotted to keep up with him. “Excuse me for saying so, sir, but that is pure rubbish. I spoke personally with Mrs. Rudin—”

  The man jerked around, his eyes narrowing into a sharp look that halted Jasper’s words. “Do you really think my wife would reveal her personal feelings to you, Jasper boy?”

  Chomping down on his lip, Jasper winced. Were things really so dire between the two of them? Perhaps that was a main reason for his employer’s depressed state. There had to be a way to right it. He huffed a breath of cold air. “She did mention you haven’t been yourself. She’s concerned for you, sir.”

  The door clicked as the chauffeur swung it open. Mr. Rudin braced one hand on the top, ready to duck inside. “Concern is an easy emotion, dear boy. If you’d lived with anyone forty years, you’d be inhuman not to have a ‘concern’ for them.” He paused as a streetcar rumbled passed with a trill of the trolley bell. “Everyone would be better off with the money and memories I would leave behind. Memories grow fonder after one has passed, you know.”

  “Mr. Rudin, that simply isn’t true.”

  The man lowered into his seat in the car, icy-blue eyes penetrating as his hand lingered on the door. “Then prove it, detective.”

  Chapter Ten

  Brilliant. Now what?

  Jasper’s teeth clenched as he strode down Lincoln Street. He’d spent hours—days, actually—compiling that report. He was so sure it would be what he needed to convince Mr. Rudin. Instead, it had done the opposite.

  There was no humanly possible way to change a stubborn man’s mind. And he was running out of time.

  He passed a group of carolers perched on the side of the road singing “Joy To The World”. Why couldn’t Mr. Rudin pick up on a little of that “joy of the season”?

  Frigid air caught the edges of Jasper’s coat, lifting it out of the way, and encircled his waist, providing a welcome contrast to the blood boiling in his veins. Balling his fists, he lengthened his strides. The man was insufferable. And his ridiculous notions. He was as emotional as a schoolgirl.

  Jasper turned a corner. But his shoe slipped on the icy walk, and he collided with a young woman. She let out a shriek before sprawling into the slush pile edging the street. He landed with a slosh in a mud puddle beside the stack of books she’d been toting.

  “Oh.” The lady’s hat had fallen over her eyes, and she flung her hands to rid her gloves of snow and filth. “Why don’t men ever watch where they’re plowing their brute forms? Just look at this mess.” She pushed her hat up, and he recognized her hazel eyes as she gazed at the stack beside him. “And just look at those books. They were supposed to be a Christmas gift for the children at the orphanage.”

  Her eyes met his, and her lips puckered. “You! I might have known.”

  “Me? And what about you, Miss Leslie? Shouldn’t you have watched where you were going, too? I hardly think you can say I’m the only one at fault. I’m more soiled than you are.”

  “You were soiled to begin with. Now your suit matches your sour face and mood.”

  “My face? My mood?” Jasper pushed himself off the pavement and shook his leg, water spewing as he did. “If I weren’t a gentleman—”

  “A gentleman? No, sir. A gentleman would apologize and help a lady retrieve her belongings. Perhaps even offer to pay for what he damaged.”

  If it weren’t for his mother’s voice echoing in his memory, he’d have left the woman in the snow pile and continued on his way. Instead, he offered his hand. She took it, though scowling as she did, and he lifted her out of the snow. Her gloved hand felt so tiny inside his. A strange numbness tingled up his forearm.

  Once she was steady, he bent and picked up the books. Wiping mud from the covers with his scarf, he read the titles—Adventures Of Sherlock Holmes and The Works Of Shakespeare.

  “You don’t have very good taste in literature, Miss Leslie. Novels and love operas are hardly fitting. You might find something more substantial to feed young minds.”

  She snatched the books away from him, wisps of damp hair clung to both of her flaming cheeks. “Not that they’ll even get to read them now.”

  “Don’t be silly. The covers are a little moist, but the books will be fine once they dry out.”

  “Fine.” She folded her arms across the books and eyed him. The same angry green predominant in her gaze. “Well? Are you going to apologize?”

  Jasper snorted. “I might.” He brushed past her. “If I’d run into a lady.”

  He didn’t look back as he crossed the street and continued down the other side. But he could hear her huff before her quick steps charged in the opposite direction. It was almost worth the chiding voice of his mother echoing in his head all the way home. Really, he’d controlled himself pretty well considering his fury. Consoling himself with this thought, he unlocked his apartment door and entered the cramped space.

  He hung his wet coat and plucked off his shoes. Socks, however, didn’t come so easily. He nearly toppled three times before he peeled them off. Cold. Wet. And all the fault of that troll of a woman. Of course, that wasn’t even the worst of it. He snatched the cover from his bed, wrapped it around his shoulders, and stalked to the sitting area. He scowled before the golden mirror.

  “You lied. You told me it would work.” His eyebrows dipped further as he stared at his reflection. “You needed it. A little humility can be a good thing.”

  He pulled the blanket tighter and sniffed. “Not that pride has ever been one of my faults.”

  Laughter came from somewhere. Out the window? Jasper shook his head.

  Focus, detective.

  “So, what are we supposed to try next?” He blinked several times, but the gold mirror gave him no answers. He faced the dark one. “Well?”

  Still nothing.

  Turning again, he faced the plain mirror this time and rubbed his fingers together. “The notebook.”

  He strode to the table and flipped it open to his original notes. PURPOSE scrawled across the top in big bold letters.

  “Purpose, yes. But it needs to go a bit further this time.”

 
; He plucked up a pencil and flipped the page.

  VISION.

  Yes, if he could cast a vision for Mr. Rudin, show him what good he could accomplish in the coming years. Give him something to aim for, something to angle toward down the road, that would give him a reason to live.

  His mind’s wheels spinning now, he pulled out a chair, tossed the blanket aside and sat before his notebook.

  THINGS MR. RUDIN COULD DO/CHANGE.

  He tapped his chin. The orphanage was in pretty good shape, but what if Mr. Rudin put together a program to give the boys something to do when they reached Denny’s age? He could start an occupational program and help them find jobs in the community paying enough to support themselves.

  Chewing the inside of his cheek, he jotted the idea down.

  WIN BACK HIS DAUGHTER AND GRANDCHILD.

  Although how Mr. Rudin would accomplish such a feat was yet to be known.

  TAKE MRS. RUDIN ON A LAVISH TRIP. RENEW THE ROMANCE.

  Jasper knew nothing of such things, but surely, it would be as easy as a trip and occasional chocolates and flowers. Except with Miss Leslie. That woman probably hated flowers and was allergic to chocolate. Trolls didn’t like chocolate, did they?

  What else was important to Mr. Rudin? He might expand his business and open a second factory. Perhaps he could fund some grand building and put his name to it. An everlasting memorial. One eyebrow quirked, but Jasper wrote those down anyway.

  He stood, straightened his vest, and grasped his coffee cup. “Speaking of the troll.” Mr. Stosch’s file still sat on the table. He’d have to take it back in the morning and hope the woman had been too busy to miss it.

  *****

  The worst thing about snow was the mess it made when melting. Jasper sidestepped a muddy puddle as he exited his apartment lobby. He eyed his cap-toe boots with a grunt. He’d need a new pair by the time winter was over. One more thing ruined.