Cherringham--Secret Santa

by Neil Richards

  And when they were gone.

  “Okay. I’m going to go take a look.”

  “Down there? Isn’t that dangerous?”

  And Jack had to admit — it could very well be. But in minutes the man, the money, Emily, could all be gone.

  “Sarah will be here soon. Tell her to stay with you, okay? I’ll see what I can do. I have my phone so if we need to get Alan, she can ring him.”

  He took a breath.

  “Got that?”

  She nodded.

  Brave kid, he thought.

  Then he popped open the door to the Mini, all that cosy heat escaping, the temperature outside instantly chilling, this flat aerodrome freeing the biting north wind to scrape across the ground like a razor.

  And with a nod to Grace, Jack shut the door and made his way down to the warehouse.

  *

  “Okay, Grace. Be there in five,” Sarah said.

  She came to the junction that led to the road to the old airfield, and suddenly remembered that when she was a kid, planes still flew here.

  Mostly private planes, little Cessnas, but also small shipping flights.

  Now she took the access road, quickly seeing the squat outline of her assistant’s tiny car.

  Then she cut her lights and slowly drove alongside the Mini.

  She got out and ran to the side of Grace’s car.

  “Sarah! Jack said you should wait here. He’ll let you know if—”

  Sarah nodded.

  Typical Jack.

  If there was danger, he would try to keep her out of it.

  But she guessed he also knew that, in the past when he tried to do that, it didn’t stop her.

  We’re a team, hmm? she’d say.

  “Thanks Grace. I’m going down there anyway. And if you see those other people leave — and not us …”

  “Sarah — you’re scaring me.”

  “Well, it won’t happen. But if it does, call Alan. Got that?”

  Her assistant nodded.

  And now Sarah started walking fast, almost slipping and falling on the icy ridges, heading to the warehouse.

  Jack was down there.

  And that was enough for her.

  15. A Deal for Santa

  Jack leaned up to one of the windows, so covered with soot and grime as to be opaque.

  But he could make out blurry figures inside.

  A woman. Emily for sure. Two men … then a third sitting in a chair. Maybe tied up.

  Hard to identify — but Jack guessed it must be Bill.

  And he also saw a car. Again, through the windows, a deep blue smudge of a thing. But, even distorted and blurry, Jack could tell it was no ordinary car. No mere wreck that Bill Vokes tinkered with in his spare time.

  It was … something.

  Pressing his ear against the window — a risky move that could get him spotted — he couldn’t make out anything that was being said inside. Just odd grumbles, then a high-pitched sound — Emily — then more indistinct sounds.

  Jack guessed that whatever was happening might come to a conclusion, one way or the other, soon.

  And he knew he had no choice.

  He moved away from the sooty rectangular window, and made his way to the warehouse door.

  A breath.

  And then in he went.

  *

  All eyes turned to him as soon as he entered.

  And for a moment he just stood there.

  “Who the hell is this?” one man said, turning to Emily.

  The man — not the guy with the valise — had his fists balled up as if he was about to lay into Emily.

  “Hang on there, friend. Don’t do anything rash. Think we got a little situation here.”

  Jack saw the man with the valise slowly raise his hand to his jacket top.

  Something inside an inner pocket there? Jack suspected. And he guessed he knew what that was.

  Dicey situation this, he thought.

  “You too, friend,” Jack said to the man with the valise, hand also fishing in a pocket … Then, quickly, not giving the guy too much time to think things through: “Bill — you okay?”

  Jack saw Bill look up.

  Sunken eyes, face drawn. Hadn’t been treated well.

  But he was alive.

  Then the burly guy with fists walked up to Jack.

  “You with that bastid there? The guy who let us rot?”

  And Jack didn’t really know what he was talking about …

  Which is when the door opened.

  And in walked someone who — Jack guessed — might be able to shed some much-needed light on the whole story.

  And maybe — if they were lucky — lead to Bill Vokes getting the hell out of here alive.

  *

  “Sam Miller?” Sarah said to the burly guy.

  And that stopped him.

  Then she pivoted to the man with the money. “And Bobby MacLeish I believe?”

  She looked at Jack, who she knew was not happy to see her here.

  But he might be very interested in what she was about to say.

  She had seen the photos of the two men. Older, worn down now. But recognisable. The two crooks from the heist.

  And what this was all about, now clear.

  “Okay,” she said, taking steps to be beside Jack.

  Felt a little safer there.

  “All right. So — you guys, all those years ago, you pulled off the robbery. But then it went wrong — Bill got away — and you got picked up. Carried the can. Knowing all along that Bill here had the cash nice and safe. That right?”

  “Something like that,” said MacLeish, stepping forward.

  “So you did your time, and then you started looking for the money. Started looking for Bill Armitage. But Bill Armitage had disappeared — and become … Bill Vokes.”

  She saw Bill’s eyes go wide at that. He had done such a good job at burying his identity.

  Up till now.

  The burly guy — Sam — nodded. “We tracked him down — in the end. Found out about the stupid Santa thing he did. Just had to be patient.”

  “To get at that money?”

  “Too right! We did time for that money; ours to claim.”

  The other guy, MacLeish, shook his head, jiggling the valise. “And still only a fraction of it in here. The stupid bastard has to give us the rest. Or else!”

  Bill shook his head.

  “That’s all the cash. All that’s left of it.”

  And while this was going on, cash amounts debated, Sarah saw Jack just watching, but every now and then his eyes drifting over …

  To a car.

  In the back of the warehouse.

  Odd-looking thing, a shiny blue. Gleaming. But had to be something from the 30s. Probably doesn’t even run, she guessed.

  Still — Jack kept looking at it.

  “We want the rest of the money,” Sam said.

  Then she saw Jack look at her.

  “Okay, guess we need to work out a little deal here, hmm?”

  A deal? thought Sarah, now feeling anxious. With these guys?

  *

  “So. You have, what, one hundred, two hundred thousand pounds in that case?”

  “A bloody fraction of—”

  Sarah saw Jack put a hand up.

  “And of course, in order to get it, you two — who are probably on some kind of probation despite your long sentences — resorted to kidnapping.”

  “He had our damn money!” MacLeish said.

  “I know. I get that. Though in truth — hardly your money.”

  “That safe deposit — not like robbing a bank,” said MacLeish.

  “There was stuff in there that wasn’t legit in the first place — know what I mean?” said Miller.

  “And any that was legit, well those people got insurance, didn’t they?” said MacLeish. “Nobody lost out. Except us.”

  “All we want is the rest of what’s ours,” said Miller. “And we want it now.”

&nb
sp; Was this about to fall apart, Sarah wondered? These men about to bolt with the cash, take Bill?

  Or worse?

  Jack walked over to Bill. Emily stood to one side.

  “What you got there — that’s all the cash, right, Emily?”

  The mousy woman nodded, resting a hand on Bill’s shoulder.

  Then to the men. “And you did commit a major crime to get it for the second time …”

  “It’s ours — keep telling you.”

  Jack shook his head “Think any court will look unkindly on kidnapping. But, tell you what …”

  Then Sarah saw where Jack was headed. She knew Bill had got off light for his part in the robbery. Just a conspiracy charge.

  But if he had the money all along, helped these guys, he could still go to jail, for what would be the rest of his life.

  “So here’s the deal. You take it. Lot of money. You walk away. And in turn, no cops, no court. And this one more thing — you never, ever say a word about Bill’s involvement.”

  Sarah looked at Bill, then his wife.

  Her eyes glistening. She must have known about what Bill had done, even when he vanished, and kept the secret close.

  Such a dangerous secret.

  “You get all the cash, and Bill never has to worry about you two again.”

  Then the moment.

  Sarah nearly held her breath.

  MacLeish looked at Sam.

  They had money. A lot of it. And no threat of new charges.

  If they walked.

  Sam cleared his throat.

  “All right then. Deal.”

  But then he turned to Bill. “Don’t know how the hell you burned all that cash, you—”

  Sam had a finger right up to Bill’s face.

  And Sarah watched Jack take a step, and push the chunky arm down.

  “Now, I think it is time for you to exit.”

  Sam used his bowling ball head to nod, and the two of them trailed out of the workshop.

  Leaving her and Emily standing there, as Jack untied Bill.

  Then, while Jack stood back, Bill stood up and hugged Emily tight.

  But Sarah had a question that bothered her.

  All their money gone? How would they live?

  But Jack didn’t seem worried at all.

  *

  Sarah let Grace know that all was well and they’d be out soon.

  Then, it was Emily who voiced the question.

  “Oh Bill — your face! It’s all bruised. I was so worried, but now—”

  With her husband safe, other thoughts came.

  “All that money, Bill. I’m sorry love. I had to do it.”

  “You did, pet,” said Bill. “You had no choice.”

  “All of it,” said Emily. “Every last penny.”

  And that did seem true.

  But Jack walked past everyone heading to the back of the small car workshop Bill had created.

  To the sapphire blue car.

  Then, after a long gaze at it, Jack turned.

  “Not every last penny, Emily. I think Bill was cleverer than that. You see, they got all that cash, true. But Bill — well — Bill, do you want to tell Emily what this is here, what we are looking at?”

  Bill gave his wife’s hands a squeeze, then he turned to what Sarah soon guessed was his other love.

  The blue car.

  “Um, well, Emily, you know me and cars …”

  “Tell me about it,” said Emily. “The hours you’ve wasted with your head in an engine.”

  “Well, here’s the thing. This little car, this here — that I’ve worked on for so many years, a bit here, bit there — well, it’s a 1936 Bugatti Roadster.”

  “Right”, she said, not getting it, “another car, but …”

  “Took me a while getting the exact parts, bartering, dealing with people all over the globe. Probably …”

  And Bill had the gentlest of hands on the car.

  “… one of only three still in existence. And this one, after what I’ve done? Near mint condition.”

  Jack nodded.

  Clearly, Sarah could see, Jack was smitten by this pretty little car.

  “And in this condition, Bill … probably worth a million, million-and-a-half pounds?” Jack said.

  Sarah saw Emily’s eyes widen.

  “’Bout right, I guess,” Bill said. “Got through a lot of that cash those fellas were after to get everything perfect.”

  “She’s a beauty,” Jack said.

  And even Sarah looked at the car with new eyes. The car was really something, even in the low light here.

  But then Bill walked to a wall, and threw a switch.

  Massive floodlights on the roof came on, making it like daylight here. And the blue metal of the Bugatti did indeed glow like a sapphire.

  Sarah walked over to Bill who was still holding hands with Emily.

  “And best of all, Bill,” she said, “Cherringham has its Santa back, too.”

  Bill nodded, smiling.

  Jack walked over as well.

  “The good that men do, hmm?” he said to Bill. “Counts for a lot, don’t you think?”

  “I do what I can,” said Bill.

  “Everybody knows that,” said Jack. “Very creditable. But I’m thinking … Maybe you could do a little more?”

  Sarah watched Jack gesture to the car.

  Bill stared at his creation, then he took a deep breath.

  “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? But what good’s she doing sitting up here under wraps?”

  “A lot of money,” said Jack.

  “Could do a lot of good,” said Bill, his arm tightening around Emily’s shoulder.

  And for a few moments they stood in the brilliant light, beside the sports car before finally heading out.

  It was the holidays after all.

  So many things to be done.

  And Christmas almost there.

  16. Christmas Eve

  “Jack, however did you do all this in your tiny galley?”

  Sarah saw her dad Michael beaming.

  The meal that Jack had put together was indeed amazing. A rib of beef, rosemary potatoes, green beans, and toasted almonds.

  Even a giant mince pie — though that hailed from Huffington’s, of course.

  Her kids devoured it all.

  “Well, I did have to plan things rather … strategically.”

  “Like Nelson at Trafalgar, hmm?” said Michael. “Now there’s a battle.”

  Sarah looked over at her mum, Helen, holding her glass of sherry.

  The tiniest of eye rolls.

  Her mum knew — as they all did — that it didn’t take much to get Michael to divert into a discussion of some historic battle or other. Most of which he had played out in the empty room that had been turned into a showcase and battlefield for his meticulously painted toy soldiers.

  And for a moment, Sarah looked at her parents, in the glow of candles and the coloured lights Jack had strung up on the walls.

  The glow — perfect. Their faces ruddy from good food and wine.

  The picture of health.

  But that thought — can’t last forever, now, can it?

  How many Christmases, how many family gatherings ahead?

  She thought of Bill’s mother over at the home in Chipping Norton. But then reminded herself that this moment was the only one that was here, now.

  And taking a sip of the sherry, she simply bathed in the good feelings, the warm glow of family — and such a good friend.

  All so special.

  “Time for presents, I think,” said Jack.

  *

  Half an hour later, the coffee table was overflowing with piles of gifts to and from Jack and her family. Books, bottles, leather gloves, a marine compass, and some model soldiers — even some pretty jewellery for Chloe.

  Everyone perusing their treasures.

  “Oh — you know what? I think I have one more …”

/>   And Sarah saw Jack reach over to a side table, beside his small tree, for one last package.

  “Knew there was one more,” he said, with a big grin.

  Sarah took it. Rectangular.

  Amazing thing about opening a gift, she thought. That excitement, that curiosity, not knowing what the wrapping hid. Like her daughter, she took her time opening it, savouring each crinkle of the wrapping paper, each bit of tape freed. Until she saw a box. A bit worn at the corners, not more than an inch thick.

  She knew that, with this last gift, she had all eyes on her.

  “Don’t you think you should pop it open, detective?” Jack said. “Solve the mystery?”

  “You know Jack, sometimes it’s the mystery itself which is the fun.”

  Jack tilted his glass to her.

  “Could not agree more.”

  But when she finally lifted the box top off, she saw …

  A magnifying glass …

  She took it out and held it up, admiring its heavy silver handle and bevelled glass …

  She got it straight away.

  Just like the classic image of that other British detective, Sherlock Holmes, glass to his eye, looking for and examining clues.

  It was fantastic.

  “Jack, I love it!”

  Then she noticed that there were words on the silver handle.

  “Latin?” she said. “I’m afraid I—”

  “That’s okay,” Jack said. “Did four years of it with the Jesuits so think I can manage.”

  He took a breath.

  “Non iustus respicere. Vide. Right, which means: ‘Don’t just look. See’.”

  Indeed, she thought. How important is that?

  And she got up and went over to Jack and gave him, well, she guessed it was the biggest hug she had ever given anyone.

  “Thank you. Wise words.”

  And as Sarah looked around the table, she knew that they were words that could apply to all of life, and not just solving crime.

  *

  The hour of midnight drew close, and her father stood up.

  “Everyone, a toast.”

  Dutifully, drinks refilled, the entire party stood up in The Grey Goose’s small saloon, glasses raised.

  “To everyone … a Merry Christmas!”

  Then — in what must have happened for a thousand years of English Christmases — everyone responded with a clink of glasses all around, and in unison …

  “Merry Christmas all!”