A Bullet for Father Christmas

by Cora Buhlert

  “Are you sure, Ms. Patel?” Helen asked.

  “Yes. I showed him engagement rings, so I talked to him for several minutes. And that’s him. That’s definitely him.”

  Sarah Green bent down to take a closer look at the image. “I recognise him, too. That’s the man who came in last week and wanted to see engagement rings.”

  “I’m not sure”, William Smythe said, “It could be him, but…”

  “Thank you,” Helen said and took her cell phone back, “That was very helpful.”

  Some time later, Helen was back at her desk at the Met, checking CCTV recordings with PC Walker for sightings of the criminal Santa duo. Which wasn’t all that easy, considering that there were dozens of CCTV cameras on the street where Wilkinson & Smythe, Fine Jewellers, was located. And this close to the holidays, people dressed as Father Christmas weren’t exactly rare either. There were at least half a dozen Santas operating on the street, collecting donations, handing out flyers and trying to entice people into the various stores.

  After almost two hours of staring at CCTV footage of varying quality, Helen was actually glad when her phone rang and Dr. Rajiv called to give his preliminary report.

  Once the call was finished, Helen was even more glad. For though she still didn’t have the toy her niece Olivia so desperately wanted nor any real idea what it was (hopefully no more glimmer bling ding stuff), she at least had an ID on the dead Father Christmas now.

  She turned to PC Walker who was frowning at a security video.

  “Dr. Rajiv just called to say that our dead Father Christmas has been identified as one Rudy Billings, age twenty-three.”

  Helen called up Rudy Billings’ data on her computer.

  “Mostly unemployed, a few temp jobs,” she read out, “A couple of arrests and convictions for theft and vandalism. Never anything that would have netted him more than community service. Hard to imagine that he was the mastermind behind this robbery.”

  “So if we got Rudolph, then where is Santa?” PC Walker said. Helen glared at him. “Sorry, boss, couldn’t resist.”

  “Dr. Rajiv also found the tag of a costume rental shop in the Father Christmas outfit and took the liberty to call up the shop. They said they rented out seven Father Christmas costumes to a promotion company. So Dr. Rajiv called up the company and learned that they had stuck some temp workers into the Father Christmas costumes and had them hand out flyers the past few days. They confirmed that one of the temps was Rudy Billings and that he’s missing together with his suit.”

  “So that explains where he got the costume,” PC Walker said, “Maybe the missing accomplice was one of the other Santas hired to hand out flyers.”

  “Good thought, Constable, but unfortunately wrong. The promotion company is only missing a single Father Christmas, namely Rudy Billings. All others are present and accounted for.”

  “Damn. Still…” PC Walker pointed at the screen, which showed a crowded street, as filmed by the CCTV camera of the upscale boutique down the street from Wilkinson & Smythe, Fine Jewellers, “…that’s our man, isn’t it? The Father Christmas handing out flyers?”

  Helen squinted for a closer look. “It certainly looks like him. So now we’ve got one Father Christmas, let’s see where else he pops up and if we can identify his accomplice as well.”

  After another wearying hour of scanning CCTV footage, a pattern was beginning to emerge. Rudy Billings could be seen handing out flyers for several hours near the jewellery store, which matched the info given by the promotion company that had hired him.

  “Probably staking out the store, while he was at it,” Helen mused, “He did have plenty of time, after all, considering he distributed flyers in the same spot for several days in a row. And who’d ever suspect Father Christmas of anything fishy?”

  Then, almost at four PM sharp, Rudy Billings dumped the remaining flyers into the nearest garbage bin and crossed the street. He was last caught on camera just as he was about to enter Wilkinson & Smythe, Fine Jewellers.

  “So…” Helen leant back in her swivel chair. “…we can reconstruct what Rudy Billings was doing from the moment he arrived to the moment he entered the jewellery shop. Except for one thing…”

  “Where is his accomplice?” PC Walker completed.

  “Billings doesn’t seem to make contact with anybody in all the time he was on the street.”

  “Except for handing out flyers,” PC Walker pointed out.

  “Indeed. But I’d say it is rather unlikely he used the flyers to communicate with his accomplice,” Helen said, “And the people wearing Santa costumes on the street are all accounted for at the time of the robbery.”

  “Yes, but how can a bloke dressed as Father Christmas walk through a busy shopping street without getting caught on camera?” PC Walker scratched his head. “And how can he rob a store, shoot his accomplice, escape through the chimney and somehow get away in a soot-covered Santa costume, again all without getting caught on camera?” He shook his head. “It’s almost as if this bloke is a ghost.”

  “I suspect, Constable, that you might be right about that.”

  “That the second Santa is a ghost, you mean?” PC Walker ran a hand through his hair. “So now we’re hunting for the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future, too?”

  Helen raised an eyebrow. “You really are a bottomless fount of Christmas related puns, Constable.”

  “Sorry, boss.”

  “To answer your question, no, we’re not hunting for Dickensian ghosts. But it is notable that the only evidence for the existence of Rudy Billings’ accomplice are the statements of the three witnesses inside the jewellery store. And we already know that their statements are contradictory.”

  “So you think that the staff of Wilkinson & Smythe just made the second Santa up?” PC Walker wanted to know.

  “The thought crossed my mind,” Helen said.

  “But… why on Earth would they do something like that? And where did the pistol and the loot inside the chimney come from”

  “That’s the one million pound question,” Helen said, “Or however much the stolen jewellery was worth.”

  “Talking of which, boss,” PC Walker said, “I checked the finances of Wilkinson & Smythe and the shop isn’t going well.”

  “No wonder, given their prices and their attitude,” Helen said dryly, “I guess a nice fat insurance payment would be welcome, which coincidentally would also be a good incentive to lie about the robbery and make up a mysterious second robber. But until we can prove that the second Father Christmas doesn’t exist…”

  She took a gulp of coffee, noticed that it had gone cold and did her best to keep from spitting it out again.

  “…we’ll have to up our efforts to find him.”

  Now it was PC Walker’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “This doesn’t really make any sense, boss, you know?”

  “Well, maybe this makes more sense, Constable,” Helen countered, “I want you to get the recording of every CCTV camera in a hundred metre — no, make that two hundred metres — radius around the jewellery store and check it for signs of our second Santa. Cause if the accomplice really exists, he had to get down from the roof somewhere, sooty and dressed in a Father Christmas costume.”

  PC Walker made a face. “Oh, must I, boss? Cause you know, I was planning to meet Charlotte — Ms. Wong, I mean — for a drink and…”

  “Your love life will have to wait, Constable…” Helen said, “…unless you want to explain to the superintendent why we’re not giving our all investigating a robbery turned murder and to my niece why she won’t be getting that Dancing Gloop toy she so desperately wants for Christmas.”

  “Uhm, Groot, boss. The name is Groot.”

  “Whatever.” Helen shot a speculative glance at PC Walker. “Since you seem to be so familiar with that dancing whatever toy, you wouldn’t happen to know where to procure one, would you?”

  “Have you tried Forbidden Planet?” PC Walker wanted to know.


  “I have no idea what that is…” Helen replied, “…anymore than I know what the hell this Dancing…”

  “Groot, boss.”

  “…toy is.”

  Helen shot another glance at PC Walker that was rife with speculation.

  “How about we make a deal, Constable? I’ll let you leave early, so you can make your date with the lovely Ms. Wong, if you in turn get that bloody toy for me.”

  PC Walker seemed to consider for a moment. “I’m not actually your personal shopper, boss.”

  “Just be thankful that it’s not another glimmer bling thing.”

  PC Walker nodded. “Yes, I much admit that Olivia’s taste in toys has improved remarkably over the past year.” He held out his hand and grinned. “Deal.”

  Helen shook his hand. “Deal.”

  PC Walker would probably have taken off for his date with Ms. Wong right there and then, if the telephone on his desk hadn’t rang at that very moment and he had to answer it.

  “Yes?” — “Yes, that’s right.” — “Oh, thank you. We’ve been waiting for that information.” — “Yes, I’m listening.” He scribbled something on his notepad. “Thank you, that’s very helpful indeed.” — “And happy holidays to you, sir.”

  PC Walker beamed at Helen. “That was the Ministry of Defence. They’ve checked their records and identified the soldier to whom the murder weapon was issued.”

  “So soon?” Helen said, “I’d have thought we’d have to wait until after Christmas, particularly considering the weapon and the records are so old.”

  “But it gets even better,” PC Walker said, a huge grin on his face, as if Father Christmas � the real one � had come early for him this year, “Because the name of the soldier who was issued the pistol in question way back in 1943 is — drumroll — Lieutenant William Alexander Smythe. Who failed to turn in the service pistol he’d been issued, when he was discharged from the army in 1948.”

  “Instead, the pistol spent almost seventy years lying under a counter in a jewellery shop in central London,” Helen said.

  “But this William Smythe can’t be the same guy, can he?” PC Walker said.

  Helen shook her head. “Most likely his grandfather. But it does crack our case.”

  “It does?”

  Helen nodded. “I think we’re ready to make an arrest or three.”

  “All right, boss.” PC Walker rose to his feet, pushing back the swivel chair. “I’ll just get my handcuffs.”

  Helen held up a hand. “Don’t you have a date, Constable, not to mention a toy to buy?” she said.

  “Yes, but…”

  “No buts. You go and meet Ms. Wong for that drink, while I take someone else.”

  Helen looked around the office and hit upon a young black constable. He was new at the department and still seemed a little lost.

  “You there, Constable… I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

  “Jackson, ma’am. Martin Jackson.”

  “All right, Constable Jackson, how would you like to accompany me to make an arrest?”

  “It would be an honour, ma’am.”

  On the way to the store, Helen brought PC Jackson up to speed on the details of the case. He nodded and grunted in acknowledgement.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Inspector,” he finally said, “But it’s great to be involved in such a fascinating case in my very first week at the Met.”

  Wilkinson & Smythe, Fine Jewellers, was still not open for business, though the forensics team had finally left. Inside the store, William Smythe, Sarah Green and Devi Patel were busily cleaning up the remaining traces of the robbery and murder.

  William Smythe paused in the middle of sweeping the floor, when Helen and PC Jackson entered.

  “Inspector, Constable,” he said, not overly happy to see either of them, “You’re back already?”

  “We’re sorry to trouble you and your colleagues again…”,Helen said, perfectly polite, “…but we have new information about the case.”

  “Do you know when I can have my merchandise back?” William Smythe demanded.

  “I’m sorry, but not yet,” Helen said, still keeping her tone neutral and polite, “Unfortunately, your merchandise is still considered evidence for the time being. However, you will be pleased to hear that we identified the robber.”

  William Smythe and the two women exchanged a significant glance.

  “So you’ve got the guy who did this,” Sarah Green cautiously.

  Helen shook her head. “No, Ms. Green, but we identified the man who was shot to death in your shop. His name was Rudy Billings and he had a history of petty theft. It also turns out that he has been staking out your shop for several days.”

  All three of them needed a moment to digest that piece of information.

  “But what about the other one, the one who shot the first robber?” Devi Patel finally asked.

  “Unfortunately, we haven’t been able to identify the accomplice yet,” Helen said and couldn’t help but notice the little sighs of relief that William Smythe, Sarah Green and Devi Patel emitted.

  “But then I don’t think we will ever identify the second robber,” Helen continued calmly, “Because there was no second robber.”

  “What… what are you talking about?” William Smythe demanded. Sarah Green grew pale, while Devi Patel had to grab the edges of the counter for support.

  Meanwhile, PC Jackson took up station at the door, blocking the way out in case of any escape attempts. Not that Helen expected any, but it always paid to be prepared.

  “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” Helen said, “Footage taken by CCTV cameras on the street clearly shows that Rudy Billings was alone when he entered your store. There was no sign of any accomplice.”

  “But there were two men,” Devi Patel insisted, “Two, not one.”

  “Your CCTV is wrong,” William Smythe insisted, “Or maybe there was a blind spot or something. At any rate, there were two robbers. Definitely two.”

  Helen shook her head. “There was only one robber. And I think we should really drop this pretence now. So will one of you tell me what really happened or shall I?”

  There was no answer, just a defiant crossing of arms.

  “All right, so here is what happened: Rudy Billings entered your shop at four PM sharp, dressed in a Father Christmas costume, that much is correct. Once inside the shop, he pulled a gun, threatened you and began to smash up counters and display cases. Again, that much is correct.”

  The three still didn’t say anything, they just stared at Helen defiantly.

  “While Ms. Green and Ms. Patel were filling Rudy Billings’ bag with your merchandise, you managed to grab hold of the pistol you keep under the counter, Mr. Smythe. You aimed it at Rudy Billings. Maybe you didn’t even intend to shoot him. Maybe you simply wanted to threaten him and get him to leave. But in the end, you did shoot him.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” William Smythe said, “I don’t even own a gun.”

  “And what about the pistol we found in your fireplace?” Helen asked.

  “I told you before, that’s not mine,” William Smythe insisted, “It belonged to the second robber, the one who shot the first robber. He must have dropped it during his escape.”

  “If the revolver really belonged to the second robber — a person for whose existence we have no evidence save your statements — then why is it listed as having been issued to Lieutenant William Alexander Smythe, your grandfather?”

  William Smythe grew pale, so Helen decided to twist the knife just a little bit further.

  “Yes, Mr. Smythe, we checked the serial number with the Ministry of Defence. They keep very accurate records.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything,” William Smythe snapped, “Even if the gun belonged to my grandfather once, it’s ancient. It could have gone through dozens of hands since then.”

  “But it didn’t,” Helen countered, “The Ministry of Defence
specifically noted that your grandfather failed to turn in his service revolver after his discharge from the army. Like I said, they keep very accurate records.”

  William Smythe said nothing, he just glared at her.

  “Your grandfather kept his service revolver after his discharge from the army and put it under the counter in his shop as a deterrent against thieves,” Helen continued, “And there the pistol lay unused and undisturbed for almost seventy years, until Rudy Billings walked into your shop today.”

  “But then how did the pistol get halfway up the chimney, where your people found it?” Sarah Green demanded.

  “Because you, Mr. Smythe, put it there along with the loot,” Helen said, “I suspect you panicked once Rudy Billings lay dead on the floor of your shop. So you tried to hide the murder weapon and the loot. After all, it would look strange if nothing had been stolen during the robbery. Besides, the insurance payment would probably have been welcome as well, given your current financial difficulties…”

  William Smythe grew even paler. Apparently, he hadn’t expected the police to check his finances.

  “So you hid the revolver and the loot in the chimney. I don’t know what inspired you to use the chimney as a hiding place. Maybe it was even Rudy Billings’ Father Christmas outfit. But that’s how you soiled your clothing, though I suspect forensics will also find traces of powder on your shirt and jacket…”

  “I soiled my clothing while pursuing the second robber,” William Smythe insisted, “The second robber you are not even trying to find.”

  “There was no second robber,” Helen said calmly, “That’s just a story you, Ms. Green and Ms. Patel came up with to cover up the fact that you had shot Rudy Billings with an unlicensed firearm.”

  “You have no evidence,” William Smythe declared.

  “On the contrary, I have all the evidence I need.”

  Helen nodded to PC Jackson, who pulled out three sets of handcuffs.

  “William Smythe, Sarah Green and Devi Patel, you are under arrest for owning an unlicensed firearm, making false statements, perverting the course of justice and the murder of Rudy Billings. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”