The Fruitcake Murders

by Collins, Ace;

  “I’ll spring for a steak,” Garner suggested. “The city is safe, let’s make this night special.”

  “I’ll take the soup at Sister Ann’s,” Tiffany said again.

  “I’ll buy you the best Italian dinner in the world,” Lane chimed in. “I want to celebrate.”

  From her spot in the backseat, with both men looking at her with hopeful expressions, Tiffany stuck out her bottom lip, crossed her arms, and announced, “I want to go to Sister Ann’s.” Fifteen minutes later, after a ride spent in complete silence, her wish was granted.

  With Tiffany leading the way, the trio marched into the soup kitchen. Even though it was late there were at least three dozen souls sitting in mismatched chairs near an old wood stove intently listening to the nun reading the story of the first Christmas from the second chapter of Luke. Tiffany stood quietly and absorbed the words as if hearing them for the first time. It was as if the old familiar story was brand-new. Smiling, she realized the holiday once again had meaning.

  As the disappointed men pouted, the woman studied a ragged evergreen tree with a dozen secondhand ornaments hanging from its drooping limbs. The tree—that no one likely wanted and the decorations that had probably been thrown out, then Sister Ann reclaimed—kind of represented the folks who came into this place. The world might have forgotten them, but in this building they once again had value.

  As the nun finished her reading, Joe got up and began singing “O Come All Ye Faithful.” Within seconds, the ragtag band of visitors joined in. Their harmonies might have been strained, but the song took the reporter back to her youth and Christmas Eves spent with her family in church. Suddenly, she felt warm and blessed. It was almost like being home.

  “I guess being here,” Lane whispered just loud enough for Garner and Tiffany to hear, “is like eating an apple.”

  “What in the heck does that mean?” the investigator asked.

  “Eating an apple takes you back,” the cop explained.

  “Where?” Garner asked.

  “Never mind,” the cop answered. “Let’s find a place to sit.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Garner agreed. “How about that empty table in the back?”

  Tiffany, still intently listening to the words being sung by the unique choir, was only vaguely aware of the men guiding her across the room. After they’d sat down, Garner on one side and Lane on the other, the cop spoke.

  “I’m suddenly filled with a sense of irony.”

  “Why?” Tiffany asked, her eyes still on Joe, as he now began singing, “Away in a Manger.”

  “That passage of Scripture Sister Ann was reading when we came in,” the cop explained, “is where I jotted down the information my men would need if we’d not come back from that trip to the house on Elmwood. And that’s where this whole thing started.”

  “I believe,” Garner noted, “that is also where I came in.”

  The reporter turned her gaze from the singers to the investigator and smiled. “Your name was Rawlings then. I still think I might have liked you better that way. You seem to have a bit more class.”

  “Yeah,” Lane laughed, “class has never been Bret’s strong point.”

  “And,” Tiffany pointed out, “Lane, you were the reason I was left with the hit man.”

  Satisfied she’d put both of her escorts in their place, she turned back to Joe as he led the humble visitors in a chorus of “Silent Night.” When they concluded that old carol, the music stopped and the kitchen’s patrons began to stand and visit with each other. Some were even laughing and calling out “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays.” Turning her attention back to Garner, Tiffany announced, “I believe you have a thousand dollars that was given to us to present to Sister Ann.”

  The investigator nodded. “I’d almost forgotten about Hammer’s gift.”

  “Well,” Tiffany warned, “we’re not leaving until you make that delivery.”

  “So,” Garner noted, “that’s why we’re here. You wanted to make sure I played Santa.”

  “Great,” Lane suggested, “give the gift and let’s get out of here. I have a plan . . .”

  “Your plans never work out anyway,” the woman jabbed, “so just forget it.”

  “Well,” the cop smiled, “I guess you’re right.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box. He studied it for a few moments and sadly smiled.

  “What’s that?” the reporter asked.

  “I’d almost forgotten it,” Lane admitted. “It was given to me by Mary Elrod. She’d bought it for her husband. She asked me to keep it and open it on Christmas.”

  “Well,” Garner suggested, “do it.”

  The cop fumbled with the paper and when he finally tore it off, he found a box. Once the box was open, the trio spied a watch and a note. Lane set the gold timepiece to one side and picked up the note.

  “What’s it say?” Tiffany asked.

  “Always find time for those who matter,” Lane read.

  “Wise words,” Garner noted.

  The cop slipped the note into his coat pocket and then retrieved another wrapped box. He handed this one to the reporter. “I bought you a little something.”

  Tiffany slowly unwrapped the green paper. Inside was a bottle of perfume. She opened it, took a whiff, and sighed. After dabbing a bit on she smiled. “Joy. Seems appropriate to get a hint of happiness during the holidays. Thank you.”

  Lane shrugged, “The clerk told me it was hot this year.”

  “This stuff is hot any year,” she assured him.

  “Not to be outdone,” Garner chimed in. “I have something, too.” He reached into his pocket to retrieve the wrapped box.

  “The paper is nice,” Tiffany noted. After eagerly tearing into the gift, she smiled and held the necklace up for both men to see and then placed it around her neck. “My two wise guys gave me gold and spice for Christmas. Thank you both.”

  “Pretty,” Sister Ann announced as she walked over to the table. “And Merry Christmas to each of you.” After she took a seat opposite Tiffany, she inquired, “To what do I owe this honor? Surely there’s a better place for each of you to be on Christmas Eve than a soup kitchen.”

  “Not that I can think of,” Tiffany replied with a bright smile. “I wanted to be here and even if they didn’t realize it, Lane and Bret wanted to be here, too.” She stood and waved toward Joe. “Can you come over for a moment?”

  The man in black shyly stuffed his hands into his pockets and ambled across the room to join them. After he was seated, the reporter put her elbows on the old wooden table and made an observation.

  “On this Christmas Eve a lot of things have been settled. The guys and I have solved a mystery and, in the process, we’ve gotten a bit closer to once more feeling the spirit of the season.” She paused and smiled at the nun, “But there is still more truth to be revealed. There is still part of this story that has not been written.”

  “You sound a bit like one of those radio dramas,” Sister Ann noted.

  “I guess I do,” Tiffany admitted. “Bret told me not long ago that I tend to drag things out when I talk. So maybe I better just cut to the chase.” The reporter turned toward the man dressed in black. “Joe, you told me that nineteen years ago tonight you played the part of Santa for a little girl. On December 24, 1927, you took the time to make a very important delivery.”

  “Yes,” he admitted. “I had to fulfill a promise.”

  The reporter smiled, “And you also told me you never saw that little girl again. You never knew what happened to her. Did you ever wonder where she is and what she’s doing?”

  “I think about it from time to time,” he admitted. “I hope she’s happy and maybe has found a bit of the faith I lost.”

  “I think she is,” Tiffany assured him, as she looked to the nun. “Do you still have the sleigh Santa brought you on Christmas Eve 1927?”

  “How did you know about that?” a shocked Sister Ann softly asked, as a stunned Joe looked her way
.

  “It was a hunch,” the reporter admitted as she glanced toward the man in black and smiled. “You shared that you were an orphan and raised by nuns. It didn’t take me much digging to find out which convent that was. A nun there told me the name your parents gave you . . . Alicija.”

  “That’s a little hard for most Americans to say and remember,” the nun explained, “so I kept the first initial and changed it to Ann when I took my vows.”

  Tiffany turned and looked toward a solitary man sitting by the Christmas tree. “The man you take care of, the one who stays in this building, he must be your brother.”

  “I lost track of him when I was placed in the convent,” she explained. “All I knew was that they put him in some kind of institution. He was on the street when I found him. That was about five years ago.”

  “And,” Tiffany suggested, “that gave you the idea for this mission.”

  Sister Ann nodded.

  “Ann, there’s something I need to tell you tonight,” the reporter continued. “When you pick up the newspaper tomorrow, you will read that your father was falsely accused and should have been found not guilty in the murder of Geno Lombardi. My story will explain who committed the crime and why. The words I wrote won’t bring your father back, but I hope they will help restore his good name. You also need to know that one of the men your mission helped and another who supported you played a part in sending your father to the chair.” Tiffany paused, “I hope you can forgive them.”

  Sister Ann nodded. “In the end good always triumphs over evil and the light comes to the darkness. Sometimes an innocent man has to die because of the sins of others.”

  Tiffany sadly smiled. “I think your father would have been very proud of the work you do here.” She paused as she looked toward her escorts. “You know, I was going to buy these two lugs something for Christmas today but decided instead to save the money and give it to you.” She reached into her oversized purse, pulled out two twenties, and tossed them in the middle of the table.

  “Thank you,” the nun replied.

  “Here’s something from me to match that,” Lane added as he tossed two more twenties to the pile.

  “Well,” Garner grinned, “I guess all eyes are on me now. First, here are ten one hundred dollar bills. These are not from me but rather from a dying man who chose your work as where he wanted his last dollars to go. He told me that you brought light into the darkness, and that guy knew all about the suffocating nature of darkness.” After tossing the C-notes on the table, the investigator shrugged. “In truth, I do have something for you that comes from me as well. And, Tiffany, I want you to know that this was not prompted by any challenge you set forth. I brought this in with me when we entered the kitchen a few minutes ago. So this was planned.” Reaching down beside the tabled he picked up a large attaché case, unzipped it, and dumped a huge pile of money on the table. As everyone looked on, Garner explained, “This comes from an honest man and a dishonest man, and neither one will be needing it anymore.”

  “You always have to top me,” Lane grumbled.

  “Amazing,” Sister Ann whispered. “God is good.”

  “Merry Christmas,” Tiffany announced as she pushed away from the table and stood. Taking it as a cue, the men did as well.

  “We need to move on,” the reporter explained, “There’s another place we have to visit tonight.”

  “Where’s that?” Garner asked.

  “I’m kind of curious myself,” Lane chimed in. “I hope we can grab a good meal there.”

  “Last night you said you had gas in that Oldsmobile,” the woman said to the investigator. “Is that still true?”

  “Almost a full tank,” Garner assured her.

  “Great,” Tiffany announced with a smile, “then we are going to Wisconsin for Christmas.”

  “What?” the investigator asked.

  “We’re heading to my folks’,” she explained. “I called earlier, they’re waiting for us.”

  Lane frowned and stuck out his hand. “Congratulations, old boy, can’t say I’m happy about it, but I will honor Tiffany’s decision. Hope you enjoy the holidays.”

  The woman shrugged, “Lane you’re going, too.”

  “All three of us?” Garner asked as he suspiciously eyed his old friend.

  “Yeah,” Tiffany replied. “All three of us.”

  “But,” the investigator argued, “Lane likely needs to write up some reports on the case we just solved for him. He probably shouldn’t go. You know duty calls and all.”

  “My crew can fill out any paperwork that’s left,” the cop said with a grin. He then looked back to Tiffany and asked, “Do you suppose your father will let me look at some of his diamonds?”

  “About that . . .” the investigator cut in. “There’s something you should know.”

  “Don’t go there, Bret,” Tiffany suggested, “or you’ll be sleeping in the barn rather than a guest room.”

  “Fine,” he grumbled.

  As the two men once more suspiciously eyed each other, Tiffany walked out of the soup kitchen and stepped out into the night air. As promised by the forecasters, the skies were now clear, the wind was calm, there was snow on the ground, and for the first time in years she was going home for Christmas.

  Discussion Questions

  1. The book begins with a reality many don’t want to consider: what if the wrong man or woman is executed for a crime? We know that it has happened many times in the past. Does the fact mistakes have been made in capital crimes have any affect on your feelings of the death penalty?

  2. Lane Walker and Tiffany Clayton have a unique relationship. Do you think the way they spar with each other is destructive? Why do they do it?

  3. Tiffany is trying to make her mark in a world that, at that time, was normally reserved for men. Would you have encouraged her to pursue this course or pushed her into an area usually reserved for women? Are there still places in our modern world where qualified women are not considered for certain types of jobs?

  4. Morelli is surrounded by death and therefore its impact affects him differently than it does Lane. He often uses dark humor when dealing with others. Where do you see him most clearly reveal his humanity? Could you do what he does?

  5. Wars deeply alter people’s perceptions of life. How does Lane’s guilt affect his choices?

  6. Who do you think is the deepest and wisest of our three leads? Is it Lane, Tiffany, or Bret Garner? Why?

  7. Why do you think Tiffany clings to the yarn she has spun about her first name?

  8. A mother’s desire for her son to succeed caused her to compromise her values. Do you believe Judge Jacobs’s decisions were an attempt to make up for his mother’s choice? Do you believe he resented her essentially selling him to the mob?

  9. Was what Jacobs and the clergymen were attempting to do for the orphans in Europe wrong or right? Should they have waited for the laws to change? And is it all right to circumvent the legal system when lives are at stake?

  10. The homeless man named Joe was lost. He didn’t feel his prayers were being answered and he wondered if God even existed. So, why do you believe he continued to try to help others? What was his motivation?

  11. Though there is a lot of comedy in this book, it also examines the way war affects the human mind. There are three veterans in this story and each brought the war home in a different way. What drove Grogan to feel he needed to become an agent of revenge? How did the war affect Bret? Why did what Lane saw in combat make it so hard for him to show his emotions?

  12. What are the spiritual lessons found in The Fruitcake Murders?

  13. The book doesn’t answer the question about the men in the car who shot at Tiffany as she ran down the street. Who do you think they were?

  14. Finally, Tiffany took two men home for Christmas? Which one of them do you think she should choose to love and which should remain just her friend? Why?

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  Other Abingdon Fiction by Ace Collins

  The Christmas Star

  Darkness before Dawn

  The Cutting Edge

  The Color of Justice

  Hollywood Lost