Christmas Moon
Chapter One
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Dedication
To H.T. Night, for all his invaluable help.
Merry Christmas, little brother.
Christmas Moon
Chapter One
I was cleaning house in the dark and watching Judge Judy rip some cheating ex-husband a new one, when my doorbell rang. Enjoying this more than I probably should have, I hurried over to the door and opened it.
My appointment - and potential new client - was right on time. His name was Charlie Anderson, and he was a tall fellow with a short, gray beard, bad teeth, nervous eyes and a peaceful aura. In fact, the aura that surrounded him was so serene that I did a double take.
I showed him to my back office where he took a seat in one of the four client chairs. I moved around my desk and sat in my leather chair, which made rude noises. I might have blushed if I could have.
I picked up my liquid gel pen and opened my pad of paper to a blank page. I said, "You mentioned in your email something about needing help finding something that was lost."
"Stolen, actually."
I clicked open my pen. "And what was that?"
"A safe," he said.
I think I blinked. "A safe?"
"Yes. A safe. It was stolen from me, and I need your help to find it."
He explained. The safe had been handed down through his family for many generations. It had never been opened, and no one knew what was inside. Charlie's father, now deceased, had left the safe to him nearly twenty years ago. Recently, a gang of hoodlums had moved into Charlie's neighborhood, and soon after, some of Charlie's things had gone missing. A gas can, loose change from the ashtray in his car. If he was a betting man - and Charlie assured me he wasn't - he would bet that these punks had stolen his safe.
I made notes. Charlie spoke haltingly, often circling back and repeating what he'd just said. Charlie was a shy man and he wasn't used to being the center of attention. He was even shy about being the center of attention of a smallish woman in her small back office.
"When was the safe stolen?"
"Two days ago."
"Where was it stolen from?"
"My home. A mobile home. A trailer, really."
I nodded. I wasn't sure I knew what the difference was, but kept that to myself. "And where did you keep the safe in your trailer?"
"I kept it behind the furnace."
"Behind?"
"The furnace is non-functional."
"I see."
"If you remove the blower, there's a space to hide stuff."
I nodded, impressed. "Seems like a good hiding spot to me."
"I thought so, too."
"Any chance it could have been stolen a while back, and you only recently noticed?"
He shrugged. In fact, he often shrugged, sometimes for no apparent reason. Shrugging seemed to be a sort of nervous tic for Charlie. He said, "A week ago, maybe."
"Were you alone when you checked the safe?"
"Yes."
I studied my notes...tapping my pen against the pad. My house was quiet, as it should be. The kids were at school. As they should be. I looked at the time on my computer screen. I had to pick them up in about twenty minutes.
At about this time of the day, my brain is foggy at best. So foggy that sometimes the most obvious question eludes me. I blinked, focused my thoughts, and ignored the nearly overwhelming desire to crawl back into bed...and shut out the world.
At least until the sunset. Then, I was a new woman.
Or a new something.
I kept tapping the tip of the pen against the pad of paper until the question finally came to me. Finally, it did. "Why would the thieves know to look behind the furnace? Seems a highly unlikely place for any thief to ever look."
He shrugged.
I said, "Shrugging doesn't help me, Mr. Anderson."
"Well, I don't know why they would look there."
"Fair enough. Did you ever tell anyone about the safe?"
"No."
"Did anyone ever see you, ah, looking at the safe?"
"I live alone. It's just me."
"Any family members know about the safe?"
"Maybe a few do, but I don't keep in touch with them."
"Do you have any children?"
"Yes."
Bingo. "Where do your kids live?"
"The Philippines, presently. I'm a retired Navy vet. My ex-wife is from the Philippines. The kids stay with her most of the time."
"But some of the time they stay with you?"
"Yes?"
"How long ago has it been since they were last with you?"
"A month ago."
More notes, more thinking. I put the pen aside. I had asked just about everything my dull brain could think of. Besides, I had to start wrapping this up.
"I can help you," I said. "But under one condition."
"What's that?"
"I get half of whatever's in the safe."
"What about the retainer fee?"
"I'll waive the fee."
"And if you don't find the safe?"
"You owe me nothing," I said.
He looked at me for a good twenty seconds before he started nodding. "I've always wondered what the hell was in that thing."
"So, do we have a deal then, Mr. Anderson?"
"We have a deal," he said.
Dedication
To H.T. Night, for all his invaluable help.
Merry Christmas, little brother.
Christmas Moon
Chapter One
I was cleaning house in the dark and watching Judge Judy rip some cheating ex-husband a new one, when my doorbell rang. Enjoying this more than I probably should have, I hurried over to the door and opened it.
My appointment - and potential new client - was right on time. His name was Charlie Anderson, and he was a tall fellow with a short, gray beard, bad teeth, nervous eyes and a peaceful aura. In fact, the aura that surrounded him was so serene that I did a double take.
I showed him to my back office where he took a seat in one of the four client chairs. I moved around my desk and sat in my leather chair, which made rude noises. I might have blushed if I could have.
I picked up my liquid gel pen and opened my pad of paper to a blank page. I said, "You mentioned in your email something about needing help finding something that was lost."
"Stolen, actually."
I clicked open my pen. "And what was that?"
"A safe," he said.
I think I blinked. "A safe?"
"Yes. A safe. It was stolen from me, and I need your help to find it."
He explained. The safe had been handed down through his family for many generations. It had never been opened, and no one knew what was inside. Charlie's father, now deceased, had left the safe to him nearly twenty years ago. Recently, a gang of hoodlums had moved into Charlie's neighborhood, and soon after, some of Charlie's things had gone missing. A gas can, loose change from the ashtray in his car. If he was a betting man - and Charlie assured me he wasn't - he would bet that these punks had stolen his safe.
I made notes. Charlie spoke haltingly, often circling back and repeating what he'd just said. Charlie was a shy man and he wasn't used to being the center of attention. He was even shy about being the center of attention of a smallish woman in her small back office.
"When was the safe stolen?"
"Two days ago."
"Where was it stolen from?"
"My home. A mobile home. A trailer, really."
I nodded. I wasn't sure I knew what the difference was, but kept that to myself. "And where did you keep the safe in your trailer?"
"I kept it behind the furnace."
"Behind?"
"The furnace is non-functional."
"I see."
"If you remove the blower, there's a space to hide stuff."
I nodded, impressed. "Seems like a good hiding spot to me."
"I thought so, too."
"Any chance it could have been stolen a while back, and you only recently noticed?"
He shrugged. In fact, he often shrugged, sometimes for no apparent reason. Shrugging seemed to be a sort of nervous tic for Charlie. He said, "A week ago, maybe."
"Were you alone when you checked the safe?"
"Yes."
I studied my notes...tapping my pen against the pad. My house was quiet, as it should be. The kids were at school. As they should be. I looked at the time on my computer screen. I had to pick them up in about twenty minutes.
At about this time of the day, my brain is foggy at best. So foggy that sometimes the most obvious question eludes me. I blinked, focused my thoughts, and ignored the nearly overwhelming desire to crawl back into bed...and shut out the world.
At least until the sunset. Then, I was a new woman.
Or a new something.
I kept tapping the tip of the pen against the pad of paper until the question finally came to me. Finally, it did. "Why would the thieves know to look behind the furnace? Seems a highly unlikely place for any thief to ever look."
He shrugged.
I said, "Shrugging doesn't help me, Mr. Anderson."
"Well, I don't know why they would look there."
"Fair enough. Did you ever tell anyone about the safe?"
"No."
"Did anyone ever see you, ah, looking at the safe?"
"I live alone. It's just me."
"Any family members know about the safe?"
"Maybe a few do, but I don't keep in touch with them."
"Do you have any children?"
"Yes."
Bingo. "Where do your kids live?"
"The Philippines, presently. I'm a retired Navy vet. My ex-wife is from the Philippines. The kids stay with her most of the time."
"But some of the time they stay with you?"
"Yes?"
"How long ago has it been since they were last with you?"
"A month ago."
More notes, more thinking. I put the pen aside. I had asked just about everything my dull brain could think of. Besides, I had to start wrapping this up.
"I can help you," I said. "But under one condition."
"What's that?"
"I get half of whatever's in the safe."
"What about the retainer fee?"
"I'll waive the fee."
"And if you don't find the safe?"
"You owe me nothing," I said.
He looked at me for a good twenty seconds before he started nodding. "I've always wondered what the hell was in that thing."
"So, do we have a deal then, Mr. Anderson?"
"We have a deal," he said.
