“How long has he been gone?”
“Twenty-five minutes. Chilton Leys is only ten minutes from here, if that. He ought to be back by now.”
“Stop fussing, you two.” said Andy. “You give me the creeps.”
Just after six, Pauline announced, “A car’s coming. I can see the headlights.”
“Okay,” said Andy from his armchair. “What are we going to do about Reg when he pisses himself laughing and says it was a hoax?”
Pauline ran to the front door and opened it. Gemma was at her side.
“That isn’t Geoffs Cortina.” said Gemma. “It’s a bigger car.”
Without appearing to hurry. Andy joined them at the door. “That’s Reg’s Volvo. Didn’t I tell you he was all right?”
The car drew up beside Andy’s and Reg got out, smiling. He was alone. “Where’s the red carpet, then?” he called out. “Merry Christmas, everyone. Wait a mo. I’ve got some prezzies in the back.” He dipped into his car again.
“You’d think nothing had happened,” muttered Gemma.
Laden with presents, Reg strutted towards them. “Who gets to kiss me first, then?” He appeared unfazed, his well-known ebullient self.
Andy remarked. “He’s walking normally. We’ve been suckered.”
Gemma said, “You bastard, Reg. Don’t come near me, you sadist.”
Pauline shouted, “Dickhead.”
Reg’s face was a study in bewilderment.
Andy said, “Where’s Geoff?”
“How would I know?” answered Reg. “Hey, what is this? What am I supposed to have done?”
“Pull the other one, matey,” said Andy.
“You’ve ruined Christmas for all of us,” said Pauline, succumbing to tears.
“I wish I knew what you were on about,” said Reg. “Shall we go inside and find out?”
“You’re not welcome,” Pauline whimpered.
“Okay, okay,” said Reg. “It’s a fair cop and I deserve it after all the stunts I pulled. Who thought of unloading all this on me? Andy, I bet.”
Suddenly Gemma said in a hollow voice, “Andy, I don’t think he knows what this is about.”
“What?”
“I know my own brother. He isn’t bluffing. He didn’t expect this. Listen, Reg did anyone kidnap you?”
“
“We’d better go inside, all of us,” said Gemma.
“Kidnap me?” repeated Reg, when they were in Pauline’s living room. “I’m gobsmacked.”
Pauline said, “Andy found this parcel on my doorstep and—”
“Shut up a minute.” said Andy. “You’re playing into his hands. Let’s hear his story before we tell him what happened here. You’ve got some answering to do, Reg. For a start, you’re a couple of hours late.”
Reg frowned. “You haven’t been here all afternoon?”
“Of course we have. We were here by four o’clock.”
“You didn’t get the message, then?”
“What message?”
“I’ve been had then. Geoff phoned at lunchtime to say that Pauline’s heating was off. A problem with the boiler. He said the party had been relocated to his place at five.”
Pauline said. “There’s nothing wrong with my boiler.”
“Shut up and listen.” said Gemma.
Reg continued. “I turned up at Geoffs house and there was a note for me attached to the door. Hold on—I should have it here.” He felt in his pocket. “Yes, here it is.” He handed Gemma an envelope with his name written on it.
She took out the note and read to the others,” ‘Caught YOU this year. Now go to Pauline’s and see what reception you get.‘ It’s Geoffs handwriting.”
“He’s a slyboots,” said Reg, “but I deserve it. He was pretty annoyed by the turkey episode last year.”
“You’re not the only victim,” said Gemma.
“Were you sent on a wild-goose chase?”
“No. But I think he may have tricked us. He
“Crafty old devil.”
“He took ten grand off us,” said Andy.
“What?”
“He persuaded us to put up a ransom for you.”
“Now who are you kidding?”
“It’s true.” said Gemma. “We put together everything we had, cash, jewellery, family heirlooms, and Geoff went off to deliver it to the kidnappers.”
“Strike me pink!”
“And he isn’t back yet,” said Andy.
Pauline said, “Geoff wouldn’t rob his own family.”
“Don’t count on it,” said Reg. “He doesn’t give a toss for any of us.”
“Geoff?”
“Did you know he’s emigrating?”
“No.”
“It’s true,” said Reg. “He’s off to Australia any day now. I picked this up on the grapevine through a colleague in the bank. I think the accident made him reconsider his plan, so to speak.”
“What accident?”
“There you are, you see. I only heard about that from the same source. Old Geoff was in hospital for over a week at the end of September and the last thing he wanted was a visit from any of us.”
“A road accident?”
“No. he did it himself. You know how keen he is on the garden. He’s got this turfed area sloping down to the pond. He ran the mower over his foot and severed his big toe.”
THE THEFT OF SANTA’S BEARD – Edward D. Hoch
The New York stores had closed at nine that evening, disgorging gift-laden Christmas shoppers by the hundreds. Most were too busy shifting the weight of their parcels and shopping bags to bother digging for coins as they passed the bell-ringing Santa on the corner. He was a bit thin and scraggly compared to the overstuffed Santas who worked the department stores and bounced tiny children on their knees while asking for their Christmas lists. His job was only to ring a little hand-held bell and accept donations in a chimney-shaped container.
This Santa’s name was Russell Bajon and he’d come to the city expecting better things. After working at a variety of minimum-wage jobs and landing a couple of short-lived acting roles off Broadway, he’d taken the Santa Claus job for the holidays. There was no pay, but they supplied his meals and a place to sleep at night. And there were good fringe benefits, enough to keep him going till he was back on his feet with a part in a decent play.
After another fifteen minutes the crowd from the stores had pretty well scattered. There were still people on the dark streets, as there would be for most of the night, but those remaining hurried by his chimney without even a glance. He waited a few more minutes and then decided to pack up. The truck would be coming by shortly to collect the chimney and give him a ride back to the men’s dorm where he slept.
He was bending over the chimney with its collection basket when someone bumped him from behind. He straightened and tried to turn, but by that time the thin copper wire was cutting into his throat.
By the time the second Santa Claus had been strangled to death, the tabloids had the story on page one. No Clues to Claus Killer, one of them trumpeted, while another proclaimed, Santa Strangler Strikes Again. Nick Velvet glanced over the articles with passing interest, but at that point they were nothing to directly affect him.
