Christmas Moon

CHRISTMAS MOON

by

J.R. RAIN

Vampire for Hire #4.5

Acclaim for the novels of J.R. Rain:

“
Be prepared to lose sleep!”

—
James Rollins
, international bestselling author of
The Devil Colony

“
I love this!”

—
Piers Anthony
, international bestselling author of
A Spell for Chameleon

“
J.R. Rain delivers a blend of action and wit that always entertains. Quick with the one-liners, but his characters are fully fleshed out (even the undead ones) and you’ll come back again and again.
”

—
Scott Nicholson
, bestselling author of
Liquid Fear

“
Dark Horse
is the best book I’ve read in a long time!”

—
Gemma Halliday
, bestselling author of
Spying in High Heels

“
Moon Dance
is absolutely brilliant!”

—
Lisa Tenzin-Dolma
, author of
Understanding the Planetary Myths

“
Powerful stuff!”

—
Aiden James
, bestselling author of
The Vampires’ Last Lover

“
Moon Dance
is a must read. If you like Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum, bounty hunter, be prepared to love J.R. Rain’s Samantha Moon, vampire private investigator.”

—
Eve Paludan
, author of
Letters from David

“
Impossible to put down. J.R. Rain’s
Moon Dance
is a fabulous urban fantasy replete with multifarious and unusual characters, a perfectly synchronized plot, vibrant dialogue and sterling witticism all wrapped in a voice that is as beautiful as it is rich and vividly intense as it is relaxed.”

—
April Vine
, author of
The Midnight Rose

OTHER BOOKS BY J.R. RAIN

The Lost Ark

The Body Departed

VAMPIRE FOR HIRE SERIES

Moon Dance

Vampire Moon

American Vampire

Moon Child

Vampire Dawn

SAMANTHA MOON NOVELLAS

Christmas Moon

SAMANTHA MOON CASE FILES

Vampires Blues: Four Stories

Vampires Games: Four Stories (coming soon)

THE JIM KNIGHTHORSE SERIES

Dark Horse

The Mummy Case

Hail Mary

ELVIS MYSTERY SERIES

Elvis Has Not Left the Building

You Ain’t Nothin’ But a Hound Dog (coming soon)

THE SPINOZA SERIES

The Vampire With the Dragon Tattoo

The Vampire Who Played Dead

The Vampire in the Iron Mask (coming soon)

THE GRAIL QUEST TRILOGY

Arthur

Merlin (coming soon)

WITH SCOTT NICHOLSON

Cursed!

Ghost College

The Vampire Club

WITH PIERS ANTHONY

Aladdin Relighted

Aladdin Sins Bad

WITH SCOTT NICHOLSON AND H.T. NIGHT

Bad Blood

SHORT STORIES

The Bleeder and Other Stories

Teeth and Other Stories

Vampire Nights and Other Stories

Vampire Blues and Other Stories

SCREENPLAYS

Judas Silver

Lost Eden

SHORT STORY ANTHOLOGIES

Vampires, Zombies and Ghosts, Oh My!

NON-FICTION

The Rain Interviews (2008-2011)

Christmas Moon

Published by J.R. Rain

Copyright (c) 2011 by J.R. Rain

All rights reserved.

Ebook Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to your favorite ebookseller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover design by Susanna at:

[email protected]

www.photogravity.de

To H.T. Night, for all his invaluable help.

Merry Christmas, little brother.

Christmas Moon

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.

I picked up the kids from school and, as promised, we made a dollar store run. Once there, I gave the kids each a hand basket and told them to have it.

They had at it, tearing through the store like game show contestants. Tammy crammed some packages of red velvet bows in her hand basket and moved onto the jingle bells, shaking them vigorously. I chuckled as I watched little Anthony grab some scented Christmas candles. The candles filled up at least half his hand basket. Now, what did an eight-year-old need with Christmas candles? Nothing. He simply grabbed them because it was the first of the Christmas items he’d seen. I was fairly certain that he would later regret his choice.

As the kids attacked the many holiday rows, I smiled to myself and strolled casually through the mostly-clean store, trying like hell to ignore the way my legs shook, or the way my skin still burned from the five-second sprint from the minivan to the store.