The Christmas Thief (15 page)

W
here is my flask?” Packy asked quietly. “Where are my diamonds?”

It was a question impossible to answer since Wayne’s mouth was taped shut. Wayne and Lorna were sitting on the kitchen chairs. Like Wayne, Lorna’s hands and legs were tied. After Packy warned her that one squeal would be her last, he had not bothered to tape her mouth. He figured that she was too frightened to yell, and he was right. He also figured, in case Wayne the crook started playing games, that she might know where he was likely to have hidden the diamonds.

“Wayne,” Packy said, “you took the flask out of Pickens’s tree. That wasn’t nice. It was my flask, not yours. I’m going to take that tape off your mouth, and if you start to yell, I’m not going to be very happy. Understand?”

Wayne nodded.

“He understands,” Lorna quavered. “He really does. He may not look smart, but he really is. I always say he could have amounted to a lot if he wasn’t so lazy.”

“I’ve heard his life story,” Packy interrupted. “He told it to a reporter. He even mentioned you.”

Lorna spun her head. “What did you say?” she asked Wayne.

“Packy, we’ve got to hurry,” Jo-Jo urged.

Packy glared at Jo-Jo. He had seen the fear begin to fade from Covel’s eyes. The girlfriend was right. Covel wasn’t dumb. Right now the brains inside his skull were working overtime, trying to figure out how to keep the diamonds. With a quick movement Packy ripped the tape off Wayne’s mouth, bringing with it some of the longer hairs of his mustache.

“Ewwwwwww,” Wayne moaned.

“Don’t be such a baby. Millions of women pay to get that done every month. It’s called waxing.” Packy leaned across the table. “The flask. The diamonds. Now.”

“He hasn’t any diamonds,” Lorna protested. “In fact, he doesn’t have two nickels to rub together. If you don’t believe me, look in that cigar box next to the sink. It’s full of bills. Most of them are marked ‘overdue.’ ”

“Lady,” Packy said, “shut up! Covel, we want the diamonds.”

“I don’t have—”

“Yes, you do!” Packy growled. From his pocket he pulled out the yellow diamond they had found on the basement floor. He waved it under Covel’s nose and placed it on the kitchen table.

“This was mixed up with the dirty rags you threw downstairs.”

“Somebody must have dropped it. There were a lot of people in and out of here today.” Covel’s voice was high-pitched.

“That diamond is gorgeous!” Lorna squealed.

He’s scared, but not scared enough yet not to waste our time, Packy thought. He leaned across the table until his face was only an inch from Wayne’s.

“I could let Jo-Jo get rough with you. And if he does, you’ll talk. But I’m kind. I’m fair.” He picked up the diamond and dropped it in the chest pocket of Wayne’s shirt. “That little number next to your heart is worth two million dollars. It’s yours if you give us the flask with the rest of them right now.”

“I’m telling you, I don’t know anything about them.”

He’s playing for time, Packy thought. Maybe he knows someone is coming back here. He picked up the machete and looked at it thoughtfully. “I guess we’re out of patience, right, Jo-Jo?”

“We’re out of patience,” Jo-Jo confirmed grimly.

Packy raised the machete over his head and aimed it at the kitchen table. With a loud thwack it embedded itself in the wood of the table. He pulled it free.

“That’s the nice machete I gave you for Christmas, Wayne,” Lorna yelled accusingly.

“That’s what got us into this mess,” Wayne snarled. He turned to Packy. “All right, all right, I’ll tell you. But only if you give me one more diamond—the one that looks like a robin’s egg. You still have plenty more.”

“If you have a lot of diamonds, I’d like one, too,” Lorna said. “It could be a small one.”

“There are no small ones,” Packy snapped. “Covel, you want the robin’s egg, and your lady friend wants a little one. You two ought to stick together. You’re a real team.
Where’s the flask?”

“Have we got a deal?” Wayne asked. “I get the two diamonds. Don’t worry about her.”

“The flask?”

“But you still haven’t promised.”

“I promise! I cross my heart and hope to die!”

Wayne hesitated, shut his eyes, and opened them slowly. “I’m going to trust you. The flask is in the bottom drawer of the stove, inside a big pot with a missing handle.”

In an instant Jo-Jo was on his knees, yanking open the drawer and tossing out pots, pans, and a rusty cookie sheet. The big pot was wedged in the drawer. Jo-Jo yanked at it so hard that the whole drawer came clattering out, sending him back on his heels. The big pot remained clutched in his hands. He opened it, looked inside, and reached in.

“This is it, huh, Packy?” He held up the flask.

Packy grabbed it from him, unscrewed the top, peeked inside, shook some of the diamonds into his hand, and cradled them lovingly as he sighed with relief. “Okay, it looks pretty full. Guess the one we found was the only one missing.”

“The robin’s egg?” Wayne reminded him.

“Oh, yeah, right.” Carefully, Packy shook out more diamonds. “There it is—so big it can hardly get out. But that doesn’t matter.” He poured the diamonds back into the flask. Then he turned and his hand shot out. As he scooped the yellow diamond from Wayne’s pocket, Wayne bit his finger.

“Ow!” Packy cried. “I’d better not get rabies.”

“Wayne, I knew you shouldn’t trust him!” Lorna cried. “You never get anything right.”

An instant later Jo-Jo had taped their mouths. Packy dangled the flask in front of Covel’s eyes. “You think you’re smart,” he said. “Your girlfriend thinks she’s smart. Too bad I don’t have time to sell you both the Brooklyn Bridge. Anyone who believes a crook keeps his word shouldn’t take up room in this world.”

He and Jo-Jo started for the back door.

T
he Grangers turned down the dirt road marked “Dead End” and were forced to drive carefully because of the snow-covered ruts and crevices they were encountering. Behind them, Alvirah, Willy, Regan, and Jack agonized at the need to slow down. But then the Grangers stopped in front of a farmhouse, and their back door flew open.

“There it is!” Bobby cried, pointing.

“Get back in the car!” his mother ordered.

Jack pulled the Meehans’ car onto the field in front of the house and stopped.

“This place looks deserted,” Willy said as he looked from the house to the big barn.

They walked rapidly toward the house. “Look,” Jack said, pointing to the side of the barn. “There’s a white van with a ski rack.”

Alvirah and Regan rushed to the porch and began peering in the windows. Alvirah grabbed Regan’s arm. “There are cross-country skis on the floor there.”

“Alvirah, they could be anybody’s,” Regan said.

“They’re not anybody’s,” Alvirah said emphatically. “That’s Opal’s hat on the floor next to them! We’ve got to go in!”

“You’re right, Alvirah,” Willy agreed. He tried the front door and found it was locked. He picked up a chair on the porch and tossed it through the window. At their surprised reaction he said, “If we’re wrong, I’ll pay for the window, but I trust Alvirah’s instincts.”

The overpowering smell of gas hit them.

“Oh, my God,” Alvirah cried. “If Opal’s in there somewhere…”

In a moment Jack kicked out the rest of the glass, climbed in, and opened the door. His eyes were already watering from the effect of the gas.

“Opal!” Alvirah started screaming.

They ran through the downstairs floor, but there was no sign of anyone. In the kitchen Willy hurried to the stove and turned off a burner. “This is where the gas is coming from!”

Regan and Jack raced upstairs, Alvirah behind them. There were three bedrooms. The doors of all of them were closed.

“The gas isn’t as strong up here,” Regan said, coughing.

The first bedroom was empty. In the second one they could see a man tied to the bed. Alvirah threw open the third bedroom door and gasped. Opal was lying motionless, also tied to the bed.

“Oh, no!” Alvirah whispered. She ran to the bed, leaned down, and saw that Opal’s lips were moving and her eyes were fluttering. “She’s alive!”

Jack was next to her, quickly cutting the ropes with his pocket knife. Regan was putting one arm under Opal and lifting her up.

“If the bedroom doors hadn’t been closed, these two would be dead by now,” Jack said grimly. “Can you two handle Opal?”

“You bet we can,” Alvirah said.

As Jack hurried into the other room, Regan and Alvirah draped Opal’s arms over their shoulders and rushed her down the hall.

Jack and Willy were behind them, carrying a totally comatose long-haired man.

Within seconds they were out the front door, off the porch, and hurrying to get a safe distance from the house.

“If we had rung that bell, we might have blown the whole place up,” Jack said. “The way that downstairs was filled with gas, the electric discharge could have set off an explosion.”

As they crossed the field, they heard a vehicle approaching. A pickup truck was barreling onto the property. Before the thought could even occur to them that it might be Opal’s abductors returning, they saw Lem Pickens at the wheel. Without appearing to notice them, he whizzed past and came to a screeching halt next to the barn. As they watched, he raced to the doors, flung them open, and began to jump up and down.

“Our tree!” he yelled. “Our tree! I found our tree!” He rushed inside the barn to examine it.

“Their tree is here!” Regan exclaimed.

Opal was still draped over her and Alvirah’s shoulders.

“Packy,” Opal mumbled. “Diamonds. My money.”

“Do you know where Packy is?” Alvirah asked her.

Lem came running out of the barn and raced over to them. “Our tree’s fine. Just one branch broken!” He finally noticed what was going on in front of him. “What’s the matter with these two?” he asked.

“They must have been drugged,” Alvirah said. “And Packy Noonan is behind this.”

“And so is this so-called poet,” Lem declared, pointing at the sleeping Milo, still being supported by Willy and Jack.

“Wayne…has…diamonds…. Packy went there,”Opal was mumbling.

“Where?” Regan asked her.

“Wayne’s house….”

“I knew Wayne Covel was in on this up to his ears!” Lem cried gleefully.

Regan turned to him. “Lem, you know the way to Wayne Covel’s house. Ride with us there. Please! We can’t waste a minute!”

Jack was on his cell phone, alerting the local police.

Lem looked back at the barn. “No way!” he shouted. “I can’t let our tree out of my sight!”

Bobby Granger had escaped from his parents and came running toward them. “I’ll mind your tree, mister,” he called. “I won’t let anybody touch it!”

“The police are on their way here and to Covel’s house. Your tree will be fine,” Jack said crisply. “Mr. Pickens, we really need your help. You know your way around this town.”

The Grangers had caught up with their son. “We’ll guard your tree,” Bill Granger assured Lem.

“Well, all right,” Lem said. “But tell them I have the keys to the flatbed in my pocket. I’m the one who’ll drive it home to Viddy. But I’m not getting in any car with that poet.”

“We’ll mind him, too,” Bill Granger said.

Alvirah got into the backseat of the Meehans’ car. Then Jack lifted Opal in. Willy followed, to prop her up. Regan, Jack, and Lem jumped into the front seat. Jack turned on the ignition and drove as fast as he dared off the property and onto the bumpy dirt road.

“Turn left up here,” Lem ordered. “I knew Wayne Covel, Packy Noonan, and that so-called poet were all tarred with the same brush. If you’re looking for stolen goods, I wouldn’t be surprised at all to find the loot in Wayne Covel’s house. Now turn right.”

Milo’s beat-up car was on the other side of the road, heading in the opposite direction.

“There’s the poet’s car!” Lem cried. “But we know he’s not driving!”

As it passed them, Alvirah shrieked, “It’s Packy Noonan driving!”

Jack did a U-turn and was caught behind a delivery truck. The road was too narrow and winding for him to pass. “Come on!” he said. “Come on!”

When they came to an intersection, Milo’s battered heap was no longer in sight.

“They went thataway!” Lem pointed to the left.

“How do you know?” Jack asked.

“Look! The bumper is in the middle of the road there. It finally fell off that heap.”

Regan had dialed the local police. She told them rapidly that they had spotted Packy Noonan and described the car to them and the direction it was headed. Next to her, Opal was mumbling, “Get him. Please…. All my money.”

“We will, Opal,” Regan promised. “Too bad you’re not wide awake for this.”

Around a bend they caught up with Milo’s car, which was chugging along. Smiling broadly, Jack followed the old jalopy, speeding up when necessary to prevent another car from getting in between. In the distance they could see a police car speeding toward them, its lights flashing. Jack stopped to allow the police car to make a U-turn and get right behind Packy. A moment later the sound of a policeman’s voice on the bullhorn could be heard even through the closed windows.

“Pull over, Packy. Don’t get in any more trouble than you’re in already.”

A second police car went past Jack, and two more were coming from the opposite direction. Inside Milo’s heap, Packy picked up the flask and handed it to Jo-Jo. “Get rid of it!” he ordered.

Jo-Jo opened the window, lowered his hand, and tossed it. The flask of diamonds rolled down the embankment.

“All that work swindling those dopey investors down the drain,” Packy lamented wryly as he watched the flask disappear. He stopped the car and turned off the ignition.

“Come out with your hands up” came the command over the bullhorn as policemen poured from several patrol cars.

Jack stopped the car, and they all jumped out, except for Opal who slumped down on the backseat. Regan ran to the side of the road and backtracked about one hundred feet. Then, sliding and slipping, she made her way down the embankment. In the snow a metal flask was resting beneath a large evergreen tree. Regan picked it up, shook it, and heard a faint rattle. Smiling, she opened the cap. “My God,” she murmured as she caught the first glimpse of the contents. She poured a few of the diamonds into her hand. “These have to be worth a fortune,” she said to herself. “Wait till Opal sees this.”

With infinite care she dropped the diamonds back into the flask and climbed up the embankment. She ran up to Packy Noonan who was now in handcuffs. “Is this the flask in your dreams, Packy?” she asked sarcastically. “The people who lost all their money in your shipping company are going to be mighty happy to see it.”

A banging from the trunk of Milo’s car startled them all. Guns drawn, two policemen threw the catch and stood back as the trunk swung up. Benny sat up, Jo-Jo’s note still pinned to his jacket, and took in the whole scene. “I knew we shouldn’t have gotten greedy,” he said yawning. “Wake me up when we get to the police station.” He lay back down and closed his eyes.

Regan turned to Alvirah. “Before we have to turn these over, let’s show them to Opal.”

They hurried back to their car, propped Opal into a sitting position, and wrapped her hands around the flask. “Opal, honey, look,” Alvirah urged. “Stay awake long enough to look.”

Regan unscrewed the cap.

“What?” Opal asked drowsily.

“These diamonds represent your lottery money. Now you’ll get at least some of it back,” Alvirah told her.

Drowsy as Opal was, the meaning of Alvirah’s words penetrated her drugged brain, and she began to cry.

An hour later Lem Pickens was driving the flatbed through town, honking the horn incessantly. Beside him, Bobby Granger was waving to the cheering crowd that had gathered along the way. Finally, they were heading up the hill to Lem’s home.

Alvirah, Willy, Regan, Jack, the Grangers, and a now more alert Opal were standing with Viddy on the Pickenses’ front porch. The word of the recovered tree had spread like wildfire. Media crews had hastily set up in the front yard to capture the moment when, still honking the horn, Lem Pickens triumphantly drove the Rockefeller Center flatbed onto his property. The look on Viddy’s face when she saw her beloved blue spruce reminded Alvirah of the dazed joy she had seen on Opal’s face, and like Opal, Viddy began to cry.