Good Deeds and Bad Intentions

by Caimh McDonnell

  “I swear it isn’t, Sarge.”

  Marsden interrupted. “Well, if it is, it has nothing to do with us, I swear.”

  “Alright then,” said Marlon.

  “How come you believed her and not me, Sarge?”

  “Because, Gianelli, her relatives don’t all die on Fridays. So where’s the coke?” Marlon looked at the two rookies. “Oh, for… Open the damn trunk then!”

  In the Absence of Chimneys

  Smithy tapped the screwdriver against his chin, stared hard at the circuit board in front of him and took a deep breath. “Can both of you please stop watching me?”

  “What?” said Cheryl.

  “We’re not watching you,” said Bunny.

  “I can feel your eyes on me and I’m trying to concentrate.”

  “You’re sounding a bit paranoid there, sweetheart,” said Cheryl.

  “We’re on the roof of a building we’re trying to break into, and I’m trying to disable an alarm system. This is exactly the place where being paranoid is a good idea. Can’t the two of you just talk amongst yourselves?”

  They were indeed on top of a building, and while nobody was drawing attention to it out of politeness, it was bitterly cold. There was the threat of snow in the air and Cheryl was regretting not wearing her woollen gloves over the plastic gloves she was already wearing in order to not leave fingerprints. As Christmas Eves went…

  “Alright, Smithy boy,” said Bunny. “You relax and take your time. Cheryl and I will talk to each other, alright?”

  “Excellent.”

  “So, Cheryl, do you think your fella can disable this alarm?”

  Cheryl pursed her lips. “Don’t ask me. I didn’t know he had any skills in this area until an hour ago. This is yet another part of his mysterious past that he doesn’t talk about.”

  “When I said talk amongst yourselves, I thought not talking about what I’m doing kinda went without saying?”

  “Sorry,” said Bunny. “You should have said.”

  “If I wanted to answer a lot of questions, I’d have brought Diller up here with me.”

  “Alright, alright,” said Bunny. “Relax. Jesus, breaking and entering makes him fierce grumpy.”

  A low growl issued from Smithy, causing Cheryl and Bunny to exchange a look that said ‘maybe we shouldn’t push this anymore’.

  Cheryl turned to Bunny. “Besides, is this even a crime?”

  “It is,” said Smithy.

  “Well,” admitted Bunny, “technically, yes. Although, as a big believer in law and order, I’m fine with it, which is an indication of the level of seriousness.”

  “Hmm,” said Cheryl. “On a related note, is taking the twenty grand from the trunk of Jonny’s car a crime?”

  “It is,” said Smithy.

  “Again, technically, yes,” said Bunny. “Although, once again, I’m absolutely fine with it. Plus, we did make a citizen’s arrest there of sorts.”

  “You’re not a citizen,” said Smithy.

  “Can I ask,” said Cheryl, pointing at Bunny’s clothes, “why’ve you not changed your outfit? I mean, I did.” She had, otherwise she probably would’ve been dead from hypothermia by now.

  “What?” said Bunny. “It’s Christmas Eve – this suit is the perfect disguise. Who’s going to shoot Santa on a rooftop on Christmas Eve?”

  Smithy sighed. “You still haven’t got your head around America, have you? You’re going end up mounted above someone’s fireplace.”

  “I thought you were supposed to be concentrating?” asked Cheryl. “Why do you keep talking to us?”

  Smithy said nothing, instead putting the screwdriver back into his small toolkit with more force than was necessary and taking out a slightly smaller screwdriver and tapping that against his chin instead.

  “Actually,” said Cheryl, turning to Bunny, “I did want to talk to you. How come you’ve turned down our gracious invite to come over for Christmas dinner tomorrow?”

  “Ah, thanks but no thanks,” said Bunny. “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “Really?” Sarcasm dripped from Cheryl’s voice as she held her arms out. “You’re literally about to be an actual intruder, but we invite you into our apartment, through the front door, and you’d rather not?”

  Bunny said nothing, which was the wrong answer.

  “What have you got planned?”

  “I was going to take it easy.”

  “By which you mean you’ll stay in that awful hotel and get drunk.”

  Bunny said nothing, which was all the answer she needed.

  “Nope. Sorry, honey, ain’t going to happen. You are coming. Diller is coming too, y’know?”

  “Yeah,” said Smithy, without turning around, “I’m going to drop him out to Cedarview to see his mom in the morning, and then he’s coming back to our place.”

  Cheryl nodded. “So that settles it.”

  Bunny went to say something, which was also the wrong answer.

  “No argument, you’re coming. We’re having our traditional Christmas. Smithy cooks a turkey; the turkey is undercooked. Smithy swears at the turkey and then cooks it until it is horribly overcooked. Smithy swears at it a whole lot more. We all eat three bites and then we order Chinese. Also, there’s Trivial Pursuit. It’s fun, you’ll love it. You’re family, whether you like it or not. And besides, the dog likes you.”

  Bunny nodded. “I appreciate what you’re saying, but…”

  They were interrupted by a cell phone ringing.

  Smithy sighed. “Really? We’re taking calls in the middle of the robbery now?”

  “Shut up,” said Cheryl, putting her hand into her jeans pocket and fishing it out. “It’s the number.”

  “What num—? Oh right,” said Smithy. The number was something Cheryl had come up with when she started helping Bunny with the list. They had needed a way for the women they were trying to help to get in touch with them, but they couldn’t use their personal numbers, for obvious reasons. The number belonged to an unregistered disposable phone.

  “It’s Helena,” said Cheryl.

  “Shite,” said Bunny. “Answer it.”

  Cheryl did.

  “Helena, are you OK?”

  Cheryl listened for a few seconds. “One second, honey,” she said, before taking the phone from her ear. “She’s fine. The police rang to let her know they have arrested Jonny for violating his parole, skipping bail and more – they didn’t specify.” She put the phone back to her ear. “That’s great news, Helena, we’re really pleased.”

  Much to Bunny’s annoyance, Cheryl then held up a finger and walked a few feet away, turning her back on them. “What in the feck is she doing now?”

  “I’ve no idea,” said Smithy. “I’m kind of busy breaking into this building for you.”

  “Right. Yeah.” Bunny lowered his voice to a whisper. “Now that she isn’t here, can I ask, what does the, y’know…?”

  “What?”

  “The voice. What does it think of all this?”

  Bunny was one of two people in the whole world who knew that, since Smithy had been the victim in a serious hit and run a few years ago, he occasionally suffered what Smithy himself considered auditory hallucinations. In simpler terms, he occasionally heard the voice of God in his head. For an atheist, this was particularly annoying. The other person who knew this secret was Diller, who was entirely convinced it was the voice of God. Bunny was still on the fence. The reason Cheryl didn’t know was that Smithy didn’t want the woman he enjoyed sexy time with getting distracted by wondering if God was talking to him at that moment. She was from a family of Texan baptists and that was the kind of thing that could really blow a romantic evening horribly off course.

  “I told you I wasn’t going to talk about that,” said Smithy.

  “Right.”

  “But if you must know, there’s been nothing.”

  Bunny nodded. “Is that good or bad, do you think?”

  “Well, speaking as the man whose head
it is, I think not hearing voices is a good thing.”

  “Fair point.”

  “Although you two have been yacking so much, I probably wouldn’t have heard it anyway.”

  “You’d like me to shut up, wouldn’t you?”

  “Bunny, you can read me like a book.”

  Bunny shut up and Smithy went back to staring at the circuit board.

  After a minute, Cheryl came back. “OK, I want you to remain calm.”

  “Do you mean me or him?” asked Smithy. “Because I’m trying and failing to remain focused here.”

  “I love you, honey, but shut up.”

  Smithy said nothing. Cheryl looked at Bunny. “OK, so, Helena. She didn’t want to mention it before, but she once met a woman in that support group.”

  “Right,” said Bunny.

  “And she said this woman told her that a friend of hers got out of New York along with her two kids, thanks to some help from” – Cheryl looked at the name she had hastily scrawled on the back of her hand – “Father Gabriel de Marcos. Apparently he runs some kind of gang intervention thing somewhere.”

  “The Bronx,” said Smithy, without looking up. “There was a big write-up about it in the paper recently.”

  “OK,” said Cheryl. “Well, him.”

  “Right, but—” started Bunny, but he stopped when Cheryl held her finger up.

  “She thinks it might be nothing, but… the woman said this priest knew a bunch of nuns who had helped get them out.”

  “Jesus!” said Bunny.

  “Don’t get your hopes up. It might not be the – what do you call ’em?”

  “The Sisters of the Saint,” said Bunny.

  “Right.”

  “It’s a lead though,” said Bunny. “I’ve been here nine months – nine fecking months looking for them, and this is the first thing that’s gone right!”

  “Thanks,” said Smithy.

  “Ara shut up, y’know what I mean.”

  “It’s good news,” said Cheryl, “but don’t get carried a—”

  Cheryl was interrupted as Bunny swept her up into a massive bearhug. “I’ve got a lead!”

  “OK, just…”

  Bunny spun her around and was two bars into a rousing rendition of “It’s Beginning to Look a lot Like Christmas” when Smithy turned around and glowered at them.

  “Seriously?”

  Bunny plonked Cheryl down rather unceremoniously.

  “We are actually committing a crime here. Could you two stop treating it like a fun night out?”

  “Sorry,” said Cheryl.

  “Sorry, but—” started Bunny, but Smithy silenced him with a look.

  “I know. A lead. Great. Can we celebrate that after we don’t get arrested?”

  Bunny nodded. “Right. You’re right.” He turned to Cheryl. “He is. He is absolutely right.”

  “Shut up,” said Smithy.

  “Right.”

  Smithy nodded. “Now, Cheryl, have you got one of those silver wrappers from your gum?”

  “I think so…” She found one in her back pocket. “Yes, here.”

  “Thank you.” She handed it to him and Smithy turned back around to the circuit box. He then did something with the wrapper, after which he jammed the screwdriver into something with a considerable amount of force. There was a popping noise followed by the smell of burning.

  “OK,” said Smithy, “alarm is dead. We’re in.”

  Smithy picked up his tools and walked off down the roof towards the skylight.

  Cheryl looked at Bunny. “Is it weird that I’m a little turned on right now?”

  I Love the Smell of Eggnog in the Morning

  Mrs Tandy took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. It had, all told, been a rather stressful week. There had been an even higher than normal level of colds and sniffles, not to mention yesterday’s disastrous trip with the children into Manhattan to not see Santa. And then there were the smaller things you had to keep an eye out for, especially at this time of year. Any child living in Saint Augustine’s would be painfully aware that they were different to other kids. Acting out was inevitable. Tina Lacroix had got into a fight last night with one of the older girls. Tina’s auntie had said she would come from Philadelphia to take her for Christmas, but they’d returned yesterday to find a message on the home’s machine saying she wasn’t coming. Mrs Tandy sincerely loved her job, but there were days when it felt like having gone twelve rounds with an angry gorilla.

  And then she had woken up to this – whatever this was – this morning. It had been one of her nights to sleep over and so she’d been the first one into the cafeteria at 7am, to open up for the cooks. That’s when she’d seen it, although it had taken her more than a few moments to believe it. Then she had found the note and the envelope. After giving it some thought, she had phoned the police. She knew that upstairs there were some annoyed and interested kids, and she knew Sarah was having a hard time keeping them up there.

  Mrs Tandy stood with Officer Gianelli as he slurped the coffee she had made him. They had run out of small talk five minutes ago. Mrs Tandy was too nervous to chat – somehow, she knew this would go badly. It had been that kind of a week. Officer Marsden had been on the phone with the station for fifteen minutes. When she finally hung up and turned towards them, there was a palpable sense of relief shared between Mrs Tandy and Officer Gianelli, two people unburdened from the weight of failed conversation.

  “OK, Mrs Tandy, here’s what we know. All of these” – said Officer Marsden, waving towards the massive pile of wrapped presents that was dominating the room – “were stolen last night.”

  “Oh Lord,” said Mrs Tandy, blessing herself furiously.

  “Well, kind of,” finished Officer Marsden.

  “Kind of? How can something be kind of stolen?”

  Officer Marsden rubbed the back of her neck. “The assistant manager from Toytopolis Toys up on Bleecker came in this morning. They had some kind of alarm fault last night. Somebody broke in and took a load of toys.”

  “Oh heavens…”

  “But,” continued Marsden, “they left a list of what they’d taken and enough money to cover it, plus repairs to the skylight they’d broken to get in.”

  “Is that normal?”

  Marsden shook her head. “No. Burglars don’t normally leave notes and they definitely don’t ever leave money.”

  “In fact,” interjected Officer Gianelli, “there was a burglary over on Hillcrest last week and that guy left…” Gianelli stopped talking when Marsden’s stare penetrated his bubble of stupidity. “Never mind,” he said, looking sheepish.

  “So,” continued Officer Marsden, turning to look at Mrs Tandy, “my boss talked to his boss, who talked to the owner of Toytopolis, and long story short – no harm, no foul. These gifts are for your kids.” Marsden gave a big smile.

  “And the” – Mrs Tandy lowered her voice – “money?” There had been just over seventeen thousand dollars in cash in an envelope addressed to her, and a note that said, “Dear Mrs Tandy, you seem like an honest woman. Here is a donation to Saint Augustine’s so you can get that bus fixed and maybe bring all the kids to the circus or something. Merry Christmas, Santa Claus.”

  Office Marsden nodded. “The money is a donation, as far as we can see. All above board, bar the breaking in to leave it – which, again, is a bit unusual.”

  Mrs Tandy felt faint. Officer Gianelli reached out a hand to steady her. “Are you OK?”

  “Sorry. Yes,” she said, patting his hand. “It’s just – well, this is quite a thing, isn’t it?”

  Marsden nodded. “A regular Christmas miracle.”

  “Well,” said Mrs Tandy, straightening herself up, “thank you both so much for your time.”

  “No problem,” said Marsden, who shared a look with Gianelli.

  “Is that everything?” enquired Mrs Tandy.

  “Well,” said Marsden, “to be honest, we got Christmas Eve and Christmas Day shifts at the stat
ion because we’re rookies, and it has been kind of bleak.”

  “I see.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” continued Gianelli, “it’d be cool to see the kids open their presents.”

  Mrs Tandy smiled. Yes, yes it would.

  What followed was chaos. Joyful chaos, but chaos nonetheless. The presents had come numbered with a helpful list that explained what the content of each parcel was, so Sarah and Mrs Tandy had made sure every child got something appropriate. At the very end of the line, her face a more pronounced version of its usual mix of hope and distrust, stood Annabelle Watson.

  “Annabelle,” said Mrs Tandy, beckoning her over. “May I speak to you for a moment?”

  Annabelle followed Mrs Tandy to the corner of the room, beside the games storage cupboard.

  “Now, young lady, do you know anything about this?”

  Mrs Tandy knew what the response would be by the way her face scrunched up before answering. “No. Why am I always blamed for stuff? I didn’t do nothing.”

  “You didn’t do anything.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “I’m not accusing you of… Oh, never mind. You don’t have a present in the pile over there.”

  “Oh.”

  “Because you didn’t get a present.”

  Annabelle just nodded.

  “Because young lady, you were the only person here to get multiple presents with your name written on them.”

  With a smile, Mrs Tandy opened the cupboard to reveal a series of boxes. Ten minutes later, Annabelle Watson was the proud owner of a biology lab, a chemistry lab, an electronics lab and her very own laptop computer.

  There had been a note.

  Dear Annabelle,

  You can be anything you want to be.

  Merry Christmas,

  SC

  Free Stuff

  Hi there reader-person,

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