Solve by Christmas

by Amber Schamel

  After pulling a notepad from his pocket, Jasper tapped a pencil to the page. “Any idea who may have tried to get in here? What reason would someone have to invade?”

  “We have documented our methods for quality control. I suppose someone might want that, but I’ve no idea who.”

  Jasper strode to the far end of the counter and slid open a drawer. He’d seen one ajar as he entered earlier. “What is contained in here?”

  “Mundane daily reports, mostly.” The manager waved his hand. “Nothing anyone would want.”

  Reports, yes, but more than that was inside. Pencils, empty log sheets, and supplies. Nothing of much consequence on the surface, but perhaps with more clues it may play a part. He jotted down a note and closed the drawer.

  “Have you had any incidents with lab workers recently?” Jasper returned his gaze to the manager.

  “No, everyone seems happy.” The man tucked his chin and lowered his tone. “They get paid pretty well, so no one complains.”

  “Any illnesses, mishaps someone might want to erase from records?”

  Kendal shook his head.

  “Charlie tells me you possess one of three keys to this room. Have you allowed any other workers use of it?”

  “No, detective. I keep it on my person at all times. I unlock the door when I arrive and lock it when I leave. They’ve no call to need inside at any other time.”

  “I noticed a spill on the floor this morning. What substance was left overnight?” Jasper pointed to the blotch on the wooden floor.

  “Sugar water with a bit of a chemical to test it. Nothing dangerous or mysterious about it. My guess is the intruder somehow upset it.”

  “I see.” He notated that, too. “Very well, I will allow you to get on with your work. Please let me know if you remember anything further or discover something missing.”

  Pocketing his notebook, he strode out of the room. He’d done his duty at the scene. Now he’d take his quandaries before the Council of Mirrors.

  Chapter Three

  A shrill wind batted at Jasper’s overcoat as he opened the black iron gate of the Montgomery Apartments. Already someone had wrapped evergreen boughs along the top. He slipped through and trotted up the steps to the main entrance. Yanking the door open, he ducked inside and then shut out the draft.

  “Hello, Detective Hollock. It’s about time you got here.”

  Jasper whirled around, his overcoat thwacking the errand boy’s long legs. “Denny? What are you doing here?”

  “Mr. Rudin said you were working on an important case, so I dropped by to see if you needed anything. Where have you been?”

  The nerve of this boy. Choosing to ignore the insolent question, Jasper changed the subject. “Do you make a habit of stalking all of Mr. Rudin’s employees?”

  “No, sir, just you. Although I think I’d be good at it.” A dimple appeared in the boy’s cheek, and his eyes squinted with his grin. “Company spy is almost like a company detective, right?”

  Lord, give me patience. If this boy weren’t an orphan, Jasper would have boxed his ears and thrown him out with a good warning to get back to his duties. With a shake of his head, he made for the stairs.

  Denny followed. “Is the case difficult? Does it have to do with Charlie’s note this morning? I saw you poking around the lab. Do you think someone stole something?”

  “Look, Denny, I don’t mean to be rude, but this is classified information. Don’t you have errands to run or something?”

  “I just finished one for Mr. Stosch. That’s why I was next door. I couldn’t be so close without popping in to see if you needed anything.”

  Jasper paused in front of his apartment door and clicked the key in the lock. “I do need something.”

  Denny’s brown eyes lit up. “Sure! What can I do for you?”

  “Leave me alone.”

  He yanked open the door, passed through, and would have shut it just as quick if the boy hadn’t lodged his shoe in the doorframe. “Can’t do that, detective. You need me.”

  “I? Need you?” Jasper coughed in an attempt to hold back laughter.

  “Sure. You can’t solve the cases without me.”

  Amused, Jasper clasped his hands behind him to play along. “Pray tell, why would a detective need a nosy errand boy to solve a crime?”

  “I’m smart—you know that. And fast. I can get information, run errands, sweet talk records out of the pretty lady in the employment department, and I scurry all over town. So I could keep tabs on a lot of things. An incognito informant, if you will.”

  Jasper bit his lip. How old was this kid? Seventeen? He’d been reading too many of those ridiculous Doyle novels, that’s what. Well, he had to admit the boy was creative.

  “Besides, every good detective needs a sidekick. What would Sherlock Holmes be without Watson? And, face it, what other choices do you have?”

  “Nice try, kid. Get back to work.” He flipped Denny a quarter and shut the door. He waited to hear the boy’s tread fade away, but the shadow under the door didn’t move.

  “Okay, we’ll talk later.” Denny’s voice muffled through beyond the door. “I’m sure you need some time to think it over.”

  After another moment, the boy trudged away. Jasper let out a breath and locked the door. He shrugged out of his overcoat and hung it on the tree. After Denny’s interlude, he could finally unload his mind to his Council of Mirrors.

  As his thoughts returned to Mr. Rudin, his stomach roiled. The deadly determination in the man’s kindly eyes tossed him like a wayward vessel. He bowed his head and braced against the wall.

  “Dear God, please help me stop him.”

  Leaving the cramped kitchen, he stepped into the small sitting area. He’d kept the furnishings sparse to give it the roomiest feel possible. A single chair and a side table—an invention of his own—that folded out to create a desk over the chair, and a lamp scarcely cluttered the space. The only wall hangings were his three beloved mirrors on each of the three windowless walls. He stood in the middle of the brown circular rug and faced the mirror on the left wall. He straightened its ornate gold frame, ignoring his thick upper lip made more idiotic by his slight overbite. How the features of his appearance aggravated him.

  The mirror hung on the center wall was flawlessly straight with its plain, wooden frame. He gave his reflection half a smile. Now his large ears…there was a feature he could be proud of. They may rival a hound dog’s in size, but also in perception.

  Reaching out, he corrected the angle of the third mirror to the perfectly crooked slant he’d calculated. The warped posture accentuated the dark and gloomy frame, making it villainous. To him, each mirror held its own personality and insight.

  “Where to begin?” He stared into the plain mirror. Then the ornate, then back at the dark one.

  No longer was he seeing his face reflected, but a sickly image of Mr. Rudin. Dark circles encased his deep-set eyes, matching the frame’s sooty shade.

  “My life is not worth living.” Mr. Rudin’s dark thoughts swirled like smoke along the mirror’s smooth surface. “Death will bring relief.”

  Jasper clenched his jaw. “What could possibly cause these dark thoughts? And how do I combat them?”

  He crossed his arms and rubbed his chin. “Mr. Rudin is a wealthy man with a large house, social standing, good food—nearly anything he could wish. What would cause him to not want to live?”

  “Money can’t make one happy.” The cloudy figure in the dark mirror spoke again. “Is this what men think it is to be rich? They’ve no idea. Superfluous, stressful, and meaningless.”

  Jerking to the left, Jasper stared into the golden mirror. “No, I am asking the wrong question, aren’t I? Rather than why does he not want to live, I should be asking, what would make him want to live.”

  He needed a simple answer, so he stared straight ahead at the plain mirror and contemplated. What caused men to want to live?

  Purpose. Mr. Rudin needed a purpose in
his life. That was it.

  Jasper nodded. So did all three of his duplicates. “Well then, we have a starting place. Let’s formulate a plan.”

  A strand of dark hair fell across his eye. He blew it back. If anyone of the outside world saw him before his council, they’d admit him to a madhouse. Oh well. What worked, worked.

  The cup of pencils turned over as he reached for it, sending the utensils scattering to the floor. So much for hoping he would lose his adolescent clumsiness. He straightened his vest before bending to pick them up. Grasping one firmly lest it escape again, he pressed it to the paper, drawing big shaky letters across the top.

  PURPOSE.

  He rubbed the pencil between his fingers. If he could show Mr. Rudin that his life had accomplished something, that he’d made a footprint on the earth, perhaps it would do the trick.

  FAMILY.

  Mr. Rudin had a wife and a daughter. He would interview them for statements. Both of them owed their current existence to the man.

  EMPLOYEES.

  Surely, he could get some statements and testimonies from a few of them. If they hadn’t been employed by the good man, how would they survive? And Mr. Rudin was known for his acts of kindness to people in need.

  CHARITY.

  Surely, the man had donated some funds that made a difference somehow. Another lead anyway.

  Finally, at the bottom of his sheet of paper, he wrote two letters.

  ME.

  How much he could say about Mr. Rudin. He still remembered the rasp of his mother’s voice on her deathbed. “I could never repay you, Gustov. You’ve been a brother, a friend, and a godsend.” She couldn’t have said it better. With a shiver, Jasper realized he owed everything to Mr. Rudin. And he would give everything within him to save the man.

  Ouch. He shouldn’t bite on his cheek so hard.

  The wind howled outside his window. He crossed the room and pulled back the curtain. Must be near lunchtime with so many people in the streets. The sky had darkened, but it couldn’t seem to decide whether to spit rain or snow. Jasper reached out and fingered the glass. Judging by the temperature, it would be freezing snow before long. Dash it. This storm had better not interfere with his ability to progress these cases.

  He jerked the chain, clicking on the table lamp. The glow shone through the mosaic shade, casting cheery yellow and green reflections around the small room. The piece had been a housewarming gift from Mr. Rudin when he’d moved into the apartment almost a year ago. Jasper bowed his head and rested his palms against the small desk.

  “God, I need your help. I can’t handle this case on my own.” He looked up, his reflection gazing back from the plain frame. “This isn’t even a real case. How did I get sucked into this?”

  He unbuttoned his shirtsleeves and rolled them up to his elbows. At least he had some sort of plan. Now to piece together the clues on the lab break-in. A real case could be solved.

  Who would care for anything in the lab? Perhaps one of the employees. But why? Enemies? Mr. Rudin didn’t have any.

  This wasn’t going very well. He could have some lunch. Who was he kidding? He could never eat when concentrating on a case. Water. Yes, that’s what he needed. A good glass of water would help him think better.

  In the kitchen, he poured a glass. While he sipped the cool liquid, his gaze fell upon the newspaper slid beneath his door. He picked it up and scanned the headlines.

  IWW Cases Fill Dockets. IWW Strikes Continue.

  Jasper clenched his jaw so hard pain lanced down his neck. Wobblies. The violent, mutinous rats. How much would he wager they had something to do with this? They seemed to be the source of everything troublesome in Denver these days.

  He slapped the newspaper on the table and stomped back to his mirrors. Mr. Rudin’s was one of the largest un-unionized factories in Denver. A prime target for militant unionists. They’d bring the city to its knees if someone didn’t stop them. They stirred up the people, created havoc in the streets, but worst of all, they clogged the judicial system. With the courts so full of worthless “free speech” cases and the jails so full of Wobblies, real criminals were left roaming the streets. In Jasper’s book, that made them the real criminals.

  Pushing his hair back with one hand, he glared into the mirror. “Now, Jasper boy, don’t put the Wobblies at the top of your suspect list just because you despise them.”

  Good advice. But who else did he have? No one.

  With a snap of his fingers, he spun toward the door. “Then we follow this lead until we find a new scent.”

  Chapter Four

  After snatching his coat from the tree, Jasper made his way out the door. The rain—or snow—or whatever it was had increased, soaking him by the time he hopped on the streetcar. He cupped his hands and blew into them. Before he reached the factory, the chill had settled into his bones. He entered the building and veered left toward the employment department.

  At the small reception area, he nodded at a young man wringing his hands as waited for his turn in the conference room. Jasper peeled off his overcoat and draped it on a chair.

  “Afternoon, Hollock.” The “pretty lady”, as Denny had called her, didn’t glance up from her paperwork. Her dark hair, pulled into a tidy bun at the nape of her neck, matched the brows arching intelligently above downcast eyes.

  “Miss Leslie.” He cleared his throat, trying to remember what he’d wanted to ask. Ah yes. “I would like to review some information on current employees.”

  “How nice.”

  Jasper huffed and clasped his hands behind his back. He wouldn’t take such obstinacy from anyone else. Why then, did he tolerate it from her? “Miss Leslie, would you be so kind as to provide me with the files for all employees currently working in the lab?”

  She looked up, the golden specks in her hazel eyes glinting. “All of them? Hollock, do you think I have nothing else to do but succumb to your every curiosity?”

  The tips of his ears grew hot. “Do you think I have the time to pester insignificant secretaries for useless information? I never clutter my mind with such.” He jabbed a finger in her direction. “And that is Detective Hollock to you.”

  Miss Leslie had the most infuriating way of rolling her eyes and the pencil between her fingers at the same second. “And the files you left wreckage of last week, detective?”

  Oh, the way she drawled the last word. He straightened and tugged his vest. “That is classified information I am not permitted to expose to level-one employees.”

  “The employee files are classified information as well, Sir Arrogant. Do you have clearance from Mr. Rudin to access these files?”

  “Of course not.” He wiped spittle from his lip. “To think I would require clearance from Mr. Rudin. I wished not to alarm him until I have more to go on.”

  She shrugged. “Well, this insignificant, level-one employee has a lot of honest work to do.” She stood, smoothing the folds of her full, gray skirt. “Kindly take your scheming elsewhere. Mr. Tucker, we are ready for you now.” Stepping around Jasper, she led the young man into the next room.

  Jasper drummed his fingers on her desk as he waited for her to return. Such insolence. He clenched his jaw while her heeled boots clicked back to her desk. “Now, really, Miss Leslie, can we get on with business? I need to see those files.”

  She sat, picked up her pencil, and continued with the ledger in front of her.

  The clock on the wall ticked.

  “Miss Leslie…?”

  She gathered up several papers, tapped them on the desk, and crossed to a file cabinet.

  Finally.

  Jerking open the drawer, she fingered through it, dropped the papers inside, shoved it closed with a dramatic thud, and returned to her desk, all the while avoiding Jasper’s glare.

  This was too much. He slammed his fist on her desk. “Miss Leslie, if you don’t get me those files this instant I will—I will—”

  Her piercing gaze and delicate eyebrows lifted. “You will
…?”

  “I give you to the count of three, or I will march straight up to Mr. Rudin and demand you be—”

  “There you are, detective,” Denny bellowed from across the room. “I’ve been looking for you.” In three short strides, the lad stood before him with a grin stretched across his face. He smiled a little wider when he turned to the infuriating “pretty” woman, revealing his dimple. “Why, hello, Bet. How are you? Have any errands for me today?”

  Miss Leslie’s eyes softened, and her mouth even curled up to return the boy’s smile, making her look, well, almost pretty. “Denny, I was hoping you’d stop by. I do have a stack of letters I need to go out and a telegram needing sending.”

  Denny gave a bow, waving his hand with a flourish. “At your service, madam. Just as soon as I deliver this message to Detective Hollock, here.” He shifted back to Jasper and frowned. “Is there something wrong, detective? You seem a bit ruffled.”

  Ruffled? Ha! He was doing well not to give the woman on the opposite side of the desk a swift escort to the door and a kick to help her along.

  “Denny, my boy, I’d like you to take a good look at this creature.” A smile crept across Jasper’s face as he swept an arm toward Miss Leslie. “For here, you have the exotic breed of female troll descended from the Cyclops that taunted ancient civilizations. They are best identified by the upturned nose and aura of pride that reeks like rotting tomatoes. If you can, avoid them at all costs. In my line of work, however, one is often called upon to face the most treacherous beings known to man, such as this one.”

  The green tints in Miss Leslie’s eyes darkened as her eyes swirled. For a moment, Jasper was certain his description of troll matched her perfectly. “Women only become trolls when they must rise to the occasion.” She shifted her gaze to Denny. “Although, I can’t hold a candle to the talent of your friend here.”

  The boy stood for a moment, his eyes wide, until he burst into laughter. “The two of you make quite a pair. You should go on stage together. You’d make millions.” He laughed again, wiping a tear from the edge of one eye. “So, what’s this all about?”