Solve by Christmas

by Amber Schamel

  Failure.

  His attempts seemed pitiful. He’d been so certain his plan would work. Now he was out of ideas…and out of time. The white sack that carried the hair into the factory lay crumpled on the table. He picked it up and turned it inside out. Hair flitted into his coffee cup. Jasper frowned. Blue thread?

  The trill of the doorbell startled him. The doctor? He jerked the door open and startled the clerk. “A call for you, sir.”

  Jasper jogged ahead of him to the office and snatched up the receiver. “Detective Hollock speaking.”

  “Boss, it’s Denny. I need you. Boiler room. This is the worst yet.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Jasper slammed down the receiver and brushed past the clerk. “Thanks.” He bounded up the stairs to snag his coat, and then charged out the door. How did Denny get use of the company phone? And what was he doing at the factory on Saturday?

  When Jasper reached the factory, his alarm tripled. Police, ambulance, and fire brigade? A pair of medical personnel descended the stairs.

  He caught one of them by the arm. “What’s happened?”

  “An accident with the night shift.” He shrugged. “It’s mostly cleaned up now.”

  “Anyone hurt?”

  “Two. Third-degree burns, I’d guess. They were taken to the hospital.”

  Dash it all. Why hadn’t someone called him sooner? Jasper released the medic and sprinted up the stairs two at a time. He veered toward the boiler room.

  Denny stood in the doorway, his youthful face taut. “The night shift came on at nine o’clock. A few hours into their shift, the boiler machines broke belts and the buckets busted, leaking gallons of scalding liquid. Two of the men were burned bad. They took them to the hospital.”

  Jasper leveled a hard glare on the boy. “Why did you wait to call me?”

  “Charlie and Mr. Rudin said you shouldn’t be bothered. They’d clean up the mess, and there was nothing you could do anyway.” Denny sniffed. “But I found something.”

  Spreading open his hands, Jasper gave an impatient shake of his head.

  Denny tiptoed around the mess and slipped to the other side of the giant boiler. He picked up a black rubber belt and handed it to Jasper.

  “A clean break.”

  The boy nodded. “Cut, I think.”

  He should have said “good eye”, but he was too irritated to give any praise. Of course, this was done on purpose. And the sabotaging agent was getting more and more dangerous. “Details, people. Details. Haven’t I drummed that into your thick skull yet? This is exactly why you should have called me.” He threw down the belt and stepped closer to the machine and stuck his finger into a screw hole. Just as he feared. No tearing. The screws holding the metal sheets had been removed.

  What would be next? If he didn’t catch the traitor soon, someone was likely to die. If someone hadn’t already.

  The pieces were coming together, but not fast enough. Could Stosch have come to the factory after depositing Mr. Rudin at home? Possibly. After he’d been here with Charlie?

  He didn’t want to believe the conclusions logic and clues were throwing at him, but it was too dangerous to keep denying it. But what hard evidence did he have? Somehow, he had to get ahead and catch the culprit in the act.

  “I’ve checked all of the windows, but they’re locked.” Denny strode to one and looked through. “I can’t figure it out.”

  Jasper wasn’t in the mood to explain endless possibilities. Especially when one seemed most probable. “Doors are much more convenient.”

  “But Charlie said he locked up after the riot and everyone left. I already asked him about it.” The kid rocked back on his heels. “Unless they used the riot as a distraction while somebody slipped in and did the dirty work.”

  Exactly. But who would have known to plan on that? The answer was obvious. And there was nothing more infuriating than knowing who the culprit is and having no way to pin it on him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jasper inhaled sharply and turned. “I’m going to the hospital. I can’t believe Miss Leslie hasn’t woken yet, and I need to check on the two crewmembers.”

  “Oh, Miss Leslie woke up last night.” Denny shrugged and flicked a dead bug from the windowsill. “She was talking, too. But she doesn’t remember much.”

  Flexing his fingers and then curling them into fists, Jasper stepped forward. “How do you know?”

  “The doctor rang up to the orphanage to let us know. Mrs. Yale and I went down right away to see her.”

  He could wring the kid’s neck. Or he could wait and wring the doctor’s. Why did it seem that everyone he gave explicit instructions to contact him did just the opposite? “Why didn’t you call me?” The question sounded more like a growl, but it was becoming redundant. Something else that grated on his nerves.

  Denny hopped a step back. “I didn’t realize you’d want to know right away. Or that someone wouldn’t have already told you.”

  “What are you? Errand and messenger boy? And aren’t you the one who wanted to be my personal sidekick? But you can’t even convey simple messages or urgent accidents? You’re nothing more than a glorified gossip. I guess you think you’re capable of solving the case yourself.”

  The kid’s jaw clamped shut. And the mole on his right cheek ticked. “And you’re nothing but a glorified bully. Shoving people around when you’re nothing but a selfish, prideful despot. I thought you didn’t need anyone’s help?”

  “I don’t!”

  “Fine! Then don’t get mad at me for not pedaling you messages all day.”

  Their shouts echoed off the empty factory walls then faded into cold silence. Fists stiff at his sides, Jasper stalked toward the door.

  “Wait.”

  Halting, Jasper braced.

  “One last message. Mr. Rudin said to give you this.” Denny shoved a piece of paper into his hand and then brushed past him.

  Jasper unfolded the crumpled note.

  Meeting with my lawyer Friday to finalize will. Come by my office Monday. I want to go over a few things before my last day.

  His last day? As if Mr. Rudin were merely changing occupations. Jasper crunched the paper in his fist and tossed it into a trash bin as he passed the washroom. He finally had two cases. And both of them were ticking bombs, ready to explode and send Mr. Rudin and his empire crumbling to hell’s ruins.

  *****

  The days seemed to drag by in a hazy blur. Dutifully checking in on Miss Leslie, but not having the heart to ask beyond how she felt. Checking in on the two burned men. Sunday. Church. Although the minister’s words seemed to float in one ear and out the other this time. All they wanted to sing was Christmas hymns. Terribly distracting. He felt like a straw man, standing at his post, but having no heart or energy to put in. He even tried tinkering with his gadgets to free up his mental faculties, but the usual gimmick didn’t work.

  One thought kept running through his mind. Nothing. Nothing to offer Mr. Rudin. Nothing to stop the man bent on destroying him. Today he would go over the will with Mr. Rudin. Less than three days till Christmas. This was his last chance, and he still had nothing to say.

  He trudged up the steps and veered toward Mr. Rudin’s office.

  “Hollock.” Stosch straightened his monocle and pinned him with a sharp gaze. “What about this case?”

  Jasper blinked. “Case?” How would Mr. Stosch know about either one?

  “Perhaps you’ve been hiding in a cave, but everyone else hasn’t. The papers have been raving about sabotage. That has to be what you’ve been occupied with.”

  Should he tell Stosch he’s one of his prime suspects? “I’m very close to a conclusion, Mr. Stosch. But it’s classified information. Is Mr. Rudin prepared to see me?”

  “He’s been asking after you all afternoon.”

  “Don’t bother getting up. I’ll see myself in.”

  Jasper tapped on the door with a knuckle before opening. Mr. Rudin was bent over papers scattered acros
s his desk. “There you are, Jasper boy. I was wondering if Denny hadn’t delivered my note.”

  “Haven’t you seen him?”

  “Not since Saturday. Mr. Stosch said he’s out looking for another job.”

  Jasper swallowed. That had to be his fault. “Anyway, you wished to see me?”

  “Sit down. This will take a while.”

  He settled into the leather chair and crossed one leg over his knee and his arms across his chest.

  “A few portions of this will concern you, my boy. As you know, you’re not just my detective, but more like the son I never had. So I’ve treated you as such in my will. Everything goes to my wife, of course, but I leave you as coexecutor. I’ve also made a few requests.”

  “So you’re leaving me money in place of a father?”

  A gentle smile curled beneath Mr. Rudin’s mustache. “I figured your mood wouldn’t be bright, but in the long run, you’ll appreciate it.”

  Jasper bit down on the inside of his cheek. Scenes of his mother’s funeral oozed into his mind.

  “I’ve left instructions regarding the orphan program you proposed, as well as the continuance of the factory. Although, it seems there’s not much left for you to salvage.” Mr. Rudin picked up a stack of papers and tossed them across the desk. “Those are from our largest clients. They have great concerns about our quality and ability to fulfill orders. They’ve been loyal to me for years, but without proof of the foul play, I have nothing to counter with.”

  Closing his eyes, Jasper took in a deep breath, willing the tears burning to disappear. He felt like a little boy all over again, about to lose the person who meant the world to him. He had one last plea to try. “Uncle Rudi, if you take your own life, I’ll do the same.”

  For a split second, hesitation flashed in the man’s blue eyes. Then he chuckled. “Your eye is twitching.”

  Unless he was lying to himself, the words were true. Regardless of his stupid twitch. “I can’t stand the loss. Not again. When Mother died, I had you. But if you go, I have no one.”

  “One look at my wife with tears in her eyes, and you’ll change your mind. She has a way with men and tears.” Mr. Rudin sat back with a sigh. “Make sure when she remarries it’s a good man.”

  Jasper couldn’t stand it anymore. Like a feral rat from a house aflame, he bolted.

  *****

  Jasper fell to his knees, dampness seeping through his trousers. His mother’s white marble headstone was nearly invisible in all the snow. Hand shaking, he reached out and brushed away the fluff to reveal her name. Mary Jane Hollock. The most beautiful name ever etched in stone. His body trembled, but the cold wind or dampness didn’t cause it.

  “Mother, I wish you were here. You’d know what to do.”

  She would. But he’d never want her to see him like this.

  “He’s going to do it. And I have no way to stop him.” Bowing his head, he sucked in a breath. “Then there’s the sabotage.”

  He wanted to say more, but he was too worn out to rehash the frustration and hopelessness. Talking to a tombstone wouldn’t help anyway. Sitting back on his haunches, he brushed hair from his eyes. Here he thought he was such an unnoticed gem. A mastermind only needing an opportunity. Hmmph. Denny was right. And his own pride made him scoff at himself. He’d managed to mess everything up in a matter of weeks.

  This needed to stop. He sounded like Mr. Rudin.

  Oh well. He’d end up beside him in less than thirty-six hours. He squeezed his eyes shut against the image of Mr. Rudin lying in a puddle his office floor, Jasper picking up the gun to follow suit.

  Perhaps Mr. Rudin was right after all. Every bit of suffering, disappointment, and work that went into everyday life was worth nothing in the end. All vanity as Ecclesiastes says.

  The wind whisked snow across the grave in front of him. “What am I missing?”

  The key.

  The words stamped his heart as if whispered from heaven. Mother had always told him prayer was the key that opened locked doors and unleashed the floodgates of heaven. His chin met his chest as shame heated his face. Here he called himself a Christian, but in the midst of confusion, he ran to his mother’s grave to try to talk to her instead of talking to the God he believed was alive. The story of Saul calling Samuel from the grave rose in his memory.

  “God, forgive me.” His whispered breath hung in the air between him and his mother’s name. “I’ve been seeking help in the wrong place, and I’ve wound up at the same dead end as Mr. Rudin.” He paused, giving his heart time to open up to the Holy Spirit. “But I’m not the same as Mr. Rudin, am I?”

  No. As much as he wanted to think he would lay himself out beside the man, Jasper could never do it. Why? Was he a coward? Was it because he’d be swayed by Mrs. Rudin’s tears as Uncle Rudi had said?

  Jasper shook his head. It was something deeper. He couldn’t end his own life because he felt deep inside that he would be throwing it away. That there was more to accomplish. His life was still worth living.

  “But why, Lord? What makes it worth living? What makes mine different from Mr. Rudin’s?”

  Walk with me.

  Rising, Jasper brushed off the snow. He followed the Holy Spirit’s prompting and strolled toward the cemetery entrance. Passing the portico of the cemetery office, he kept his heart and mind quiet, listening for the still, small voice.

  Birds flitted across the park, chirping as they went. Clumps of snow fell from burdened trees as he passed. The city noise increased as he neared the street. He paused at a corner to listen to a school choir sing “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” before he continued across the street toward downtown.

  “Let nothing you dismay. Remember Christ our Savior….” He certainly felt dismayed. Perhaps his thoughts had been too occupied to let him think on the right things.

  Hands pocketed against the frigid air, he walked for a long time in silence, his steps carrying him closer to the factory and Union Station. Holiday travelers thronged the cars, luggage everywhere. Fancy electric string lights illuminated Merry Christmas on the side of a wall. The blaring of the train whistles and the hum of crowds overtook the peaceful silence he’d enjoyed earlier.

  All right, God, how am I to hear You now?

  “Some say God is so hard to find, so difficult to hear, but God is all around us. Especially during this season.” A strong, low voice carried through the crowd, echoing off the station’s stone walls. “In our darkest moments, He is there, ready and willing to help if only we would ask.”

  I have asked, Lord.

  Peering through the people filing by, Jasper tried to identify the voice. He pressed toward it.

  “When you feel like you’ve come to a dead end, He brings a new beginning.”

  The voice grew louder with each step Jasper took, but he couldn’t see the source.

  “When your life is no longer worth living, when you’re washed up with nothing left, give your life to Christ, and He will give you His. What an exchange that is, my friend! Because He lives, our lives have meaning. Perhaps you’ve believed there is no reason. There is no hope. But Christ died to give you a different path.”

  Jasper pressed against one of the walls as a cart laden with suitcases trundled past. Then he caught sight of a man standing on the platform’s edge, holding a Bible above his head. “It’s not what you do, friend, that makes your life worth living. Not our own works, for the Bible tells us those are as filthy rags. But it is the life of Christ—what He makes us—that gives us purpose and meaning. His vision of us as sons and daughters of God.”

  Was someone hammering the other side of the wall, or was it his own heartbeat? The preacher’s gaze locked with Jasper’s, and the buzz around him faded, leaving nothing but his own breathing.

  The man’s voice lowered, as did the Bible above his head. “This is how we face our trouble. It’s the life behind the name of Jesus Christ.”

  The words addressed Mr. Rudin’s issue perfectly. Why then, did Jasper fee
l like a child squirming beneath a reproachful stare?

  “Not our works. Not what others say we are. Not what we say we are. But what the King of Heaven and Earth says we are. You may say you’re a failure. Others may agree. But Christ says you’re worth everything, and His is the judgment that counts.”

  Jasper’s hands trembled against the cold stone wall as a warmth spread through his chest. He bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Hot tears burned the inside of his eyelids. Avoiding the street preacher’s gaze, he slipped through the crowd and trotted toward home. His hands still shook when he inserted the key in his apartment lock.

  He slammed the door behind him and stalked to his mirrors. Staring at his glowering reflection, he heard his own words played back again.

  Seeing his perspective in God’s looking glass, he saw the end of his path merge with Mr. Rudin’s. Perhaps he had begun slightly different, but the end was the same. He’d been so focused on his career, on making a name for himself, that he’d allowed it to define him. Pride would be his downfall. Whether he met his self-imposed expectations or not, it would be a dead end. The value of his life, his reason for living would disappear.

  But he knew better. How was it so easy to forget?

  “Lord God, am I really worth so much to You?” Falling to his knees, Jasper prayed. Not like he prayed every night, but like a gush of water released from an overfilled dam. By the time he opened his eyes, he could hardly see. When had it gotten dark? He reached over and tugged on the lamp switch. His eyes, swollen and red, made his reflection a ghastly sight, but he couldn’t help but grin. A flame had ignited inside his heart, and with it, an excitement for what the future may hold. No, he wouldn’t end up like Mr. Rudin. Not for the same reason he thought before, but because of Christ.

  He stared at his reflection and blinked. Poor Uncle Rudi. Tomorrow was his last chance, but this time, Jasper knew what needed to be said.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jasper’s step was light as he entered the factory. He mounted the stairs two at a time, pausing for breath at the top. Lord, give me the words to get this across to Uncle Rudi.