In a voice tense with strain Mr. Andrews said, “So the murderer didn’t get away with the heroin. I thought you said—”
Superintendent Armitage produced a knife from his pocket. “We’ll see,” he said. “With your permission, I’m going to open this bear.”
“Of course.”
The knife ripped through the nobbly brown fabric, and a lot of stuffing fell out. Nothing else. Armitage made a good job of it. By the time he had finished, the bear was in shreds: and nothing had emerged from its interior except kapok.
Armitage surveyed the wreckage with a sort of bleak satisfaction. Suddenly brisk, he said, “Now. Which staff members took bears from the stockroom this morning?”
“I did,” I said at once.
“Anybody else?”
There was a silence. I said, “I believe you took two, didn’t you, Mr. Harrington?”
“I... em... yes, now that you mention it.”
“Miss MacArthur took one,” I said. “It was she who unpacked the carton. She said that Dis—Miss Aster—was going to take one.”
“I see.” Armitage was making notes. “I presume you each signed for your purchases, and that the bears are now with your things in the staff cloakroom.” Without waiting for an answer he turned to me. “How many of these people saw Burrows select the bear with the blue ribbon?”
“All of us,” I said. “Isn’t that so, Mr. Harrington?”
Harrington just nodded. He looked sick.
“Well, then,” said Armitage, “I shall have to inspect all the bears that you people removed from the stockroom.”
There was an element of black humor in the parade of the Teddies, with their inane grins and knowing, beady eyes: but as one after the other was dismembered. nothing more sensational was revealed than a growing pile of kapok. The next step was to check the stockbook numbers—and sure enough, one bear was missing.
It was actually Armitage’s Sergeant who found it. It had been ripped open and shoved behind a pile of boxes in the stockroom in a hasty attempt at concealment. There was no ribbon round its neck, and it was constructed very differently from the others. The kapok merely served as a thin layer of stuffing between the fabric skin and a spherical womb of pink plastic in the toy’s center. This plastic had been cut open and was empty. It was abundantly clear what it must have contained.
“Well,” said the Superintendent, “it’s obvious what happened. The murderer stabbed Burrows, slipped into the booth, and substituted an innocent Teddy bear for the loaded one, at the same time changing the neck ribbon. But he—or she—didn’t dare try walking out of the store with the bear, not after a murder. So, before Charlie’s body was found, the murderer dismembered the bear, took out the heroin, and hid it.” He sighed again. “I’m afraid this means a body search. I’ll call the Yard for a police matron for the ladies.”
It was all highly undignified and tedious, and poor old Disaster nearly had a seizure, despite the fact that the police matron seemed a thoroughly nice and kind woman. When it was all over, however, and our persons and clothing had been practically turned inside out, still nothing had been found. The four of us were required to wait in the staff restroom while exhaustive searches were made for both the heroin and the weapon.
Disaster was in tears, Miss MacArthur was loudly indignant and threatened to sue the police for false arrest, and Mr. Harrington developed what he called a nervous stomach, on account, he said, of the way the toy department was being left understaffed and unsupervised on one of the busiest days of the year.
At long last Superintendent Armitage came in. He said, “Nothing. Abso-bloody-lutely nothing. Well, I can’t keep you people here indefinitely. I suggest you all go out and get yourselves some lunch.” He sounded very tired and cross and almost human.
With considerable relief we prepared to leave the staffroom. Only Mr. Harrington announced that he felt too ill to eat anything, and that he would remain in the department. The Misses MacArthur and Aster left together. I put on my coat and took the escalator down to the ground floor, among the burdened, chattering crowd.
I was out in the brisk air of the street when I heard Armitage’s voice behind me.
“Just one moment, if you please, Mr. Borrowdale.”
I turned. “Yes, Superintendent. Can I help you?”
“You’re up at the university, aren’t you, sir? Just taken a temporary job at Barnum’s for the vacation?”
“That’s right.”
“Do quite a bit of fencing, don’t you?”
He had my cane out of my hand before I knew what was happening. The sergeant, an extraordinarily tough and unattractive character, showed surprising dexterity and speed in getting an arm grip on me. Armitage had unscrewed the top of the cane, and was whistling in a quiet, appreciative manner. “Very nice. Very nice little sword stick. Something like a stilletto. I don’t suppose Charlie felt a thing.”
“Now, look here,” I said. “You can’t make insinuations like that. Just because I’m known as a bit of dandy, and carry a sword stick, that’s no reason—”
“A dandy, eh?” said Armitage thoughtfully. He looked me up and down in a curious manner, as if he thought something was missing.
It was at that moment that Miss MacArthur suddenly appeared round the corner of the building.
“Oh, Mr. Borrowdale, look what I found! Lying down in the mews by the goods entrance! It must have fallen out of the staffroom window! Lucky I’ve got sharp eyes—it was behind a rubbish bin, I might easily have missed it!” And she handed me my bowler hat.
That is to say, she would have done if Armitage hadn’t intercepted it. It didn’t take him more than five seconds to find the packages of white powder hidden between the hard shell of the hat and the oiled-silk lining.
Armitage said, “So you were going to peddle this stuff to young men and women at the university, were you? Charming, I must say. Now you can come back to the Yard and tell us all about your employers—if you want a chance at saving your own neck, that is.”
Miss MacArthur was goggling at me. “Oh, Mr. Borrowdale!” she squeaked. “Have I gone and done something wrong?”
I never did like Miss MacArthur.
* * *
[i] Ed. note: A joyful note to anachronism—shortly after this story was written.
Table of Contents
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
INTRODUCTION
A WINTER’S TALE – Ann Cleeves
GRIST FOR THE MILLS OF CHRISTMAS – James Powell
AS DARK AS CHRISTMAS GETS – Lawrence Block
RUMPOLE AND THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS – John Mortimer
DEAD ON CHRISTMAS STREET – John D. MacDonald
MISS CRINDLE AND FATHER CHRISTMAS – Malcolm Gray
MYSTERY FOR CHRISTMAS – Anthony Boucher
THE CASE IS ALTERED – Margery Allingham
CHRISTMAS COP – Thomas Larry Adcock
THE THEFT OF THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING – Edward D. Hoch
THE CHRISTMAS BEAR – Herbert Resnicow
THE SHAPE OF THE NIGHTMARE – Francis M. Nevins, Jr.
CHRISTMAS GIFT – Robert Turner
SANTA’S WAY – James Powell
I SAW MOMMY KILLING SANTA CLAUS – George Baxt
SUPPER WITH MISS SHIVERS – Peter Lovesey
APPALACHIAN BLACKMAIL – Jacqueline Vivelo
ON CHRISTMAS DAY IN THE MORNING – Margery Allingham
SANTA CLAUS BEAT – Rex Stout
WHITE LIKE THE SNOW – Dan Stumpf
RUMPOLE AND THE CHAMBERS PARTY – John Mortimer
THE SPY AND THE CHRISTMAS CIPHER – Edward D. Hoch
INSPECTOR TIERCE AND THE CHRISTMAS VISITS – Jeffry Scott
CHRISTMAS PARTY – Martin Werner
THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLUE CARBUNCLE – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
THE EMBEZZLER’S CHRISTMAS PRESENT – Ennis Duling
BELIEVING IN SANTA – Ron Goulart
PASS THE PARCEL – Peter Lovesey
THE THE
FT OF SANTA’S BEARD – Edward D. Hoch
A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH – Georges Simenon
MURDER UNDER THE MISTLETOE – Margery Allingham
WHO KILLED FATHER CHRISTMAS? – Patricia Moyes
[i]
Table of Contents
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
INTRODUCTION
A WINTER’S TALE – Ann Cleeves
GRIST FOR THE MILLS OF CHRISTMAS – James Powell
AS DARK AS CHRISTMAS GETS – Lawrence Block
RUMPOLE AND THE SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS – John Mortimer
DEAD ON CHRISTMAS STREET – John D. MacDonald
MISS CRINDLE AND FATHER CHRISTMAS – Malcolm Gray
MYSTERY FOR CHRISTMAS – Anthony Boucher
THE CASE IS ALTERED – Margery Allingham
CHRISTMAS COP – Thomas Larry Adcock
THE THEFT OF THE CHRISTMAS STOCKING – Edward D. Hoch
THE CHRISTMAS BEAR – Herbert Resnicow
THE SHAPE OF THE NIGHTMARE – Francis M. Nevins, Jr.
CHRISTMAS GIFT – Robert Turner
SANTA’S WAY – James Powell
I SAW MOMMY KILLING SANTA CLAUS – George Baxt
SUPPER WITH MISS SHIVERS – Peter Lovesey
APPALACHIAN BLACKMAIL – Jacqueline Vivelo
ON CHRISTMAS DAY IN THE MORNING – Margery Allingham
SANTA CLAUS BEAT – Rex Stout
WHITE LIKE THE SNOW – Dan Stumpf
RUMPOLE AND THE CHAMBERS PARTY – John Mortimer
THE SPY AND THE CHRISTMAS CIPHER – Edward D. Hoch
INSPECTOR TIERCE AND THE CHRISTMAS VISITS – Jeffry Scott
CHRISTMAS PARTY – Martin Werner
THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLUE CARBUNCLE – Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
THE EMBEZZLER’S CHRISTMAS PRESENT – Ennis Duling
BELIEVING IN SANTA – Ron Goulart
PASS THE PARCEL – Peter Lovesey
THE THEFT OF SANTA’S BEARD – Edward D. Hoch
A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH – Georges Simenon
MURDER UNDER THE MISTLETOE – Margery Allingham
WHO KILLED FATHER CHRISTMAS? – Patricia Moyes
[i]
Murder Most Merry Page 52