by Linda Ellen
A cold gust of wind made the freestanding green and white S & H Green Stamps sign out front swing with a squeak, and Vic turned his gaze toward it while reaching to flip up his jacket collar against the wind. It didn’t take long for him to decide he would be more comfortable inside his heated office.
Stepping down off the pump’s concrete slab, he ambled over to the door and let himself in, closing it firmly against another cold gust.
He glanced at the clock on the back wall as he mentally went over the schedule for his employees, and he realized that it would be another hour before Oscar arrived for his shift. Floyd had taken off for the day, since he had manned the station the day before to allow Vic to spend Sunday with his family.
Walking over to the radio on the desk, he flipped it on and was immediately serenaded by Bing Crosby singing the last few bars of White Christmas, followed by the disc jockey saying that maybe this year it would happen. Vic gave a chuckle and sat down in the swivel chair at his desk, enjoying its familiar soft squeak.
Need to get busy and get the deposit together, he mused as he took out the cash box and began going through the motions of counting the receipts and money earned since Friday’s trip to the bank. He thought again about Oscar, running late because he had to take his mother to a doctor’s appointment, which meant Vic was alone at the station, counting money – something he wouldn’t normally have done – and now would be going to the bank later than usual. Can’t be helped. It’ll be okay this one time…
He looked at the checks, stacked the bills in denominations, and began rolling the coins in their rappers. It had been a good weekend. Lots of gallons had been sold, leaving the big underground tanks down to barely a quarter full. There were three small repair projects, two brake-jobs and a dozen oil changes and lube jobs, which hadn’t taken much time, but had netted a fair profit.
Focusing on a penny and reading the minting year as 1910, Vic knew Buddy would be excited to add this to the Lincoln Head penny collection he had started at the beginning of the school year. With a smile as he imagined his son’s enthusiasm when he presented it to him that evening, Vic pocketed the coin and continued his calculations.
He smiled again as it occurred to him that this would be the biggest bank deposit he had made since opening the station, and he wondered if the teller at the bank would notice. Nah. Probably not. Even after Oscar and Floyd’s salaries and meeting the bills, he would have a good pile for Christmas presents. He closed his eyes for a moment. Thanks, Lord. Things were looking up, and it sure felt good. He jogged his memory for a few things Louise had mentioned that she wanted to get the boys, plus a few items he had planned to get for her…like maybe a new coat, or earrings to match the amethyst necklace she still wore nearly every day…
As he counted and sorted, the thought occurred to him that since the bank he used was halfway between the station and home…maybe he could run home for an early lunch…and maybe some dessert, he chuckled, his eyes twinkling.
This brought his thoughts around to his wife and the fact that something seemed to be wrong, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Somehow, she didn’t seem…happy. It wore on him and tore at him, as he adored her and couldn’t stand the thought of her being anything but blissful. But she wouldn’t tell him what was wrong.
Turning his head to the left to stare through the glass window, he unconsciously brought one hand up to rub over his chin, still smooth from that morning’s shave. He sighed, lamenting the fact that he and Louise, his precious wife, just didn’t seem to be able to communicate like they used to do.
After all they’d been through together…loving one another and pining for each other through all those long years of separation…then their early years of marriage when she had slaved in the cigar factory and he had taken any job he could get…all of the hardships, disappointments, and heartaches they had weathered together…and then having their two precious boys and building a life with one another…by now, there should be no secrets between them.
In his mind, he ticked off reasons Louise should have been happy…they had bought and moved into the first house they owned vs. rented; lately he had purposely made time to be with her and the kids, taking off early every chance he had, and they had even gone out to dinner and a movie on several occasions; they had gone to the drive-in as a family before the cold weather had set in… He paused at that thought, his lips forming a half grin as he remembered them trying to decide between Oklahoma and The Seven Year Itch, but Louise had bristled at the poster of the latter one – with Marilyn Monroe’s white dress furling up in the wind.
Shaking his head with a snicker, he went back to fitting the coins into rolls, still ticking items off the invisible list in his mind – she had purchased all kinds of things for the house, and although it had made his wallet scream bloody murder, he hadn’t said a word. She had her friends nearby, since Fleet and Alec had moved next door, and Ruth and Earl lived just a few doors down. But maybe she missed seein’ her brothers on a daily basis. She’s too young to be going through the change, isn’t she? She mentioned in passing that it would be nice to hear the pitter patter of little feet again, now that our youngest is in school full time… Could she be pining this much over wanting another baby? They had been trying toward that end…or at least, hadn’t been trying to prevent it, but it hadn’t happened yet.
He decided right then that he’d have to set her down and have a long talk. The thought had occurred to him more than once, but he’d been putting it off because it never seemed like the right time. He stacked the bills on top of the checks. Tonight…after everybody’s in bed…
Suddenly, the office door opened and cold air rushed throughout the space. Surprised that he hadn’t seen a car pull onto the lot, or heard the driveway bells, he looked up. His mouth went instantly dry and his heart dropped to his stomach, and then began galloping double time as he encountered the most unexpected sight he could have imagined. A tall man in a full ski mask and a beat up old army jacket stood in the doorway, pointing a silver, pearl-handled revolver directly at Vic.
Before Vic could move or even blink, the man growled, “Don’t do anything stupid! All I want is that deposit on your desk there. Hand it over and I’ll be on my way. Don’t make me use this,” he added, brandishing the gun and casting quick looks behind and around himself to make sure no customers were coming. Vic wondered if he was imagining that the gun pointed at him was trembling. Could the robber be nervous? A nervous hand holding a gun…that ain’t good…
Vic ground his teeth together, silently cursing this jerk that dared to come in to his station to steal all of his hard-earned money. Just my luck! Anger bubbled up, threatening to boil over, but Vic controlled the monumental urge to do something foolish and get himself shot.
“Keep the checks. Just stuff the money in the bag and toss it here. Hurry up!” the bandit demanded. The man must have seen the rebellion in his eyes as Vic hesitated, because he extended his arm with the gun pointing toward Vic. “NOW!”
With a mumbled oath, Vic stuffed the bills and coin rolls inside the money pouch, yanked the drawstring closed, and tossed it to the man – deliberately short, so that it fell to the floor. The burglar stepped two paces closer and bent down to retrieve it, just as Vic had hoped he would. Vic reached for a tire iron that happened to be on the corner of the desk and stood up to edge around. He only made it two steps when the man straightened up and barked, “Stop right there! Put it down, turn around, and put your hands behind your head. Do it!”
Grumbling a few choice words, his mind racing as he tried to think of a way to stop this slime ball from taking off with his dough, Vic grudgingly obliged. The man grasped the back collar of Vic’s jacket and with the gun jabbing his back, roughly propelled him over to the door of the storeroom. He shoved Vic inside and slammed the door, but finding no lock, reached for a heavy, metal-backed chair and dragged it over, wedging it under the doorknob.
Through the metal surface of the portal, Vic he
ard the robber say, “Sorry man…I hated to do it…but I been out of work…I got kids…it’s Christmas…you just don’t know what it’s like. You’re a business owner – you got plenty. You’re living your dream… Anyway…Merry Christmas.”
With that, all was silent. Vic strained his ears, hearing nothing but the faint sounds of a car’s motor. He must have parked over in the Frisch’s lot and walked…
Vic banged on the door, hollering, but no one came. He flipped on the small room’s light switch, stewing and angry – at himself and at the thief – and then he began to pace. He should have taken more care, should have known something was afoot… Who was that guy? Did he seem familiar? Something about him teased the edges of Vic’s memory. However, his irritation level rose another notch when he just couldn’t place him.
Finally after about twenty minutes, Vic heard the faint ding ding of the driveway bells. He heard the customer beep his horn, and he prayed that the person would get out and come looking for him, rather than just driving off in a huff. Lord, let them come find me.
His prayers were answered. In under a minute, he heard the glass door to the office open and a man’s voice called out, “Anybody here?”
Vic beat on the door. “I’m in here! Let me out!”
Almost immediately, he heard a scraping sound and the door was yanked open. There stood one of his regulars, Dave Madison. Boy, was he glad to see him!
“Matthews, what the heck?”
“I’ve been robbed.”
*
Vic’s longtime friend, Detective John Womack, nodded thoughtfully as he looked down at the items he had jotted in his notebook. Vic had called for him right away, and having been in the vicinity, headquarters had radioed and he had arrived on the scene within five minutes.
“Okay, can you think of anything else? Anything at all, no matter if it seems insignificant.”
Vic thought for a moment, searching his mind as he tried to figure out what was familiar about the thief. Could it have been someone he knew? One of his former employees that he’d had to fire? But, none of them had been as tall as the robber… Finally, he sighed and shook his head, running a hand back through his hair in frustration.
“What?” the detective queried.
“I don’t know…there was just something about the guy that seemed familiar, but with that ski mask on and it muffling his voice…I just don’t know.”
“Familiar, huh?” Womack asked, a thoughtful look gracing his face. Then with a teasing snort, he asked off-handedly, “You got any enemies I don’t know about? Somebody from your past life of crime?”
Vic shot him a look and got up to get himself a cup of hot coffee from the pot on a little table next to his desk. Holding the pot aloft, he gestured it toward Womack in silent question, but the man shook his head to indicate he didn’t want a second cup. Vic knew his friend was just yanking his chain with that crack about his past life of crime – referring to his months as a ‘bookie’ before, and a little while into, his and Louise’s marriage. It had become a source of good-natured baiting between them – since his one and only time of being arrested was how the two had met. That was many years ago. The detective was well aware that his friend intended never to dabble in anything like that again.
Vic took a sip of his coffee, hot and black, just like he liked it. With a sigh, he mumbled, “Aww, I dunno. Maybe I’m just imagining things. All I know is – that guy comin’ in here stickin’ me up and takin’ my weekend receipts has really put a crimp in my operations. And right here at Christmas time, too, that’s the rub!”
“Sir, do you need me for anything else?” a voice asked from the doorway. David Madison, the customer who had rescued Vic from his temporary holding cell, stood with his hat in his hands, unconsciously running the band around in his fingers. He had just come from the bathroom on the side of the building.
Womack turned to the man. “No, that’s all, Mr. Madison. You’re free to go. Thank you for sticking around and answering my questions.”
“No problem. I just wish I’d seen something or someone. That I could give you something to go on, but, I just didn’t see a thing…”
“I know, and thanks,” the detective cut him off, not needing to hear it again.
“Well, uh, then I guess I’ll be going. I hope you catch the man who did it. What’s this world coming to, anyway? Just isn’t right.”
Vic smiled his thanks and the man placed his hat on his head, nodded a goodbye, and went on out the door. The two men inside watched as he got in his car and drove off the lot.
Vic’s detective friend turned back to him. “And you’re absolutely sure he’s not the guy – that he didn’t double back and let you out just to give himself an alibi?”
“Nope. The robber was a good six inches taller than Madison. His voice was deeper, too.”
Womack flipped his notebook closed and stood up. “Well, okay then. I’ll turn in a report and get right on it…but I got to tell ya, I don’t have much to go on. I could get the lab boys out here to dust the office for prints, but there’s probably a blue million on those doorknobs anyway…” Vic smirked, agreeing with that assessment as the detective continued, “If you’d just seen or heard the guy’s car. Well, I’ll go over to Frisch’s and see if anybody over there saw anything.”
Just then, something in Vic’s mind clicked, like a piece in a puzzle fitting into place. He looked up at his friend and then held up one hand, first finger extended. “Wait…I just remembered something…”
‡
CHAPTER 8
A Little Nudging From Above
“What?” Louise exclaimed when Vic told her about the robbery a few hours later. Standing at the kitchen sink, she whirled around and faced him as he stood, relaxed, hands in pockets, in the center of the room.
“Oh Vic! The man had a gun? You could have been killed!” she stepped forward and touched his arm, her eyes searching his to try and get a handle on what he was feeling. Seeing what seemed to be peace in his warm brown eyes, she continued, “But what kind of a person robs a man of his hard-earned money right before Christmas?” Then, shifting gears in the middle of the stream, she almost snarled, “I don’t believe he really has a wife and kids. The jerk,” she fumed, stepping back and wrapping her arms around her middle, her emotions escalating like a roller coaster. “I hope they catch him and lock him up where he belongs!”
His expression revealing he wished he had broken the news to her in a different manner, Vic drew his wife into his arms, attempting to calm her.
She enveloped her arms around his back and wailed, “Why did this happen now? Just when things seemed like they were settling down and we might actually get ahead? Why do bad things always happen to us?” she lamented, fighting with feelings of frustration and concern. Her whole world seemed as if it were on the verge of collapse. All morning, she had been trying to push away a melancholy cloud that had seemed to be hovering over her every move. Once the excitement of the new house had worn off, for reasons even she couldn’t seem to define, she had settled back into the old familiar mode of dissatisfaction and angst.
Vic’s news had been like the straw that broke the camel’s back.
“Ssshh honey,” her husband soothed as he kept his arms tight about her. “Everything’s going to be okay. John had some leads he was gonna follow. Said he’d get back to me soon.”
Louise drew back, still agitated, but forcing herself to calm down. She reminded herself, it wasn’t often that Vic took time out during the day to come home, and she had hardly registered the unexpected treat before the look on his face had sent her into orbit. Just the thought of her husband being held up by an armed assailant sent chills down her spine. Now, every time he was at work, she would be worrying if another armed hold-up man would take advantage – and maybe next time, actually shoot and not just threaten!
“I told Oscar to be extra careful while he’s there alone,” Vic went on, seeming to read her thoughts, “but I don’t think the g
uy will come back…and it was like he knew I had the deposit there.” Pausing for a moment, he confided, “I think I might know who it was…”
Louise’s eyes opened wide in surprise as they met his. “You knew him? Who was it?” she demanded, bristling and puffing herself up to her full five-foot-two, as if she would get in the car and go confront the guy herself.
Vic pressed his lips together and gave one negative shake of his head. “I don’t want to say just yet. We’ll see what John finds out. In the meantime…all this excitement this mornin’ has me starvin’. What’s for lunch, babe?” This last he added with twinkling eyes. In truth, once his detective friend had arrived on the scene and they had hashed over the details, Vic had begun to relax and calm down. Matter of fact, he had a strong feeling that everything was going to work out, somehow, some way. He didn’t know how, but he felt it, nonetheless. It might have had something to do with an unexpected visit by his friend and mentor, Doc Latham, who had prayed with Vic for a quick resolve of the situation. After one of Doc’s Heaven-touching prayers, Vic always felt better.
Still ruffled, Louise turned toward the counter, as they were standing together in the middle of the kitchen. She knew it made her husband uncomfortable for her to continue on, haranguing about something in anger, so attempting to get a rein on her emotions, she asked resignedly, “What would you rather have…leftovers, or soup and grilled cheese?”
Vic drew near again and slipped his arms around her from the back, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “And maybe a little dessert after…”