The Big Book of Christmas Mysteries by Otto Penzler

Author:Otto Penzler
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Mystery, Anthologies
ISBN: 0345802985
Publisher: Vintage
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

In his home that evening the tree was greeted with a mixture of joy and derision.

“As if I ’adn’t enough to clear up yesterday and the day before,” his wife complained, half angry, half laughing. “Where’d you get it, anyway?”

When he had finished telling her, the two children, who had listened, crept away to play with the new glittering toy. And before long Mavis, the youngest, found the brooch pinned to the star. She unfastened it carefully and held it in her hand, turning it this way and that to catch the light.

But not for long. Her brother Ernie, two years older, soon snatched it. Mavis went for him, and he ran, making for the front door to escape into the street where Mavis was forbidden to play. Though she seldom obeyed the rule, on this occasion she used it to make loud protest, setting up a howl that brought her mother to the door of the kitchen.

But Ernie had not escaped with his prize. His elder brother Ron was on the point of entering, and when Ernie flung wide the door, Ron pushed in, shoving his little brother back.

“ ’E’s nicked my star,” Mavis wailed. “Make ’im give me back, Ron. It’s mine. Off the tree.”

Ron took Ernie by the back of his collar and swung him round.

“Give!” he said firmly. Ernie clenched his right fist, betraying himself. Ron took his arm, bent his hand over forwards, and, as the brooch fell to the floor, stooped to pick it up. Ernie was now in tears.

“Where’d ’e get it?” Ron asked over the child’s doubled-up, weeping form.

“The tree,” Mavis repeated. “I found it. On the star—on the tree.”

“Wot the ’ell d’she mean?” Ron asked, exasperated.

“Shut up, the lot of you!” their mother cried fiercely from the kitchen where she had retreated. “Ron, come on in to your tea. Late as usual. Why you never—”

“Okay, Mum,” the boy said, unrepentant. “I never—”

He sat down, looking at the sparkling object in his hand.

“What’d Mavis mean about a tree?”

“Christmas tree. Dad brought it in. I’ve a good mind to put it on the fire. Nothing but argument since ’e fetched it.”

“It’s pretty,” Ron said, meaning the brooch in his hand. “Dress jewelry, they calls it.” He slipped it into his pocket.

“That’s mine,” Mavis insisted. “I found it pinned on that star on the tree. You give it back, Ron.”

“Leave ’im alone,” their mother said, smacking away the reaching hands. “Go and play with your blasted tree. Dad didn’t ought t’ave brought it. Ought t’ave ’ad more sense—”

Ron sat quietly, eating his kipper and drinking his tea. When he had finished, he stacked his crockery in the sink, went upstairs, changed his shirt, put a pair of shiny dancing shoes in the pockets of his mackintosh, and went off to the club where his current girlfriend, Sally, fifteen like himself, attending the same comprehensive school, was waiting for him.

“You’re late,” she said over her shoulder, not leaving the group of her girlfriends.

“I’ve ’eard that before tonight.

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