Poconos! The Poconos! That’s two hours from here. What were you doing in Philly at midnight?”
“I had to go to Aunt Clara’s ‘mother house’ in the city. Clara’s a former nun. Even though she’s no longer a nun, she still has ties to her religious order. Anyhow, after I’d completed my errand, the sisters talked me into playing Santa following their Christmas recital. On the way back, I decided to handle Aunt Clara’s problem at the Piggly Jiggly.”
It should have made sense. It didn’t. “I meant, what are you doing so far away from Chicago to begin with?”
“Oh. I came here two days ago when I got an SOS call from Aunt Clara. She broke her leg, and she needed my help to keep her foster home together through the holidays.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Aunt Clara operates a group program under state regulations. If they found out she was incapacitated, they’d withdraw her funding and split up these kids quick as spit. She was especially concerned about them missing Christmas together. Not that it’s going to be much of a Christmas now.” Her expression drooped dolefully.
“Because you weren’t able to get any money?” he concluded, finally understanding.
“Yep. I would have been all right if Julio hadn’t ripped me off this afternoon, but now . . . ”
He cursed under his breath.
“Julio stole all the money Aunt Clara had for Christmas gifts, as well. It’s going to be a mighty bleak holiday for those kids.” She straightened her shoulders with resolution. “But they’re used to disappointment. They’ll survive. We . . . I mean they . . . always do.”
There was a world of hidden meaning in Jessie’s words. How many disappointments had she had as a child? As an orphan? How many bleak holidays?
Well, he’d be damned if she’d have another.
“This is the turnoff for the Piggly Jiggly,” Jessie reminded him. “Just a few more minutes, and you’ll be rid of me.”
Warning buzzers went off in Erik’s head. He had to think fast. How could he keep Jessie with him? Time. He needed time.
“Duck!” he shouted.
She jerked her head toward him in surprise. “What?”
“Hurry, get down on the floor. The parking lot is loaded with cops. Frank must have reported your heist to every precinct from here to New Jersey.”
Jessie dropped down into a curled-up ball in the cramped floor space, and he threw the two pillows they’d taken from their bellies on top of her. Then he surveyed the deserted parking lot with a wide grin.
“Whatever you do, don’t lift your head, or your butt is gonna land in jail.” And a very nice butt, it is, too, he noted, glancing down at her.
“Oh, geez, oh, geez! What am I going to do now?”
“I guess I’ll just have to drive you to Clara’s House,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “No, no . . . don’t worry about inconveniencing me. It’s the least I can do for those poor orphans.” He patted the pillow over her upraised behind, barely stifling the chuckle of satisfaction that rippled through him.
“But what about the van?” she groaned. “Can you turn down the heater? I’m melting here. Oh, good grief, maybe I should just turn myself in, beg for mercy.”
“Nope,” he said in a rush, “you can’t do that. Philly cops are notorious for being hard-nosed. Mercy isn’t in their vocabulary. They’d probably put you in a cell with . . . Mafia hitmen or something. Do a strip search . . . naked, body cavities, delousing, the works.”
She groaned again.
“You can come back and get the van after Christmas,” he advised. Interpreting her silence for assent, he added, “Is there anything you need from the van? Maybe I could slip in unnoticed.”
“I don’t know. I can’t think here. It’s about five hundred degrees under this blower. Yeah, you’d better get the boxes.”
“Boxes? What boxes? How many boxes?”
“About fifty.”
Fifty? he mouthed silently. “What’s in
“I had to go to Aunt Clara’s ‘mother house’ in the city. Clara’s a former nun. Even though she’s no longer a nun, she still has ties to her religious order. Anyhow, after I’d completed my errand, the sisters talked me into playing Santa following their Christmas recital. On the way back, I decided to handle Aunt Clara’s problem at the Piggly Jiggly.”
It should have made sense. It didn’t. “I meant, what are you doing so far away from Chicago to begin with?”
“Oh. I came here two days ago when I got an SOS call from Aunt Clara. She broke her leg, and she needed my help to keep her foster home together through the holidays.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Aunt Clara operates a group program under state regulations. If they found out she was incapacitated, they’d withdraw her funding and split up these kids quick as spit. She was especially concerned about them missing Christmas together. Not that it’s going to be much of a Christmas now.” Her expression drooped dolefully.
“Because you weren’t able to get any money?” he concluded, finally understanding.
“Yep. I would have been all right if Julio hadn’t ripped me off this afternoon, but now . . . ”
He cursed under his breath.
“Julio stole all the money Aunt Clara had for Christmas gifts, as well. It’s going to be a mighty bleak holiday for those kids.” She straightened her shoulders with resolution. “But they’re used to disappointment. They’ll survive. We . . . I mean they . . . always do.”
There was a world of hidden meaning in Jessie’s words. How many disappointments had she had as a child? As an orphan? How many bleak holidays?
Well, he’d be damned if she’d have another.
“This is the turnoff for the Piggly Jiggly,” Jessie reminded him. “Just a few more minutes, and you’ll be rid of me.”
Warning buzzers went off in Erik’s head. He had to think fast. How could he keep Jessie with him? Time. He needed time.
“Duck!” he shouted.
She jerked her head toward him in surprise. “What?”
“Hurry, get down on the floor. The parking lot is loaded with cops. Frank must have reported your heist to every precinct from here to New Jersey.”
Jessie dropped down into a curled-up ball in the cramped floor space, and he threw the two pillows they’d taken from their bellies on top of her. Then he surveyed the deserted parking lot with a wide grin.
“Whatever you do, don’t lift your head, or your butt is gonna land in jail.” And a very nice butt, it is, too, he noted, glancing down at her.
“Oh, geez, oh, geez! What am I going to do now?”
“I guess I’ll just have to drive you to Clara’s House,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “No, no . . . don’t worry about inconveniencing me. It’s the least I can do for those poor orphans.” He patted the pillow over her upraised behind, barely stifling the chuckle of satisfaction that rippled through him.
“But what about the van?” she groaned. “Can you turn down the heater? I’m melting here. Oh, good grief, maybe I should just turn myself in, beg for mercy.”
“Nope,” he said in a rush, “you can’t do that. Philly cops are notorious for being hard-nosed. Mercy isn’t in their vocabulary. They’d probably put you in a cell with . . . Mafia hitmen or something. Do a strip search . . . naked, body cavities, delousing, the works.”
She groaned again.
“You can come back and get the van after Christmas,” he advised. Interpreting her silence for assent, he added, “Is there anything you need from the van? Maybe I could slip in unnoticed.”
“I don’t know. I can’t think here. It’s about five hundred degrees under this blower. Yeah, you’d better get the boxes.”
“Boxes? What boxes? How many boxes?”
“About fifty.”
Fifty? he mouthed silently. “What’s in
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