Kristmas Collins (27 page)

He shook his head, as if sad for me. “Even this last maneuver was fearlessly creative. But when you used the helicopter to create a distraction with that flyby, I knew it was so you could move inside the house to plan your sneak attack. If you were up against a lesser opponent, you’d have probably pulled it off.”

He still hadn’t figured that I was never on the roof, but it didn’t seem to matter at this point.

“But letting you live would be a bad precedent—people need to know that when someone steals from Stone Scroggie, there is only one outcome.”

“I have your word on my family?”

“They will be safe.”

“And Candi?”

“She’s as guilty in this theft as yourself, and should be held accountable. But because I’m in the Christmas spirit, I will put out the order that she isn’t to be touched. Along with Zee Thomas and Justin Duma. I hope they understand the sacrifice you’re making for them.”

It sounded like it would be the ultimate one. I nodded acceptance. “Then it’s a deal. I’ll take you to the money tonight.”

“That would mean it’s close by. Statia was nothing but a diversion.”

“No different than the claim during the sale process that Kerstman would only accept an all cash, no financing deal, because he urgently needed to pay off his many debts and liabilities. Even if it meant accepting a lesser bid.”

“I can assure you that Diedrich Kerstman’s financial problems were very real.”

“But of course, his real liability was that he went into business with you. And the real reason he sought a cash deal was that way he could easily turn the money over to you. But the structure of the deal also allowed him to screw over the man who was extorting him.”

“It made it possible for him to hide the cash, and then run to the authorities seeking protection. I see that now. I underestimated him.”

I nodded. “He was going to use it as leverage during his trial. You were the one the FBI really wanted, and he would offer to testify against you, and in return he’d get a reduced sentence, along with getting to keep a good chunk of the money. And while you spent your remaining days in jail, he would be living happily ever after in the Caribbean.”

“But hiding the money turned out to be harder than he anticipated. He needed help.”

“And for the right price, I was willing to help him do that. I covered for him, so that he was able to sail to Statia to throw you off the scent. The official report was that when the authorities closed in on him, he decided to go out on his own terms … but I have a feeling his end had more to do with an unexpected meeting with a friend of yours,” I said, looking down at Gooch, who remained on the floor in a lifeless hump.

“So that left his greedy lawyer with an unexpected windfall. But he’d also assumed his client’s liabilities—people wanting their money back, and willing to kill him to get it—so he needed to find a hiding spot for the money. The trick was for you to be able to keep the money, but remaining alive so that you could spend it.”

“Just like Kerstman, I found that I needed a partner to be able to pull it off. And I found one who was motivated to get revenge on Stone Scroggie.”

He smiled like he had it all the way. “Alexander Wainwright.”

“We had to keep up appearances—make it look like he believed I’d stolen the money—which was made easier by the fact that his vile attitude toward me is genuine. But that couldn’t eclipse Wainwright’s joy of winning a deal. And it looked like he was going to win this one, even if he had to throw a few bucks to his disgraced former son-in-law.

“And while he didn’t make the best father-in-law, he sure did make a great money laundromat. He could slowly move the money into his investments without drawing attention. All this investment in ‘clean coal’ is one example, and he could filter my share to me through funds set up for my children, making me the executor.”

Scroggie looked perplexed. “I understand everyone’s involvement … except yours. You had a great thing going—married into the Wainwright family, a thriving law practice, banging pop stars. It makes no sense to risk your life for this. You had to know this would be the likely ending.”

I shrugged. “I guess I always resented the Wainwright money. It was like they owned me. So when my practice started losing money, and I barely got to keep the clothes on my back in the divorce, I grew desperate. I felt like the Wainwrights were trying to steal the life I’d earned—I had worked my way up from Tarrytown to Greenwich, and I wasn’t going back—this money was how I was going to get to keep a seat at the table.”

Scroggie glanced at his watch. “Where’s the money, Kris?”

“It’s on the property—hidden by the Lake House. We laundered some like I said, but it’s a slow process, so the majority of it is still there. That’s why Alexander had the Amigos evicted.”

“Then let’s get this over with.”

“First you let my family go.”

“That’s not how this works, and you know it.”

I nodded with resignation—it was worth a shot—and began walking toward the external door of the coal cellar. When I reached the spot, I stopped. I looked back at Scroggie and said, “You really weren’t very nice this year.”

“You know what they say—nice guys finish last.”

“In fact, you’ve been very naughty. I’ll bet you’re going to get coal in your stocking.”

I jumped out of the way.

Scroggie looked stunned as the coal rumbled down the chute like a waterfall and knocked him to the ground. It kept coming and coming, until he was buried underneath.

I looked up at the “coal hole” window and Gustavo winked at me.

“Dad—your cheek,” Taylor exclaimed.

After my date with death, I’d almost forgotten about the shot Gooch delivered to my face. I touched the red, swollen flesh and pain shot through my entire body. Nurse Taylor ran and got me a bag of ice.

“Daddy—you got dirt all over your reindeer,” Zooey pointed out, and didn’t seem happy about it.

I looked down to see my reindeer sweater coated in soot from the cellar, mixed with some blood that gave it an edgier look.

“We can wash it, honey,” I told her, still unable to shake the vision of Gooch tossing my children into the coal furnace. “The important thing is that you’re safe.”

I wanted to take the twins into my arms and not let them go. But I didn’t have that kind of time. And knowing them, they would want no part of me dirtying up their Christmas dresses.

“Somebody needs to call the police. Scroggie and Gooch are in the cellar,” I said.

“And Jacqueline was found tied up on the porch,” Libby added, staring suspiciously at me.

I looked away. “Seems as if they turned on each other. But the important thing is that they’ll be going away for a long time for taking you hostage.”

“And they’re not the only ones,” Libby said, glaring at her father. “Someone else admitted crimes here tonight, and needs to pay the consequences.”

Alexander was indignant. “I told him what he wanted to hear, Elizabeth. Those men were crazy—they cut off my finger, for goodness sake!”

I couldn’t believe that I was about to defend Alexander Wainwright, but, “Anything your father said was under duress. Having worked in the legal department at Wainwright & Lennox, I would be willing to testify that their business practices were always on the up-and-up.”

I think the only thing keeping Libby from strangling me was her confusion. But Taylor also risked a lengthy grounding to take my side, “Yeah, I didn’t hear Grandpa say anything.”

I’d taught her well, at least when it came to maintaining that trust fund.

With an annoyed look, Taylor signaled Alex to join forces. “I didn’t hear anything, either,” he added.

Before Libby could question our turncoat status, a visitor surprised her. “I figured if you couldn’t come to me tonight, I’d come to you,” Ned said in his usual enthusiastic style as he bounced into the room, carrying a large bouquet of flowers.

They embraced, and then Ned asked, “How’s your father? I was worried.”

Libby peered across the room at her father. “He’s going to be fine. Just a carving accident with his finger. I thought it was much worse, but I guess I was mistaken.”

I smiled at Alexander. He didn’t return it, but at least didn’t look like he’d bitten into a lemon like he normally did when he saw me. I did save him from a potential prison sentence, or at least an embarrassing arrest and the possibility of being prosecuted by his own daughter, and my smile told him that it wouldn’t come for free. He would owe me a favor, a big one. And I would be collecting tonight.

This was about as close as we’d ever get to joining forces. Scroggie must have thought pretty low of me to think that I’d ever work with Alexander, or that I’d trust him to hide the money on his property. Perhaps I was the one who should have gotten the lead in the Christmas play.

“It’s still not too late to come to the city,” Ned said. “I was hoping the girls would help me trim my tree.”

“I’d like that,” Libby responded. The twins looked excited by this news—the events of tonight already washed from their mind.

“And for Taylor and Alex, I have movies. I wasn’t sure what you like, so I think I got every Christmas movie ever made.”

Taylor gave me a “do we have to?” look. And I nodded that they did. It was important to their mother, and who knows, maybe Ned would become a permanent part of their Christmases from here on out. And worst-case scenario, now that their trust funds were secure, he might be able to get them a great deal on a penthouse apartment one day.

Then Ned surprised me, asking, “You’re welcome to come, Kris, if you’re interested.”

Libby’s face told me that I better not be interested. And I wasn’t. “Thanks for the offer, but I have to work tonight.”

He looked surprised. “You have to work on Christmas Eve?”

I smiled. “My boss doesn’t pay me enough, so I had to pick up a second job.”

***

The Greenwich police arrived at Wainwright Manor approximately twenty minutes later. Stone Scroggie—once he was dug out from the rubble—was arrested and charged with hostage taking, among a litany of other crimes. As was Jacqueline Helada.

But after an extensive search of the coal cellar, Gooch was never found.

The Roaring Twenties-style yacht cruised slowly around New York Harbor.

Justin Duma stood on deck taking in the Manhattan skyline, the row of skyscrapers decked out in green and red lights. It was quite a sight. And night and day from the welfare Christmases he used to spend back in Oakland.

He had worked to set this night up with the head of the Kerstman Survivor Community. The group was the main way in which the former employees and colleagues kept in touch after the downfall. They did most of their connecting via Facebook and Twitter, and would often organize events like happy hours and family picnics. Some were even able to help others get new jobs.

By using the KSC, Duma was able to get a high turnout for the Christmas Eve harbor cruise without much effort. Especially since he was willing to pay for the boat, and volunteered himself to MC the event. He played the role of the famous football player for the adults, and jolly old St. Nick for the kids, which made him almost as popular tonight as the champagne. But little did the guests know that they’d be spending a lot more time together tonight than they expected.

A beautiful woman brushed up against him. “Brrr, Santa, it’s cold out here.”

“For someone who calls themselves Wintry Mix, you sure don’t do well with the cold.” It had been a constant negotiation for years—the heavy-sweating Duma preferring the room at meat-locker chill levels, while Wintry was always trying to jack up the heat. Of course, the kids usually sided with Mom and he lost out.

She gazed out at the dark water. “Look at those chunks of ice. Hopefully we won’t go all Titanic tonight.”

“Well, if we do,” he grabbed his belly. “I got me a floatation device. If you’re nice to me, maybe I’ll let you grab on.”

Wintry rolled her eyes and turned away from the harbor. She viewed the festive party inside through the porthole windows. “These people are amazing—they were basically screwed over to high-heaven, had everything taken from them, yet look at them … they’re happy.”

“They wouldn’t be so happy if they knew someone was breaking into their houses right now while they’re chowing down on shrimp cocktail.”

“If the smiles haven’t been knocked off their faces yet, then there’s nothing they can’t handle.”

“We’ve both been through worse than anything these people have faced.”

“No we didn’t—it’s all we knew. It’s much tougher to have something ripped away. Just shows that Christmas isn’t all about material objects.”

Duma boomed a laugh, which annoyed Wintry. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re cute when you’re naïve. Christmas is a religious holiday, and the main religion in this world is money.”

“That’s really cynical.”