Eighteen

“You’ll never be earl!” Lucien vowed.

I heard a commotion in the passage way. Fibbens’s voice was calling desperately, “Your lordship, no!”

Suddenly a white, headless figure with a bloodstained cassock came barreling onto the landing. Fa

Lucien grabbed the pillow ghost, and went flying off the landing. Literally. Previously unable to support it, this time-perhaps somehow strengthened by his need to protect Charles-he was able to make the Headless Abbot billow impressively, and to aim it directly at Henry Bane. Henry fired his pistol at it, but the stuffed costume came at him inexorably, and knocked him from the stone stairs. His fall was harder than William’s, and fatal.

I called to Lucien, but he had disappeared.

Two weeks later, William, recovered enough to be moved, left with his sister and the much quieter dowager for Bane House. They wanted to be home in time for Christmas, which was drawing near. William and his sister were getting along fairly well by then-as we all were-and none of us told the dowager about her daughter’s clothing preferences. Although a scandal of a far more serious nature had been avoided, both Henry’s duplicity and his death had left Lady Bane shaken.

But even with the Banes gone and the immediate crisis over, I was feeling dismal, as was Charles. One night he came to the library at midnight, upset-not because he saw a ghost, but because it had been so long since he had seen one. I tried to explain his father’s traveling coach analogy, but Charles wanted that coach to return. “At least for visits,” he said tearfully.

I took out the packet of letters again, and read to him-this time, the letter Lucien had written to me on the death of his wife.

“I used to be able to picture her so clearly after she was gone,” a familiar voice said. “To feel her watching over Charles and me, sharing our joys. Do you know, I believe I now know why Fa

“Papa!” Charles cried out.

“Yes, my boy, I’m back-for a visit.”

Gradually, over the years, we saw less and less of him. By the time Charles had grown into a man, it was no longer necessary to trouble Lucien to be our ghost. By then, we knew how to recall his spirit in other ways-through fond remembrance, and the knowledge that we can never be truly parted from those we love.

And that, I’ve come to believe, is the true spirit of Christmas.

Edgar Award Nominee, Best Short Story

Devotion

“Jordy!” Ralph Kendall bellowed.

When homicide detective Frank Harriman arrived, Kendall had been watching the Cartoon Network-a Bugs Bu

The man was broad-shouldered and tall, only an inch or so shorter than Frank’s own six-four. He was wearing a white T-shirt and shorts that barely met over his middle. His face and arms were sunburned, and his blond hair was thi

“Jordy!” he called again. “You get down here right now, you hear me?”

An upstairs bedroom door opened-no more than a crack. “Coming!” a young man called down in an exasperated voice, then shut the door again.

“Teenagers,” his father said on a sigh. “He was out all night, didn’t get home until God knows when-you have any children, Detective Harriman?”

Frank Harriman shook his head. “No, Mr. Kendall, I don’t. About the Toller boy-”

“Poor kid. I guess Lexie’s an orphan now, isn’t he?” Kendall said.

Harriman thought he would feel relieved if that turned out to be the worst of eight-year-old Lexington Toller’s troubles.

“Maybe for the best, though,” Kendall said, before Frank could reply. “I never did like Victor Toller,” he said now. “I can’t say I’ll miss him. Guy was a jerk. Still, murder…I mean, you think he was robbed or something?”

“We’re not certain, but we don’t think so.”

“So some maniac is ru

“That’s unlikely. There was no sign of forced entry.”

“Well, Toller, he was a specialist at pissing people off, so who knows. I sure hope nothing has happened to Lexie, though. He’s a cute little kid. Real quiet. Shy. Can’t ever get two words out of him at a time. I guess the aunt will get Lexie after all-say, wait a minute! Did you check with her?”

“He isn’t with Sarah Crane,” Frank said. “We’ve checked.”

Kendall frowned, then turned toward the stairs. “Jordy!” he called again.

“When you said Ms. Crane would ‘get Lexie after all,’” Frank asked, “what did you mean?”

“Oh, she’s been trying to get custody of the kid for about a year now. Lexie’s mother has been dead for four years or so, and I guess she was on the outs with her folks-they didn’t like Toller. Sarah told us she didn’t even know her sister had died, and that it took her a while to track down Toller and the kid.”

“It seems you know her fairly well?”

“Sure, because Gabe-my youngest boy-and Lexie are friends. My wife is always trying to fatten that kid up, too. I keep telling her he’s stronger than he looks-you ought to see him play ball with Jordy and Gabe. Mary doesn’t listen to me though-Lex comes over to see Gabe, and she fixes him lunch or a snack.”

“So you’ve met his aunt-”

“Oh, gosh, I let myself get blown off course there, didn’t I? Yes, we know her. One day, Sarah comes over to pick him up, and we all get to talking. Nice woman. And I tell you, even though it took her a while to locate him, there isn’t anything she wouldn’t do for that boy.”

“She sees a lot of him?”

“Well, at first, yes. Toller liked the idea of someone taking the kid off his hands for a few hours. But then she started talking about having Lexie live with her, and the two of them have been-had been-at war ever since. And I can’t say I blame Toller for being mad at her. Jordan’s mother died when he was just two, and if my first wife’s sister ever tried to take him away from me-well, he’s an adult now, isn’t he?”

“Yes. About Ms. Crane-”

Kendall was not to be hurried, though. “Mary, my wife-she’s my second wife. Gabe is my son by this marriage, but long before he came along, Mary loved Jordy like he was her own. Even adopted him. And I think having a little brother like Gabe makes Jordan more patient with younger kids. But that wasn’t what you asked about, was it?”

“Even though Toller was angry with her,” Frank asked, “did Ms. Crane still visit Lex?”

“Oh, yes. I thought I saw her over there last night.”

From interviews with other neighbors, Frank already knew that Sarah Crane had visited Toller the previous evening, and that she had argued loudly with her brother-in-law. But he asked, “About what time was that?”

“Oh, I guess it was about six-thirty that she came by. It was getting dark, and I went out to call Gabe in. She was already there, helping Lex carry his bat and glove.” He frowned for a moment.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh-just trying to make sure I had that time right. But that’s right. About six-thirty.”

“Gabe is Lex’s age?”

“Yes, they’re in the same class at school. Not that you’d know it if they were standing side-by-side. Lex is kind of shrimpy, you know? Gabe’s taller. I wish he was here. Mary will be bringing him home from his Little League game in about an hour or so, if you can wait.”

Wondering if he had been going house-to-house when a trip to the local ballpark would have done the trick, he asked, “Is Lex on the Little League team?”