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So that’s the story that’s been circulated about Nor and Billy, Sterling thought.
“Why do you want the trial postponed?”
“We bribed experts who will swear the fire was caused by exposed wires. Hans Kramer, the guy who owned the warehouse, disappeared, but the brothers found out last month that he and his wife are living in Switzerland. They’ve got family there, and after what happened, Kramer doesn’t want to tangle with the Badgetts.”
“You haven’t answered my question, Charlie.”
“Marge, I’m not the one who wants the postponements. The Badgetts want them.”
“Why?” She looked straight into his eyes.
“Because they don’t want the trial to start until Nor Kelly and Billy Campbell are silenced for good.”
“And you’re going along with that?” she asked incredulously.
“They may not find them.”
“And they may find them. Charlie, you can’t let that happen!”
“I know I can’t,” he burst out. “But I don’t know what to do. You must realize that the minute I go to the feds, the Badgetts will know it. They have a way of finding out those things.”
Marge began to cry. “How did this happen? Charlie, no matter what the consequences for us, you have to do the right thing. Just wait a few more days until Christmas is over. Let’s have one more Christmas when we know we’ll all be together.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’ll pray for a miracle.”
Charlie stood up and wrapped his wife in his arms. “Well, when you say your prayers, be more specific,” he said with a tired smile. “Pray for a way to make Junior and Eddie visit Mama Heddy-A
Marge looked at him. “What are you talking about?”
“They’ve been tried in absentia for the crimes they committed over there and both got life sentences. That’s why they can never go back.”
Life sentences! Sterling thought. At last he understood what he had to get done. The only question was how to do it.
Sterling went outside. Marge had turned on the Christmas lights as soon as Charlie finished hanging them. The weather was changing, and the late afternoon sun had disappeared behind heavy clouds. The multicolored bulbs on the evergreen twinkled cheerily, helping to dispel the growing gloom of the winter day.
Suddenly, like a gift, Sterling remembered something he had overheard at Mama Heddy-A
It was a long shot, but it just might work!
“ Sterling, it looks as if you’ve been doing your homework,” the nun said approvingly.
“You’re quite the world traveler,” the admiral boomed.
“We were surprised that you went back to Wallonia,” the monk told him, “but then we got an inkling of what you were up to. That was my old monastery, you know. I lived there fourteen hundred years ago. Hard to believe it’s being turned into a hotel. I can’t imagine that place having room service.”
“I can understand that, sir,” Sterling agreed, “but for our purposes it may be most fortuitous. I think I have at last found a way to help Marissa and Nor and Billy, and maybe even Charlie. He needs my help as much as Marissa does, but in a different way.”
He squared his shoulders and looked into one face after the other. “I request permission to appear to Charlie so that he can work with me on solving the problems.”
“Do you mean to appear as you did to Marissa, who understood you were not of her world?” the shepherd inquired.
“Yes. I think that’s necessary.”
“Perhaps you’d better plan to become visible to Marge as well,” the queen suggested. “Something tells me she rules the roost in that family.”
“I was afraid to push the envelope and ask to meet her,” Sterling admitted with a smile. “It would be wonderful if I could communicate with both of them.”
“Push the envelope?” The matador’s eyebrows raised. “That expression wasn’t in vogue when you were alive.”
“I know. But I heard it somewhere. Maybe in Nor’s restaurant. I kind of like it.” He stood up. “According to the earthly calendar, tomorrow will be the day when I first met Marissa. I’ve come full circle.”
“Don’t forget, it was also the day you first appeared before us,” the Native American saint teased.
“That, I assure you, I’ll never forget.”
“Go forward with our blessing,” the monk told him. “But remember-Christmas Day, which you hope to celebrate in heaven, is drawing very near.”
Marissa opened the door of her room and was delighted to see Sterling sitting in the big chair by the desk. “I thought you were going away and would come back to say good night,” she said.
“I did go away,” he explained. “I took a look at the whole last year of your life when you were down at di
“But I’ve only been downstairs for an hour!”
“Time is different for me,” Sterling said.
“I kept thinking about you. I ate fast, then got stuck listening to Roy tell his boring story about Christmas when he was a little boy and was one of the shepherds in the school play. I got away as fast as I could. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Well, I learned a lot while you were at di
“That’s Christmas Eve,” she reminded him quickly. “I’ll be eight years old.”
“Yes, I know.”
“That’s only four days from now.”
Sterling saw skepticism mixed with hope in Marissa’s eyes. “You can help me,” he told her.
“How?”
“Say a few prayers.”
“I will. I promise.”
“And be nice to Roy.”
“It isn’t easy.” Her whole perso
“Marissa,” Sterling cautioned, with a twinkle in his eye.
“I knowwwwww… ” she said. “ Roy ’s all right, I suppose.”
Sterling stood, relishing the momentary lightheartedness he saw in Marissa’s eyes. It was an instant reminder of the first time he had seen her with Billy and Nor. I ca
“It’s time for me to go now, Marissa.”
“Christmas Eve-you promised!” she said.
Charlie and Marge always piled the presents under the tree a few days before Christmas. Their three children all lived nearby on Long Island, a blessing for which Marge gave daily thanks.
“How many people’s kids are scattered to the ends of the earth?” she would ask rhetorically from under the dryer. “We’re so lucky.”
Their six grandchildren were a source of joy, from the seventeen-year-old about to start college to the six-year-old in the first grade. “All good kids. Not a lemon in the lot,” Marge often boasted.
But tonight, after she and Charlie had arranged the gifts, they did not feel their usual sense of satisfaction and anticipation. Dread of the inevitable outcome of Charlie going to the FBI had settled over them, and at 8:30 they were sitting quietly side by side in the living room, Charlie aimlessly flipping the cha
Marge stared at the Christmas tree, a sight that usually brought her great comfort and joy. Tonight it didn’t have that effect on her. Not even the homemade ornaments her grandchildren had made over the years could bring a smile to her face.
Then, as she watched, one of the ornaments slid to the carpet, the paper-mâché angel with one wing shorter than the other, and wearing a hat instead of a halo. She got up to retrieve the angel, but before she could reach it, the ornament started to glow.
Her eyes widened. Her jaw dropped. For once, not a word came from her lips. In ten seconds the angel had been transformed into a pleasant-faced man, neatly dressed in a dark blue chesterfield coat and wearing a homburg, which he promptly removed.