Return of the Magi Page 6

  He sagged wearily into his chair and stared down at his desk calendar, which reminded him there were only three more days until Christmas. Next to his calendar was a manila folder with his copy of Emil’s paperwork. Gleefully, he chucked it into his bottom desk drawer and clicked the lock. If things went the way he knew they would, he could throw away the key after the new year.

  Officer Sanchez suddenly appeared in the doorway of Foster’s cubicle, smiling. ‘Hey, mijo, how was your road trip with our favorite felon?’

  ‘Oh, hey, Sanchez. It was fantastic. Body dump in the middle of the desert.’

  ‘Oh, yeah? Where’d the judge send him?’

  Foster leaned back and laced his hands over his belly, smug satisfaction lifting his dour, hang-dog face. ‘Clark County Extended Care.’

  Sanchez gaped at him. ‘No way, man. Doc Harold?’

  ‘Oh, yeah. I wasn’t happy about that little weasel getting put into Judge Addison’s stupid program, but once I found out what the destination was, it turned out to be the best Christmas present I ever got.’

  Sanchez chuckled. ‘No kidding. So, you want to do another pool?’

  ‘Sure, why not?’ Foster pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, flipped it open, and pulled out the hundred he’d already won, courtesy of Emil Rice. ‘Christmas Eve he’s out of there.’

  ‘You sure? They’ve got pretty high security.’

  ‘He’ll find a way, mark my words.’

  Sanchez pulled out his own wallet. ‘I’ll put twenty down for New Year’s Eve. It’ll take him that long to find a way out.’

  ‘Twenty? Are you serious? That’s chump change.’

  ‘Hey, it’s Christmas, man! I got three kids who think Santa is a rich uncle and a wife who wants me to pick up a ninety-dollar organic turkey on my way home tonight.’

  ‘Just as well, because you’re going to lose, Sanchez. Hey, are you off duty?’

  ‘Yeah. I was just dropping off the last paperwork for the day.’

  Foster brightened. ‘I’m about to make tracks out of here myself. You want to grab a quick drink at McNally’s on the way home?’

  ‘I’d love to, but I’m on my way to the airport to pick up my folks so I can spend the next three days listening to my mom tell my gringo wife her tamales suck.’ Sanchez checked his watch. ‘I’m already late. Gotta run, but have a merry Christmas, Foster.’

  ‘Yeah. Merry Christmas to you, too, Sanchez.’

  ***

  Foster did a drive-by of McNally’s on his way home, but saw only a sparse population of depressed barflies through the street-side picture windows. He gunned his handicapped Chevy Malibu past the door and headed straight for the comfort of his own home, where there was always plenty of beer in the fridge, a nice flat-screen TV, and a ratty sofa that cuddled him like he was a baby.

  As he was making the turn down his side street, he suddenly saw a flash of metal in front of him – a shopping cart and some raggedy homeless idiot pushing it through the intersection, totally oblivious to the fact that he’d almost gotten turned into oatmeal. He closed his eyes, stepped hard on the brake and leaned on the horn.

  When Foster finally opened his eyes, the homeless man was standing right next to his window, looking in at him impassively, which infuriated him. He rolled down his window and barked, ‘You want to end up dead? Watch what you’re doing, and get the hell off the streets! There are shelters, you know!’

  The man pulled something out of his cart. ‘I have this for you.’ He passed a package of Christmas lights through the open window.

  ‘Great. Thanks. Now get out of here.’

  ‘You got something for me now?’

  Foster gave him an unpleasant smile and pulled Dr Harold’s card out of his wallet. ‘I got something for you right here – a real nice place where you can sit around with friends. Just dropped a buddy of mine off there today. If you know what a phone is, call this number, tell them Foster sent you. I’m pretty sure my buddy would love a roommate.’

  The homeless man snatched the card from Foster with grimy hands and looked down at it curiously. ‘This isn’t money.’

  ‘Help’s better than money, pal, and you can redeem this card for three squares and a cot at an asylum near you. Now scram.’

  When the man had disappeared into the darkness, his rickety cart rattling on the concrete, Foster tossed the package of lights onto the passenger seat. Not that he’d ever use them, but no sense in littering.

  Once inside his minuscule apartment lobby, he keyed open his mailbox and pulled out a single envelope that looked and felt like a Christmas card. He opened it on the spot, and it was indeed a Christmas card – from the plumbing company he called on occasionally to deal with the temperamental old pipes in his second-floor walk-up.

  He threw the card and the Christmas lights into the garbage bin by the stairwell, then slogged up to his decrepit sofa, a six-pack of beer and the TV remote.

  As it turned out, three days before Christmas every bloody channel was playing worn-out, hackneyed Christmas specials with saccharine storylines and moist-eyed children discovering something magical as fake snow filtered down from a studio ceiling.

  ‘Every. Damn. Channel,’ Foster mumbled to himself, as he clicked, clicked, clicked through his DirectTV listing repertoire. Praise the Lord, he finally found a hockey game, which merited a celebratory beer to chase down his first two.

  He watched the Los Angeles Kings rough up the Montréal Canadiens through a fourth beer, and just when things were getting good and scrappy and blood was turning the ice in LA pink, he heard the refrain of ‘We Three Kings’ wafting in from the hallway. It was getting louder by the second.

  He got up, yanked his door open and saw a bunch of carolers, dressed like Dickens characters, moving toward his neighbor’s apartment across the hall. ‘Keep it down!’ He slammed the door, clicked the deadbolt, went back to the sofa and cranked the TV volume on high.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Emil had never been so bone-tired in his life. His arms and shoulders and back were screaming and his nose burned from the bleach he’d been slopping on the floors all day. Cruel and unusual punishment was what this was, and there was no way he could keep it up for a whole year. No way. But two more years in jail wasn’t an option either. He had to get creative.

  As he dumped his dirty bucket into a utility sink in the supply room, he heard soft voices in the hallway. He crept to the door and peered out. It was the two crazy sisters and, thank God, they were facing the opposite direction and didn’t see him. He ducked back into the supply room, but as their monotone voices continued some kind of recitation, curiosity got the better of him. He stuck his head out of the door again and strained to hear what they were saying. For all he knew, they were witches casting some kind of a spell on him, and if that was the case, he’d have to put a stop to it.

  He recognized Edith’s voice. ‘Now, when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem.’

  Gloria stretched out her arms and took up where her sister had left off. ‘Where is he that is born King of the Jews? For we have seen his star in the east and have come to worship him.’

  ‘And Herod sent them to Bethlehem and said, “Go and search diligently for the young child, and when you have found him, bring me word again.” ’

  Gloria tittered. ‘We can do that.’

  ‘Focus, Gloria, please. Stick to the script.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Where were we?’

  ‘The part where we go find the child.’

  Emil receded back into the shadows undetected. He remembered what Dr Harold had said about the Christmas pageant and how Gloria and Edith waited for it all year. Maybe the sisters were old actresses and, somewhere along the way, they’d gone totally bonkers. Showbiz could do that to you – it happened all the time.

  ***

  ‘I think practice went extremely well,’ Edith said, tucking a loose strand of hair beh
ind Gloria’s ear.

  ‘Yes, I agree. We were at our most regal.’

  ‘That’s an important quality to have as a king.’

  Gloria frowned down at her lap and began worrying the worn velvet skirt of her costume. ‘But I’m not certain why we’re rehearsing already. The next pageant isn’t for another year.’

  ‘Remember, dear? This time it’s real, and we must be ready for our journey to Bethlehem.’

  Gloria clasped Edith’s hands. ‘Oh, yes, of course! I guess I still can’t believe it’s finally happening.’

  ‘That’s perfectly understandable. Sometimes I can’t believe it myself. But our faith is finally being rewarded.’

  ‘Do you think we should go to the chapel and pray?’

  Edith tapped a finger on her lip. ‘Well, it certainly couldn’t hurt.’

  Gloria’s eyes rose to look above Edith’s shoulder and a bright smile lifted her face. ‘Look, Edith, it’s Nurse Griffin!’

  An older woman approached them with a genuinely fond smile. ‘How was the pageant, ladies?’

  Edith tucked her hands into the big bell sleeves of her robe. ‘Oh, it was so lovely, Nurse Griffin. We wish you could have been there. Reverend DeMestrel did a wonderful job officiating and Alice played a stirring rendition of “Silent Night” on her violin.’

  ‘I wish I could have been there, too.’

  ‘But Ralph was rather disruptive. He kept interrupting us,’ Gloria complained.

  ‘I’m sorry. I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm.’

  ‘I hate Ralph. I think he should be electrocuted, don’t you?’

  Nurse Griffin ignored her comment. ‘The cafeteria opens soon. You must be hungry. I understand it’s been a busy day for you.’

  Edith nodded. ‘Oh, yes, we’ve been very busy today. We made a new friend. His name is Emil, but we don’t think he knows who he is yet.’

  ‘Who do you think he is?’

  ‘Balthazar, of course. Once you meet him, it will become obvious. Nurse Griffin, do you think you could unlock the chapel so we can pray before dinner?’

  ***

  Edith sat in a chair at the front of the chapel and felt the comfort of Gloria’s hand clutching hers while they prayed. This wasn’t at all like the church she remembered from years ago and occasionally had dreams about: this one had a tile floor instead of a wooden one and folding chairs instead of pews. There were no poinsettias sitting on the sills of stained-glass windows, no candles, no garlands of evergreen draped across the pulpit.

  She frowned a little at the hazy memory of that church. It had all been so beautiful, so golden and warm, but then something very bad had happened. She couldn’t quite remember what. She tipped her head, trying to gather the wisps of memories together, but then she heard Nurse Griffin’s voice, snapping her back to the present.

  ‘I’m sorry, ladies, but I have to lock the chapel now. The second floor will be coming down for dinner soon and that’s my busy time.’

  Gloria gasped and jumped out of her chair, pulling Edith up with her. ‘We have to get to the cafeteria before the second floor comes. They’re all such reprobates and Ralph will be there. I don’t think I can see him again without punching him in the face.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It was a huge effort for Emil to drag his aching, concrete feet down the hall to his nasty little room but, in truth, he couldn’t wait to get there. The bed had to be better than the flimsy, sprung-out pancake he’d slept on in jail.

  As he approached the nurse’s station on his floor, he stopped dead. There was Dr Evil himself, consulting with an older nurse. If he’d had the energy, he would have turned tail and run, even though there was nowhere to run to. At least for now.

  Dr Harold looked up and nodded a greeting. ‘Mr Rice. How did you find your first day on the job?’

  Emil sighed. ‘Oh, it was top notch. Nothing like bending over a mop all day, getting assaulted by inmates.’

  ‘Patients,’ Harold corrected him. ‘So, by the way you’re dragging your tail, I take it you’re not used to physical labor.’

  Emil thought about that for a moment, and felt a little bad. Grandpa Moses had been a janitor at the Loebel furniture factory, and Emil had never once heard him complain about it. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t complained much about anything. ‘No, sir. Only exercise I’m used to is running from the cops.’

  Dr Harold and the nurse shared a bemused glance. ‘Emil Rice, meet Nurse Griffin. She’s been here a lot longer than I have, and she runs the show. You do what she says, and it’ll make your stay here a lot easier.’

  Emil gave her the brightest smile he could muster in his current condition and shook her hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am.’

  She had a warm face, with soft wrinkles around her eyes that made her look sweet and grandmotherly, but there was something sharp behind that, and Emil knew instantly Nurse Griffin wasn’t the type to suffer fools.

  ‘It’s nice to meet you, Emil, and there’s no need for “ma’am”. Just call me Nurse Griffin. I’ll be here all night if you have any questions or need anything.’

  What Emil needed was a massage and a steak dinner after choking down the unidentifiable pile of brown stuff from the cafeteria, but he decided it was a little too soon to start his sass. ‘Thank you, ma’am – uh, Nurse Griffin. I appreciate it.’

  ‘We’ll see you in the a.m., then,’ Dr Harold said. ‘Oh eight hundred sharp.’

  ‘Yessir.’

  ‘Dismissed. Carry on, Mr Rice.’

  ‘ “Dismissed, Carry on,” ’ Emil muttered, as he let himself into his room. The place looked just as bad as it had earlier in the day, but the bed possessed new-found charm, institutional metal frame and all, so Emil closed the door behind him and tried to lock it. Trouble was, he didn’t see any lock. He fiddled around with the door’s hardware for a few minutes, then gave up and walked back out into the hall and down to the nurse’s station. Fortunately, Dr Harold was already gone, and Nurse Griffin was alone, typing away on her computer keyboard.

  ‘Uh, Nurse Griffin? Sorry to interrupt, but there’s no lock on my door. Just thought I’d bring that to your attention.’

  She looked up from her monitor. ‘The doors only lock from the outside.’

  Emil gaped at her. ‘You’re serious?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Oh, well, that’s just great. One of these walking head cases can just boogie in and slash my bones, then shove my body down the incinerator chute. What do you mean, they only lock from the outside? How am I supposed to protect myself?’ He looked around, then leaned across the desk to whisper a great secret. ‘I’ve got stalkers, you know. No telling what they might do.’

  Nurse Griffin clamped down a smile. ‘Stalkers.’

  ‘Oh, yes, ma’am. Those two old sisters?’

  ‘Edith and Gloria.’

  ‘Yeah, right. They’re so far gone they’ve never been here.’

  ‘They like you.’

  Emil sighed in frustration. ‘Maybe that’s what you think, but you find an empty pod by my bed in the morning, check under their skirts. You hear what I’m saying?’

  ‘Do you want me to lock you in?’

  ‘No! No, uh-uh. I think I’ll just take my chances.’

  Nurse Griffin watched curiously as Emil raced back to his room and slammed the door behind him. The next few days were going to be very interesting.

  She got up and walked softly down the hall to Edith and Gloria’s room. The door was ajar, and the two sisters were already dressed in their night clothes. Edith was sitting on her bed, carefully brushing out her long, silver hair, and Gloria was cuddled up in hers, reading the Bible. It was the same routine they’d had for the fifteen years she’d worked here, which gave her some comfort. Emil Rice hadn’t caused any problems with the residents this afternoon, but any change in personnel or in the patients’ routine had the potential to be disastrous if it wasn’t managed properly and, for whatever reason, Edit
h and Gloria had fixated on him.

  Edith lifted her head, set down her brush and smiled. ‘Nurse Griffin, have you come to tuck us in?’

  ‘Of course. Don’t I always?’

  ‘Yes, come to think of it, you do.’

  Gloria jerked up in bed, like a marionette with an inexperienced puppeteer at the strings. ‘It’s been a very exciting day, hasn’t it, Nurse Griffin?’

  She nodded. ‘It has been, which means you two should get some rest. You even missed your naps today.’

  Edith crawled under the covers. ‘We had to entertain Emil. He was a guest in our room.’

  Nurse Griffin arranged the comforter around Edith, then Gloria, and gave them both gentle pats on the cheek. ‘You two have taken quite a shine to that young man.’

  ‘He’s very special,’ Gloria pointed out seriously. ‘We’re not quite certain he understands how special he is yet, but all will be revealed soon.’

  ‘I’m sure it will be. Lights on or off, ladies?’

  Edith retrieved her own Bible from her nightstand. ‘On, please. We’ll read for a bit.’

  Nurse Griffin nodded, further reassured by the consistency of the sisters’ long-term routine. ‘You two must know that book inside and out by now.’

  ‘We do,’ Gloria said enthusiastically. ‘But it never hurts to brush up on things, especially now, since it’s almost Christmas Eve.’

  Nurse Griffin smiled and backed out of the room. ‘I’ll leave the door cracked open, in case you need something. Goodnight, ladies.’

  ‘Goodnight, Nurse Griffin.’

  Edith waited for a long time after Nurse Griffin had left before she got out of bed and went to sit on the edge of Gloria’s. ‘It’s more important than ever now that we memorize our instructions, Gloria,’ she whispered.

  ‘Absolutely correct. That’s just what I’ve been doing.’

  ‘I wonder if Emil has a book.’

  ‘Somehow I doubt it. I think you were right, Edith. Emil doesn’t know who he is. You’d think he would have been informed of something so important.’