[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
circle, but I wasn’t afraid. “You won’t remember me,
Mr.—?”
“Hoskins.”
“Well, Mr. Hoskins, I remember you. About a year
ago I left my purse on the counter at the fishmonger’s
and you came after me with it. So you see—whatever
your reasons for being here, I cannot believe they are
wholeheartedly wicked. Foolish and sentimental like mine,
perhaps. I’m jumping the queue on The Sale, so to speak.
I’m after a teapot in the Meadow Flower pattern ...”
A ho-hoing laugh that would have done credit to
Saint Nicholas himself.
“Don’t tell me you’re after it too?”
“No fears on that score, dear madam.” He played
his torch over my face in a way I might have taken to
be flirtation if we weren’t a pair of old fogies. “I came
here to blow the place up.”
Alone with the Mad Bomber! I admit to being taken
aback by Mr. Hoskins’s confession. But, having
survived life with five brothers and their escapades, I
managed to keep a grip on myself ... and my torch.
“I’ve frightened you.”
“Don’t give it a thought.”
He opened the door to the Ladies’, and I jumped to
the idea that he was about to barricade me inside, but
I misjudged him. He switched on the light and propped
the door open.
“All the better to see me?” I switched off my torch
but kept it at the ready.
Looking as defiantly sheepish as one of my
brothers after he had kicked a ball through a window,
Mr. Hoskins said, “The least I can do is explain,
Mrs.—”
“Miss ... Finnely.”
Dragging forward a carton, he dusted it off with his
gloves and offered me a seat.
“Thank you. Now you pull up a chair, and tell me
all about it.”
77
“Very kind.” A smile appeared on his face—looking
a little lost. He sat down, and with the rack of coats as
a backdrop, began his story.
“Thirty-five years I gave B. & L. Shipping, then one
day there it is—I’m turned out to pasture. Half kills
me,
but
I’ll
get
another
job—part-time,
temporary—anything. When I read that Bossam’s was
looking for a Father Christmas, I thought, why not?
Wouldn’t do this crusty old bachelor any harm to meet
up with today’s youth. Educational. But funny thing
was I enjoyed myself. Felt I was doing a bit of good,
especially knowing the entrance fees to the North Pole
were donated by Bossam’s to buy toys for needy
kiddies.
“The person bringing the child would deposit two
shillings in Frosty the Snowman’s top hat. Each
evening I took the hat to Mr. Bossam and he emptied
it. A few days before Christmas I entered his office to
find him foaming at the mouth. He told me he had
suspected for some time that the money was coming
up short and had set the store detective to count the
number of visitors to the North Pole. The day’s money
did not tally. No reason for you to believe me, Miss
Finnely, but I did not embezzle that money.”
“I do believe you. Which means someone else
helped themselves.”
“Impossible.”
“Think, Mr. Hoskins.” I patted his shoulder as he
sat hunched over on the carton. Dear me, he did
remind me of my brother Will. “When did you leave the
money unattended?”
“I didn’t.”
“Come now, what about your breaks?”
“Ah, there I had a system. When I left the Pole, I
took the top hat with me and came down here to the
Gents’. Before going off for a bite to eat, I’d hide it in
the fresh towel hamper, about halfway down.”
“Someone must have seen you.”
“Miss Finnely”—he was pounding his fists on his
knees—”I’m neither a thief nor a complete dolt. I made
sure I had the place to myself.”
“Hmmmm ...”
“My good name lost! I tell you, Miss Finnely, the
injustice burned a hole in my gut. Went off my rocker.
As a young chap I was in the army for a while and
learned a bit about explosives. I made my bomb, put it
78
in a Bossam’s carrier bag, so it would look like I was
making a return, and ...”
Mr. Hoskins stood up. Calmly at first, then with
growing agitation, he shifted aside coats on the rack,
setting it rocking as he stared at the floor.
“Miss Finnely, upon my word: I put it here and ...
it’s gone. Some rotter has pinched my bomb!”
* * * *
“Cousin Hilda.” I was bouncing about on my chair.
“I know who took the deadly carrier bag.”
“Who, girly dear?”
“The Ladies’ Room attendant. You saw her pick one
up when she put on her coat. She didn’t mistake that
bag for her own. Remember how she stiffened and
looked all around? Crafty old thing! I’ll bet you twenty
chocolate biscuits she was one of those ... what’s the
word?”
“Kleptomaniacs.”
“She stole the Father Christmas money!”
“So Mr. Hoskins and I concluded. She must have
seen him going into the Gentlemen’s with the top hat
and coming out empty-handed.” Cousin Hilda rose to
draw the curtains.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“What?” I flew from my chair as though it were a
trampoline.
“We agreed the woman had brought about her own
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]