Dashing Through the Snow Page 7

  “…arrived just moments ago at the Branscombe Inn, where a press conference with his coworkers is taking place. He looks as if he’s been through the ringer. He was angry and upset when he heard that two of his coworkers thought he had bought the other winning ticket behind their backs.”

  “He didn’t,” Woodrow and Edmund said in unison.

  “He must have had some sort of accident because he limped to the podium, grabbing an old pole for support, a pole that looked as if he had fished it out of a Dumpster. He vehemently denied buying the other winning ticket, but, incredibly, he seemed more furious about the fact that the whole town knows about the engagement ring he bought for his girlfriend. He was so overwhelmed that he literally fainted at the podium!”

  “He fainted?” Bob answered with appropriate concern in his voice. “Is he all right?”

  “They’re just carrying him out now. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Does he realize that his coworkers have cut him in on the winning ticket and that he’s now worth twelve million dollars?”

  “Hard to say.”

  “If he doesn’t know, it’ll be a nice surprise for him when he wakes up. Thanks, Ginger. And now to the weather…”

  Woodrow and Edmund looked at each other.

  “That gets us off the hook with Duncan,” Edmund laughed. “He didn’t lose out by following our advice. His coworkers must be crazy. They’re cutting him in on millions. We’d never do that.”

  “We certainly wouldn’t,” Woodrow agreed.

  “But what a shame we’re out of the business of scamming people. We could have found some more oil wells for him.”

  Woodrow slapped his thigh and laughed. “You’re right, Edmund. We would have ended up with at least eleven of his twelve million.” He tapped on the brake. Construction ahead was reducing the traffic to a crawl.

  Edmund shook his head. “Speaking about that ticket makes me want to feast my eyes on it again,” he said as he retrieved his wallet from the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Smiling with anticipation, he pulled out the plastic bag and reached inside for the ticket.

  Woodrow glanced over. “That sweet little piece of paper is worth 180 million bucks.”

  “That’s right,” Edmund said as he unfolded the ticket and looked at the numbers. A feeling of sheer panic raced through his system, a feeling he had never experienced before, not even when he was sentenced to eight years in prison. A moan escaped his lips.

  “What’s the matter?” Woodrow snapped.

  “These numbers…they don’t look right. I thought…I thought the Powerball number was 32.”

  “What?” Woodrow demanded.

  “Wasn’t the Powerball number 32?”

  “Yes it was!”

  “This Powerball number is 18…”

  “What are you talking about?” Woodrow screamed.

  A bloodcurdling, anguished howl escaped Edmund’s lips. “The date on this is June twelfth!” he screamed. “This is an old ticket! This is not our winning ticket! Oh, God, no!”

  Woodrow grabbed it from him. “Are you trying to pull something on me?”

  “How dare you say that? How dare you? We checked the numbers when we put it in the freezer. But we didn’t check them when we went back for it. Someone must have switched the tickets! You’re an idiot! I knew we shouldn’t have left the ticket behind! I knew it!”

  “Who could have come in the house? We made sure it was all locked up! And we weren’t gone for that long!”

  “Remember last night we thought we heard a noise in the basement but didn’t bother to check? We were too busy celebrating and thought it was the old furnace…”

  Woodrow’s eyes were bulging out of his head. “We heard that thumping noise. I wanted to check but you said not to bother.” He pointed at the radio. “They said Duncan was missing last night. He just turned up, and he’s limping. That stupid side door our students use was always unlocked.” He looked back at Edmund. “I bet he came over to yell at us when he realized the numbers he didn’t play won! He must have heard us celebrating! He spied on us!” He must have heard us talking about the oil well scam!

  “It’s got to be him!” Edmund screamed. “Who else could it be?”

  His temples throbbing, his face beet red, Woodrow gunned the car across the grassy median and made a highly illegal U-turn. “We’re going to get that ticket back!”

  “What if he already called the cops on us?”

  “I don’t care!” Woodrow exploded.

  Edmund slumped in his seat. “It amazes me that you have a perfect driving record.”

  12

  Up in the clouds above New Hampshire, Willy glanced out the window of the twin-engine jet he and Alvirah had chartered at Westchester Airport. This is the last thing I expected to be doing today, he thought, then looked across the aisle at Alvirah, who was smiling gleefully. She reached out her hand to him.

  “When we heard about that oil spill on the Connecticut Turnpike, wasn’t it an inspiration for me to call Rent A Jet?”

  “Expensive inspiration,” Willy commented. “We save a few hours on the road, and it costs us three thousand bucks.”

  “All that driving would have been too much for you.”

  “Alvirah, I love to drive.”

  Dramatically, she touched the bandage on her forehead. “When I was little and I got hurt, my mother always gave me a present. After I broke my arm running down a slide, she bought me a new Dy-dee doll, with two matching outfits. It made me feel so much better. She wasn’t even mad at me for being so stupid. This plane ride is my get-well present to myself. Besides, it’s okay to splurge on ourselves once in a while.”

  “You’re right, Alvirah.”

  “And something else. I’m worried about those lottery winners. They look as if they need my help. If we were in the car, we wouldn’t get there until tonight.”

  It was now 12:15, and they were beginning their descent into the small local airport, ten miles from Branscombe.

  Alvirah finished the last of the tiny twist pretzels she had been munching on during the flight. “They were stale,” she whispered to Willy as she crumbled the bag. “But I was hungry.”

  The pilot had called ahead and arranged for a car service to pick them up and take them to the Branscombe Inn. When they landed, a white stretch limo was waiting on the tarmac.

  “I’m Charley,” the driver said as he loaded their bags into his trunk. “Welcome to the Festival of Joy.”

  “Have they found the guy who’s missing?” Alvirah asked eagerly.

  “Oh, you know about him?”

  “She knows about everything,” Willy explained.

  Charley closed the trunk. “He just limped into a press conference a few minutes ago, denied he bought the other winning ticket, then keeled over. I guess he’ll be okay, but he had some kind of wild night, that’s for sure.”

  Alvirah’s eyes widened. “Do you think he bought that other ticket?”

  “Who knows? As a matter of fact, I just passed the place where it was sold.”

  “Where?”

  “A little convenience store down the road.”

  “The pretzels on the plane made me thirsty. Let’s stop there for water.”

  “Don’t worry. I have plenty of bottled water in the car for my guests,” Charley said as he opened the door for them.

  Alvirah shivered as she climbed into the back of the limo. “You know something? I’m cold. What I really need is a cup of coffee.”

  “There’s a coffee shop along the way that serves the best…” Charley began.

  “Don’t waste your breath,” Willy interrupted. “Nothing is going to stop my wife from checking out that convenience store.”

  “Gotcha,” Charley said as he closed the door behind them.

  13

  Someone call an ambulance!” Mayor Steve shouted, as he lowered Duncan to the floor and unzipped his parka.

  “I know what to do!” Muffy cried. “I was a lifeguard!” Dro
pping to her knees, she grabbed Duncan’s wrist and felt for his pulse. “His heart is still beating!” she announced dramatically.

  Regan and Jack had been the first to spring from their chairs. “Muffy, see if he has a medical alert card in his wallet,” Regan suggested.

  Duncan’s eyes flew open. “I’m okay!” he insisted. “I have no medical conditions. None whatsoever.” Cameras clicked nonstop as he tried to sit up. “Please! I’m fine. My leg hurts, that’s all.”

  Glenda rushed to his side as photographers and reporters jostled for a good vantage point to catch the action. “Please stand back,” she urged, then looked at Steve. “Let’s get Duncan out of here.”

  Jack and Steve lifted Duncan onto a chair, picked it up, and hurried him out of the parlor.

  The hotel manager led the way to a guest room down the hall. “When the ambulance comes, I’ll send the paramedics in,” he said.

  “I’ll be all right,” Duncan insisted. “My leg might need to be X-rayed. I’m thirsty and hungry and I want to call my girlfriend. Glenda, can I borrow your cell phone? I left mine home,” he said as Jack and Steve set down the chair and eased him onto the bed.

  “I have it right here, Duncan. What’s her number?”

  Duncan rattled it off then grabbed the phone from Glenda’s hand and held it to his ear. “Her voice mail is picking up,” he said, his tone frustrated and disappointed, then he dropped his voice. “Flower, I love you. I need to talk to you. I don’t have my cell phone with me…”

  “Tell her to call mine,” Glenda said quickly, then gave him her number.

  Duncan repeated it into the phone. “I’ll try you at work, Flower. I can’t wait to talk to you.” He hung up. “Glenda, do you mind if I call information? There’s a charge for it.”

  Glenda smiled. “Don’t you realize I’m now a multimillionaire? And you are, too, Duncan.”

  “Must be nice,” Mayor Steve said as he handed Duncan the glass of water he’d hurried to fill.

  “I heard. No one ever had a better friend than you, Glenda,” Duncan said humbly. He then gulped every drop in the glass. “You’re the best.”

  “That’s for sure,” Jack said with a laugh. “I doubt if I’ll ever make friends with someone who’s willing to share their millions with me.”

  Duncan reached the day care center but frowned when he was told by Flower’s boss that she had taken the day off. “She did? I’m surprised she didn’t tell me. Okay then, I’ll wait to hear back from her.”

  He hung up and then called and picked up the voice messages on his home and cell phones, smiling as he listened. “Aw, she couldn’t sleep last night,” he said softly. “I hope she calls me back soon.” He then dialed his parents and left a message. As he gave Glenda back her phone, he looked at Jack and Steve. “Thanks, guys. Please don’t let me hold you up. I’ll be fine here until the ambulance comes.”

  “How did you hurt that leg?” Jack asked.

  “I fell,” Duncan said quickly. “I’ll be okay. Thanks again for your help. If you don’t mind, I’d just like to have a word with Glenda.”

  “I’m going to the hospital with you,” Glenda said firmly. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “Glenda, I can’t believe that Tommy and Ralph would think…” A look of distress came over Duncan’s face.

  “We’ll step outside and let you two talk,” Jack said. He and Steve went out into the hallway where the other Reillys were waiting.

  “Glenda!” Duncan whispered when they were alone. “I need to tell you something!”

  An alarmed look crossed Glenda’s face. “Duncan, please don’t say you bought that other ticket.”

  “No! I didn’t. But my life could be in danger…”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Duncan quickly recounted the events of the previous evening. “…so take a look at this,” he said hoarsely. He reached into the side pocket of his parka and pulled out his wallet.

  Glenda looked dumbfounded as she took the lottery ticket from his hand and checked the numbers. “You stole this out of their freezer?”

  “Yes! I can never cash it in, but I don’t want them to have it. All I care about is getting those two arrested for swindling innocent people out of their hard-earned money. If I ever cashed this, they’d know it was me who stole it, and I’d never be able to sleep at night without worrying they’d someday climb in my bedroom window and kill me. Besides, people around here would always think I might have intended to double-cross you, even though I’d split the winnings.”

  “You know if you hadn’t told those guys our numbers in the first place, we’d be sharing the whole pot,” she said wryly.

  “I’m sorry! Don’t forget it was my Powerball number that won.”

  “I was joking, Duncan.”

  “You know, Glenda, the more I think about it, the more I believe they’re not just swindlers—they’re dangerous!” From outside they could hear the wail of an approaching ambulance. “What should I do now?”

  Glenda pointed in the direction of the hallway. “That guy who just carried you in with the Mayor? He’s the head of the NYPD Major Case Squad, and his wife’s a private investigator. Before you showed up, she offered their help in looking for you. Why don’t you talk to them?”

  “You think they can be trusted to keep quiet about the ticket and get those crooks arrested?”

  “Yes, I do, Duncan.”

  Muffy, the former lifeguard, came barging in the room with a breakfast tray, a camera crew close on her heels. “Duncan, our wonderful volunteer ambulance workers are right behind me. But have a few bites of a delicious, homemade waffle before you go.”

  Glenda had instinctively closed her hand around the lottery ticket. Now she looked at Duncan, her eyes questioning.

  “Glenda,” he said, gesturing toward her hand. “Why don’t you follow up on that, then meet me at the hospital with my cell phone?”

  “Follow up on what?” Muffy asked brightly as two men in white uniforms, the seal of Branscombe over their hearts, wheeled a stretcher into the room.

  14

  Charley drove his limo past the solitary gas pump in front of Ethan’s Convenience Store and stopped. A banner in the window proclaimed: A MEGA-MEGA LOTTERY TICKET WORTH $180 MILLION WAS SOLD HERE!

  Alvirah, Willy close behind, was inside the store before Charley could even think about opening the door for them. A cameraman and a young male reporter came rushing toward them.

  “I’m Jonathan Tuttle from the BUZ network,” the reporter said excitedly. “I bet you two have the winning lottery ticket. Showing up in a limo and all…”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” Alvirah said. As the cameraman snapped off his light and the reporter lowered his mike, she added breezily, “But we did win 40 million dollars in the lottery several years ago.”

  “Turn the camera back on,” Tuttle ordered, then focused on Alvirah and Willy with renewed interest. “Wait a minute. Haven’t you been interviewed on our network?”

  “Yes, I’m Alvirah Meehan, and this is my husband, Willy. Your anchor Cliff Bailey has had me on whenever there are new lottery winners making headlines.”

  “Of course,” Tuttle said. “What brings you up here?”

  “We just flew in for Branscombe’s Festival of Joy.”

  “Our network is doing a special on the Festival.”

  “I saw that this morning.”

  “Are you aware that two winning mega-mega lottery tickets were sold in this area, one here in Red Oak and one in Branscombe?”

  “Yes we are. I hope to meet the winners in Branscombe and congratulate them personally.”

  “Do you have any advice for them?”

  “Tell them to turn off their phones,” Willy grunted.

  Alvirah laughed. “What he means is that they’ll hear from an awful lot of people with crazy ideas about how they should spend their money.”

  “I can imagine,” Tuttle said. “Thank you Mrs. Meehan.”

  Alv
irah glanced around the store. On the back wall hung a cardboard cutout of Santa and his reindeer landing on a rooftop. Bright red ornaments hung from a fake tree perched atop a table in the corner. Blinking Christmas lights framed the dairy section.

  A peppy octogenarian in a plaid shirt and red bow tie was behind the counter by the cash register. “What can I do for you folks?” he asked.

  “We’ll have two large black coffees to go, please,” Alvirah said.

  “You got it.”

  “Are you Ethan?” she asked.

  “Sure am.”

  “How exciting that you sold one of the winning lottery tickets,” Alvirah commented as he poured the coffee.

  “Sure is. It’s the first time! I get a check, too, because it was bought here. That’ll be a nice piece of change for me. But before you ask, I’ll answer the questions everyone’s been calling me with all morning. I don’t know who bought it and I don’t have security cameras so there are no tapes to play over and over. As far as that guy they think might have bought it, I have no idea. I don’t know what he looks like, and even if I did see a picture of him, it wouldn’t make any difference. If he’s not one of my regular customers, I won’t remember.”

  Alvirah nodded her head. “That answers all my questions.”

  Ethan laughed as he emphatically secured caps onto the cardboard coffee cups. “Maybe it’s my age, but after a while all the people in and out of here become a blur. Yesterday it seemed that everyone who bought gas splurged on a ticket. I was busier than a one-armed paper hanger.”

  “When the pot gets that big,” Willy said, “people want to get in on the dream. Winning the lottery certainly changed our life. Alvirah, do you want anything else besides the coffee?”

  “I wouldn’t mind something to munch on,” Alvirah answered as she looked around the countertop that was cluttered with packages of gum, candy, and donuts. Her eyes stopped at a basket of Christmas caramels, individually wrapped in red and green striped tin foil.

  “Are these caramels any good?” Alvirah asked Ethan.