DINNER, AS HENRY knew it would be even before the first bite, was both terrific . . . and long.
Henry had been itching for an hour now to get back upstairs to hear the end of Chief’s story. Yes, it would have been both impolite and a full-blown disaster if they’d stayed upstairs after Gigi proudly announced her prize meal of the entire year was on the table.
But they did have five minutes.
Five minutes in which Chief could have given him another piece of the story. Maybe two pieces, depending on how long the first one took for him to tell.
A hint of a smile crossed Henry’s face as he realized that what he was thinking was ridiculous.
The old man, now sitting across from him on the other side of the table, had taught Henry that the only thing better than a good story told straight through was a good story that had a tormenting break somewhere in the middle of it.
Boy oh boy, did he ever nail that spot.
Henry looked over at his grandfather, who was looking back at him, Carter’s fedora resting right next to his butter plate. There was still the tiniest of twinkles in Chief’s eyes, the same twinkle that had told the young boy from the moment they stood to leave his office for Christmas Eve dinner . . .
That the two of them now had a secret. A secret on Christmas Eve.
“All right,” Gigi said from the head of the dinner table, unaware of the silent conversation taking place. “I see empty plates all around. Who’s ready for thirds?”
“Oh no. No, thank you,” Eloise held up her hands to stop the onslaught of holiday delight. “Although, I do have to tell you, Margaret, that was the best turkey you have ever made.”
“Really? Well, thank you, dear. You are so sweet to say that.” Gigi beamed at the compliment. “I’m not so sure I haven’t had a few others that turned out better.”
Chief shot Henry a wink, motioning for him to please pass the mashed potatoes—intentionally drawing the suspense out at least one serving longer.
Fine. I can wait a little longer. Even though I already know this is the best story you’ve ever told me.
“Let me tell you something I’m not so sure of, dear,” the old man slowly chimed in as if he’d heard the exact thought in Henry’s head. “I’m not so sure Eloise isn’t one hundred percent correct about this meal. What do you think, grandson?”
“Mmm, absolutely,” Henry agreed. “Thirds comin’ up.”
The beaming look on Gigi’s face now looked as if it might never fade.
“Oh please, you’re all being far too kind.” She reached for the uncut pumpkin pie at the center of the table and said, “Don’t worry, Henry. I’m just getting it ready. Plenty of time for you to have your thirds or fourths if you’d like.”
Henry looked at his grandfather again, concerned that the twinkle had just disappeared.
This was when the table had gotten a little quieter and a whole lot heavier last Christmas Eve. And the reason for that was simple. Henry’s father had always been a slam dunk for two slices of Gigi’s famous pie; on one memorable occasion, he’d even pulled off an incredible three-slice hat trick.
The one thing Gigi had done both this year and last, something Henry really appreciated, was not setting out an empty plate for his father. That always felt, at least to him, like something that should just be left for the movies. Besides, the sadness of such a gesture would have been too much for all of them.
Same as the year before, though, the silence at the table grew heavy. Henry thought the odds were good that Chief would be the one to break the silence, as he had last year, but surprisingly it came from somewhere else this time.
“So . . . Henry . . . Carter.” Eloise nodded toward both of them. “It looked like the two of you were having quite the conversation just before dinner.”
“Ah, yes,” Chief said as he smoothed out his napkin. “I’ve been going through some of my old newspapers of late and found quite a few articles I thought Henry might want to share with Dr. Riggins over at the museum.”
Oooooh, well played, Chief. I wouldn’t have thought of that one. Short. Makes sense. Perfect.
Eloise looked somewhat relieved at the newspaper revelation.
“Oh! Well . . . that sounds great,” she said with a look toward Henry. “You told Chief you saw Dr. Riggins just today?”
“Yup, sure did. Santa Claus. Space-time continuum.”
Somewhere along the line, Henry had picked up—from Chief, naturally—the skill of smiling without smiling, which he was putting to good use right now. As was the old man, his once-again twinkling eyes sharing a look with Henry’s.
“I think we may have found plenty for the good doctor to hunt through, don’t you, grandson?” Carter put an ever-so-slight emphasis on the word “hunt.”
“Oh, absolutely we did!” Henry answered, having picked up on it. “He might not have a clue about some of that stuff, but I’ll bring him up to speed.”
Chief winked.
Henry smiled.
Eloise and Gigi shared a suspicious look.
“All right, you two. What’s up here?” Eloise asked, even though she was still wearing a smile.
“Up?” Carter replied, cranking up the innocence. “Nothing’s up. Just a part of this one article that Henry and I both found very interesting. I’m sure Dr. Riggins will think the same.”
“Henrrrry?” Eloise turned her head.
“Hmm? Oh . . . yeah, yeah, yeah. What Chief said.”
“Mmm.” She nodded, even though Henry thought she looked completely and thoroughly unconvinced.
The old man gave Henry a slightly mischievous look.
“Ladies,” he announced. “If it’s all right with the two of you, I’d like for Henry and me to take our pie up to the study before we open gifts. Two slices each, please. I have a few more things to share with him that I think the good doctor will find very, very fascinating.”
Four pieces of untouched pumpkin pie sat on the edge of the old man’s desk, the snow now crisply pelting against the window as the story resumed. Henry listened intently as both the tale and the storm took a decided turn for the worse.
“Hiram Doubt was an evil man, Henry, and I don’t say that lightly,” Chief said with a lowering voice, the old newspaper photo staring up from the desktop below them. “He was nearly as rich as Skavenger, which is saying something, but then he lost nearly all of it. Lost it to Skavenger himself, who always found a way to stay ahead of him when it came to the business of industry.”
“Sounds like Mr. Doubt might not have taken it too well,” Henry speculated.
“No. No, he did not,” Chief continued. “But the one thing Skavenger didn’t know was that Doubt wasn’t just evil, he was vindictive . . . dangerous.”
The old man pointed to the photo again. “He surrounded himself with Grace and three other agents of darkness—shadowy men who carried out the very worst of his intentions.”
“Carried out? You mean they actually . . . ?”
Chief gravely nodded. “Legend has it Doubt himself took part in that last hunt on July tenth, 1885. Made it to where the grand prize was hidden, and found himself face-to-face with his longtime adversary.”
The old man leaned closer once again. “And that’s where the great Hunter S. Skavenger finally fell victim to . . .”
“Doubt,” Henry finished the sentence for him.
“Or so the story goes,” Chief said with a shrug. “Me? I think the reason Skavenger didn’t show for that next hunt was that he’d simply decided the puzzle wasn’t meant to be solved. Which is the one theory that still captivates me after all these many decades.”
Henry realized at that moment that his grandfather had once again shattered his skepticism—that his mother had been absolutely right just before they’d arrived that night.
His stories are getting crazier! Beautifully, magically crazier!
“I’ve waited a long, long time to tell you this, Henry,” Chief said to him with a look that said as much. “I have something I want us to do . . . together. Same as your father and I did for years and years, neither one of us ever telling a soul, not even to your mother or grandmother.”
Henry’s face dropped at the mention of his father. Chief nodded.
“I miss him too, grandson, more than anything in the world . . . but this’ll help, the two of us finishing it.”
“Finishing what, Chief?”
His grandfather said the next handful of words as if they were the most obvious in the world.
“Skavenger’s Hunt, of course! Finding the clues that must have been left behind. If nobody won, the riddles and puzzles are still out there. Right now, this very minute, here in New York.”
Omigosh, he’s right. Of course!
“Your father and I found fourteen clues—mostly small, easy things.” Chief smiled as he continued with the story. “Like how every eighth word in some of Skavenger’s riddles could be a key word. That was a fun discovery.”
He took a deep breath, before finally nudging the old and yellowed sheet of ledger paper closer to Henry.
“But the one thing we never did find, was the one thing I found just two weeks ago. Something I could put my hands on.” He nodded at the age-old, faded sheet.
“This?” Henry finally asked, not wanting to disappoint his grandfather.
“Two hundred and fourteen pages inside a book at the New York Public Library,” the old man replied, sounding far from disappointed. “I’d bet my first base from Yankee Stadium it was Skavenger himself who put it in the old Astor branch.”
“Okay,” Henry tried his best to sound impressed. “Buuuuuut, back to my very first question again. What is it?”
The great man—who always had a story for every moment, an answer to every question—rose to his feet and triumphantly proclaimed:
“I don’t know.”
Henry looked at him, confused.
“Not an idea in the world.” Chief shrugged. “Nothing. I don’t have a clue what it is. That’s what makes it so great!”
He rested his palms on each side of the ledger, the adventure-seeking smile returning as he added, “But there is one thing I do know, grandson. You and I are going to find out. That’s the reason I decided to tell you all of this tonight. The discovery of the ledger sheet was only a fortnight ago. You’re reaching an age where you can help with the search. And, perhaps most important, it’s Christmas Eve.”
The old man took in a much-needed breath before closing in on the end of his amazing tale.
“You and I are going to walk the streets of New York these next few months. Same as I did with your father for a long, long time. To try and solve what no one could more than a hundred years ago. Now what do you say to that?”
Henry answered the question with a growing smile as he pulled the ledger closer still.
“We map out our plan first thing tomorrow,” Chief said with growing anticipation. “What better time than Christmas morning, yes?”
“Yes,” Henry replied without a hint of hesitation. “Yes, yes, yes.”