As tomorrow was Christmas Eve, I thought it a fitting gift when I delivered the safe to Charlie's door.
Orange County doesn't get snow. Hell, we rarely get rain, but as I approached the door, carrying the safe under one arm, a stiff, cool breeze appeared, and that was good enough. Any weather was good enough at this time of the year.
I knocked on his door to the rhythm of "Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way" and fat little Rocko jumped from the couch, barking his brains out, until he got a look at me, then he hit the brakes, and scuttled off with his tail between his legs. Thank God Kingsley didn't have the same reaction.
I set the safe down on the wooden deck, noting how the wood sagged mightily under the weight of the safe.
Charlie's round face soon appeared and he gave me a big smile. Charlie, I saw, needed some serious dental work. Except he didn't seem to care that he needed dental work, or that his teeth looked like crooked tombstones. Charlie was just happy to be Charlie.
He was about to slide open his door when he glanced down, and his crooked smile seemed to freeze in place. He blinked. Hard.
Then threw open the door.
I shouldn't have been surprised when he gave me the mother of all hugs, but I was.
* * *
We were in his living room.
I had told him that a friend of mine had helped me lug the heavy safe onto his deck, and I made a show of pretending to struggle with the safe as we moved it from the deck to the center of his living room.
Amid leaning towers of laser jet printer cartridges, 40's science fiction magazines, and enough clipboards to last two lifetimes, we set the heavy safe down.
Earlier in the night, after my discovery of the safe, I gave the boys ten minutes to clear out before I called the police. Most were gone in five. I kept their weapons and ammunition, which I would hand over to Detective Sherbet of the Fullerton Police Department.
For now, though, it was just me, Charlie and the safe. And inside, something, neither of us knew what.
The safe was clearly old. So old that it looked like it belonged on the back of a Wells Fargo stage coach. Part of the safe's dial still gleamed brightly, although most of it was covered in blackened soot from the blowtorch. The handle was badly dented, no doubt thanks to the various hammers I had seen lying around.
Still, the safe had held fast, and that's all that mattered.
Charlie stared down at it. So did I. My compensation was in that safe, whatever it might be. Could be gold. Could be old war bonds. Could be jewelry, gemstones or pirate booty, for all I knew.
I had been tempted to see if my own psychic gifts could penetrate the heavy steel safe, but I had resisted.
"I guess this is it, then," said Charlie. He didn't sound very enthusiastic.
"Do you know the combination?"
He pointed to the upper corner of the safe, where, upon closer inspection, I saw a number etched, 14. Two other numbers were etched into other corners, 29 and 63.
I said them out loud and he nodded. "Don't think of them as three numbers, think of them as six numbers. One, four, two, nine, six and three. With that in mind, what are the two lowest numbers?"
I glanced at them again. "One and two."
He nodded. "Good. And the next lowest?"
"Three and four."
"Good, good. And the two highest?"
"Six and nine."
"You got it," he said, giving me a half smile.
"Twelve, thirty-four and sixty-nine?"
He nodded. "You're the first person I've ever given the key to. Not even to my own son."
"How old's your son?"
"Twenty-one. But it's too soon to give him the key. My father gave it to me on his deathbed."
"I feel honored," I said, and meant it.
We stared at it some more. He made no move to open it, and I certainly wasn't about to. Somewhere down the hall, one of his piles of junk shifted, groaning, as boulders do in the deserts. The piano, I saw, was gone.
The light particles behind Charlie began coagulating and taking on shape, and shortly, two very faint old men appeared behind him. I noticed the hair on Charlie's arm immediately stood on end, as his body registered the spiritual presence of his father and grandfather, even if his mind hadn't. Charlie absently rubbed his arms.
"Well, let's get on with it," he said, and reached down for the safe.
As he did so, I said, "You really don't want to open the safe, do you, Charlie?"
"I do. Really, I do. A deal's a deal, and I want to pay you. Your half."
"But wouldn't you rather pass it along to your own boy?"
"Without you, Ms. Moon, I would have nothing to pass on to my kid. Besides, it's really a silly tradition."
"No, it's not. It's about family."
"We've been keeping this thing going for years and it's impractical at best, like a joke from beyond the grave."
"I think it's an amazing tradition," I said.
He didn't say it, but his body language suggested he thought so, too. He said, "Well, it is kind of fun not knowing what's in this thing. I mean, it could be anything, right? But I suppose it's time to find out once and for all?"
He made a move for the safe again, but he didn't get very far, mostly because I grabbed his wrist. He shivered at my cold touch.
I said, "This isn't right."
"A deal's a deal, Ms. Moon. Besides, I have no other way of repaying you."
I thought about that, then looked around. "Not true. You have enough junk to stock a dozen houses. There's got to be something in here that I want."
"What are you saying, Ms. Moon?"
"I'm saying, let me pick something out of your junk, and the safe is yours. Keep it in your family. Pass it along to your son."
He processed that information, and I saw the relief ripple through him and his shining aura. "Are you sure?"
"As sure as I've ever been."
"But aren't you a little bit curious what's in the safe?"
"More than you know," and as I said those words, I briefly closed my eyes, and expanded my consciousness throughout the room, and as I did so, two things made me gasp.
The first was the contents of the safe, which I saw clearly. The second was what I saw resting inside a wooden box deep under a pile of newspapers.
Charlie was watching me curiously. "Are you okay?"
"Er, yes," I said, then patted him on the shoulder. "I would suggest you find a much better place for your safe."
"I will."
"A very safe place."
"You think the contents are valuable?"
I thought of the two old spirits, Charlie's father and grandfather. I thought of Charlie's own son and the unique bond that kept the generations connected. The safe. I also saw in my mind's eye the tightly rolled vellum document that might just be the rarest of all American documents, a document signed by our founding fathers, centuries ago. A document thought to be lost...until now.
Then again, I could be wrong.
Next, I moved through the piles of junk and headed to the far corner of the room. There, I began moving aside old newspapers and magazines, until I finally uncovered an ornately carved box.
I picked it up carefully, my hands trembling.
Slowly, I opened the lid...
Unbelievable.
Inside was another golden medallion. This time, the three roses were cut from brilliant amethysts.
Charlie was looking over my shoulder. "Oh, that. I got it at an estate sale a while back. In Fullerton. Get this, some old guy was murdered by some nut with a crossbow. Anyway, it's gold, I think. Probably worth a lot. I've been keeping it for a rainy day." He paused. "Truth be known, it kind of gives me the creeps. You can have it if you want."
I closed the lid and held out my hand. "Merry Christmas."
But Charlie had other designs on me. He wrapped me in a huge, smothering hug. "Merry Christmas, Ms. Moon!"