The Case Before Christmas: Chapter II

Hugh Hamilton

A few indistinguishable moments later, someone bothered to exhaust some energy.
"Ben?"
"Mm?"
"Did you happen to acquire any mince pies while you were squandering our livelihood on candy canes and chocolate coins?"
Ben withdrew a no-longer-striped candy cane.
"On the off-chance that you're not setting up that 'Mint Spy' joke you stole from the Goon Show, I'll say No," he said, licking his lips unselfconsciously and removing the gold lining from another chocolate coin. "Hence the lack of mince pies."
"Cracker-arse," scowled Hugh, for he had his heart set on sinking his teeth into one of those delicious seasonal pastries. "I really felt like one of those."
"Cracker-arse? Will you quit watching that video?"
"See? It shocks you. It shocks you. There's still these words."
"Hugh, I mean it. I'm not going through this again."
"Shut up. Fifty years ago you would have been upside—"
"I will hit you," said Ben, raising an arm. "In fact—"
"Ouch."
Hugh aimed a sulky brow at Ben, who responded with one of those brief smiles that operate independently of the eyes, and a dull while passed.
Some time later, this:
"Want an egg-nog coffee?" asked Hugh absently.
"I seem to recall that experiment failing rather spectacularly the last time you tried it," said Ben, not looking up.
"Still, want one?"
"Hmm... Yes."
As Hugh rose, so did their prospects.
"I'll get it," said Ben.
A minute or two later, Hugh observed that Ben hadn't actually moved from his seat and answered the door himself.
"H'llo," said the door's revelation.
"...," nodded Hugh. "Do come in."
The man did, seating himself afterwards.
"Candy cane?" offered Ben as the small man brushed a few imaginary specks of dust off his navy-blue jacket.
"Thanks, I don't."
"Coin?"
The man blinked incredulously.
"Um, all right," he said, taking the chocolate coin from Ben's palm and putting it in his wallet. "Thanks."
If it weren't for the fact that they were perfectly happy with their own, Hugh and Ben would have exchanged glances.
"Er, anyway," persisted Ben. "What's this unusual hiccup of yours?"
"Sorry?"
"Where 'hiccup' equals 'case'."
"Oh, well, it's a stabbing, you see."
"Murder, I hear."
"Yes — murder most, er, murderous."
"How do you know it's murder?" asked Hugh, who had failed to on the phone.
"Well, one can never be sure, of course, but I'm fairly certain this didn't happen by accident," said the man, unbuttoning his jacket. There was a small knife jutting out of his stomach. "The amount of force required to slide the knife that far in seems to indicate a third party — but I could be wrong."
"You're the victim?" said Hugh, goggling his eyes comically for the occasion.
"Yes. Didn't I make that clear over the phone?"
"Well, when you said someone was murdered, I foolishly assumed you were referring to someone other than yourself."
"You live and learn," smiled the man.
"Speaking of living," said Ben, "how come you are?"
"I don't think I quite follow."
"Well, usually when someone is murdered they die in the process, hence the being murdered," explained Ben dryly.
"Is that so? I guess my sister was right after all. Still, whatever this is, I'd be rather grateful if you could find out how it happened."
"Well, yes," said Ben. "But shouldn't you be in hospital or something?"
"In hospital? Whatever for?"
"That." Ben pointed.
"This?"
"Yes — it seems to be draining your blood."
"Oh, I know. It goes on for hours. Makes for quite the spectacle."
"But aren't you in some sort of pain?"
"Pain? I don't know. Should I be?"
"Yes," said Ben, poking the knife.
"Ouch."
"See?"
"I guess that explains it," said the man, accompanied on piano by a thoughtful nod.
"Explains what?" asked Ben, poking the knife again for no reason.
"My stomach pains."
Ben sighed.
"Look, just get to a hospital sometime, all right?"
"All right — if you think it will help."
"It may just prevent your death."
"Really? That would be nice of it. Maybe I'll even pop along to one now." The man re-buttoned his coat and smiled amiably at one of the walls.
"When exactly did this happen, by the way?" asked Hugh, for the sake of his presence.
"You know, I'm not exactly sure. It was just there when I woke up this morning."
"Have you told the police?"
"The who?"
"Nothing," interjected Ben hurriedly. "You're going to pay us, right?"
"Of course. That's what I'm supposed to do, isn't it?"
"Yes," said Ben and Hugh in unison.
"Good. Well, I'd best be getting along to one of those hospital places, then." The man stood up and brushed some more imaginary dust off his jacket. "Here's the address of my house — my sister will let you in. Cheerio."
And so he left.
"You bastard," said Ben. "He wasn't strangely hiccuping at all."
"Subtle, wasn't it?" grinned Hugh.