The Con Before Christmas [A Novella]

By E.E. Bailes

During the hustle and bustle of holiday shopping, Arthur Beautyman and his mother Ruth are spotted by a long lost friend of Ruth’s, who miraculously produces Ruth’s wallet, which had been lost in the crowded mall.

Despite Ruth’s waning memory of her old friend, in the spirit of the season Ruth invites her and her adult son into her home for the night. Only the next morning— when the con artists have fled and Ruth’s identity and entire life savings gone—do Ruth and Arthur realize they have mere hours to find them before they forever slip out of their grasp.

Through the challenges of their own relationship as mother and son and their combined wit, bravery, and techie know-how, Arthur and Ruth discover a web of betrayal, drama, and crime that pits them against a dangerous and destructive family feud ... just in time for Christmas.

This novella is approximately 22,000 words (roughly 90 pages).

• Language: English
• Publisher: Erik Hanberg
• Release date: Feb 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9780982714539

Book preview

Merry Christmas, Hannah

THE CON BEFORE CHRISTMAS

A Novella

By E.E. Bailes

(including a bonus flash fiction mystery story)

Chapter One

There you are, Ruth!

The voice was loud enough and clear enough that it cut through the hubbub of the overcrowded food court, which was packed with shoppers, tinny holiday music, and the distant roar of an indoor amusement park—the sounds that made up the Mall of America two days before Christmas.

Arthur Beautyman and his mother Ruth looked up from their Styrofoam bowls.

Ruth! The voice shouted. Beautyman finally spotted a woman coming toward them, waving, beaming. I can’t believe I found you here! I’ve been looking all over for you.

Ruth was standing by the time the woman got to the table.

Hello, you! his mother exclaimed. Beautyman smirked and went back to picking at the remains of his burrito bowl. She clearly had no idea who this long lost friend was. He stole a glance at the woman as she threw her arms and shopping bags around his mother in a deep hug. She was about the same age as Beautyman’s mother, maybe a bit younger—or at least, she wished she was. Her hair was almost certainly dyed its dark black shade, unlike his own mother’s silver and white mix.

Goodness! To see you here of all places. It’s been a long time. The woman laughed gaily and Ruth joined in.

A church friend? No, it wouldn’t have been so long since they’d seen each other then. She had a million friends, and she wanted him to meet all of them. He was getting tired of being their entertainment, but—

Arthur! Ruth coughed.

Was she scolding him for being rude? Or calling for aid, relying on him to glean her name during their introductions?

Oh, don’t get up, the woman said, extending her hand. Frances Potter. Your mother and I go way back, Arthur. I saw a lot of pictures of you back in the day, let me tell you. I have a son about your age somewhere around here. Where’s my Clarence? She looked around and Beautyman did too, but he couldn’t see anyone who looked like a Clarence.

By the time he looked back, Frances Potter was stealing a spare chair from another table and pushing it up to their own.

You’ll never guess what I have for you, Ruth, she said. Frances reached into her purse and pulled out a worn brown leather wallet. Look familiar? She laughed again, because, of course, it looked very familiar.

My wallet! Ruth’s mouth was agape. She looked like she was trying to decide whether to lunge for the wallet or check her purse to confirm it truly was missing.

Frances turned it over to Ruth and beamed. Ruth started rooting through its familiar compartments.

By all means, count it all, I won’t be offended. Who knows who had it before I stumbled across it, Frances said.

Ruth seemed to need her permission, as she took the opportunity to dig into the pockets of the wallet and count the cash. There should be at least six hundred in there, Beautyman knew. She’d sold some of her jewelry at the mall’s gold-for-cash store and had parted with everything but the ornate and dangly antique earrings she was currently wearing.

Where did you find it, Mrs. Potter? Arthur asked, one eye on the count. That six hundred dollars was supposed to be their Christmas fund, and he was more than a little irritated that his mother had lost it. Not that he could say much about it—$600 was way more than he had contributed to the bottom line recently, with the exception of occasionally taking the garbage to the curb and occupying her basement.

It was an incredible thing, Frances said. I was up there somewhere, she said waving her arm across the amusement park to the other side of the mall," and I saw it under the railing, like it was just about to fall off to a lower floor. I thought I would turn it in, but when I picked it up it fell open—I swear to you, Ruth, I did not open it myself—and I saw the most incredible thing. It was your face and your name staring back at me! I practically died right there on the spot. Can you imagine the odds that I would be the one to find your wallet, and not some common stranger? I just could not believe it.

"I was going to report it to the nearest kiosk, but I so wanted to see you. And since it’s almost noon, I thought there was a chance I’d find you in here. And here you are!"

It’s all here. I can’t believe it. Just a miracle, Ruth said, shaking her head. Her eyes met her son’s, and all he saw was relief.

A Christmas miracle! Frances laughed.

Credit cards too? Arthur asked.

Everything. Not a penny missing, Ruth answered.

That’s incredible, Frances said. You think the worst, but then …

And I have you to thank, Ruth said. She leaned forward in her chair and embraced Frances again, laughing.

Pish posh, Frances said. It’s the least I could do. And it allowed us to finally connect after so many years! Oh look, there’s my Clarence. Clarence! Frances shouted, standing. Clarence, over here!

Arthur looked up to see a stocky man coming toward them with a small pile of Sbarro’s pizza on his tray. Whereas Frances looked supremely coifed, Clarence looked like he was dressed for a day of watching football alone on the couch. He barely acknowledged his mother as he approached the table. She was on her feet again, looking for another chair, but was coming up empty-handed.

Clarence, this is my old friend Ruth Beautyman, and her son Arthur.

Pleased to meet you, he said to Ruth and nodded once to Beautyman. He set his tray down on the table and looked around expectantly.

Actually, go ahead and take my seat, Clarence. I have an appointment to get a pedicure in a few minutes down the way, Frances said, backing out of her chair.

You have to leave so soon? Ruth asked.

It’s a little treat from Clarence. An early Christmas present.

Beautyman shrunk a little bit in his chair. He still hadn’t gotten his own mother anything. Maybe a card and an excuse about lack of income weren’t going to cut it like he’d thought.

Would you like to join me? Frances asked. "We have so much to talk about. I think we can leave these boys to