A Few Minutes Past Midnight (25 page)

BOOK: A Few Minutes Past Midnight

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I stood in the doorway waiting for Chaplin.

Phil and Ruth came from the direction of the dining room. Ruth moved slowly. There didn’t seem to be much left of her.

“Don’t stand there,” Phil said. “Come in and close the door.”

“I brought someone to see you, Ruth,” I said.

“Brought someone?”

She looked at Phil, who shook his head to show that he had no idea of what or who I was talking about. Chaplin was taking a long time for whatever he had forgotten.

“He’s getting something out of the car. He’ll be right here,” I said.

“Is it a killer?” Nate asked hopefully.

“No,” I said. “It’s …”

I heard a movement behind me. Ruth’s mouth fell open.

“Oh my God,” she said.

I turned and saw the Little Fellow. Derby, mustache, tight jacket, baggy pants, cane, and oversized shoes. He took off his hat and smiled at Ruth. From behind his back he pulled a single flower, a violet. He stepped past me and handed it to her.

Lucy began to cry. Phil picked her up.

“Ah, one more thing if I may,” Chaplin said, reaching inside his jacket.

He pulled out a framed photograph of himself as the Tramp and gave it to Ruth who read the inscription:

To Ruth Pevsner, with love, respect and hope.

Affectionately, Charlie Chaplin.

Ruth clutched the flower and photograph to her chest.

Chaplin doffed his hat again and went out the door. We walked after him and watched him waddle away, twirling his cane, and get into the limo.

The baby had stopped crying and was watching, as were her brothers.

“Toby,” Ruth said. “Toby.”

She gave me a hug.

“I’ve got to go,” I said. “I’ve got a date with Anita.”

“Call her up,” said Phil. “Tell her to take a cab here if she wants. I’ll pay for it. We’re having a late dinner.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Least I can do for my brother,” he said.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This edition published in 2012 by
MysteriousPress.com
/Open Road Integrated Media

180 Varick Street

New York, NY 10014

www.openroadmedia.com