Free The Christmas Thief by Mary Higgins Clark and Carol Higgins Clark Page B

messy kitchen, poured a tall glass of whiskey to calm his nerves, and then dug the wire cutters out of his tool belt. With trembling fingers he cut the wire that held the flask to the branch and freed it.
    Flasks hold only good things, he thought as he took a sip of the whiskey. This one had been just about sealed shut, there was so much sediment around it, and he tried to un-screw it. He walked over to the sink and turned on the faucet. A groaning sound was followed by a slight trickle of water that eventually turned hot. He held the flask under it until most of the sediment was washed off. It still took three powerful twists with his hands before the cap loosened.
    He grabbed a greasy dish towel and rushed over to spread it on the table. He sat down and slowly, reverently, began to shake the contents of the flask onto the crowing rooster that marked the center of the raggy towel. His eyes bugged at the sight of the treasure unfolding in front of him. They weren’t kidding—diamonds as big as an owl’s eye, some of them the prettiest golden color, some of them with a bluish tint, one he’d swear was as big as a robin’s egg. That one he had to give an extra shake to get through the mouth of the flask. His heart was beating so fast, he needed another long swig of whiskey. It was hard to believe this was happening.
    I’m lucky Lorna dumped me last year, he thought. She said eight years of me was enough. Well, eight years of her was enough. Nag, nag, nag. I was just too nice to kick her butt out. She moved forty-five minutes away to Burlington. He heard she was doing some of that Internet dating. Good luck at finding that sensitive man you’re after, honey, he thought.
    He picked up a handful of diamonds, still not believing his luck. Maybe when I figure out how to unload some of this fancy stuff, I’ll take a first-class trip and send Lorna a postcard telling her what a good time I’m having—and that I don’t wish she was there.
    Pleased at the thought of one-upping Lorna, Wayne got down to the business at hand. The minute Lem finds out that tree is gone, he’ll be yelling that I was behind it. I know my face got scratched, so I have to figure out an excuse for how that happened. I could always say I was pruning one of my trees and lost my balance, he decided. The one thing he did well was take care of the trees on the property that he hadn’t yet sold off.
    The next problem was where to hide the diamonds. He began to put them back in the flask. I’m going to be under suspicion for cutting down the tree, so I gotta be real careful. I can’t keep them in the house. If the cops decide to search the place, with my luck they’ll find the flask.
    Why don’t I just do what those crooks out by the tree did? he thought. Why not hide it in one of my own trees until everything blows over and I can make a trip to the big city?
    Wayne wrapped the flask with brown masking tape and then fished around in one after another of the cluttered kitchen drawers until he found the picture-hanging wire Lorna had bought in a forlorn attempt to beautify the house. Five minutes later he was climbing the old elm tree in his front yard and, using the crooks’ fine example, he returned the flask of diamonds to the protection of Mother Nature.

21
    A fter her nightmare about Packy, Opal could barely sleep. She woke up again and again during the night, glancing at the clock at 2:00 A.M. , at 3:30, and then an hour later.
    The nightmare had really been upsetting and had brought to the surface all the anger and resentment she felt toward Packy Noonan and his accomplices. She had tried to make a joke of it, but it was just so insulting for Packy to say that he would give 10 percent of his earnings in the diner to pay back his victims!
    He’s making fools of us again, she thought.
    The television coverage of his release kept running through her mind. On one of the stations they had done a quick review of the scam and showed Packy with those