“I’m all ears,” Lou said, worried. The elevator doors closed again. Escape route gone.

“He wanted to have a few words about…well, about you.”

“Yes,” Lou said slowly.

“He brought me these.” Mr. Patterson reached into his pocket and retrieved the container of pills that Gabe had given Lou. There was only one pill inside. Alfred, the rat, had obviously scuttled to the trash bin to collect the one piece of evidence to destroy him.

Lou looked at the container in shock and tried to decide whether to deny the pills or not. Sweat broke out on his upper lip as he thought quickly for a story. They were his father’s. No. His mother’s. For her hip. No. He had back pain. Then he realized Mr. Patterson was talking.

“He said something about finding them under the trash.” Mr. Patterson frowned. “And that he knew them to be yours…” He studied Lou, searching for recognition.

Lou’s heart beat loudly in his ears.

“I know that you and Alfred are friends,” Mr. Patterson said, his face suddenly showing his sixty-five years. “But his concern for you seemed a little misguided. It seemed to me that the purpose of this was to get you into trouble.”

“Eh,” Lou swallowed, eyeing up the brown container, “that’s not, em, they’re not, em…” He stuttered while trying to formulate a sentence.

“I’m not one to pry into people’s personal lives, Lou—what my colleagues do in their own time is their own business, so long as it’s not going to affect the company in any way. So I didn’t take too kindly to Alfred giving me these,” he said. When Lou didn’t answer, Mr. Patterson added, “But maybe that’s what you wanted him to do?”

“What?” Lou wiped his brow. “Why would I want Alfred to bring these to you?”

Mr. Patterson stared at him, his lips twitching ever so slightly. “I don’t know, Lou, you’re a clever man.”

“What?” Lou responded, totally confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I assumed,” Mr. Patterson said, his twitching lips eventually growing into a smile, “that you deliberately tried to mislead Alfred with these pills. That you somehow made him believe they were more than they are. Am I right?”

Lou’s mouth fell open, and he looked at his boss in surprise.

“I knew it.” Mr. Patterson chuckled and shook his head. “You are good. But not that good. I recognized the blue mark on the pill.”

“What do you mean? What blue mark?”

“You didn’t manage to scratch the entire symbol off this last one,” he explained, opening the container and emptying it into his palm. “See the blue mark? If you look close enough you can also see the trace of the D where it used to be. I should know. Working here, I swear by these fellas.”

Lou swallowed. “That was the only one with the blue mark?” Lazy till the end, Alfred couldn’t even reach into the trash to save his own skin, he’d had to scrape an initial off a simple headache tablet.

“No, there were two pills. Both with blue marks. I took one, I hope you don’t mind. Trash or no trash, my head was pounding so much I had to have one. This bloody Christmas season is enough to drive me to an early grave.”

“You took one?” Lou gasped.

“I’ll replace it.” He waved his hand dismissively. “You can get them at any pharmacy. Newsagents even, they’re just over-the-counter pills.”

“What happened when you took it?”

“Well, it got rid of my headache, didn’t it?” He frowned. “Though to tell you the truth, if I don’t get home in the next hour, I’ll have to take another one before I know it.” He looked at his watch.

Lou was gobsmacked into silence.

“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I didn’t like what Alfred was trying to do, and that I don’t think you’re a…well, whatever Alfred was trying to make me believe. There’s no place in the company for people like him. I had to let him go. Christmas Eve, Christ, this job makes a monster of us sometimes,” he said, tiredly now.

Lou was silent, his mind screaming questions at him. Either Alfred had replaced the pills with fake ones, or Lou, too, had taken headache pills on the two occasions he had doubled up. Lou took out the handkerchief from his pocket, unwrapped it, and examined the one remaining pill. His heart froze in his chest. The faint initial of the headache tablet could be seen on its surface. Why hadn’t he noticed it before?

“Ah, I see you have another one there,” Mr. Patterson chuckled. “Caught red-handed, Lou. Well, here you go, you can have the last one. Add it to your collection.” He handed him the container.

Lou looked at him and opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish, no words coming out, as he shifted the box into one hand and took the remaining pill in the other.

“I’d better go now.” Mr. Patterson slowly backed away. “I have a train set to put together and batteries to insert into a Little Miss Something-or-Other with a mouth as dirty as a toilet bowl, which I’ll no doubt be forced to listen to all week. Have a lovely Christmas, Lou.” He held his hand out.

Lou gulped, his mind still in a whirl about the headache tablets. Was he allergic to them? Had the doubling up been some sort of side effect? Had he dreamed it? No. No, it had happened, his family had witnessed his presence on both occasions. So if it wasn’t the pills…

“Lou,” Mr. Patterson said, his hand still in midair.

“Bye,” Lou said croakily, and then cleared his throat. “I mean, Happy Christmas.” He shoved the pills deep into his pocket before he reached out and shook his boss’s hand.

As soon as Mr. Patterson had turned his back, Lou ran to the stairwell and charged down to the basement. It was colder than usual, and the fluorescent tube at the end of the hall had finally been fixed, no longer flashing like an eighties strobe light. Christmas music drifted out from under the door Lou was heading toward, “Driving Home for Christmas” by Chris Rea echoing down the long, cold, sterile hallway.

Lou didn’t knock before entering. He pushed the door with his foot, still carrying the box in his arm. The room was significantly emptier than it had been. Gabe was down the second aisle, rolling up the sleeping bag and blanket.

“Hi, Lou,” he said without turning around.

“Who are you?” Lou asked, his voice shaking as he put the box down on a shelf.

Gabe stood up and stepped out of the aisle. “Okay,” he said slowly, looking Lou up and down. “That’s an interesting way to start a conversation.” His eyes went to the box on the shelf, and he smiled. “A gift for me?” he said softly. “You really shouldn’t have.” He stepped forward to receive it, and Lou took a step backward while eyeing him.

“Hmm,” Gabe said, frowning, then turning to the gift-wrapped box on the shelf. “Can I open it now?”

Lou didn’t answer. Sweat glistened on his face, and his eyes moved sharply to follow Gabe’s every movement.

Taking his time, Gabe carefully opened the perfectly wrapped gift. Approaching it from the ends, he slowly removed the tape, taking care not to rip the paper.

“I love giving people gifts,” he explained, still keeping the same easy tone. “But it’s not often that people give them to me. But you’re different, Lou. I’ve always thought that.” He unwrapped the box and finally revealed the gift inside, a small electric heater for his storeroom. “Well, this is certainly very thoughtful. Thank you. It will definitely warm up my next space, but not here, unfortunately, as I’m moving on.”

Lou had moved up against the wall now, as far away from Gabe as he could get before he spoke with a tremble. “The pills you gave me were headache tablets.”

Gabe kept studying the heater. “Mr. Patterson told you that, I suspect.”

Lou was taken aback, having expected Gabe to deny it. “Yes,” he responded. “Alfred took them from the trash and gave them to him.”

“The little rat.” Gabe shook his head, smiling. “Predictable old Alfred. I thought he might do that. Well, we can give him points for persistence. He really didn’t want you to have that job, though, did he?”