Chapter 5: A Flurry of Calls

…Joseph answers a Sunday call…

…prompted by a house call earlier Sunday…

…and on Monday Linda gets a call from Reggie…

Sunday afternoon, the couple sat motionless on the couch watching football on TV. Linda, dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt, nestled in the crook of Joseph’s arm, his muscular girth easily encompassing the slender woman. He wore green Bermuda shorts and a gray sport shirt.

“Riv-et. Riv-et.” She giggled as he grabbed the croaking cell from the coffee table.

“Joe.”

“It’s C.V., man.”

“Corvalis. What’s up?”

Joseph listened as C.V. explained. When he was done, he rose and, stepping through the sliding door onto the balcony a few feet away, said, “It’s going to cost you.”

“What?”

In a hushed voice, Joseph replied, “One thousand or ten percent.”

“Man, I don’t have that.”

“What do you got in the box?”

“I got to get it open to find out.”

“You’re going to pay the guy who opens it, no matter what. You owe me for the referral. Right?”

“Joe. You know me; we’re all in together. You help me and I help you. You helped my sister get that job. But I can’t come up with the dough if there’s nothing in it.”

“Then, it’s ten percent. Ten percent of a million sounds good.”

“Alright.”

“If there’s nothing in it, you still owe me, though.”

“What?”

Joseph looked out over the balcony into the harsh afternoon light. “Your sister can do something for me at her job. I’ll think of something.”

“OK.”

“Call Jimmy. Here’s his number.”

Joseph flipped shut his cell and, taking a deep satisfied breath, went back inside. That’s the way to do business, he thought, settling in beside Linda.

“Was that Rosalie’s brother?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he want?”

“Nothing.”

“You said something was going to cost him. What?”

“Something at work.”

She turned to him, a frown of disbelief creasing her silky brow. “He called you on Sunday about work? You work at an oil change shop.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She pointed an accusing finger. “You know I hate it when you keep things from me.”

“Watch the game.”

He gazed straight ahead at the TV as her dark eyes blazed at his visage, unflappable as a marble bust.

“Remind me why I love you,” she said.

When he didn’t respond, she pinched his arm, twisting the flesh between manicured fingers.

“Look at me!”

He pulled his arm away. “Ouch, Linda. What’s wrong with you?”

“Remind me why I love you.”

He blew a breath, flapping his lips like a horse. He reached over to peck her on the cheek.

Linda crossed her arms, falling back into the couch, staring at the farthest corner of the ceiling while Joseph re-set his gaze on the TV.


***


The pair, dressed in dark clothes, stalked the early morning streets of a moonless night. Stopping now and again, they were attracted by sleek lines and the going market for stolen cars.

Walking on the sidewalk side so as not to draw attention, equal in height and standing about a foot above the car tops, they appeared like wandering bushes creeping down the way.

One traced the lines of a black VW Golf, then tried the door. “Hey, C.V., it’s open, man.”

“Get in.”

A warning “ping, ping, ping” startled them, then they smiled as Hector turned the key in the ignition. A gentle whoosh stirred the morning air, leaving a gap in the line of parked cars.

C.V. noticed the ring held three keys. He fingered what looked like a house key, then explored the glove compartment. He held up a black leather wallet like a trophy illuminated by passing streetlights. Hector’s eyes grew wide.

Sorting through the credit cards and cash, he stopped when he found a driver’s license.

“Riley Turner… lives just around the corner.” He thought a moment, then said, “Let’s get the van.”

An hour later a black van crept slowly down the street and pulled up before the address on the license, a three-story apartment building.

They continued up the street, parking at the nearest corner. They walked the half-block, dark green duffle bags tucked under their arms, looking for apartment four. It was one of those on the side, on the second level. They didn’t see any lights. They climbed about twenty concrete steps along a metal rail that offered no cover.

At the top they listened at the door. C.V. held the key, and nodded at Hector, who nodded back. Hector, the stronger of the two, would take out Riley Turner if he were inconveniently at home.

They pushed through the door into the dark rooms. C.V. crept swiftly down the hallway to the bedroom. No one was home.

“O.K. Let’s do it.”

Hector disconnected the computer, putting the CPU and printer into one duffle and the slim screen monitor into another. Then, he began working on the sound system, the tuner, CD player and speakers. He grabbed at CDs like they were candy, tossing them into the duffle.

C.V. rifled through desk drawers and cabinets. He pocketed a passport. When he reached the bedroom closet he found himself looking down at a gray steel safe. He nudged it with his foot. It was heavy but not bolted down.

“Hector come here,” he whispered.

“Shheeeet. Look at that.”

“Can you lift it?”

Hector squatted down, pushing at it. He looked up doubtfully. Wrapping his arms around the square box, he lifted it a quarter inch before letting it fall, making a loud crash and straining the floor beneath.

“Shhh! Man, don’t make so much noise.”

C.V. surveyed the situation as Hector pulled at the metal handle. It would be tough going to get it out and down the steps, but this could be the jackpot. There had to be something good inside. A field of diamonds dazzled C.V.’s imaginary eye.

Hector pushed the square safe on its side and it thudded to a rest.

“We got to get it out. Look.” C.V. pulled the comforter from the bed and motioned for Hector to help him push the safe on to it.

“Careful.”

Again it strained and pressed the floor as they pushed the cube over. They pulled the blanket and its heavy weight to the front door.

“Take some of the stuff to the van and bring back the rope. The heavy rope.”

When Hector returned, C.V. set about wrapping it like a bulky Christmas present. On the top step, they tied one end of the rope to the railing and then let out the other end until it was suspended above the ground, the grooves on the rope catching and releasing on the ledge. C.V. was grateful for workmen’s gloves.

“Bring the van. Hurry.”

Hector half-ran down the street and backed the van into the driveway. He placed a hand-truck beneath the suspended package. C.V., seated on the ledge, with his legs propped against the railing, undid the securing knot and lowered the safe. Hector guided it onto the truck, which they rolled to the van. They connected one end of the rope to a winch inside and lifted it in. Then they threw in the rest of their booty and headed into the night. It had taken twenty minutes.

C.V. removed his gloves and flexed his sore hands.

“Hey, who do we know can open a safe?” Hector asked.

“I’ll call Joseph. He’ll know.”

Hector nodded and they smiled.


***


Linda took Reggie’s call and said she’d be right over.

It wasn’t typical for Reggie or any department manager, for that matter, to call her to their office. Buying decisions were discussed with departments in scheduled meetings and routine problems, like undelivered goods or inferior products, were handled by established procedure. If her work were being called into question she’d be talking to her own manager, not Reggie Barrow. She had no idea what he wanted. He sounded serious and that made her ill at ease.

The next chapter will be posted Sunday, December 27, and the concluding chapter by December 31.