Familiarity Brings Arrest
By Carol A. Cole
The lights in The Second Time Around, the
small pawn shop in Springwood, flickered and went out. The glow from the
street lamp cast long shadows across the floor. A tall figure,
silhouetted in the light, moved to the cash register. He opened the
drawer, stuffed the bills into the back pocket of his jeans, and glanced down
at the body lying behind the counter.
Working swiftly now, he peeled off his black gloves--they went into
another pocket--and grabbed a baseball cap off the floor. He gave the
body one last look, then crept to the front door and peered down the
street. Nobody in sight. He
stepped outside, closed the door, and melted into the darkness of
Ten minutes later, a low groan came from
the floor. Richard Stone pushed himself into a sitting position and
leaned against the counter. He gingerly touched the back of his head and
winced. He could feel the stickiness of blood on his fingers. Guess
I better have this checked. Damn! He never even heard anyone come in.
Richard
stood and moved to the phone. He noted that the cash register drawer was
open, the bills gone. Too bad it was a slow day, he thought with a
smile--the bastard didn't get much.
Richard called the local precinct. He
walked to the after-hours clinic down the street. It took six stitches to
close the cut in the back of his head. Pat Brody, one of the detectives
from the police department, was in the waiting room when Richard was through.
"Hey, Pat. They send lieutenants out now on a routine robbery?"
"Only the best for a former partner,
Rich," Pat said with a slight grin. "How's the head?"
"It's been better," Richard
answered. "So, you have this call?"
"Yeah." Pat stood and
moved out to the street with Richard. "I'll go back with you and we
can check out the losses. Did you get a look at the guy?"
"No, and that's kind of
embarrassing. He snuck up on me, all quiet like. Next thing I know,
I'm lying on the floor with a bloodied head and an empty cash drawer."
When they reached the store, Richard
unlocked the door and switched on the lights. The cash register drawer
was still open. "Whoever it was got the cash, although I didn't do
much business yesterday." Richard walked around the counter, and
noticed the doors on a small glass case were open. "Hell! He
must've grabbed my key from my pocket. I keep all the guns locked up
under the counter."
Pat joined Richard to look at the
guns. "You've got quite a collection there."
Richard squatted down in front of the
case. "There's one missing." He pulled the shelf
out. "There was a Luger, 1902 model. I've only had two in here
in the past five years."
"You don't see too many of those
around anymore," Pat said.
"Yeah, they're unusual. A woman
just brought it in two days ago. A pretty little thing with long dark
hair. Said it was her father's and that she'd always hated guns.
Now that he was gone, she couldn't wait to get rid of it." Richard
spotted the key on the floor and picked it up. He closed and locked the
glass doors. "That's odd; you'd think he would've taken one that was
more conventional."
"Maybe the guy knew it was a
collector's item and thought he'd move it at some other shop." Pat
looked around to see if any other merchandise was disturbed.
"It's strange. There are
several others in here that would bring a lot more on the market."
Richard checked the other shelves. "I can't see anything else
missing." He walked toward the door. "Well, if we're
through for the night, I'd like to get home and get some sleep. I'll be
back tomorrow about nine."
"I'll file a report and see if
there's any mention of a Luger in the open files." Pat opened the
door and turned back to his former partner. "See you in the morning,
Rich."
# #
#
Greg Yates opened the door of his
apartment to find Jessica Farrell curled up asleep on the sofa. He closed
the door, tossed his baseball cap on the table, and took off his jacket.
Jessica opened her eyes when she
heard Greg move around the room. She sat up suddenly and looked at his
face, trying to determine his frame of mind. "Did you get
it?" She asked.
"Yeah, it was in a case under
the counter." He pulled the gun out of his pocket and threw the
jacket over the kitchen chair. "The old guy didn't know what hit
him. I cleaned out the cash drawer too, but there was only sixty bucks in
there." Greg scowled and dropped onto the sofa next to Jessica.
She squeezed his arm and pulled him
to her for a kiss. "He isn't dead, is he?" she asked.
"Nah, but he'll have a hell of
a headache when he wakes up. Before you even ask: no, I didn't grab any
jewelry. I wanted to get in and out of there quick." Greg
pulled away from her and headed into the kitchen. "We got any
food?"
Jessica followed him into the small
room. "Just that Chinese food from last night." She took
several white boxes out of the refrigerator. "I'm sorry, Greg.
I thought if I got rid of the gun, you'd be better off. You said you had
on gloves when you shot that guy, so your prints aren't on the gun."
She put her arms around his waist but he pushed them away.
"Yeah, I had gloves on in the
record store, but I still handled the gun at other times. I'll find
another way to get rid of it. Maybe take it with me when I go into the
city next week and ditch it there." He opened the boxes and dumped
the food onto a plate. "Let's eat and turn in early. I'm
beat."
# #
#
The next morning, Pat Brody called
Richard down to the precinct to meet with a sketch artist.
"I told you, Pat, I never saw
the guy. He must not have worn any shoes at all, he was so quiet,"
Richard said.
"It's not him I want a sketch
of, Rich. I want you to see if you can recall the lady who brought the
gun in." He motioned Richard into the next room where a heavy-set
woman sat at drawing table. She had an open booklet of facial features on
plastic sheets. "Richard Stone, meet Sandra Reynolds. She can
reconstruct anyone you've ever met." Pat smiled at the woman, who
blushed and indicated a chair next to her.
"I don't see why you want her
picture. Do you believe she's connected with the robbery?"
Richard sat down and looked at the book in front of him.
"We got more news this
morning, about that murder over in
"You think it's the same
gun?" Richard asked.
“First,
the woman brings that gun in the day after the murder. Second, your shop is broken into two days
later, and the only thing missing besides the cash is that gun,” Pat answered.
“I
guess that does seem too coincidental,” Richard said.
"Let's just say a nice picture
of that pretty little thing with long dark hair would help with the
case." Pat smiled, turned, and left Richard to work with Sandra.
# #
#
The next afternoon, Jessica
wandered into a jewelry store two doors down from the pawn shop. She
stood in front of a case filled with silver bracelets and a salesgirl
appeared. "I've always wanted to travel out west and see the people
who make these. I guess I'll just have to buy one here." She
pointed to a small silver band inlaid with turquoise stones. "May I
see that one, please?"
While the salesgirl showed Jessica
the bracelet, the owner recognized her picture from the flyer in his
office. He went into the back room and dialed the pawn shop.
"Rich, Steve Kemper here. I think that woman on the flyer is here in
the store."
"I'll be right there,
Steve." Richard called the precinct and let them know to approach
the jewelry store quietly. Then he locked up the pawn shop and slipped
out the back door. He entered the jewelry store, walked into the office
and glanced through the doorway. "That's her all right. Just
keep her busy until the officers get here."
Pat
Brody and a uniformed officer entered the shop and approached Jessica while she
tried on one of the silver bracelets. Richard moved to join them from the
office.
Jessica's hands began to tremble
when she recognized Richard. "I don't see any bracelet that I like
today." She turned toward the door. "Maybe another
time."
Pat stepped forward and blocked her
way. "Miss, I'd like a word with you."
"I didn't do anything
wrong," Jessica said when she saw the officer standing behind Pat.
"We'd like to ask you some
questions in relation to a record store in
They brought Jessica into the small
office in back of the store. "I know my rights," she
said. "I don't have to
answer any questions."
"No, you don't, but then we
might have to charge you as an accomplice to a murder," Pat said while he
perched on the corner of the desk. "Rich, is this the young woman
who pawned the gun?"
Richard pulled out the other chair
and sat across from Jessica. "Yeah, I'd remember her
anywhere." He looked into Jessica's eyes. "Now, you said
that gun belonged to your late father. Do you want to stick with
that story?"
"Please, I don't want to go to
jail," Jessica said. "I'll tell you what I know."
Pat read her the Miranda rights and
she waived the right to an attorney. He had both Richard and Steve stay
to be witnesses when he questioned Jessica.
"Greg Yates owned the gun,"
Jessica said. "He bought it off of some guy in
She gave them the address of the apartment
and Greg was picked up that evening.
# #
#
"You sure you don't want back
on the force?" Pat asked. He and Richard were enjoying dinner
in the little Chinese restaurant across from the precinct the next week.
"I've told you before,
Pat. I'm quite happy in my little shop. I putter away, and play a
little role in the soap opera lives of my customers. A nice quiet
retirement." Richard laughed and dug into his lo mien noodles.
The
End
First story published in print
Published in Futures Mysterious Anthology
Magazine
October/November/December 2004.