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In Arden, there actually is a park on Park Avenue and I drove there after grabbing some breakfast at a diner not far from my place. I guess brunch is probably the right word, probably what a college kid would call it. Either way, it was already half past eleven by the time I just happened to drive past the jewelry store, where I’d just coincidentally slowed down, and out of pure luck, noticed a blonde gal standing behind one of the display counters.
The same one I’d seen her at last time, in fact.
I can’t say I have a plan really. That might be the only thing going for me and my ego here. But the park was close and I figured it wasn’t any lie to say I happened to be in the neighborhood, so long as she didn’t ask why.
Then again, so what if she did? I don’t have anything to be ashamed of. She’s an adult. So I am. That oughtta be the end of it.
I pull into one of the spots by the bandstand and get out of the car, leaning against the door for a minute while I do a quick search on my phone.
Just as I figured. Reynolds Jewelry closed at noon on Saturday. They were like banks in that way. Anybody with a regular job wasn’t ever going to find time to get in there. But then again, anybody with a regular job probably didn’t have enough money in the bank to need to be in a jewelry store either.
I figured my best bet would be to just be out for a stroll, and happen to pass by the place around the time they were closing up. I didn’t know the routine there, something I kicked myself for but also felt mildly reassured by. I hadn’t staked her, basically. That had to count for something.
Besides, walking around isn’t a bad thing. At least not if you aren’t intending to case the place. Which I could fairly say I wasn’t. Plus, who knows, maybe she’d be tied up, maybe they work late, like how folks at a restaurant don’t leave just because the place closes down. What a jeweler could possibly have to do for clean up or next day prep was beyond me, but I also didn’t know much outside of the station. Being a cop is just like any other job, for the most part. You go to work, mind your business, and interact with others only as much as you have to. That’s how I tried to handle it anyway. And assuming “others” means law-abiding folks.
And I know it sounds like I’m rambling, but the fact is, when I get keyed up, I get chatty. Not with other people, not even with other cops, just in my own head. I know it sounds stupid, but I found that the more I treated this like an op, the less nervous it made me feel. And before ops, I talk to myself. I let my mind wander some. Not too much, but just enough to make things feel normal, because no matter how an op goes down, the basic fact is, it’s never normal for anybody. All the things you aren’t supposed to do as regular people, we’re expected to do. You probably never kicked down a door in your life, but I can tell you the exact place to aim your heel to pull it off just from doing it so many times.
And so ya know, it’s easier than you’d think.
But I’m strolling around the park, kind of moseying about. The trails here are winding, so that helps me both to kill time and to keep a bit of an eye on the place to see if she ducks out early, though something tells me the ladies in there wouldn’t allow anything that wasn’t ship-shape.
A little before noon, I figure a grown man wandering around the park by himself is probably more suspicious than one walking down the sidewalk on his own, so I cut across about a block down from the store.
There’s never much going on in Arden, even when the college kids are in town. There just isn’t a whole lot for anybody to do anywhere. And at noon on a Saturday, you better believe the university kids we do have aren’t looking to bound out of bed. They’re either sleeping off the previous night or studying. At least that’s been my observation.
To be honest, I was always a little surprised nobody had taken advantage of our weekend lulls. Granted, I’d never say this out loud to anybody, but cops are just like everybody else when it comes to most things. You put us in a car on a warm day, nothing’s happening outside, and we aren’t really looking for much excitement either. You want a good chance of getting away with something in this town, Saturday just after noon would be the time I’d go for it.
You didn’t hear that from me though.
I’m about half a block away when I see her come out the front door. She doesn’t lock it behind her, which seems strange at first, but then the other lady, the saleswoman, comes out after her. I slow down some, not wanting to deal with the extra gal, and, if I’m being honest, not quite sure how I want to handle things with Megan. Like I said, it’s almost like an op. Everything makes sense and sounds easy when you’re sketching it out. In the moment though, you start to wonder.
One thing I hadn’t planned on was this woman. Another was what I see her hand to Megan. They’re all shapes and sizes, all kinds of colors, but given where they’re standing and the bulk of the object, it can only be one thing. The bank bag.
I’m a little thrown off. I figured jewelry stores got safes and besides, who’s gonna come in and pay cash for diamond earrings? Megan doesn’t look like she expected it either. The other gal is pointing down the road, giving directions I suppose, and I can see them talking, though I can’t hear what they’re saying yet.
I slow down a little more, lingering by a newspaper box like I’m looking at the headlines, all the while keeping one eye on Megan.
The other lady goes back in, leaving Megan with the burgundy cash bag, standing in the middle of the sidewalk and looking a little annoyed. Like I said a hundred times already, Arden isn’t much of a town, but I still wince a little to see how vulnerable she looks with a couple grand in cash and not the slightest thought of her surroundings.
I decide to head on down and see if she’d like me to walk with her. That’s a nice guy cop thing to do after all.
And it’s then I see the guy cut across the street. He’s not running, but he’s moving fast, the hood of his sweatshirt up, and sunglasses on.
He’s not running, but immediately, I am.
4
Megan
Of course, I ‘get’ to make the monthly deposit. In all fairness, I probably ought to learn how. If I’m going to keep working at the store, that is. But on Saturday? And by myself? It’s like they’re just begging me to screw something up. After the cop came in I figured they’d keep me on a short leash, but now here I am now standing on the sidewalk with a literal bag full of money. The only way it could be more ridiculous is if it was a white canvas with a giant dollar sign on the side.
Granted, it’s not like I had big plans for the day, but you know how you’re at work and you start counting the hours, and then the minutes, and then the seconds till you can just get out the door and put it behind you for a few days? This was just one more thing. And I swear Aunt Marla planned it just that way. Gotta keep letting me know she’s in charge and my free time doesn’t start until she decides it does. And even then…
I try to turn the monologue off. It’s a nice day. It’s a Saturday. And a little walking never hurt anybody. Plus, I can get some steps in and maybe take it easy on the elliptical since, if we’re being honest, that’s probably going to be the only Big Thing I do till Monday.
Unless homework counts.
I say walking never hurt anyone, but that’s right about the time I catch a shoulder from some wild man tearing down the sidewalk like he’s running from a bull.
