Criminals Pt. 1

The house was the biggest one in the neighborhood therefore presumed to have the most valuables and cash to steal. I scanned for easy access points. The east facing window was in the shade right now and could block out tonight's full moon light. The window looked like a possible entry point but to see better, I'd have to use the roof.

It was after 9 am and the family had left for the day. I walked into their backyard and noticed a camera filming the pool. What good would that do?

I was easily able to avoid being filmed. It didn't take much more than a simple stroll to the deck. Once I'd climbed the stairs, I peeked inside the back door that had window paned glass. The place was empty.

The deck was new, so I presumed it was sturdy and well-constructed. That was a relief. I've had some bad experiences with faulty carpentry in the past. I'm still not sure if I'll ever get rid of those scars on my legs.

Once I was up on the deck railing, I avoided the gutter and climbed to the roof. I stayed low as I moved along the rooftop when I noticed a skylight not too far ahead. I crawled over to it and peeked inside. It was to a bedroom so that option was out.

I moved along the gray shingles perching upon the triangular roof. When I arrived at the east facing window, I leaned by body down, peeking at it. The frame was a modern extra tight plastic and metal window. If I could get down, there I'd be able to remove the beading and slip in but that was the challenge.

A ladder may be necessary for me to do this job, but I couldn't risk being seen simply because I was too short. Maybe I could get away with using something to climb up if the trees provided enough darkness. I had a few rope ladders at the hotel but where would I hang the ends from if I couldn't open the window?

As I was trying to figure out what dimensions the window had, I saw someone walking their dog down the street. Quickly, I flattened myself and went over the ridge facing the back yard. Having backed up, I was in the tree shadow. I peeked over to see where the person went. They were out of sight. I exhaled in relief and made my way off the roof to the deck.

When I rounded the corner intent on committing the window dimensions to memory, I noticed someone else walking around the neighborhood. This time, it wasn't a normal suburbanite. I got the sense that he was one of us.

From afar I watched him inspect the homes, wearing a pair of Dickies styled pants and a cotton mechanic's shirt. I tried to find the name patch, but it was too far away. It didn't make a difference what the tag said. What were the chances it had his real name anyway?

Continuing my less than subtle spy session, I crept along the well-trimmed hedges, holding the top with my gloves, my body bent over. He was doing well at appearing like a legitimate carpenter. I watched as he tripped over his tool bag. Good acting, buddy. 

Among me were beautifully landscaped yards with perfectly mowed grass. I can only imagine what kind of chiding someone would get if they let the grass get too tall. Instead of home owners fees, they had old-fashioned sarcasm and judgment.

Speedily, I removed my gloves and put them in my pocket. My pants had removable legs. I pulled the bottom part off turning them into shorts. I rolled and stuffed the bottoms into my small fanny pack. Whipping out my headset that doubled as my earbuds I walked from between the hedges and began to jog down the hill from the cul-de-sac.

I watched the "carpenter" going into his utility truck to get more tools. As I passed him by, he gave me a wave and then proceeded with confidence to the house beside the one I was casing. Just as I was getting upset about him trying to take this neighborhood, I saw a woman come out the front door. She pointed at the side of the house where a big chunk of wood missing. The man laid his ladder against the house and climbed up.

The job was getting to me apparently. Everyone was a suspect. As I jogged down toward the road where my bike was. Then I touched my earpiece to connect to Chase.

"They leave around 9 am each day but they don't always return at the same time. They're in bed by 10 pm."

"What did you say your name was?"

"You know my name."

"Say it."

"Vanilla Wafer." My breathing had picked up from the exertion. 

"Ha, ha!"

I sighed in annoyance. It was a dumb nickname to begin with and the story was boring. It came to be all because I was eating them on a flight back to the states from Central America. The stewards had run out of the generic ginger cookies they usually provide with the airline logo on them, so they were passing out alternatives.

We had used Shetland Air. It was out of character for us to travel on a commercial flight, especially with cases of expensive jewelry but we had no choice. Our personal pilot had to leave before we finished with our heist.

"You're wasting my time," I said to him.

"Fine. What was the report again?"

"I said nine."

"Okay, come home."

I got on my Yamaha motorcycle and took off from the dirt road. 

The place I'd cased was a suburban neighborhood. Most of the people were gone during the day while working. There was such a disparity between classes here. It was either upper-class or lower class. There wasn't much room in between and while rich people weren't bad for having money, they wouldn't mind losing some either, at least according to me.

The people I often chose to burglarize were folks who had committed criminal acts against humanity and gained profit from it. This place, while still in suburbia, was top of the line rich f*ck territory. The day before I heard one of the residents shouting racial slurs, so they deserved to lose money so that was strike two. It didn't take much for me to justify my actions.

I rode my bike staring at the sky through my black sun shaded helmet and visor It was going to storm soon. The clouds were rapidly turning from gray to nearly charcoal black. I'd have to hurry.

We were staying at a nearby hotel that was focused on its regularly rowdy, drunken, drug-addled patrons so we'd be ignored. I shifted up and raced to Two Notch Road. This was closer to the highway, and I could easily speed. I only had another mile to go.

The rain began just as I drove by the Sonic fast-food joint. It wasn't too far now. When I hit the next hill, I caught air and when I touched the road it was with a gentle glide. I'd been riding this bike for so long that I knew everything it liked.

Around the corner and to the left was the cheap motel where we were staying. I pulled in and drove right in front of our room number 150. I shut off the engine, slid off the bike, and unlocked the door with my keycard. When I saw Chase, he was in bed with another woman.