W hen I was about twelve, I found a wallet with a couple of bucks in it. That was it. Two bucks. The wallet was on a park bench and I figured it had probably worked its way out of some guy’s pocket. I didn’t bother to see who the wallet belonged to, I just slipped the two dollars out and put them in my pocket. My first heist.
I remember the situation because about twenty minutes later I went back to the bench to put the two dollars back. I had a bad guilt complex and decided I needed to return the stolen loot. The wallet was gone.
“I’ve got to get into the trailer. Hell, we stand here and talk all night and it’ll be morning before I get it done.” Daron pointed to the trailer/office. “I’m going to get some answers tonight.”
“You stole a dead guy’s money?” I thought the park bench incident was bad enough.
“Look, I didn’t say that. I’ll fill you in on all of the details later. Right now, are you two going to stand guard? All you’ve got to do is give me a signal if someone is coming.”
I wish I’d never asked the question.
Em shook it off. “What’s the signal?”
“Start a conversation. Just pretend that you guys can’t sleep, you’re out walking and you start talking – loud, so I can hear you.”
I looked at Em and she shrugged her shoulders. Kind of like, what the hell. We’re here, we may as well pitch in. Like she was game for anything. I was still thinking about Styles taking the money off of a dead man. And the fact that the Federal Bureau of Investigation was checking out my girlfriend.
Styles put his finger to his lips and walked softly to the trailer. He stepped up on the wooden landing and the wood creaked under his weight. We all froze for a second. Then Styles gently tried the door. The moon gave us just enough light so we could see him ease the door open.
A soft light spilled from the entranceway and I could see a dim lamp burning on what appeared to be a small wooden table. I watched Styles look both ways, then he turned to us, gave us a thumbs-up, and pulled the door behind him, leaving just a small opening. Hopefully enough of an opening that he could hear us if we had to start talking. Loudly.
Em took my hand and squeezed it. Then she let go and motioned to me. We walked several yards from the trailer.
“You get into the damnedest predicaments.”
“You were the one being followed by the FBI.”
“I hope your buddy finds out why.”
“Daron?” We were whispering, and my throat was getting raspy. You can’t whisper too long before it irritates the vocal chords.
“Yeah. Daron.”
“He’s not my buddy. He may be James’s buddy, but he’s not mine.”
She was quiet for a moment. “He took the money off of a dead guy? That’s sick.”
“It’s better than killing the guy.”
“I guess, but not by much.” Em looked up and down the grounds. “There’s no sign of anyone standing guard.”
“No. Remember, he said the trailer guard usually crashes on the couch. He’s probably asleep in there.”
“And if he wakes up and finds Daron working on their computer?”
I didn’t want to consider that.
“Styles will have to deal with it.”
“And, Skip. What was the deal with the shoes?”
“The shoes?”
“Daron brings me designer shoes and wants to know the value? What was that strange scene all about?”
“Oh, yeah. That’s another story.”
“You’re just full of stories, aren’t you? You and your friends.” She gave me an impish smile.
She was here because of me. I was here because of – probably James. And Daron was keeping the whole thing alive, with a bunch of stories that had a ring of truth to them. But with Styles, who knew?
“Tell me the story about the shoes. What’s he got? A foot fetish? Come on, I’ve got time. What else are we going to do?”
“Um, it’s not something you want to know about right now.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Don’t do this to me.”
“Em, I’ll tell you later.”
“Oh, I’ll probably figure it out anyway. But if he asks again -”
“Asks what?”
“The value.”
“Yeah?”
“The value of Loeffler Randall shoes.”
I’d never heard the name. But I wasn’t a student of feminine footwear. “Loeffler Randall shoes?”
“If he asks the value -”
“What?”
“About three hundred seventy-five dollars.”
“Wow.”
“They’re quality shoes. Think Sex and the City.”
Em cried when they cancelled Sex and the City.
“Okay, I’ll give him the price.”
“Maybe half that on eBay.”