10.10.2008
"Crying Wolf" by Kimberley Brown
Willis Pickney stood in the back of his new store, Pickney Pawn and Fine Jewelry, tapping his foot and looking at his watch. Twenty minutes! His silent store alarm had gone off twenty minutes ago, and the police still hadn't arrived. Up front, Frieda Harris, his only employee, waited on a young male customer. Another loser pawning his wedding ring or his wife's family heirlooms, Willis thought derisively. Just a week in this business and he was already sick of it. Finally, a blue-and-white squad car pulled to the curb, lights flashing. A uniformed police officer rushed in, bringing with him a blast of frosty winter air. Willis pasted a surprised look on his face. "Don't tell me the alarm went off again! That's the third time this week." The officer sighed and holstered his gun. "Yep. Another false alarm?" Willis shrugged. "Apparently. When I first got the system, I thought we might accidentally set it off. But I didn't expect anything like this!" The officer frowned and made a note on his pad. "Sometimes you have to work the bugs out, I guess. I've never seen one like this, though. I suggest you have it checked for a short circuit right away." The young officer was polite, but his tone was unmistakable--he wasn't happy with Willis and his false alarms. After Willis walked the policeman to the door, he went to the counter. Frieda gawked. "It wasn't my fault, Mr. Pickney. I didn't go anywhere near that button." Willis looked at Frieda thoughtfully. He knew she hadn't touched the alarm, because he himself had gently tapped the foot switch while Frieda was busy with the customer. The system was designed specifically for high-risk businesses like pawnshops. Rather than ringing an audible alarm, which might frighten a nervous armed robber, when a person behind the counter stepped on a special button, an alarm rang straight into the police station. At night, when it was armed, there was a motion detector in the rear of the store which would also set off the alarm, and the windows were rigged to ring it if they got broken. It was a good system, and perfect for Willis' plan. "However it happened," he said, "we must be more careful. The police are going to get tired of coming out here, and if we really need them, we'll regret it." At that moment, Esther Pickney walked into the store, carrying a huge balloon bouquet. "Good Luck!" and "Best Wishes!" the cheerful balloons proclaimed. She set them on the counter and kissed Willis' cheek with her withered lips. He shuddered to himself. "I just came to wish you a happy grand opening, dear! Good morning, Miss Harris," she said crisply to Frieda. "I hope you're enjoying your job." Frieda nodded then busied herself behind the counter. Willis could tell Esther intimidated her. Well, he wasn't intimidated by his elderly aunt--money or no money! With a look at Frieda, Esther pulled Willis aside. "Willis, dear," she said, her voice low and confidential. "You know I was happy to loan you the money to buy this shop." A mist of tears came to the old lady's eyes. "You're my only nephew--my only relative, really, since I disinherited your cousin Franklin after he went to prison. I want you to succeed." She squeezed his arm to emphasize her point. Willis nodded. These were his dues for taking her money. He'd have to listen to her gloat about it. For a while, anyway. Hopefully a very short while. "But, after what happened last time..." Esther said. Willis pulled away from her and fixed a hurt look on his face. "I don't gamble anymore, Auntie," he whispered fiercely. He was aware of Frieda's curious eyes on them. "I told you that." She patted his arm. "I know, dear. I just worry about you. I want this business to be a success. I'm afraid it'll be your last chance." Willis stared at her. "What do you mean, 'last chance?'" "I just mean I won't loan you any more, if this fails. I hate to do it, but I must be honest with you," she said firmly. "Don't worry about me," Willis hissed through gritted teeth. "I intend to be a very wealthy man, you'll see!" Several hours after closing, Willis entered the back alley-door of the store and quickly keyed in the code on the wall panel to disarm the alarm. The store was dimly lit with security lights--just enough for him to see what he was doing. He went to the jewelry counter up front and briefly admired the shining gold and silver. Some of it was junk, true, but there were some good pieces. Fortunately, he'd bought the shop from its previous owner fully stocked. He had a key, of course, but this had to look like a real robbery, so he used a small hammer to break the glass. He swept the gold and silver jewelry into the pillowcase he carried, then moved to the next cabinet. The balloons Esther had brought that morning caught his eye on the counter above the jewelry cases. In a sudden fury, he hit the bouquet with his fist, knocking the balloons across the room. The little sandbag weight hit the wall and burst, spewing sand on to the clean carpet. The balloons floated to the ceiling, mocking him with their cheeriness. Old biddy! It was all her fault! She was almost 75--if she'd go ahead and give him his inheritance instead of doling it out a little at a time, he wouldn't be in this position! After he collected the insurance on this 'robbery', then sold the stolen goods, he would have to consider hurrying his inheritance up, too. Spurred by his anger, he quickly threw the rest of the jewelry into his sack. He moved to the firearm cabinet, broke the glass with relish, and took the smaller guns he knew he could sell quickly. Maybe he'd save one, though, to take care of dear Aunt Esther. Satisfied, he hefted the full pillowcase and grinned. A nice night's work. Much better than standing behind a store counter for the rest of his life, handing out pittances to losers for their sorry possessions, knowing they'd never come back to retrieve them. Now, for the next part of his plan. He went to the back door and keyed in the code to arm the alarm, then let himself out and locked the door. Leaving the pillowcase beside the door, he looked around for a brick or rock. He would throw the brick through the front window, reach in to unlock the door, then take off down the alley to his apartment. The police would be slow in arriving--they might not take twenty minutes like this morning, but they'd be much slower than normal. When they did arrive and saw the place ransacked, they'd think the thief had gotten away in the time they took getting there. The cops'd blame themselves for being so slow! Willis chuckled. After all this was over, he might consider suing the city because of their slow response. At the end of the alley, a car passed by on the main road. Willis drew himself against the brick wall of the building and waited. Better to be safe than sorry-- he had plenty of time. He let ten full minutes pass and when no other cars went by, he took a deep breath of frigid air. Let the fun begin! He trotted across the alley to pick up a broken piece of brick that he'd spotted earlier. Perfect! With a quick glance up and down the alley, Willis ran around the building to the storefront. No cars were on the street near the store. Cocking his arm back, he threw the brick through a window, then reached in to unlock the door. He pushed it open, then ran back around the building to the alley, imagining the alarm going off in the police station. He could picture the cop on duty at the desk heaving a sigh when he saw that it came from Pickney Pawn. Willis picked up the sack of loot then turned to run down the alley. As he neared the main road, a police car, lights flashing, blocked his way. How had they gotten here so fast? Frantically, he ran the other way, only to see another set of flashing lights. Willis briefly considered running back into the shop and pretending to be an innocent victim, but as the police came toward him, guns drawn, he knew he was caught. Willis stood with his hands handcuffed behind his back, the incriminating pillowcase at his feet. He glared at the cop. "How did you guys get here so fast?" he demanded. "The alarm's only been going for a few minutes." The cop shook his head. "Son, that alarm's been ringing at the station for almost twenty minutes." "Yep," another cop said. He made a vague motion to the store he had just quickly searched. "Those balloons'll do it every time." "What do you mean?" Willis demanded. "Soon as you set the alarm, those swaying balloons set off the motion detector. I can't tell you how many office buildings we've gone to in the middle of the night because of those things." Willis grimaced. Esther and her stupid balloons! It was all her fault!
"Crying Wolf" by Kimberley Brown
Twist #290 - October 2008
Originally appeared Jan. 1999
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