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The Caper
Ernie Beckett walks into the Briarwood Mall at exactly 8:27AM. The slapping of his loafers echo off the cavernous walls. He imagines his joints creaking as his arms swing back and forth in a counter-rhythm to his measured strides. He remembers the smooth, powerful hammering of his feet against the pavement as Old Man Sal chased him and his younger brother, the pilfered comics clutched in their hands as they easily outpaced him. Heart thumping in his chest, at a time when that thumping was cause for joy.
Ernie steadies his pace. The crowd is thin this morning, just a handful of seniors like himself, along with the working moms coming in to open the shops while the kids are off at school. His own wife stuck around just long enough to give him a child, then disappeared with the boy when Ernie got locked up for the third time. Nowadays, every bartender keeps a shotgun close at hand, and the professionals know the take isn’t worth the risk. His brother Conrad learned that lesson the hard way.
The clanking of the steel gates brings Ernie’s thoughts back to the job at hand. After his last heart attack, the doctor recommended light regular exercise. Wanda took him over to the mall and introduced him to her fellow Early Birds. After all the time Ernie had spent penned in, walking the yard just to feel like he was going somewhere, he had expected to hate it. Instead, it was strangely comforting, the morning routine. Walking in circles for hours, and wouldn’t you know it, he felt like he was going somewhere. By the time the stroke took Wanda, he’d already planned the caper.
“Good morning, sir,” The heavy-set woman smiles with practiced efficiency. “Is there anything I can help you find?” Ernie smiles back, a toothless, gummy grin that comes close to melting the smile off of her face. He nods, pretending not to hear. When he wanders away, she doesn’t follow. Walking past the glittering gold display of wristwatches, priced at $49.95 retail, he slips one into his pocket. As he heads toward the door, he looks over his shoulder and sees the clerk eyeing him suspiciously. His heartbeat quickens, and he feels alive again. She heads off, no doubt to summon a security guard, and he plays the odds of his making it out the door before the mall cop. Not that it matters. Worst comes to worst, and they’ll lecture him a bit, and threaten to call the real police. A few old tears will put a stop to that. He’ll be sent on his way, sternly warned not to come back, and he’ll move on to the next mall, or one of the big chain stores around town. In a couple of months they’ll forget his face, just like last time, and he’ll make another try for the door. Sometimes he makes it, sometimes he doesn’t. He thinks of Conrad and reaches for the handle.
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