The Heist Read online

  The Heist

  Carolyn LaRoche

  This is a work of fiction. All people, places and

  events are products of the author's imagination

  and are used in a story of fiction.

  None of the contents should be construed as real.

  Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations

  or persons, alive or deceased, is completely coincidental.

  The Heist

  Copyright 2017 Carolyn LaRoche

  Cover by: Allie Kincheloe

  Cover image: Shutterstock

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may

  be used or reproduced in any method, electronic

  or print without written permission,

  with exception of brief quotations

  for the purpose of reviews.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. In The Beginning

  2. The Birth of a Great Plan

  3. If Willie Could Do It, Why Couldn't We?

  4. I Love Lucy

  5. Measure Twice, Cut Once

  6. Just Like Willie

  7. Everybody Knows Joan

  8. Reflections

  9. Balancing Act

  10. An Unremarkable Series of Events

  11. A Round About Sort of Way

  12. Grudging Acceptance

  13. Bank of U.S

  14. It All Comes Together

  15. Cold Steel

  16. The Truth About Claire

  17. Moving Forward

  18. Damn Potassium. Who knew?

  19. I Don’t Wanna… and You Can't Make Me! (Insert Foot Stomp Here)

  20. Willie’s Angels

  21. The Final Countdown

  22. Be it Ever So Crumbled…There’s No Place Like Home

  23. Joan Again

  24. Sometimes You Just Never Know

  25. One For The Money

  26. After Shocks

  27. Cover Story

  28. Schizophrenic Behaviors

  29. The Most Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Worst Time Ever

  30. It’s Not Over Till the Brit Runs

  31. When Life Isn’t Fair

  32. Never, Ever Ask What Could Happen Next

  33. And Justice Was Served

  Other Books by Carolyn LaRoche

  1

  In The Beginning

  “Does this gun make me look fat?” Andy, my sweet husband, stepped into the kitchen where I sat, with a stack of bills and a desperately empty checkbook spread before me on the table.

  “Uh-huh,” I responded without looking up.

  “So, you’re saying it does?”

  “Does what?” No matter how many times I worked the numbers, there was no way we’d make the mortgage this month. Even with all the hours Andy had been putting in. Forget about the months we already owed.

  “Seriously, Susie, does this gun make me look fat?”

  I looked up at the man of my dreams standing in front of me in his undercover uniform of tee shirt and worn jeans with a serious expression.

  "Um…Andy, I don’t think a gun is going to make you look fat.”

  “Oh, good. So, you can’t see it?”

  “Well, now, I never said that.” I chose my next words very carefully. A delicate male ego hung in the balance alongside my sanity.

  “But you just said…”

  “I said the gun doesn’t make you look fat. You didn’t ask me if it was visible.”

  Andy exhaled, his blue eyes darkening with aggravation. “Fine. Can you see the gun?”

  “Yes.”

  “Damn it, Susie, then why didn’t you just say so?” He stomped away.

  "Because that wasn’t what you asked me!” I called after him, finally succumbing to the laughter I’d been choking on. I turned my attention back to the mess in front of me. Why did I even bother? Peter couldn't pay Paul this month, no matter how much I robbed from him.

  Andy made a bunch of noise out in the garage. When he slammed a cabinet door, I sighed and headed out there to talk to him. I was about to be late to the only job I had been able to secure since being “downsized” from my position in advertising two years earlier, but I had to make things right with the man I love before heading out to put my expensive Ivy League MBA to use slapping mayonnaise and cold cuts on rolls down at Sub Heaven.

  Andy had his back to me as I entered the garage. His shoulders were thrown back and the redness coloring his ears told me he held his breath as he sucked in his gut. “Just throw on a flannel and let it hang loose. That will hide the gun.”

  “Well, why didn’t you just say that?” Andy grunted as he exhaled in a loud huff. Pulling out one of the faded, worn shirts he kept for undercover work, he shrugged into the sleeves.

  I stepped over to him and straightened the collar before placing a kiss on his cheek. “Again, you didn’t ask. You buying drugs or picking up hookers today?”

  “Drugs. Did the hookers yesterday.” Andy turned sideways, threw his shoulders back and did his best angry look. “Do I look like a thug?”

  I smiled as I lightly pinched his cheeks. “Like a sweet, adorable thug.”

  “That’s not exactly the look I'm going for, Susie.” Andy batted my hands away and scowled but his blue eyes twinkled. He wrapped his strong arms around me and kissed the top of my head, just like he always did before he left for work.

  “Hmmm…Officer, is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

  “Why, that’s my really big gun, ma’am.”

  “I love a man with a big gun,” I whispered into his ear.

  “If you got a minute, I can take it out and show it to you.”

  “I wish I could, officer, but there are nine to fivers out there whose day would be ruined if I didn’t provide them with some fine cold cut cuisine.” When I pulled back from his embrace, Andy let me go but I didn’t miss the quick flash of disappointment in his eyes. It felt good that my husband still wanted me, even after twelve years of marriage and while I totally rocked green and black polyester.

  “Yeah, I gotta get downtown myself.”

  “Stay safe out there, honey. I love you.”

  “You know it, baby. Play your cards right and I’ll show you that gun later on tonight.”

  “Don’t make promises you won’t keep,” I called over my shoulder as I headed to the door.

  “Come on, Susie, you know I’m a sure thing!” he yelled back, making me smile. It was no joke. Andy could go at the drop of a hat. My friends have told me more than once that I’m a lucky woman. I've always agreed one hundred percent and for so many reasons.

  Joan Crawford stood in her yard eyeing me as I backed out of the driveway and headed toward work. No, not that Joan Crawford. The Joan of which I speak is the world’s nosiest neighbor. She absolutely couldn’t be happy unless she had her nose in everybody’s else’s business. The woman had more conspiracy theories about the neighborhood than there were about the U.S. government. I gave a little wave. She scowled in return. It took all my self-control not to let my middle finger do the talking as I rolled past her.

  The giant orange sign indicating my destination sat on the other side of the intersection as I contemplated what my life had become in the last two years. It only took about three minutes to get to work. I could probably walk but September in Virginia Beach still carried the promise of tropical storms and one was headed our way that afternoon. Not a good scenario for a stroll through the neighborhood.

  Justin, my boss, stood behind the register flirting with a couple of college girls. The city of Virginia Beach had chameleon-like tendencies. May through September, tourists and vacationers clogged the streets and filled the many shops down by the beach. Once summer ended though, the college
kids moved in, taking over the summer rentals and upping the alcohol consumption of the city.

  I tucked my hair in to my hat and started to wash my hands when I heard Justin call me. “Susie? Can I see you in the office for a minute?”

  “Yeah, sure.” I followed the pompous twenty-something millennial with the huge chip on his shoulder to the closet-sized space he treated like the freaking Taj Mahal and waited for him to invite me in. No one entered his domain without an invitation.

  “Come in. Sit.” He waved to a folding chair shoved up against the wall.

  “No, thanks. I’m good. What’s up?”

  “Well, as you know business has been slipping some.”

  I sat down. This wasn’t going to be good. “Yeah. But it always slumps a little when the summer crowd leaves town. It’ll pick back up.”

  Justin leaned forward in his seat, steepling his fingers under his chin. “You know that and I know that. Unfortunately, Corporate doesn’t get that connection. I’m sorry, Susie. I’m going to have to let you go.”

  “Let me go? Are you freaking serious?” I jumped to my feet again.

  Justin flinched. He held his hands up, blocking himself from my anger. “There’s no need to get nasty. I’m sorry. It’s business.”

  “Business doesn’t feed my kids or pay my mortgage.”

  “My hands are tied, Susie. Last in, first out. There’s nothing I can do.” He picked up a pen and started writing something on a notepad. “I’ll have your last check mailed to you.”

  It took a few seconds for it all to sink in. Justin made no eye contact, just kept scribbling on the pad. Finally, I left the office but not without a parting shot. “You’re a real ass, Justin.”

  “An ass with a job,” he mumbled.

  Ripping the stupid uniform hat from my head, I threw it at him and stormed out of the store. Mercy, the other sandwich maker, called after me but I ignored her. Let Justin deal with the moody, lazy girl.

  The car almost didn’t start when I turned the key, ruining my perfect tantrum. On the third try, the engine caught. “Son of a bitch!” I slapped the steering wheel with my palms as the tears rolled down my cheeks. Just when I thought karma had thrown everything at me that she possibly could, she just had to get one more laugh at my expense.

  I don’t really remember the moment of impact but I sure as heck remember the big rig barreling through the intersection straight toward my little car as I waited to turn on to Virginia Beach Boulevard.

  A constant beeping filled the dim room and made my head throb. The smell of disinfectant stung my nose, turning my already queasy stomach into tight knots. The sound of quiet snores cut through the dimness of the light.

  “Andy?” I whispered through dry lips.

  Sitting up, my husband swatted at the saliva hanging from his chin. The force of his movement sent him sliding sideways in the vinyl covered seat. “Susie! You’re awake!”

  “How’s the other guy? He come out of it all right?” I whispered again, trying and failing at humor. Andy’s clear blue eyes turned dark and stormy.

  “Yeah, he’s fine all right. A blood alcohol of .25. He was so out of it, he didn’t even know he hit you.”

  “So when can I get out of here?”

  Andy cleared his throat, his gaze not quite meeting mine. “Honey, you hit your head pretty hard. And, so much swelling. They—the doctors—weren’t sure you were ever actually going to wake up.”

  Ever going to wake up? “Andy? How long have I been asleep?”

  He cleared his throat, refusing to meet my eyes. “Twenty days.”

  Did he just say nearly three weeks? “That’s impossible.”

  “I’m sorry, baby.”

  “What about the boys?”

  “Relax, Susie, they are fine. Mom came to stay with us for a while to help out.”

  “What about your job?”

  Andy interrupted with a slight squeeze of my hand. “I have been going to work. The captain’s been very understanding. You’re more important than the police department, baby.”

  My head throbbed as memories of the last minutes before the accident came flooding back. Justin’s smug look, Mercy’s surprise. “My job—” How the hell did I tell Andy I’d been fired?

  “It was beneath you anyway.”

  Oh, the tears that came then. Gushing sobs. Niagara Falls had nothing on me. We were through. Done. No job, no more staying barely afloat.

  I could see the struggle in Andy’s eyes. When he spoke, he used his cop voice. The one he only pulled out when he meant business.

  “Susie. Honey—you should relax. Getting upset is only going to hurt you. Don’t worry, we’ll manage. We always do. There’s our car insurance and I’m sure the other guy’s policy will pay out for your injuries.”

  His attempt at confidence fell way short. We were so screwed. And now, with medical bills on top of everything else, nothing short of a miracle could save us from financial ruin.

  “Andy? What about the car?”

  “Don’t worry about the car, Susie.”

  Andy leaned forward in the stiff, uncomfortable hospital chair and picked up my hand again. How many days he had spent sleeping in that ridiculous chair and then going off to work?

  “How can I not?”

  “It’s all going to be fine, Susie. Don’t you worry about a thing. Just concentrate on getting better so you can come home to us. I have to go to work now.” He leaned in and kissed me lightly on the lips. “I will let the nurses know you are awake and I will be back in the morning. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” With closed eyes, I listened as my husband left the room.

  It didn’t matter how convincing Andy tried to be, I knew exactly where things stood. We were so completely screwed, and not in the good way. Nope. This was bad. Really, really bad.

  2

  The Birth of a Great Plan

  Complete with a traumatic head injury and a destroyed morale, I signed out of the hospital two days later. Thank God we still had medical insurance, despite the fact that the co-pays alone were going to bankrupt us.

  My spirit had finally broken. Crushed into a million pieces.

  Time to start picking out a refrigerator box to live in. We were basically one collection call away from being homeless.

  Even my boys, A.J. and Sammy weren’t enough to bring me out of it. The time in the hospital had given me plenty of time to think about how I had let my boys down as their mother. So, I spent my days in bed watching I Love Lucy reruns on PBS because it didn’t require cable and wallowing in the best damned pity party anyone had ever had.

  The boys moved around the house in the mornings as quiet as church mice under the steady admonition of Grandma. I was perfectly able to get up out of bed and see my children off to school. Instead, I stayed in bed, pretending to sleep until they were both safely off to their respective teachers for the day. Showers became a thing of the past. Who needed to waste the water anyway? Dirty hair hung in stringy clumps around my shoulders as I lay dressed in rumpled clothes that even I knew smelled bad and I didn’t care one iota about any of it. Andy had even started sleeping in the family room, telling me he wanted to make sure I slept well while I healed.

  Bullshit. He just didn’t want to smell me. And I couldn’t care less.

  Rock bottom came on the day my mother in law passed by the couch and dropped a stack of bills in my lap, holding her nose when she got too close. After the tears finally dried up, I curled into the fetal position under the dank comforter in my bed and stared up at the ceiling. At some point, the boys came home from school but I made no move to go see them. Shadows formed on the walls as the sun sunk low on the horizon, taunting me with evil images of the fresh hell I now lived in.

  The sun had set long before I heard Andy pull up in front of the house. Footsteps sounded quietly in the hallway outside my room. Yanking the covers up over my head, I held my breath, feigning sleep as Andy and his mother whispered on the other side of the door. Th
e last thing I heard Andy say before he walked away from the door was, “Just leave her alone, Ma. She’ll come out of it eventually.”

  I did my damnedest not to “come out of it”, remaining locked in my room for days after that. And then one morning the doorbell rang.

  “Hello, Mrs. Timmons!” I heard the distinctive sing-song voice of my friend Becca Hansen greeting Andy’s mom at the front door. I groaned. Cheerful as a morning dove, Becca was the absolute last person I wanted to see. If Mother Timmons had a brain in her head she would tell her to just go away. The slam of the door and the silence that followed gave me some hope. I slowly eased my head out from under the pillow and instantly regretted it.

  My three closest friends were standing at the side of the bed peering down at me.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Becca had her nose pinched closed with her thumb and forefinger. “I think we waited too long, girls.”

  “So, leave.”

  “Oh, hell no.” Becca stepped over and opened the window by the bed letting in a blast of cool air. She then turned and whipped the heavy comforter off me. I rolled over, turning my back to Becca and the others. “Go away.”

  “Nope. Help me out here, ladies.” Becca swiped at the pillow I hugged close.

  “Come on, love. You must get up and meet the world again.” Claire Mitchell, my prim and proper, English born friend spoke, her accent thick and sweet as always.

  Laura Jonas, my oldest and closest friend, stood by the bed with her hands behind her back. “Susie Timmons, I’m warning you, you better get up right now. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”