To Catch A Thief

It Started With Two Homes on Hopper Avenue...

A house—a red one that was terribly cookie cutter like the rest of the houses on Hopper Avenue—that’s what Marie (at least that’s what her name would be in this town; three months ago she had been Briana) thought when they pulled in the driveway. And then once she got into her new bedroom, the only addition she made to that opinion was the fact that the wind made the faded yellow shutters clatter against her windows. It made the most annoying tapping sound; she’d come accustomed to ramshackle dwellings her mother acquired for them.

Then again, it was only a rental.

She didn’t even notice her mother staring across the street at the other house—that was normal. She’d be staking out their next target. There were boxes there, too, and a moving van left the street just as they turned onto it.

“Someone else is moving in, Mom,” Marie said. Her mother only hummed under her breath tunelessly. “Boxes are easier to take. They probably wouldn’t notice if things went missing, and by then we’d be long gone—”

Her mother’s humming grew louder until it was clear, to Marie at least, that Ana didn’t care to hear what her daughter was saying.

She pulled into the short driveway and spun around, looking for their moving van. But she didn’t expect it to be there for a while; although, it wasn’t like they had much to move in. Ana hit about 80 mph once they got out of their last home’s city limits, in a rush for no apparent reason. They hadn’t even been on a job there; there were no ongoing investigations to skate around.

“Isn’t that the house you wanted at first—why’d you change your mind,” she asked. Ana raked a hand through her spiky blonde hair and glanced at the house again. She shook her head—not an answer to the question, but she heard her, at least.

“I met the couple who was interested in that house, too. They’re newlyweds; you should have seen the rock. I expect they’ll have plenty of wedding gifts and maybe some silver,” she glanced to the left, around the hedges on the left side of the house, at the slightly dented Lexus parked in their new neighbor’s driveway. “You’ll have to check them out, tomorrow. I’ll bake something.”

The house only had three bedrooms, one downstairs that Ana wanted for an office—for what, Marie would never know, since she didn’t and had never worked a day in her life—and two more upstairs. Marie took the largest and dropped her meager bags on the floor. The previous owners left the bed and she sat back on the bare mattress, waiting.

Soon the movers would be there, but Marie wished she could sleep straight through it. They’d moved again and she hardly noticed the change of scenery.

Ana was, as she promised, baking the next day—pies. She left early in the morning for ingredients and by the time Marie woke up and unpacked her things, Ana wanted her to drop the apple pie across the street.

“Shouldn’t we wait until they’ve settled in? It might look suspicious,” Marie asked, with the still warm apple pie in her hand, equipped with the knowledge that if the couple didn’t like apple, Ana could make almost anything else. Marie had always thought her mother’s criminal lifestyle combined love of baking was kind of oxymoronic.

When Marie got back with a huge smile plastered to her face, Ana knew things had gone well. “They invited me in for a piece. There’s only one issue; the only thing they have unpacked—why the woman, Jane Allen’s her name, told me this, I can’t fathom—is the silverware. Sterling flatware from Tiffany’s; I think the box is antique, too.”

Marie skipped to the staircase. Maybe this could be the last time; maybe they had enough in savings to move again, a new town where Marie could finally attend high school instead homeschooling. Mostly they could forget about their life of thievery for the next ten months.

Marie stopped with her hand on the banister to call out to her mother, “Oh, and I’m guessing she has gobs of jewelry. Do you believe I saw this box, marked ‘irreplaceables’, sitting right in the doorway?”

And when Marie was getting ready for bed that night, Ana popped her head in the doorway. “You know, sometimes I think you’re better at this life than me. I guess it’s all you know…Before the next job, maybe we’ll take that Hawaiian vacation.”

Five Weeks Later…

“I guess that’s how we met the Allen’s,” Marie grinned faintly, curling her fingers around the steel table. There were little splatters of water around the cup they brought her earlier. That’s from when she slammed her palms down on the table, demanding to see her mom. “Jane was still sweet to the end, even when she caught me stuffing her silver into the duffle bag.”

Detective Daniels ignored Marie’s last comment and glanced down at the manila folder in front of him. “Yes, we did find two tickets Maui in your mother’s things. But, Marie, you’re saying that your mother picked the Allen’s; facilitated a way for you to get in their house; and that you’ve done this before?”

“I’d really like to see my mother,” Marie repeated calmly, after a snort. Antique silver—silverware and tea sets—along with the occasional mint they could make on jewelry, were Marie’s life. It had been since…not since, just always.

What Marie needed right now was the plan. How did her mother plan on getting out of this mess? Wasn’t she granted a phone call, or at least some kind of connection to the outside world? All these questions were starting to piss her off.

She didn’t like where this Daniel’s guy was leading her; like they were trying to make a case against her mom or something. Marie wasn’t a child. Ana was her mother, but she still knew right from wrong. She knew she shouldn’t steal from the Allen’s—and countless others—but people broke laws. That’s just what happens when you set limits.

“You’re not a minor, Marie—I mean, Christine. And the truth of the matter is that your mother is obviously your only influence. We have can’t records of you—both your real name and the other made up ones—anywhere.” Detective Daniels tugged at his black hair, shot through with silver at his temples. His previously steely gray eyes looked down at Marie with what she could only gage as pity. “So, Christine, if you don’t testify against your mother, the Allen’s will be pressing charges against both of you.”

Marie’s back stiffened and she sat up from her shrunken posture. She should have known that too sweet couple would be out for blood; just not hers. She shook her head back and forth as the Detective continued. “The Allen’s think you’re a sweet girl; they’ve even offered to take you in. But since you’re eighteen, foster care is unavailable. Without your mother’s influence, you could probably finish high school here and—”

“As the thief, the girl whose mother was on trial for robbery,” she shot back, interrupting him. Marie shot up from her chair and the rickety metal thing skidded across the floor. “Did you think it would be that easy to turn me against my mother? The Allen’s know nothing about me! They only know who I pretended to be so I could steal their things. I’m the criminal; I went in their house and stuffed their silver in my bag!”

Detective Daniel’s rose, as if he thought she’d employ violence against him, held up his hands in defeat, and backed out of the room. The lady Detective came in, with those ridiculous handcuffs she’d have to put on, again.

It felt like they were scraping her skin off, piece by piece. She nudged her out of the room and Marie tried her hardest to rip free when she saw her mother standing across the hallway, looking up at Detective Daniels. They weren’t even bothering to lower their voices.

“Yes, Detective,” Ana said and when she placed her palm on Daniels’ chest, he looked uncomfortable but not displeased. “I’ll do whatever I can to help with the investigation. Marie’s a compelling child, I’m sure you can see. Her stories are very convincing. She needs all the help you can provide.”

Just as Ana finished, she turned her head slightly to the side and smiled sadly at her daughter. Still struggling with her captor and the handcuffs, she watched Ana walk back down the dim hall.

There was no wink, nor signal to Marie; nothing to let her know that everything would be alright. Her mother had left her. And, sadly, Marie knew it was probably all for the sake of the next job.

A/N: Very short one-shot I did for an assignment in my creative writing class. Hope you like it!