String of Thieves: A Sequel to Company of Thieves.

By Gil Roscoe

Con artist Warren Allison is on the run. He has only a suitcase and a satchel full of money when a hastily arranged ride drops him off at the North Rim of the Grand Canyon. When he learns that this place is one of the most isolated spots in the continental United States, he decides it would be the perfect place to hide out for the summer. He gets a job at the lodge and is very confident that none of his pursuers will be able to track him down as long as he stays on the North Rim
Warren got very lucky recently when he managed to steal some valuable coins in New Zealand. But now, it's time for his enemies to get lucky.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483527505

Book preview

9781483527505

ONE

My apartment looks out over a row of houses built in the nineteen-fifties. They are weather worn, but neat and I like to look at them as I sip my morning tea. In the snow, with the sun peeking over the horizon, they seem pure and safe.

I was doing this one Sunday morning when I saw a man taping a key to the underside of his back porch steps. He fished the key out of his pocket and then placed it in the middle of several crisscrossed pieces of duct tape. I watched him press the tape under one of the steps with his open hand. He must have rubbed back and forth across the tape at least a dozen times. It was very early and I guess he figured no one would be awake to see him do it.

I was up because my stomach couldn’t make the adjustment to sleeping normal. I was beginning to fear that last year’s six month stint on graveyard shift had changed my sleeping patterns forever. I could no longer sleep in. Everyday at five-thirty, up I’d pop and there was no going back to sleep. When I worked from midnight until eight I always volunteered for the late lunch. I liked having only two hours to go when I got back. The phone company had a pretty good cafeteria and I would eat a big meal everyday at five-thirty in the morning. Now, that’s when I wake up because my stomach thinks it’s time to eat. We believe our brains control everything, but I’m beginning to wonder if the digestive system isn’t a kind of shadow government.

Breaking and entering is not my kind of thing. I like to be invited in and then see what’s worth taking. Sneaking into houses always has a chance of violence attached to it. Still, this key thing was hard to resist. How could I not find my way over there some night? Wednesday night to be specific. He went out every Wednesday night. Sometimes a woman wearing a cowboy hat would come and fetch him. He always got home just after eleven. I never saw a dog and I knew he lived alone. There was always the danger of an alarm system, but this guy didn’t seem like the alarm system type.

I waited three weeks to confirm the pattern. Sure enough, at a quarter to eight every Wednesday his shiny boots went down that sidewalk. He’d either jump into his own car or the lady in the cowboy hat would knock on the door. His lack of a doorbell helped confirm my theory about the presence of an alarm system. There was no moon on the fourth Wednesday, so I dropped in for a visit.

As if to prove I’m not the breaking and entering type, I only took his box of Cling Free dryer sheets. I like to throw a lot of those into the clothes dryer. The box bragged about a wonderful baking soda scent, which I found very appealing. When I got done looking around that was all I wanted. It was something I could use and he’d probably just think he misplaced the box. I doubted he’d be calling the police.

What got me about this man was his devotion to this one bar. He had posters announcing the various bands hanging all over the place. They weren’t just thumb tacked to the wall, either. They all had glass coverings and metal frames. He even had a neon sign that spelled out the name of the place. The Pioneer it was called. He used the sign as a nightlight and it gave off a deep blue glow. I’d seen the bar on my way to the college, but now I wanted to stop in. I wanted to see what kind of place could inspire such a loyal follower.

I used eight Cling Free sheets when I dried my clothes the next Saturday afternoon. It may sound odd, but I love smelling like baking soda. There’s something fresh and healthy about it. Plus, the smell of baking soda registers as clean to other people. That’s a good thing to have going for you. People are more likely to trust you if you smell clean.

What really came of my breaking and entering was that I went to The Pioneer on Saturday night. I put on my fresh smelling shirt and headed out the door at nine o’clock. It was just the curiosity factor, but I also believe in playing things out. One event leads to another and who knows what profits might appear along the way. That’s what happened this time, but not in a way I could’ve ever imagined. My going to this bar resulted in my being offered an unusual job. A job I decided to take. I didn’t need the work. I still had twenty thousand in the bank and four of the Old Globe Sovereigns from my New Zealand adventure. I’d lived very nicely on the returns from the first coin, but cashing in a second one was going to be a problem. I’d have to do it far from Calgary so certain angry people wouldn’t be able to figure out where I lived. Having a job postponed that need. Plus, I didn’t want to leave Calgary. I’d only just arrived and I liked the place. The other thing about this job was that I had to get up early to do it. It fit in perfectly with my lifestyle and my two classes.

The Pioneer had a tie obsession. Or at least the owner did. There were ties hanging all over the place. The general idea was that if you walked in wearing a tie it got cut off and hung from the rafters. I decided to wear a tie the next time I came in just to see how they handled it. There was no tie cutting on the night I went. Just a lot of blue jeans and flannel. The Cling Free guy was there and so was his girlfriend. When I saw them they were dancing in what looked like a large human doughnut. Everyone on the floor was moving in a counter-clockwise circle. There was an empty spot in the middle of the floor that contained only one couple. They were dancing so slow it hardly looked like they were moving. Mr. Cling Free and I made eye contact. He smiled and even gave me a little wave. Apparently, I’m not the only one who keeps tabs on the neighborhood. I waved back and then moved away from the dance floor. I bought a rather expensive glass of beer and shuffled off into a corner to drink it. I liked the music. The man on the steel guitar could really make that thing sound sweet. A lot of women seemed to be walking near me. My vanity suggested that some of them had come over to check out the new guy. Unfortunately, my vanity was wrong as usual. I was standing in front of the bathroom. One heavy-set woman knocked into me as she barreled toward the bathroom door.

Now there’s a woman who has to go, I said to myself as she banged the door open.

I only had time for one sip of beer before this same energetic woman burst back out the door. She marched over and looked me right in the eye. She was mad about something.

Is that your girlfriend in there? she asked angrily.

Recently, I’d started developing an interest in astronomy. I’d always been much more interested in bugs before. Entomology was meant to be my course of study. Other science credits were needed, and the astronomy class was right after entomology, so I signed up for it. Now I was confused because I found the astronomy class fascinating. I liked the stars way more than I liked the bugs. One of the things I’d learned was that astronomers had a String Theory. I can’t say I understand it yet, but I liked it because I have a theory with the same name. Mine is simple and easy to understand. Interesting things happen when you follow the string.

Yes, I said. She probably is my girlfriend. Is she wearing blue jeans?

Yeah, and lying in a puddle of her own puke, the woman said with disgust.

Oh, I said. I didn’t think she was that drunk.

I think this is pills. She’s out cold and mumbling some really crazy stuff at the same time.

Yup, I said. That’s my Betty.

Guess who has to clean up Betty’s puke? she asked.

Sorry, I said with a helpless shrug.

All right, she said firmly. This is what we’re going to do. I’m going in there and clear the place out. When I come to the door again you come in and get her. Carry her out the side door, not past the bar.

Got it, I said. I felt like saluting.

As I waited I hoped that my Betty had been watching her weight. Soon three women came out of the bathroom in a bunch. The unhappy bar employee appeared right behind them and pointed at me. I hustled into the bathroom and rescued a thankfully small woman with long black hair. I couldn’t help but notice that her rich dark hair went very well with the blue tiled floor. I got her up and managed to wipe some of the puke off her jeans with a paper towel. I then lifted her, bride across the threshold style, and out we went.

Tell her she’s banned for six months, the burly woman shouted as I went by.

I carried her out to my car because I didn’t know what else to do with her. As I was carrying her I was reminded of my recent experiences with a woman drunk in New Zealand. That sad case had led to a lot of money for me.

You play the teacher and I’ll play the retarded girl, she kept mumbling. Every time she said it she would laugh.

She had a small purse looped over her shoulder, so after I got her into the car I opened it and took out her wallet. Her address was on some street I’d never heard of. I looked it up on my map and saw that it was clear on the other side of the city. I decided it was too far to go.

Despite her invitation to play the nasty teacher, I wasn’t planning on taking advantage of the situation. Guys who have sex with passed out women are pretty sad cases. For me, being invited is the whole point. What I wanted to do was flop her down on my couch, cover her with a blanket and then see what happened when she woke up in the morning. I couldn’t wait to sit there with my cup of tea and watch her react to the situation. That would be fun enough for me.

The next morning at five-thirty, I peeked out my bedroom door and saw an empty couch. I felt robbed of the pleasure of her confusion and muttered a curse at the blanket she had so neatly folded. I searched for a note, but found nothing. I was in a sour mood for the rest of the day because of my loss of entertainment.

Three nights later, as I was reading a chapter on the Milky Way, there was a knock on my door. It was a very timid, soft knocking and I instantly knew it was her. The knock itself suggested embarrassment. I opened the door and there she stood. She looked a lot better and she held a wrapped package.

I bought this for you, she said as she placed the gift in my hand. I saw your books on astronomy.

I’m taking a course, I said as I motioned her into the room.

I’m Adele Curon, she said as she sat on her sleeping couch.

Warren Allison, I said as I joined her.

She reached out with her hand, so we shook and then settled into our corners.

Cup of tea? I asked

No thanks, she said. Please, open it.

It was a book on the solar system. Each planet had its own chapter. The photographs were beautiful and I thanked her for the gift.

It’s the least I can do, she said sheepishly. I could tell you didn’t take advantage. Some guys would have.

Only the creeps, I said.

Still, you did me a great favor. You took care of me and you didn’t even know me.

I was standing by the door to the bathroom. They thought I was waiting for you.

I see, she said.

I couldn’t just leave you lying there.

I had a toothache and my friend gave me these pain pills. I took two and I probably should have only taken one. Then I had three whiskey sours.

You’re not supposed to drink when you take those, I said.

I wasn’t thinking straight. I’m so little that one pill and no drinks would have been just fine. I was in a lot of pain, so I wanted to make sure.

How’s your toothache now? I asked.

I got it taken care of on Monday. I’m so relieved. I swear, there’s nothing worse than mouth pain.

You’ve never been kicked in the balls, I said with a big smile.

She gave me a questioning look and then started laughing. I couldn’t help but join in.

Anyway, she said when she stopped. I’m moving back home to Montreal in a week and I didn’t want to go without thanking you.

Montreal, I said as I nodded. What brought you out here?

Oh, a man. A very strange man. I thought he loved me, but I was just a fling. That’s what he ended up calling me.

Sorry to hear that.

So was I, she said as she got up.

Good luck in Montreal, I said as I stood.

She walked over and put her hand on the doorknob. She then turned and looked at me. I could tell she was trying to decide if she should say something else.

Do you have a job? she asked.

I’m a part time student, I said.

This is a part time job. From six in the morning until noon. I’m quitting suddenly and they’re not too happy about it. There’s a big fight in five weeks and they need all the help they can get.

Fight? I asked.

Boxing, she said. I work in boxing.

TWO

Instead of getting up early and spying on the neighbors, I began meeting Adele at six AM in her office. She worked on the top floor of an eight story building on the west side of town. If I passed muster, I would inherit her office and the lovely view of the mountains. Her boss, a slow moving fellow named Brad, questioned me for half an hour the first day. He tried to sound demanding and severe, but I wasn’t buying it. Adele told me not to worry about him. She said he was very happy to give up the work of finding her replacement. I noticed Brad seemed happiest when reading his newspapers.

Adele set about showing me the ropes. On the fourth day, she left early to deal with the movers and I slid right into her chair without a problem. It seemed more than appropriate for a veteran con man like me to get a toehold in the world of boxing. There was bound to be mischief sooner or later.

I’d heard of pay-per-view, but didn’t know much about its inner workings. I had once contributed five bucks so several of us could watch a heavyweight bout. That was the extent of my experience with it. Now, I was the guy selling the event and arranging for the cable companies to carry it. I’ve never liked being a salesman. I was ready to bail on the whole thing when I realized that’s what I’d be doing. I quickly discovered that sales are actually fun when everyone wants what you’re selling. Every cable company I called wanted to carry this match and some were even a little anxious that we hadn’t called earlier. I arranged for them to receive the satellite feed and made percentage deals according to how many commercials and newspaper ads they were willing to run. I sent them videotape and pre-printed newspaper ads. Against the office wall were boxes loaded with tee shirts, posters and even key chains with tiny boxing gloves attached to them. I mailed all that stuff out to the cable companies to help them promote the fight.

It wasn’t a hard job. It did require a huge amount of organization and record keeping, but once I understood Adele’s system, everything fell into place. I soon discovered that a lot of the marketing managers at the cable companies were women. I guess they were used to abrupt and unfriendly calls from their program providers. I took my time, flirted a little and did my best to make them laugh. There was one woman in Virginia that sounded downright seductive. I called her a lot.

The reason I started early was because my territory was the eastern United States. I started calling at eight their time and kept it up for four hours. During the last two hours, I mailed out various supplies and caught up with my paper work. The job was something new and interesting. The time flew by and the pay was better than I expected. Each day when I was done I would head off for my two afternoon classes. I suddenly had a very full life.

The boxing match I was working on was between the current heavyweight champ and a guy named Razor Ruppert. Early on I got the feeling Razor didn’t have a chance. Everybody at the office joked about how fast the fight might be over. Brad was constantly muttering his hope that it would go at least three rounds. Otherwise, we’d be flooded with complaints. I put one of the posters up on the wall and I have to say that the champ looked like one mean son of a bitch. Razor was an odd name for the other guy. He looked big and slightly flabby. Razor tried to appear menacing in the picture, but it really didn’t come off. The word around the office was that the champ wasn’t so much fighting Razor as avoiding some other guy named Brothers who might actually challenge him. I checked the sports pages for the odds and Razor was the underdog at 12 to 1. I’d never seen those kinds of odds before. It looked like a lot of people were going to pay $39.95 to watch a massacre.

I find attractive women that are about to leave town very appealing. Adele was just five feet tall and we looked a little strange together, but I found myself wondering if she might like to have some fun on her last weekend in Calgary. We took a coffee break together each morning and it didn’t take much prodding to get her to talk about herself. When she talked about her failed romance I got the feeling there was something weird about it. Something kinky. Adele wore more leather than most women. Tall leather boots, leather vests, and one day this leather choker around her neck. She wasn’t very responsive to my little flirtations, so I gave up on the idea of a farewell romp. Then she surprised me and invited me to a party on her last night in town. Adele warned me that her ex-boyfriend might be there. I’m sure I got invited to show him that she’d already found someone else. A kind of spite date, but I didn’t mind. I would encourage her to get really even with him by screwing my brains out.

I picked her up and we drove to the town of Delacour for the party. As soon as we arrived we went wandering through the rooms looking for her old flame. She found him in the kitchen leaning against the sink. He was wearing leather pants, which didn’t surprise me. What did surprise me was that he looked to be a good three inches taller than me. He and Adele must have made one odd looking couple. He appeared to be Latino, maybe Mexican. I guess his tastes in women had changed because he had his arm around a woman who was almost as tall as he was. She was wearing such a short skirt that I made a mental note to be nearby when she attempted to sit down. He looked over at the two of us and gave Adele the slightest of nods. Adele took my arm and we marched out of the kitchen and into the living room. I got the feeling that I’d served my purpose. We had a couple of beers, ate some spicy pork ribs and then she wanted to go. It was only nine-thirty when we walked out the front door.

Why don’t we go over to The Pioneer for a while, she suggested as we drove back toward the city.

Oh, I forgot to tell you, I said. You’ve been banned for six months.

Because I passed out?

Because you puked all over the bathroom floor. The woman who had to clean it up was none too pleased.

Oh, she said with a shrug. It doesn’t really matter since I’m leaving town.

True, I agreed.

Do you go there much? she asked.

That was my first time.

Really? Were you feeling lonely?

No, I was curious.

About what?

I wanted my reward for this spite date. I began to think the only way I was going to get an invitation was to appeal to this woman’s mystery. The kinky side I suspected was right below the surface. I couldn’t get that teacher, retarded girl thing out of my mind.

Well, I said slowly. I sneaked into my neighbor’s house and he had several posters from The Pioneer on the walls. It made me wonder why he liked the place so much.

You sneaked into your neighbor’s house? she asked with a smile. That’s interesting.

I saw him taping a key under his back steps one morning. When I knew the coast was clear, I went over to have a look around.

You just looked? You didn’t take anything?

That’s right, I said. I wasn’t sure how she’d respond to my stealing the Cling Free.

There’s more to you than meets the eye, she said.

I get the same feeling about you.

What do you mean?

Did you really have a toothache that night, or did you get blitzed because your Mexican friend moved on to taller territory?

That’s none of your business, she said with a nasty tone in her voice.

You were mumbling some pretty provocative stuff while I carried you to my car.

Like what?

"Something about a teacher