Uncommon Thief

by William Manchee

  Chapter 26

  Painful Reunion

  After all that had happened, Fred was too ashamed and embarrassed to call Maria. He knew she must be very confused and hurt after the way he’d abruptly broke up with her. He thought about calling and telling her he’d made a mistake and wanted her back, but it would have been a lie, and he couldn’t lie to her. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he ran into her, and he feared that inevitable encounter, as he had no clue what he’d say. Much to his chagrin, that very day, when he walked out of his poli-sci class, there she was. She stopped in her tracks, obviously shocked to see him.

  Fred hesitated a moment and then smiled. "Maria! I was hoping to run into you today."

  Her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here? I thought you had to leave the country?"

  "Something came up, and I couldn't leave."

  "Is this just a game you're playing? If you wanted to break up, you should have just said so. I don't need this kind of bullshit. I've been worried sick about you, and now you show up acting like nothing happened."

  "I know. You must really hate me. The last few weeks have just been a nightmare."

  "I thought we had a good relationship of trust and confidence, but you obviously don't trust me enough to tell me what in the hell is really going on."

  "It's not that. I just don't want to get you involved."

  "Involved in what?"

  Before Fred could respond, two men in blue blazers and tan pants came up from behind, and one of them tapped him on the shoulder. "Are you Fred Fuller?"

  Fred gave Maria a long look, turned around, and responded, "Yes."

  "I am Don Harris with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. You are under arrest for the robbery of the San Bernardino branch of Bank USA and the murder of Harvey Hamlin. Please raise both of your hands and place them flat against the building."

  Maria gasped in shock. "What are they talking about?" She demanded.

  "I don't know. It must be some kind of a mistake. I didn't do anything."

  Reluctantly, Fred complied with the agent's instructions while the other agent frisked and then cuffed him. Fred wasn’t surprised by the arrest. He had half expected it all along, and he had resigned himself to his fate, but he hadn't wanted Maria to see it. The FBI's timing couldn't have been worse.

  The agents escorted him to one of their familiar dark blue Buicks and put him in the back seat. They then drove off toward downtown LA, and after thirty minutes or so, they arrived at the Federal Building. Harris drove the car into the basement garage, where they were met by two deputy U.S. Marshals. They escorted Fred up to their sixteenth-floor offices. After they took him inside, they emptied his pockets, inventoried the contents, and completed an intake sheet. Finally, they led him into a small, windowless room with a table and two chairs.

  After another thirty minutes, Agent Harper joined Fred in his holding cell. "Mr. Fuller, we meet again."

  "What is this all about?"

  "I think you know, Mr. Fuller."

  "Well, your agents said I am being charged with bank robbery and murder, but I already told you I don’t know anything about either of them."

  "Well, unfortunately your story just doesn't hold water. Your prints are all over the bank."

  “I explained that to you.”

  “I know, and that was very clever, but why did you pick this particular day to fantasize about being a bank president? Did you think you were coming into some money?”

  Fred shook his head in disgust. "I would never kill anyone. The thought of taking another person's life is repugnant to me."

  "You know, I believe you, but I think what happened is Harvey Hamlin died unexpectedly. He was helping you rob the bank, wasn’t he? Did the stress get to him? Is that why he had a heart attack? Is that what happened, Fred?"

  "Since you don't believe what I have already told you and obviously there is nothing I can say to convince you that I am innocent, I am not going to talk to you anymore without first consulting an attorney."

  "We might be able to work this out if you will just be candid with me. You’ve never been in trouble before. The judge would probably be lenient given your young age.”

  Fred glanced around. “I don’t see my attorney here.”

  “Who’s idea was it, yours or Hamlin’s? If it was Hamlin’s idea, that would even be more reason for leniency.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do. I’m a Perry Mason fan. You’re not going to trick me into making a confession. You’ve got the wrong man, and I don’t have anything else to say.”

  “Maybe there is a way you could convince us that you are innocent. Don't you think we should explore that possibility? If you clam up, we have to assume you’re guilty and act accordingly."

  "I can tell you've already made up your mind, so there's no point to any further discussion. Please let me make a phone call so I can obtain legal counsel."

  "Alright, have it your way. I'll arrange for you to have a phone call, but you're making a big mistake."

  They let Fred sweat for several hours and then one of the U.S. Marshals came in and escorted Fred to a pay telephone. He gave him a dime and said he had ten minutes. Fred asked him for a telephone book, and when it was delivered to him, he looked up the telephone number of his old boss, Congressman Bartlett.

  "Hello. Congressman Bartlett's office."

  "Is Mrs. Thompson there?" Fred asked. Mrs. Margaret Thompson was the staff supervisor at the Congressman's district office. Since Fred had worked there the previous two summers, he knew her pretty well.

  "Hello. This is Mrs. Thompson."

  "Hi, Mrs. Thompson. This is Fred Fuller."

  "Fred! How are you?"

  "Not so good actually. I need your help."

  "What's wrong?"

  "I've been arrested, and I need a lawyer."

  "Arrested!” she exclaimed. “For what?"

  "Bank robbery and murder."

  "Oh my God! You've got to be kidding."

  "I wish I were, but I am at the U.S. Marshal’s office in LA, and I need a lawyer desperately. Could the Congressman recommend one for me?"

  "Of course, Fred. I'll call him immediately. He's going to be really upset about this."

  "Thanks a lot. I really appreciate your help."

  For over six years, Fred had put in countless hours helping Congressman Bartlett with his re-election campaigns. Now, Fred figured all that effort might pay off. Surely he’d be able to help him out of this mess just like he had helped countless numbers of other constituents with a myriad of legal problems. It was an aspect of a Congressman's job that Fred had never understood or appreciated prior to working for him. He was expecting to work on new legislation and campaign strategy, but instead, he spent most of his time listening to constituents’ problems with welfare, Social Security, immigration, and many other problems with the federal government. All of these people were in trouble and turned to their Congressman for help, and Fred knew Congressman Bartlett did an extraordinarily good job of solving their problems.

  But he couldn’t help worrying that Congressman Bartlett may not want to get involved and would try to distance himself from Fred. That would probably be best for him. Bartlett had an election every two years, so he couldn’t afford to associate himself with anyone who might taint his political reputation. What am I going to do if he won’t help me? I don’t have anyone else to turn to! Fred knew the court would appoint him an attorney, but that wouldn’t be an ideal situation. Court-appointed attorneys were notorious for insisting their clients plead out, and Fred didn’t want an overworked and underpaid attorney whose main objective was closing the file and moving on to the next case. He prayed the Congressman would help.