Steal

by Jeff Elkins

  Moe took the girl’s hands, closed her eyes, and received the memory the girl passed to her.

  Moe opened her eyes. She was running. Her arms outstretched like wings, she felt the wind on her face. She loved the sound of her cape flapping in the wind behind her. She imagined that it would sound that way if she was really flying. She spun to the right and imagined the cape flying off to the side. She spun to the left and imagined the cape fluttering behind her. Their front yard wasn’t very big, so there wasn’t really enough room to run as fast or far as she wanted.

  Moe looked down at her outfit. She liked that the costume had come with fake muscles in the arms and chest. She flexed, like she’d seen people do on TV. She imagined the muscles in her shirt were her real muscles and that she could make them move.

  “You ready to go, Big Girl?” her dad asked from behind her.

  She turned and placed her fists on her hips. “I’m not big girl. I’m Superman!” she said, and she began to fly through the front yard again.

  “Oh. Excuse us, Superman. We’re sorry. We thought you were someone else,” her mom said playfully.

  “Superman!” Moe cheered.

  “You ready, Superman?” her dad said.

  “Don’t go too far, okay?” her mom said.

  “I think we’ll just go up the street and back,” her dad said.

  Moe snatched her plastic pumpkin off the ground, ran across the yard to Mr. David’s house next door, and yelled, “Let’s go!” She ran up to the door and pressed the doorbell. It made a loud ding which surprised her. Dad never let her ring doorbells. She liked how it sounded. She pressed it again and the ding rang out.

  “Only press it once, Sarah,” her dad called from behind her. He was using his serious voice, so she knew she couldn’t get away with doing it a third time. She waited. Mr. David was taking a long time. She wished he hurry up.

  The knob started to turn, and her heart raced with excitement. She took a small step forward as the door opened.

  “Well, look at you. Are you Superwoman?” Mr. David asked. His mustache twitched when he talked.

  “No. I’m Superman,” Moe corrected him.

  “Oh. I see that now. My mistake,” Mr. David said.

  Moe nodded with approval and then, remembered why she was here. Holding up her plastic pumpkin she loudly proclaimed, “Trick or treat!” She suddenly realized she might get a trick. She wondered why she had given Mr. David the option. She thought that next time she should just yell, “Candy!” but she knew her dad would tell her no. Mom and Dad always said “no” to the best ideas.

  Mr. David dropped a chocolate bar in her pumpkin.

  She looked at it and then turned to run.

  “What do you say?” her dad yelled.

  “Thank you!” she called, as she took off for the next house, but before she crossed into the yard, she slowed down. All around her was a purple light. She looked up to see a giant, glowing, purple skeleton blocking her path to the front door. Moe screamed and dropped her pumpkin.

  She turned to run, but strong arms caught her and lifted her off the ground. She leaned into her father’s chest. Tears poured from her eyes. She hid her face, hoping the purple skeleton would leave her and her daddy alone.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s just a lawn decoration,” her father said.

  “It’s scary,” she said.

  “I know. But it’s Halloween. Things are supposed to be scary,” he said.

  “I don’t like it,” she said, burying her face deeper into her dad’s chest.

  “I tell you what, why don’t I carry you past it, then you can run to the front door and you don’t have to see it,” he said.

  “Make it go away,” she replied, not caring for his solution.

  “Well, I can’t do that,” he said.

  “Let’s go home,” she said. If this night was going to be filled with glowing purple skeletons in front yards, then she wanted nothing to do with it.

  “I think you’re going to miss a lot of good stuff if we stop now. How about this? I’ll carry you past it, and then you can keep going,” he offered a second time.

  Not realizing he’d already said that, Moe affirmed this idea.

  “Great. Hold on tight,” he said, as he pretended to fly her past the terrifying skeleton. She held him tight and he squeezed her in response. Even though she clenched her eyes shut, she felt safe. She knew he would protect her from anything. She knew that if she just held on to him, all the scary stuff would go away.

  Moe opened her eyes. She was back on the bed with Sarah.

  The young girl took a deep breath and laid down on the bed. She faced the wall and gripped her pillow tight to her chest, clinging to it, like she had clung to her father that night.

  Moe stood and pulled the covers over Sarah. Leaning down, she stroked the girl’s hair softly and whispered, “Good night, Superman.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Stacie waved to Moe, motioning for her to come over. She had taken up residence at their usual table in the back of their favorite bar and grill, The Thirsty Horse. The restaurant was less crowded than usual, Moe assumed because the dinner crowd had already passed. Sitting down in the chair across from Stacie, Moe sighed.

  “It’s been a big day,” Stacie said with a knowing smile.

  “Has it ever,” Moe said, laying her head on the table.

  “You hungry?” Stacie asked.

  “Starving,” Moe complained.

  “Good, because I ordered for you. Now sit up, or the dummy Mike gave us for a waiter may just put the food on top of your head,” Stacie said, nudging Moe.

  Moe sat up and looked at the on-coming waiter. Standing around five-feet tall, dressed in suspenders and a bowtie, sporting a peach fuzz beard, the waiter looked like a middle-schooler on picture day. Moe was shocked he was strong enough to carry the tray of their food. “Oh, Jesus, he’s young,” she said with a sigh.

  “His youth is the least of his problems,” Stacie said with a look of disgust.

  With a smile, Moe thought was intended to be seductive, the waiter said, “Ladies. How you doin’ tonight?”

  “Hungry and thirsty,” Moe said.

  Fumbling with the tray stand, he maintained confidence in his voice as he said, “Well, a beautiful woman like you should never be thirsty for anything. Lucky for you, Kenny has come to quench your thirst and easy your hunger pains.”

  With a dismissive wave, Stacie said, “I’m not doing this. Go get Mike.”

  Placing his hands on his hips, the waiter said, “Mike can hike, but with Fillmore you’ll score.”

  “And you’re Fillmore?” Moe asked.

  Flashing the name tag on his suspender, the waiter said in his best Joey-from-Friends voice, “How you doin’?”

  “Of course your name is Fillmore,” Stacie complained as she stood and waved at Mike, the superhumanly attractive manager of the establishment, who routinely asked Moe to go mountain climbing with him.

  When Mike looked over, he laughed.

  Stacie pointed to Fillmore and yelled, “Mike! No!”

  “Did I do something wrong? I promise, if you give me a chance, my service will leave you completely satisfied,” Fillmore said, as he transferred the plates of food from his tray to their table.

  Moe laughed.

  “How you doin’?” Fillmore asked again, as he gave Moe a wink and placed a large beer in front of her.

  “Mike! No! No, Mike!” Stacie yelled, again.

  “Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you have any needs Fillmore can meet,” the waiter said, as he took the tray off the stand.

  “Now he’s talking about himself in the third person,” Stacie complained to herself, as she sat back down.

  “Thank you, Fillmore. I’ll make sure you’re the first to know if we desire anything tonight that warrants your attention,” Moe said with a smile.

  Fillmore shot Moe finger guns and moved on to his next table. As he left, Stacie took a sip of her m
artini and said, “Mike is lucky he makes a good martini, because he’s terrible at hiring waiters.”

  “I think he’s cute,” Moe said.

  “Fillmore or Mike,” Stacie said.

  Moe replied with a nervous laugh. Looking down at the plate in front of her, she inhaled the smell of the steaming pile of meat and gravy. “What’s this?” she asked.

  Passing her a small desert plate that Fillmore had given to her by mistake, Stacie said, “Turkey with gravy and a piece of pumpkin pie. Not a perfect thanksgiving dinner, but as close as Mike could get.”

  Moe felt tears fill her eyes. She wiped them away, took Stacie’s hand, and said, “You’re my favorite person right now.”

  Stacie squeezed her hand back. “I know. Now eat and tell me all about your date with Sarah.”

  Hot food and a rich beer was exactly what Moe needed. She came alive as she explained to Stacie the Halloween scene Sarah had shown her.

  “So, Halloween? Not what I thought she would want to show you,” Stacie said, after Moe finished.

  “I think it was more about her father holding her,” Moe said.

  “That makes more since. You get any clues as to why her parents are gone?” Stacie asked.

  “No. It was a short memory. It can be like that with kids. A lot of times their memories are more impressions than stories. I’m going to go back tomorrow. I’ll get a clue at some point.”

  Taking a final drink from her martini, Stacie waved the glass in the air, and yelled, “Fillmore. I have needs.”

  “You’re calling him back?” Moe asked with surprise.

  “Desperate times,” Stacie said.

  Rather than Fillmore, it was Mike that delivered fresh drinks. Moe allowed herself to gaze at him for a brief moment before pretending everything was normal. As he placed the drinks on the table, she did her best to look cool, but on the inside her heart was racing. There was no denying that he was a beautiful man.

  “How are two of my favorite people tonight?” Mike asked.

  “Mike, I have a question,” Stacie said, as she tasted her martini. “We do this dance every time we come in here. You send over some incompetent lackey. They screw up. I get pissed. And then you end up waiting on us. Could we just skip to the end where you start waiting on us from the outset?”

  Mike laughed. “That would mess up my system.”

  “Oh. There’s some kind of master plan at work then?” Stacie said with suspicion.

  “You two are part of the interview process. I make all new hires work a week of night shifts as a trial run. If they can get through you without breaking into tears, then I let them stay.”

  Moe laughed at the idea. She couldn’t tell if Mike was teasing or serious.

  “Well, now that I know I have a job to do, I’m going to up my game. No more Ms. Nice-Stacie,” Stacie said. She took another sip and then said, “Changing the subject. When are you leaving to climb that mountain in New Hampshire?”

  “You mean Mount Katahdin in Maine. Forty-five days. It should be a beautiful climb,” he said.

  “So, if someone wanted to join you, when would they need to let you know?” Stacie asked.

  Mike looked at Moe and said, “Depends who it is. For some people, they could tell me five minutes before I was pulling out, and I’d make it happen.”

  Moe kicked Stacie under the table.

  “I’ve got to get back to the bar. You ladies tell me if you need anything else,” Mike said, as he headed back to the bar.

  Moe jumped as her phone pinged. Taking it out of her back pocket, she was happy to see an email from Ami. “You need to tell Ami thank you, because her email just saved your ass from the beat-down I want to give you,” she said to Stacie.

  “Well, read it,” Stacie said.

  Moe read, “Followed the equipment. Had to chase it through a few buyers. Last one was Lewis Quartz. Ex-Marine. Scout Sniper. Lance Corporal. Discharged. Originally from Baltimore. No known address. Seems dangerous. I’ll keep digging. Attached are the documents I looked through. Be careful.”

  “Murdock comes through,” Stacie said.

  “We are not the A-Team,” Moe said, as she took a long swig of her beer.

  “So, let’s recap our day,” Stacie said, leaning back in her chair. “We ran into my ex-stalker’s best bro. We took a case. I met Ami-Murdock. We convinced Baba to get us case files. I learned all about your parents. We lived our fantasies with your brother. You helped a little girl by taking her trick-or-treating in her mind. And now, we have a name to follow tomorrow. Either we are the greatest detectives in the history of detective-ing, or this is the easy case in history.”

  “You want to get pancakes for breakfast tomorrow,” Moe asked with a smile.

  “You read my mind,” Stacie said.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The line was longer than Moe expected. Even though she and Stacie arrived ten minutes before seven, it stretched around the corner of the redbrick building and down the street. Most stood quietly, buried in their phones. Some chatted. It was clear, most knew each other.

  “God. It’s early,” Stacie said with a yawn.

  Although Moe couldn’t see the front door because it was around the corner, she could tell it had opened when the line began creeping forward. Patterson Park Baptist sat on Eastern Avenue on the southeastern side of the city, a few blocks from one of the city’s large public parks. Years ago, the working middle class that had once dominated the neighborhood had moved away into the suburbs leaving a community divided between gentrifying upper class seeking to redefine urban living, and those whose families weren’t wealthy enough to leave when the exodus of the 80s occurred.

  Moe and Stacie took a few steps forward, following the line. “How was Bosley this morning?” Stacie asked.

  “Still not eating. It’s got me worried, but not enough to bring his lazy butt along today,” Moe said, moving forward again.

  After a few more steps forward, they arrived at the small card table at the door of the church. A man in his twenties with a shaved head and bright blue eyes said, “Good morning, ladies.”

  “Good morning,” Stacie said with a flirtatious smile.

  The young man blushed. “You probably get this all the time, but you look exactly like that one actress,” he said.

  “I do get that a lot,” Stacie said with a grin.

  Turning a clipboard toward them, the young man said, “Do you mind signing in?”

  Moe took the clipboard first. They were asking for name, current address, phone number, branch, years of service, and rank. Moe thought about leaving fake information, but something about that seemed disrespectful. “We didn’t serve. Is that a problem?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am. Anyone can eat. We use this information to follow up with people later,” he said.

  Moe filled in her name and handed the clipboard to Stacie who signed her name and address.

  “Maybe you could help us out. We’re looking for an old friend,” Stacie said.

  The man looked up and smiled, happy to be able to help. “What’s his name, ma’am? Maybe I know him?”

  “His name is Lewis. Lewis Quartz? He was a Marine,” Stacie said.

  The man behind the table shook his head. There was no recognition in his eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I haven’t met him yet. Ask around inside though. If he’s in town and he served, someone inside probably knows him.”

  “Thank you. We appreciate it,” Moe said.

  They stepped through the door, walked down and hall, and entered into a large room filled with tables and folding chairs. The line stretched past a table where people were receiving three pancakes, two slices of bacon, and a spoonful of scrambled eggs. An array of syrup bottles, tubs of butter, and coffee carafes were at the end of the line.

  “This is like looking for a needle in a haystack,” Moe said, as she stepped up to the line. An old man on the other side of the table handed her a plate of three pancakes. “Thank you,” she said to him.
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br />   Stacie received her pancakes, thanked the man, and steered Moe toward an empty table.

  “Where are you going? We need to talk to people.” Moe said, looking for an empty chair at the larger tables. The room as eighty-percent men. Most of them sat in packs, chatting and laughing together.

  “Trust me. In a room like this, we should sit by ourselves,” Stacie said.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Moe said.

  “Oh, sweetie. Watch and learn,” Stacie chided.

  Moe stood back and watched as Stacie took a seat at the end of a mostly empty table, in the far-right corner of the room. Within seconds, two young men from a neighboring table picked up their plates and moved to sit next to her. Moe laughed to herself as Stacie’s smiled at them and began flirtatiously chatting.

  Suspecting there was nothing she could add to Stacie’s efforts, Moe continued to look for her own opening. At the far end of Stacie’s table, Moe spotted a man sitting alone. He wore an old Metallica t-shirt and ratty jeans, had a beard that needed trimming and a prosthetic left arm. She didn’t want to assume it was the man Joe had recommended, but he was the only one-armed man at the breakfast. Crossing the room, Moe stood at the seat in front of him and asked, “Mind if I take a seat?”

  The man smiled. His tired eyes were warm and welcoming. “Go right ahead,” he said.

  Sitting down, Moe introduced herself, “I’m Moneta. My friends call me Moe.”

  “Vinnie. Nice to meet you,” he said with a nod.

  “Couldn’t help but notice you were over here by yourself,” Moe said.

  “Yeah. The room’s all Jarheads today. Usually there are at least a few Soldiers in here,” Vinnie said, looking around.

  “So you were Army?” Moe asked.

  “Yep. Lieutenant Colonel Vincent Hall. At your service. You?” he asked.

  “I’m just here for the pancakes,” Moe said.

  “I don’t believe that for a second. No one comes here for the food,” Vinnie said with a grin.

  “How long did you serve?” Moe asked.

  “Sixteen years. Would have been in for life if I hadn’t stumbled on that IED in Afghanistan,” he said.