“What are you doing?”
“Hanging out at my uncle’s, drinking coffee. Probably go fish off the pier in a little bit.” Manny had no intention of doing that, it was hot as hell today, but it was something to fill the air and sounded a bit more ambitious than what he’d really be doing.
“I got something I want you to see.”
Manny was already getting bored. He hated it when people dragged out a conversation. It was already too hot for preamble. “What is it?”
“A house.”
“No goddamn way,” he shouted with a half-laugh.
“Seriously, you gotta see this place.”
“I already got a house,” Manny said.
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“Okay, how’d you find it?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Demetrius said.
“How’d you find it, D? I’m not doing nothing until you tell me.”
There was a pause on the other end. Demetrius was driving. Manny could hear the road noise. Demetrius was a decent enough B&E guy, but you couldn’t trust him to set the job up. Manny knew all about the home security thing Demetrius was doing now and it was criminally stupid.
“It’s a good fucking angle,” Demetrius finally said, defensively, knowing why Manny had doubts.
“No, D, it’s not,” Manny snapped. “The cops, they look for patterns, man. That’s fucking all they do. That’s like, ninety percent of how they solve crimes, man. Don’t you watch CSI?”
“I wait at least a month before I hit a place. Nobody ever remembers that I came by.”
“They’re gonna figure out eventually that there’s a string of burglaries all around a neighborhood except the one place that bought a system from you. You are going to get caught.”
“That’s why I wait a couple of weeks, man.” When people talk about a stubborn person, they say it’s like talking to a brick wall. Talking to Demetrius Dawes, when he had his head wrapped around something, was like talking to a South Florida Hurricane Wall.
“You give people your real fucking name, dude.”
“Just look at the place with me, okay? The lady that tipped me to it says the guy what owns it was a big deal doctor and now he spends all of his time traveling. The guy is never home and he’s got this great old place. It looks like a Spanish castle, and it’s bound to be filled with all kind of good shit.”
Manny shook his head. There was no way with this guy. It was like arguing with his uncle. “Yeah, he’s probably got all kinda good security shit too.”
“That’s the thing,” Demetrius said, excited. “The sticker on his window said ‘Vantage Security’.”
“See, I told you.”
“That’s not a security company, Manny. It’s a sticker for a fake company that people put on their windows to make you think they have a security system.”
Manny thought that was the stupidest shit he’d ever heard. “Man, that’s the stupidest shit I ever heard. Why the hell anybody want to put a fake security sticker on their window?”
“Make you think that they have a security system when really they don’t. Think about it. This guy, he’s traveling all over the world and shit. Does he really want to get a phone call every time an armadillo takes a shit in his flower bed? It’s way too much of a pain in his ass to get all those calls, so he puts one of those stickers on the windows and saves himself all the trouble. And your average thief don’t know no different on account of—”
“On account of they don’t run a home security business,” Manny finished for him in the tired way you did when your friend said a movie line ten too many times. “How do you know he’s a big deal doctor?”
“Lady across the street told me. Said he travels all the time.”
This was still criminally stupid, but maybe D was onto something. The guy was some kinda big deal doctor but he was always gone. He might have some artwork, probably a safe. Plus, they might not need to hit him in one go. They could stretch it out over a couple of nights and increase their take. There was one problem and that was Demetrius. As soon as this doctor reported his house broken into, the first thing the police were going to do is ask people if they’ve seen anyone suspicious. Yes, officer, in fact a large African American man was here just a few days ago selling home security systems. Here is his card.
“Okay, pendejo, I’ll check it out with you on one condition.”
“You name it.”
“If this doesn’t work out, I get to say I told you so.”
“Fair.”
“I’m not done yet. If it does work, you don’t get to go carrying on like you just reinvented burglary.” Manny could hear Demetrius smiling on the other end of the phone. “When do you want to go?”
“No time like the present,” Demetrius said. “House is closed up. I think the dude is gone.”
The only way this would work would be if the guy actually was gone for some period of time. Give the neighbors a chance to forget that Demetrius Dawes existed. This was a bad idea, Manny thought to himself, pressing his eyes closed.
“How’s the lawn look?” he asked.
“Good,” Demetrius said. “But you get a guy for that. Same thing, no newspapers or mail. But again, you know what you’re doing, that shit don’t happen.”
Manny nodded even though Demetrius couldn’t see him. “Okay, D. Tell you what. Let’s case the place tonight. Drive by a couple times and make sure that he’s gone. We’ll check ‘er out a few times—we can use different cars, and once more around eleven. We’ll hit him around two. Sound good?”
“That’ll work.”
Manny hung up and thought it through.
Sure, Demetrius was a pretty good inside guy. He was efficient with his time, careful but not too cautious and generally had a good eye, but Manny wasn’t surprised that he’d called. If he was targeting a rich guy’s house, that would mean much more complex locks and probably safes. Locks and safes were Manny’s specialty. Demetrius knew them, but the tricky ones tripped him up. Then again, his education was “Liberty City”.
Everything Manny learned about burglary came courtesy of the United States Army.
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Dale M. Nelson grew up outside of Tampa, Florida. He graduated from the University of Florida's College of Journalism and Communications and went on to serve as an officer in the United States Air Force. Following his military service, Dale worked in the defense, technology and telecommunications sectors before starting his writing career. He currently lives in Washington D.C. with his wife and daughters.
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Once a Thief (Gentleman Jack Burdette Book 3) Page 46