Bank Robbers

by C. Clark Criscuolo

  “Yeah, well, there ain’t no accounting for taste.” Teresa gave a final drag on her cigarette and smashed it out in the ashtray.

  “Look, Mom, we’d love to have you. Annette and the kids are all excited, and we have plenty of room.”

  Teresa’s eyes narrowed. “Of course you got room, half your house got blown down in the hurricane.”

  “I told you, we have all the walls back up, and the place’ll be painted and ready by the time you get on the plane.”

  “I ain’t moving to Florida, and that’s final.”

  “Well, Mom, you can’t live here anymore. The neighborhood’s gone to hell, and we can’t traipse up here twice a week with food because you won’t come and live with us on the Island,” Tracy snapped, and stood up.

  “Now, we’re going to start packing up your stuff and we have a plane ticket for you for tomorrow afternoon—”

  “I ain’t moving!” Teresa felt her eyes begin to fill. “I told you, I like it here, I been here my whole life. If your father was here—”

  “Well, he isn’t—”

  “Yeah, you noticed. Your father’s only been dead five and a half weeks, and you’re going to move me all over the planet!”

  “For your own good.”

  Teresa let out a damp cackle and coughed.

  “This ain’t got nothing to do with my good. This is your good. I love this neighborhood. And your father and I swore we’d never leave it till we died, and my life ain’t over yet, don’t any of youse understand that?” Her voice rose to fever pitch, and Teresa stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “And not you or anyone is gonna order me anywhere, you hear me?”

  She watched the three of them exchange glances, and Fred exhaled loudly and stared at the tabletop.

  “Mom, we’re not paying the rent on this apartment anymore.”

  “So what?” Teresa snapped at him. “You think I ain’t got no other means than the three of youse? To hell with all of youse!” Teresa grabbed her purse, pulled open the apartment door, and walked out, slamming it hard.

  She walked quickly to the top of the stairs and stopped. Now what? She didn’t know what to do, she just had to get out of there. She felt like running away. Trying to get control of herself, she stared down the empty flight of stairs. Inside the apartment she could hear their voices.

  “Let her go.”

  “But it’s dangerous out there.”

  “Fred, you been in the sun too long.” Tracy’s voice snapped. “Just let her run off some steam, she’ll be back as soon as she realizes she doesn’t have any choice. It’s not like she has some secret bank account hidden somewhere.”

  “You sure?” Fred’s voice asked.

  “Like I told ya, she don’t got enough to loan you to get your house fixed and we don’t got enough to loan you for the house. At least this way Annette can go back to work and there’ll be someone there to look after the kids.”

  “Yeah, but what about this breast thing?”

  “It’s just a biopsy, they don’t really know anything. And if something happens, she has Medicaid.”

  Teresa wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, and began descending the stairs. She was still crying when she got to the second-floor landing. She didn’t know where to go, or what to do, but she was sure as hell not going to be shipped down to Florida.

  * * *

  AT A QUARTER to six Dottie went to the information booth. Her hair had been restyled and was now brushed forward with bangs, so that it framed her face and cheekbones. She wore makeup of peach tones and a light red shade of lipstick that made her face glow. She was dressed in a green silk blouse and black wool pants which seemed to state that this was a woman who had always taken good care of herself.

  She had on earrings and a matching gold necklace and pretty black shoes, and Arthur stood holding his coat with his mouth open as she approached. The happiness on her face was exactly what he had been hoping for on his drive back to the mall.

  It was either this or he figured she’d still be wearing the same dress and coat he left her off with, and there would be at least one saleswoman in this mall who would eternally curse Arthur MacGregor.

  Behind her were several people carrying boxes and shopping bags, and Frieda looked as if Christmas had just come to her house.

  “Well, Arthur,” Dottie said, “ready to go home?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said and watched a man hold out a flaming red coat, and she slipped into it.

  He watched the small group of men with boxes and bags follow her out like a small parade, and he turned to Frieda.

  “Thank you. This was better than I hoped for.”

  “No trouble, Mr. MacGregor,” She answered and handed him the bill.

  He laughed out loud at the number and thought that it was going to be time soon to travel up to Poughkeepsie to make a withdrawal from one of his safety-deposit boxes. He handed Frieda a two-hundred-dollar tip and left.

  She had filled the trunk and the backseat with boxes, and sat next to Arthur smiling and looking out the window at the houses and the sunset.

  “So,” she said, and flicked on the radio. “How was your meeting with Sid?”

  “Fine; he’s at the house.” Her smile drooped. “He’ll have dinner with us,” Arthur added.

  She shifted uncomfortably in the seat. “Does he know?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  She put her hand on the armrest and covered her eyes with it.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, and she looked over at him.

  “I do?” A smile went across her face.

  “Yes, and I’m very proud of you. You actually spent money. That tight fist of yours actually opened.”

  “I’m going to pay you back every cent—now stop teasing me.”

  “I can’t help it. And I don’t know what I’m going to say to Sid.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I spent the entire afternoon telling him what a poverty-stricken, weak old woman you are.”

  * * *

  SIDNEY ARNOWITZ was sitting in the living room when they entered, drinking a diet soda and watching the news. He got up and gaped at Dottie.

  “This is the woman?” he said to Arthur, as he dropped an armful of shopping bags on the hall floor. “This is the weak, old woman?”

  “We went shopping.”

  “Yes,” he said and stared at the plethora of bags on the floor. His face became even longer as Arthur left and reappeared with more bags.

  “You bought out the mall?”

  “Now, Sid,” Arthur said and helped Dottie off with her coat. Eva appeared from nowhere and took both their coats.

  Arthur asked Eva to open a bottle of wine, and she nodded and told Dottie how nice she looked and that it was a great improvement from that morning. And then she tripped over her words trying to say that she didn’t mean that she hadn’t looked good that morning. She quickly excused herself and tromped off down the hall.

  Sid seemed to be frowning at Dottie when she looked up at him, and they both looked away.

  The video of Dottie was playing on the television, and she froze in front of the screen.

  “So this is the problem.” Sid’s voice rang out behind them, and he waved.

  Dottie had sunk down onto the couch and was staring at the video.

  “Why don’t I give myself up now?”

  “You could do that,” Sid said, and looked at her, “but I say you do it Monday morning; that way we could get you out on bail.”

  “So you think they’ll post bail?” Arthur asked, sitting next to Dottie.

  “I’d be surprised if they didn’t. The only reason they might not—and this is where you come in, Arthur—is if they found some kind of connection with you.”

  Dottie felt her jaw drop and she looked at Arthur, who had a scowl on his face and kept his eyes steady on Sid.

  “Come on, Sid, you don’t have to scare her like this—”

  “I’m not scaring her, I’m being
honest.”

  “I haven’t gotten so much as a parking ticket in seven years—”

  “Look, the press gets ahold of this, they’ll have a field day. First, it’ll make her look even worse, because they can say you talked her into it.”

  “But I hadn’t seen Arthur for thirty years when I decided to do this…”

  “It doesn’t matter. Guilt by association. And you are guilty, and this isn’t some joke. And the criminal justice system, they aren’t going to be so charitable as to look upon you as a starving poor old woman, you got it? You are a felon who shot someone, got it?” His voice was harsh.

  “Sid…” Arthur’s voice rose in warning.

  “No. Let’s get things straight right now. That statue of American Justice—the blindfolded woman with the scales—is blindfolded for a reason. The jury is told, we are told, in deciding a verdict, is there a reasonable doubt of guilt? Period. Did you commit the crime as described in the law books? In your case the answer is yes. You did. The police have a tape showing that. And so does Channel seven, two, four, and five, and for all I know, CNN and the BBC at this point. Now I would be a fool if I walked into the courtroom and planned to defend you any less seriously than that. And I do take what you did seriously. There is a good chance you’re going to jail for fifteen years as it is. You want his name brought into this? Even if a judge gave you the benefit of the doubt.…” Sid’s voice was loud, and his arm shot out and pointed to Arthur.

  Dottie couldn’t take her eyes off this man in front of her. She was shaking, and spine-withering fear went through her as the image of him doing this in front of a judge and jury came into her head, making the whole thing frighteningly and immediately real after her day of cheery shopping in White Plains.

  “You connect her to the name of a known repeat offender, the bench is not going to ignore that. And even if they say, aw, it’s okay, he’s probably harmless and she just had a bad day, then the press is going to pounce on them. You could get a mess of editorials about the privilege of being white and old; then you’ll get the racial debate…”

  “That’s ridiculous—”

  “Yeah, but it’ll sell more papers longer, it’s called building up the story. And I’d say you already have enough press.”

  They were all quiet for a moment.

  “I should leave here—”

  “No,” Arthur said quickly.

  “Yes.”

  “No! I am not leaving you alone—”

  “Arthur, listen to reason,” Sid began. “She can stay till Monday—providing you don’t pull another stunt like this shopping trip, okay? No one can know who Dottie is. And after she turns herself in, you have to keep your distance. I’m not going to have to deal with the issue of you in the press—”

  “But—”

  “No buts, or you get another lawyer,” Sid said sharply, and they were all quiet for a moment. Arthur walked over to the fireplace mantel and rubbed his jaw, and glared at Sid.

  “All right, but I don’t like it,” he said at last.

  “Good.”

  “So what happens now?” Arthur shot back at him.

  “I do two things. I go to my contacts in the press and give them as much sympathetic information as I can. How desperate you were, how you’ve been screwed by the system, that you have a disease—”

  “Oh, God, no…” Dottie covered her face with her hands.

  “I want to arm us with as much embarrassing stuff for the cops as I can, so when I go to negotiate for the bail and the charges, they’ll want to get it over with as quickly as possible.”

  “So you’re going to take this to trial?” Arthur asked.

  “No. I don’t think so. I think you’ll be better off pleading out.”

  Dottie watched Sid and Arthur stare at each other in that kind of silence there is when two people are mentally arguing.

  Eva appeared with a tray with the bottle of wine and some glasses, and that seemed to break the tension between the two men. They were all silent as they watched Eva pour it. Dottie had to stop herself from grabbing the glass and slugging it down.

  It was really happening. How she could have possibly thought this was a good idea again seemed to elude her. She watched Arthur take a sip, and she did the same, and they both looked up at Sid, who waited until Eva left the room.

  “What did you tell her?” he asked.

  “That she was my wife.”

  “All of a sudden you have a wife?” Sid asked testily.

  “That she was an old flame and I’d been seeing her for the past couple of months and we suddenly decided to get married.”

  Sid grimaced and twitched his lips back and forth.

  “Anyone else know she’s here?”

  “No,” Arthur said, and Dottie looked at him, and they both thought about Moe. And Dottie thought about Teresa.

  “Good. Now, I want to take a statement from you. I want to know every last detail. I want to know when you planned it, and why. I want to know what gave you the idea. Was anyone else involved?”

  “No, no one else was involved. It was only me.”

  Sid nodded and went into his briefcase on the table. He took out a pad and a pen, and a small tape recorder. Arthur was frowning in the corner as they watched him flick the tape on, take the pad up, and sit poised. Dottie knew he didn’t like the idea of her pleading out, and by the way they had both stared down one another, she knew they’d been arguing about it.

  “Let’s start from the beginning. How did you decide to rob a bank?”

  * * *

  TERESA sat on the bench and stared out over what once had been a baseball field and was now a dust bowl. She’d been sitting on the bench for over two hours, looking at the park on 114th Street. Twilight had come, and she knew she’d better start back home. It was not a good thing to be out past nightfall anymore. She felt another wave of sadness come over her.

  They were going to win, she knew that, and she hated it.

  Okay, she hated what the neighborhood had become. But to leave it, well, that was like giving up, and Teresa was no quitter.

  She slowly stood up and, clutching her bag, she began walking toward First Avenue. When she was a little girl, she used to look out over this park, with all her friends playing in it, and she always imagined the day that she would leave the neighborhood. But it wasn’t to go and be a baby-sitter in Florida. No. When she left the neighborhood it was gonna be because she was moving up in the world, not down.

  There would be a big black limousine that would slide right up to the front of the building, and for one small moment, all the kids and the mothers and the wise guys on the corner would stop, and they would strain their necks out just to catch a glimpse of her when she passed from the building to the car. And people would call to her and tell her that they loved her and they would ask for her autograph. And her car would drive off, to some fancy house somewhere, and maybe she’d come back for visits from time to time to the neighborhood.

  A small chill went through her, and she realized how old that fantasy was.

  And as odd as it seemed, that was the thing that stuck most in her craw about being shipped off down to Florida. To be driven in a beat-up old car to the airport, and then where?

  Oblivion.

  She turned down First Avenue and walked unseeing toward 106th street. It was always safer not to see too much of what went on on these streets.

  Her eyes stopped at a television in the window of an appliance shop. Even though the shop was closed and a heavy gate was across the windows, she could still see a big color television set that had been left on. She stared at a picture of an anchorman, his lips moving silently. She stopped in front of it.

  The videotape of Dottie rolled onto the screen.

  Now she was famous and no one even knew it, Teresa thought. And it seemed odd that she, Teresa, who had always dreamed about fame, should stand here and actually, secretly, know someone who was famous.

  She watched Dottie hold the gun up to
the guard, the way she’d said she was gonna, and for some reason it suddenly seemed like a waste that no one would ever know it was Dottie who pulled the job.

  No, Dottie was probably a million miles from this lousy city, and all the cops knew was that they had another unsolved crime on their hands.

  Teresa exhaled loudly and began walking again.

  And she couldn’t even tell anyone it was Dottie, that was worse. She couldn’t even brag that she knew all the details and she knew all the circumstances and she knew … Teresa stopped short.

  Oh, God! That was it. It had been staring her right in the face all this time! It was the answer to everything. She let out a loud laugh, set her sights down First Avenue and began walking quickly.

  She climbed the stairs of her tenement building, gasping by the last flight. She heard people moving around inside her apartment and pushed the door open, which was unlocked, and stood gaping at her children.

  Cardboard boxes were sitting on all the surfaces, and her things were being packed. No one noticed her for a moment, and then suddenly Tracy yelled out.

  “Mom!” Where the hell have you been? You had us scared to death—”

  “Are you all right? We have the cops out looking for you everywhere.”

  Teresa softened her face, and looked tired. She shuffled over to the chair at the kitchen table and sank down into it.

  “Honey, get Mom some water! Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she said in a weak voice.

  “Now will you listen to us?” Tracy said, and placed the glass of water on the tabletop so forcefully it slopped over the top.

  Teresa took a long drink of the water.

  “Now do you see that you’re going to Florida?”

  Teresa sat still and looked over at them and a big screw-you grin eased itself across her face.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ARTHUR rolled over and stared at Dottie. Her eyes were open and she was looking at the ceiling. He crossed his hands on top of the blanket and lay there listening to the sound of her breathing.