by Nancy Moser
Maybe hes just going out for a smoke. After all, that is how we first met.
Jered's curiosity got the best of him. He slipped out the back in time to see Jinko's taillights as he drove away. Where was he going?
Jered went back inside.
“In. Out. What you doing?” Vasylko asked.
Jered moved close. He didn't want the servers to hear. “Where does Jinko go?”
Vasylko nodded. “Ah. His slip-outs.”
“Yeah. He does it a lot.”
Vasylko dropped a chimichanga in a vat of hot oil. It sizzled violently. “Why don't you ask him?”
Jered shook his head. “It's none of my business.”
“But you want to know, yes?”
Jered shrugged. He shouldn't have brought it up. He went back to the dishes.
Vasylko called after him. “You find out, you tell me, eh?”
Jered wouldn't promise a thing.
As usual, Jered got back to the house first after work. He was just turning out the light to go to sleep when he heard Jinko's car pull in. He moved to the window on the door and looked out. Jinko parked, then popped the trunk. He removed a huge crystal vase and a canvas bag. As he used his elbow to close the trunk he looked in Jered's direction.
Jered stepped away from the window. He closed his eyes then yelled at himself. Why was he acting guilty? He wasn't doing anything wrong looking out his own window.
You re not doing anything wrong but…
There was a knock on his door. It was Jinko, still holding the vase and bag. “Come inside.”
“I was just going to bed.”
“Come inside.”
Jered followed Jinko into the house. Jinko tossed his keys on the kitchen counter and set the vase and bag on the table. He turned the vase, admiring it. “Nice, isn't it?”
“I like the design stuff.”
Jinko laughed. “That design stuff is hand cut with a diamond-tipped cutting wheel. This is Waterford.”
“So?”
“It's the finest crystal in the world. Irish. This piece is probably worth eight hundred to a thousand dollars.”
“You're kidding.”
Jinko ran a finger along the vases scalloped edge. “I don't kid about quality, kid.”
“Where'd you get it?”
Jinko didn't even look up. “I stole it.”
Jered coughed.
Jinko smiled. “Want to see what else I got?”
He was so casual about it. “Sure.”
Jinko opened the canvas bag and pulled out a silver bowl, a glass ashtray, a glass paperweight with a blue flower in it, and a strange wood sculpture that didn't look like much of anything. He held the wood thing a moment. “This isn't worth anything, but I liked it.” He looked at Jered. “So I took it.”
“From where?”
“The place I robbed.”
Jered swallowed. “You make it sound so easy.”
He picked up the vase, caressing it. “Oh, it is, kid. You just need to have a system.” He eyed Jered. “You want to hear mine?”
Not really.
Jinko smiled. “Course, if I tell you, I'll have to kill you.”
Jered retreated a step. Jinko laughed and pulled him back to the table of loot, an arm around his shoulders. “Don't be so gullible. I wouldn't be showing or telling you all this if I didn't trust you. You're my loyal employee, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes, Jered. Say yes. Yeah makes you sound stupid.”
“Okay. I mean, yes.”
“Better.” He pulled out a chair. “Have a seat and listen to a master.”
Jered took a seat opposite his boss, as far from the stolen goods as possible.
Jinko set the vase close. His hand continued to stroke it as he talked. “The key is to only take what people won't miss.”
“How do you do that?”
“We are a people of possessions, kid. We don't just have one vase; we have six. We don't have one piece of silver; we have a dozen. We may have one on display, but the rest is stored in buffets, in closets, in drawers. I merely take what's out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind—until they look for it. By then, when they find the stuff gone, it's too late to ever figure out when they last saw it. There's no way to catch the evil thief then.”
“How do you get in?”
Jinko shrugged. “I open the door. People don't lock their doors around here. Or if they do, a key's usually hidden close by.” He pointed at Jered. “Point number two is not to push it. If I can't get in quickly, or if there's an alarm system, I walk away. I'm not that desperate.”
Actually, the only reason Jered could imagine stealing was if he were desperate. Or hungry. “When do you do this?”
“During the evening when the owners are eating at Palamba's.”
“Huh?”
Jinko sighed. “You really have to work on your vocabulary, kid.” He spread his hands on the table. They were big hands. Powerful hands. “You've seen me chat with the customers, haven't you? Like tonight when I caught you watching me.”
Jered didn't like the word caught. “I was eating dinner.”
“And watching me. Don't deny it.” Jered shrugged and Jinko continued. “I have a loyal customer base. I get to know them, know their names and what they do for a living. I hear about their vacations and their hobbies. Do they play golf every Saturday? Are they going to Bermuda next week?” He pointed to his eyes, then his ears. “Look and listen, kid. That's the essence of everything. People are aching, practically begging to spill their story. You just need to provide a willing ear. And brag?” He laughed. “I hear all about their promotions and their newest toys. And though I may not choose to steal the items they mention, I can make a pretty good guess about the other types of goodies they have in their homes.”
Jered was figuring it out. “So when you slip out during the busy times?”
“I'm taking a quick trip to their houses and helping myself. In, out, done. Back in time to ask them how they enjoyed their meal.”
Slick. “What do you do with all this stuff? I mean, wont people see it and recognize it?”
“Though we may be buddy-buddy during a meal, we don't run in the same circles.” He relaxed in the chair. “And I'll just have to make sure I don't invite them over for dinner, won't I?”
“But what if a friend of a friend—?”
“It's covered, kid. Don't worry about it. And what I don't keep, I sell in KC for cash to buy my own baubles.” He pushed the vase to the side and leaned over the table. Jered could see the pores in his nose. “Listen close now. The key to everything is image. I've made a lot of effort creating a certain image for myself.” He swept a hand over his meticulous house. “Does this look like the house of a thief or the house of a successful man?”
A successful thief.
Jinko leaned back and slapped one hand on the table. “So. What do you think?”
“I…I think you have it down.”
“That I do. I take that as a compliment. But the big question is, what are you going to do?”
“Me? Do?”
“About the knowledge I've just given you. Knowledge is power, kid, and I've just given you enough power to put me away for good.”
“Oh, but I wouldn't—”
Jinko raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn't you? Wouldn't you turn me in and rid Eldora of an awful criminal?”
“I don't think of you as a criminal.”
“That's what I am.”
Jered was confused. “I don't know what you want me to say.”
“I don't want you to say anything.”
“Then I don't know what you want me to do.”
Jinko flipped a hand as if they were discussing which movie to watch. “The only thing I want you to do is make a choice. Either you're for me or against me.”
Jered jumped in. “I'm not against you, Jinko. Not at all. You've helped me. Tons.”
“I saw potential in you, kid. I don't help just anybody. So are you in?�
�
His stomach flipped. “In?”
“In for a piece of the action?”
Jered shook his head. “Why do you need me? You've been doing fine on your own and—”
Jinko's face clouded. “I don't need you, kid. I'm doing you a favor. I'm being a mentor to a homeless kid who doesn't know his foot from his elbow. You stick with me, and I'll take you places.”
“What kind of places?”
Jinko snickered. “You do have the questions, don't you?”
“I just want to know.”
“Nothing wrong in that.” He stroked his goatee. “Here's the deal. You help me out on a few projects, and I'll get you hooked up with a music producer.”
It sounded great, but… “I did awful during Amateur Night.”
“A fluke. I'm sure you can do better. With the proper coaching. With the proper management. With my help.”
A coach, manager, help. How could Jered say no?
Jered set the glass paperweight with the blue flower on the box next to his bed. A present from Jinko. It was pretty. And heavy. Pretty heavy.
Pretty heavy stuff That's what he was into now.
He turned over and tried to sleep.
Annie woke up, wide awake. She held her breath a moment to see if any sound had awakened her. The furnace hummed. Cal snored.
She turned over to go back to sleep.
She saw the clock. 3:16.
Again? How odd.
As she drifted back to sleep, she let a prayer escape. Is this You, God?
He didn't answer.
She was relieved.
Nine
Blessed is the man who makes the LORD his trust,
who does not look to the proud,
to those who turn aside to false gods.
PSALM 40:4
“I'VE GOT A QUESTION for you, Annie.”
“Oh?” Annie put the phone in the crook of her neck as she made Avi a PB and J sandwich for her lunch box. She hoped Merry wasn't going to make her feel guilty about her decision to put her marriage first. It had been three days since she'd made the decision, and she was getting used to it, though it wasn't easy.
Every time Cal said he was going on errands, it took all of her will not to jump on him. Confront him. Yet to bring her suspicions about his infidelity out in the open would be a threat to their marriage. It was safer to do everything she could to make it just go away. If that was considered being chicken, so be it.
“How would you like to come to choir practice with me tonight?” Merry asked.
I'd love to collided with I can't.
Merry jumped in. “Don't worry if you're not a great singer. Great singers do not exist in the Steadfast Community Church choir— except for Maury Davidson. He'll be the first to tell you that.”
Annie couldn't remember the last time she'd sung in a group that consisted of more than her and Avi singing to the car radio. “I can read music.”
“Then you have one up on most of our tenor section. They are big into doing their own thing.”
“How can that work in a choir?”
“It can't. Which might hint at the quality of our vocal offerings. But what we lack in expertise, we make up for in heart and soul. And volume.”
It sounded wonderful. “I'd love to—” Then reality returned. “I can't.
“Sure you can.”
“Cal will never go for it.”
A moment of silence hung between them. Then Merry added, “My selfish impulse is to tell you to lie about where you re going, but that wouldn't be setting a very good example, would it?”
“Probably not.”
“Could you ask him? Were just starting to work on our Christmas music. I'm sure you can fa-la-la with the best of us. Maybe you could appeal to his holiday spirit.”
“Hmm.”
“Think about it, okay? Seven-thirty. We need you—and you need us, Annie. It's not a huge commitment. Just singing with some friends. Okay?”
“We'll see.” Annie hung up. She couldn't imagine Cal thinking of any church people as “friends.” There was something seriously wrong with that.
Oh, dear. She would love to sing in the choir. But her resolve not to push Cal's God-button…
Merry's words repeated in her head: “Appeal to his holiday spirit.”
Cal loved Christmas. She'd even heard him hum a few Christmas carols. Why should he object if she wanted to sing a few herself?
Choir was a possibility. If she handled it right.
Merry hung up the phone and closed her eyes. “Lord, please let Annie come to choir. It would be a way for her to reconnect. She's turning her back on You and on everything that has happened to her faith these past few months. She thinks it's a choice between her marriage and You, and it isn't.”
She suddenly opened her eyes. “Is it?”
Merry prayed for a very long time.
Jered was just getting out of the shower when Jinko knocked on the bathroom door. “I'll be done in a minute.”
“Hurry up, kid. I've got something for you.”
Another present? Jinko was one of the most generous people Jered had ever met. He put on some clothes and opened the door. Jinko stood in the hall holding a huge brown box.
“UPS just delivered it.”
“What is it?”
“Your costume for tomorrow night.”
“You bought me a costume?”
“Everybody dresses up—on me. I'm gaining quite a collection. Come on, I'll show you.”
They went to the living room, and Jered opened the box. He wasn't sure what he expected—or was hoping for—but he had to admit he was disappointed. It was brown. And blah. And had a rope for a belt. “It's a monk's outfit.”
“Robe.”
Whatever.
“You look disappointed. Hoping to be a dashing pirate or a Confederate general or something?”
Jered felt himself redden. He smiled. “Well, yeah. Yes.” He felt petty but had to say it. “Vasylko said he was going to be Elvis.”
Jinko nodded. “Ah. The singer wanted to be a singer.”
“It fits better than having me be a monk.”
Jinko took the nubby brown costume out of the box and held it up to him. “Costumes either enhance what we are or let us explore a whole new identity. Or…” He retrieved a shopping bag that had been sitting beside the couch. “A costume can be functional, and in our case, hide what needs to be hidden.”
What was he talking about?
Jinko gave him the bag. “You'll wear this underneath the robe.”
The shopping bag was from a local discount store. Inside were a pair of black jeans, a long-sleeved black T-shirt, and a pair of black rubber-soled shoes.
“I see a theme here. You trying to make me your clone?”
“You wish. I'm supplying you with the proper attire for a real-life identity. Your new identity. A burglar.”
A breath caught in Jered's throat. It wasn't that he didn't understand what they'd been talking about. He did. But to hear it put so bluntly…
Jinko spread the clothes neatly on the couch. “You wear your new duds under the monk's costume. I, myself, will be dressed similarly under my bright white-and-gold sheikh's costume.”
“I've never seen you in anything but dark colors.”
“Did you actually think my monochromatic style was a fashion statement? Dark is the color of night, kid. If I wore a white shirt, or one of those pastel golf numbers, I'd be seen.” He pointed a finger. “You choose your moments to be seen. And I'll be seen tomorrow night. There. In the restaurant, playing the regal host. I'll be my most affable and charming—until the costume contest at midnight.
“I've hired a local DJ, Roxie Robins, to emcee the event. Being the exhibitionist she is, Roxie's sure to wear something skimpy, guaranteeing that all eyes will be on her during the contest.”
“I've heard her. She's crazy.”
“As a fox. As are we, kid. Because by midnight all the little trick-or-treating ghou
ls and goblins will be safely tucked into bed, passed out from an overdose of sugar. You and I will slip out, remove our costumes, drive your truck to our desired location, and get to work.”
“My truck?”
“I'd rather not take a chance my car is seen. Not this time.”
“But—”
“Which reminds me…” He pulled out a wad of bills and gave Jered a handful. “Go over to Skinner Auto and get your muffler fixed. Today. Tell them I sent you and it's a rush job. You need it done by tomorrow morning.”
Jered got the connection. “It's too noisy?”
“Letting the world hear you coming and going when you're a punk kid is one thing. But when you're a burglar…”
“Quiet is king.”
“You got it.” Jinko put the rest of the money away. “Any questions?”
Only a million or so. “It sounds like you're going after something specific this time. What is it?”
“Coins, kid. A pricey bunch of coins. Good ol' Ed Cooperton just can't keep his mouth shut about them. Seems some rich uncle died and left him a bunch. I'm particularly interested in the Morgan halves.”
“You know about coins?”
“Knowledge is power. Do a little research, gain a lot of money. Coins are easily sold. Got a dealer in KC that's aching for more. When Ed started bragging, I started planning.”
“Can I see some of your coins?”
“I don't have any coins. I'm not a coin collector. I'm a coin seller.”
The next popped out without warning. “Coin stealer.”
Jinko shrugged. “First the one, then the other.”
Jered's stomach began to churn. “Do you know where he keeps the coins in the house?”
“Of course.”
“Is the house going to be unlocked?”
Jinko laughed. “My little detail man. Yes, kid. The house should be unlocked. Unless Ed's gotten smart in the past month—which I doubt.” He carefully folded the monk's costume into its box. “Enough talk. Do what I told you to do. Tomorrow's a busy day.”
As soon as Jinko left, Jered gathered the clothes and went out to the garage. He checked the sizes of his new black clothes. They should fit perfectly. Jinko was really something.