Fiction Short Story

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Fiction Short Story

by Patricia Harrington

Cat Burglar, Beware

Detective Olson glanced around the community room. "Ma'am," he said, "I really don't think the cat burglar is one of your residents."

Clarabelle Gilly could tell that the detective had her pegged as a nosy old woman. She managed the Bingham Senior Apartments and had called the police about the neighborhood burglaries and her newest tenant Mr. Santini. The burglaries had started shortly after he moved into the Bingham and that fact was too much of a coincidence for her.

Clarabelle gave the detective her most withering stare, one that had made
even colonels cower when she was an army nurse. She said, "Are you saying older people aren't capable of being crooks?"

Detective Olson shuffled his feet. "No. But the cat burglar's climbing in second story windows, then stealing jewelry and money while the homeowners sleep. That takes someone who's pretty cool headed ... and you know ... agile."

Seeing Matilda with her walker, Clarabelle had to admit that the Bingham's residents showed their years. But she was darned if she'd let this detective lump them all as worn out and useless.

Detective Olson said, "I just can't question someone without cause."

Clarabelle answered tartly, "Well, I'm giving you one. Mr. Santini was a tightrope walker in the circus. He let that fact slip to one of the ladies here. And he's been pestering folks about the neighborhood, wanting to know who lives in the ritzy homes. There's something fishy about him, or I'm no judge of character."

Detective Olson shrugged. "Okay. I'll talk to your tenants, including this Santini. I'll make it casual--just ask if they've seen anything unusual."

An hour later, the detective strode into Clarabelle's office and said, "Why didn't you tell me this guy Santini was crippled with arthritis?"

She put down her pen. "Because one time I caught him walking just fine. I said, 'Well, aren't you doing well!' and he told me that he had been to the doctor that morning and had a cortisone shot. But he couldn't have because he rides the Para-Transit shuttle, and the drivers come into to my office to ask for their passengers that called for rides. I was there all morning on the phone checking out security systems for the apartments."

"Well, I still don't think the old guy's our burglar." Detective Olson put on his raincoat and handed Clarabelle his business card. "If you get a real lead, call me on my pager."

After he left, Clarabelle declared for her own benefit, "You haven't heard the last of me, Detective Olson. You want a lead, do you? I'll give you proof!"

She went to her room, fixed a pot of bracing Oolong tea and thought about how to make Mr. Santini show his hand. On the coffee table, she spotted the Bingham's Calendar of Activities, and an idea took hold. Clarabelle picked up the phone book and flipped through the yellow pages until she found the Spy Outlet Store's number. Then she smiled.

The following Saturday, the Bingham's tenants gathered for their monthly dinner party. Clarabelle wore her blue silk dress and diamond pendant with matching earrings that she had kept stored in a safe deposit box since Harry's death. When the tenants complimented Clarabelle, she said, "Oh, my late husband was so generous giving me this jewelry. It was very expensive." She made sure Mr. Santini overheard her.

How could he resist the temptation to steal jewelry that was right under his nose, so to speak?

Clarabelle thought that Mr. Santini might wait a couple of days before making his move. The police would suspect an inside job if the jewelry showed up missing the morning after the party. But after a day or two--given how the tenants liked to gossip--everybody within a mile of the Bingham would know about Clarabelle's diamonds. Then the police would have to broaden their search for the burglar.

Clarabelle didn't want to risk that she was wrong, however, and the day after the party, she opened the package that she had purchased at the Spy Outlet. She prepared the pendant, earrings and case, and then hid them under her fancy nightie in a dresser drawer. In the movies that was always where the burglar looked. It should be easy for Mr. Santini to climb onto her second floor balcony and pry open the sliding door. All the apartments were laid out the same, so he'd know exactly where her bedroom was. Maybe she'd sleep through his visit, though she doubted that. She was too excited.

That night Clarabelle woke up sensing that someone was in her room, but she breathed steadily as if still asleep. She lay on her side, her back to the dresser and heard a drawer open. She wasn't afraid; in fact, she could hardly wait for her intruder to leave because she wanted to get on with the next step in her plan. She had a crook to catch and a detective to prove wrong.

After the burglar left, Clarabelle rose, checked for the jewelry case and saw that it was missing. Now isn't that nice, she thought.

Next, she took out Detective Olson's card and dialed his pager number. He'd be grumpy at being awakened at three in the morning, but it served him right for not believing her.

When he returned her call, Clarabelle answered on the first ring. Sleepily, he asked, "Mrs. Gilly, what is the problem?"

"There's no problem, Detective Olson. "I have the goods on our burglar. Or rather, he has mine. He just stole my diamond necklace and earrings. I want you to come over right away and bring an ultraviolet light. I dusted the jewelry case with invisible theft tracking powder that I bought at a spy equipment store. With the light you should be able to pick up a nice, glowing set of purple handprints leading to Mr. Santini's apartment.

© Copyright 2003 Patricia Harrington

About the Author:

Patricia Harrington has an adult mystery series featuring amateur detective Bridget O'Hern. She debuted in Death Stalks the Khmer (America House, 2001). Harrington also started a kid’s mystery series titled "The Stanley Street Irregulars." The author's short mystery fiction and nonfiction have appeared in Orchard Press Mysteries, Mystery.Net, Woman's World, Mystery Time, Nefarious Tales of Mystery and Futures Mysterious Anthology Magazine. She can be contacted through her website at: www.patriciaharrington.com