CHAPTER NINETEEN
Everything that I needed in Florida was set in place; all the necessary precautions and fail safes were ready. Malefic the thief, the Psychic Vampire, was back in business.
I met with Brody and T.O., and everything went smoothly with them. T.O. and I worked out a good plan: I would drop off the cars I stole at a place he specified, different each time, then he would pay me once one of his people picked them up. His pay was a lot more than I’d made from Steve-O, my guy in Arkansas.
T.O. was clearly a no-nonsense kind of guy. He conducted business a certain way; his way. If you deviated from his instructions, he would gladly break your face and legs. I’m not talking about having someone else do it either. He was definitely a hands on kind of guy. What I perceived about him was not just mannerisms. He was shorter than me, maybe five-eight or nine, weighed about two-hundred pounds, had dark brown skin and was clean shaven on top of his head. His nose was wide and kind of misshapen and I could see small scars on his brows from what he said was a few ‘dust-ups’ over the years. When he smiled, I could see that most of his teeth were missing. I asked him about it and he told me he’d been a Ranger in the U.S. Army and had broken his jaw and lost the teeth when he flew through the window of a Hum-V while in Iraq. His eyes were very intelligent and I could see a light in them that I didn’t see in many others, but they hardened and got dark when he spoke about the military. I sensed that he felt betrayed somehow, but I didn’t probe for more. We were business partners, and I didn’t need any friends.
When we parted, we shook hands. Although his hands were small, in keeping with his overall stature, his palms were well-calloused and his knuckles were all scarred. His handshake was like a vise, much like my own. I looked him in the eyes and he nodded his head in respect acknowledging that he understood that I was a warrior too, and was not someone to be toyed with or taken lightly. We left each other with a mutual understanding and respect. I liked him. In another life, I think we could have been friends.
Brody, on the other hand, was a shady fellow. I didn’t like him at all. He was a sharp dresser; well refined, but there was something ‘off’ about him. To the untrained eye, Brody was the perfect image of a confident, successful businessman. He gave me a list of warehouses and safe houses that I would be making drop-offs to. He even offered to purchase any rare coins or jewelry I came up with, but I told him I was satisfied with the guy I had.
My initial interest in Miguel DeFriese was to have a buyer for all of the high end/expensive art pieces. I was also happy to unload my furnishings and antiques through him as well, but Brody made me hesitate to put all of my eggs in one basket like that.
I don’t know what it was about Brody. Maybe he was just a nervous guy. Maybe it was all the cocaine in his system. Either way, the vibe that I got from him was unsettling. He was friendly enough, and he didn’t act like someone who thought he was better than me.
It nagged at me, like an itch in the middle of my back that I couldn’t reach. I might have been picking up some kind of unconscious tick. It wasn’t enough to make me to turn and run, but there was definitely something there. I found that the best thing that I could do in those type of situations was to clear my thoughts and not worry about it. My mind would figure things out in the appropriate time.
I got settled into my trailer, making it more comfortable and fitting for my lifestyle. I took some to get to know my neighbors, to let them get comfortable with me.
On my left was Mr. Drawski, a retired factory worker and widower. He was quiet, didn’t get out much, stayed to himself.
On my right were the Luftkins, Bob and Jill. They’d been married for forty-seven years; high school sweethearts. Both were retired, blue-collar workers, lower middle class.
Directly across from me were Wilbur and Judith Funk. Both of them were pleasant to me, but as far as each other, there wasn’t a kind word between them. Wilbur stayed home and collected a disability check, while Judith worked as a cashier at the local ‘Gas & Serve;’ one waiting to retire, the other waiting to die. They were both miserable, and both perfect for each other.
Each of my neighbors were different from each other, but I could understand all of them.
One of the first things I did once I was comfortable was put up a fence. I told all of my neighbors about my job as an alarm salesman. I offered them a good deal on the systems, but everyone declined, saying for the most part that they had nothing worth stealing, or that their home owner’s insurance would take care of anything that was taken.
My landlords however, jumped at my offer of a free system, and I threw in a free fence for them too. They made me sign an agreement stating that when I moved out, I would not take either of them with me. I told them that was fine because the alarm system components were free to me, a perk of my job. I also told them that the materials for the fence were obtained through a friend of mine who worked at the local Home Depot and that they were practically free to me. Both of those were lies. I paid for everything out of my own pocket.
Also, even though I now had phantom accounts set up to stash my money and an attorney reserved and holding money as well, I still had to have something close to home to keep my gold and spending money in, so I cut a hole in the floor of my laundry closet and installed a floor safe there. A hole big enough for me to drop through and go beneath the trailer. Then, I dug a hole in the sandy Florida soil and placed a plastic tub with a sealable lid in it then put a three by three foot waterproof safe inside of the tub. When I was done, I covered it with the sand.
I kept about forty thousand dollars in cash in the safe at all times, and of course my gold, which I figured was worth about twenty or twenty-five thousand.
I also had some jewelry in the safe, but not for sale. No, I had started to look differently at some of the jewelry I was stealing, not for the money I could get for it, but for Genie, wondering if she would like it.
I was thirty-five, almost thirty-six, and I found myself falling in love for the first time, REALLY falling in love.
I was torn inside. A part of me was okay with just leaving things as they were. There was no need to tell Genie about my late night business dealings, but my heart wouldn’t give it a rest. It kept trying to convince me that telling her about my other life, my other career, was better than her finding out. But how would she find out, I asked myself. I wasn’t going to get caught, and no one was going to tell on me. Certainly not the men I was dealing with.
Still, with this new heart that was emerging, so was a conscience. Who would have thought that all of these damned feelings would just all of a sudden pop up in me?
I wasn’t ready to tell her, but I just as much didn’t want to lose her. How did someone bring up a conversation like that? Oh, by the way honey, I break into people’s homes for a living. I take their possessions, the things they work hard for, and I sell them for money. And, I really don’t care what they feel about their loss.
Yeah, that would go over really well.
I didn’t want Genie to think that I was an insensitive bastard. The sad truth of the matter though, was that I was. I didn’t care about the people I stole from. Not one bit. Their possessions were nothing more than a means to my end. Their wedding rings, anniversary gifts, unreplaceable things were simply donations toward my happily ever after.
I didn’t hate the people I stole from; it wasn’t revenge for my poor childhood. I didn’t envy them, didn’t think they were better than me. No, I was just indifferent. I didn’t care.
So, I continued to live two lives and hoped that an opportunity would arise; something, anything, that would allow me to tell Genie about my real life as a thief.