Karma - Kindness of Acquaintances

"Al, if he would come back with a truck,... then that would draw attention. So whatever he'd steal would be small. He wouldn't want anything that would require turning on lights or heavy duty motors to move it. That electrical panel that was missing was small enough to be tossed in the trunk of his car, along with a couple of others that I noticed that we were missing too. What he is looking at now would be perfect for him."

"Brian, there's only one protected way to enter or exit because of the configuration of the adjoining buildings and the busy street. With parking lots all around the entrance..." I paused to get my next words together. "What about I borrow my brother-in-laws step van and his fancy schmancy digital camera?" Brian nodded yes. "Let me call him first to see if we can do it." I made the call.

After I explained to my brother-in-law Mike what happened and what we wanted to do, I got a yes. As I hung up I turned to Brian. "It's even better that what we wanted. Mike will not only loan us the stuff, but he'd bring the truck, man the camera and add a cooler of beer for everybody but me. I'm the designated driver."

Brian snuck in "oh poor baby" and we both laughed. "Al, that's a small price to get the asshole that hurt Andre. Let's call the wives to tell them we won't be home tonight. See if they can pick up our cars."

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3) At the bar, Stan and Mark

"Stosh, over here. We've got our own table tonight."

I smiled and waved. We always had our own table. This was our neighborhood tavern. This is the style of tavern from the last century that is slowly being replaced. 'Our Own Table' was like a familiar line from an old song. Using my quad cane, I hobbled on over to the table.

I've been on disability for a year now since my stroke. Months ago my wife Mary demanded that I get out more. I've never been big on drinking but I'd meet my buddy Mark for a couple of hours each week to sit and bullshit. Over a beer or two (or three for him, I get to stop at two), we'd solve the world's problems. Only a camp fire in the North woods on a quiet lake in fall would make it better.

There was no more working in the trades for me. There'd be no more hanging sheetrock or slinging mud or even delivering supplies. Even keeping my small garden is a chore. I soon tire out but I'll never ask for help.

My right side is never going to be working the same, but I can't ever give up trying. I go to different therapies, PT and sometimes OT. You'd think it was called Physical Therapy and Occupational Therapy. As it's known by its victims, it is really called 'Pain and Torture' and 'Other Torture'. All that pain and work has only helped me so much. The worst part about it is that is the best that can be done. There aren't any other real options. It'll never be enough to go back to work, but I have to keep working at it so I can play and hold and walk with my grandchildren. It'll get me some better quality of life.

"Mark, great to see you. Did you order me my regular?"

A pained expression covered Mark's face. "Sorry Stosh, they ran out of sugar. No Shirley Temples for you tonight." We both busted out laughing. Each week he'd come up with one 'sissy' drink after another for us to laugh at.

This tavern still has Old Style, my beer of choice for the past 40 years. I still remember the cement column at the head of one of the harbors on Chicago's lakefront that was painted like an Old Style can. Years ago I used to party around there. They even painted the frog in the right place.

It's gone now. They redid the rocks along the lakeshore. It's better for walking and biking now. I've gone there with Mary on my electric wheelchair for a 'drive' a couple of months after my stroke. It felt so good to be along the lake, feeling the wind, smelling the water. There's nothing like being alive after seeing death look me in the eye and give me a dope slap.

A cold one was already on the way to the table. Joe our bartender delivered it with a "Here you go Stan, I chilled the glass too."

Thanking him, I turned to Mark. "Is there anything new this week? How's the job treating you?"

"It ain't the job Stosh. More bullshit about my nephew Greg and his bitch of a mother-in-law. He and his wife are finishing up their third year in college and living with her was supposed to be way to save money and stress. They've saved money, but the fucking stress..."

"What she'd do this time? Ranting and raving about sins of the flesh again? Or was it getting them to go to that Mega-revivalist church in the far North West 'burbs? The one with the singing and praying for hours on end?"

"Yep, the last one. Being told that you're goin' to hell because you don't spend all day Sunday prayin', singin' and goin' to church? Then there's the eavesdropping and lack of privacy." Mark exhaled loudly. "Greg can't put boundaries around that woman and her daughter has spent a lifetime just trying to survive under her mother. Problem is that Greg and Mary are up to their eyeballs in student loan debt. He's got a full load at UIC and he's workin' 4 mid-nights a week at a hospital. That's all the time he can afford and carry a full load of classes.

"All he can do for now is grit his teeth and try to make the best of it for the next year." Mark laughed a little bit. "It's made him a much better student. If he doesn't do that well, he may be forced to live there longer. He's been getting straight A's from what I hear." We both laughed.

The conversation went on for the rest of our first beer when one of the regulars took the table next to us. Kathleen, a rather short and obese woman in her early 50's was loud, obnoxious and crude. She was trouble from the word go. When they came up with the definition of trailer trash, they were looking at her and taking notes.

Her sister Rita on the other hand was a joy to behold. Rita visited Chicago and the bar when she vacationed from her home in St. Paul. She was here two nights last summer. Neither of them had an education to speak of, but Rita had a different view of the world. Rita worked hard to get somewhere, to be someone. Rita never slacked off and she made sure her two kids were the same way. She made sure that both were in community college getting an associate's degree in something with a future and working part time to pay for it. On the other hand, Kathleen's daughter Marcia dropped out of high school and got herself pregnant, but the guy did marry her. The whole bar knew the story because Kathleen never spoke quietly to anybody. Kathleen doesn't work. She stays at home taking care of the kid and living off her son-in-law.

But today Kathleen came in with some rough looking guy. He was somebody that we'd never seen before. She looked at the bartender and asked for two beers and two shots of Jack. They settled in and started talking loud. At this point Mark and I both knew that we'd never be able to have a conversation. I was gearing up to move to the other side of the bar, or just go home sooner. She was that loud and I've got only an ounce of patience since my stroke.

"BBBill, do you know what my stupid son-in-law dddid? He came home early and caught Marcia bbballing her lover. WWWhat an asshole. Messed up a good thing for us. I told her she wwwas gonna get caught one day. Go to his place, don't fffuck 'em here." She sipped her beer and continued slurring her words. "Would she lllisten to her mother? No fffuckin' way."

I had almost suggested to Mark that we go to the other side of the room when this last bit blasted our ears. Instead, we stayed motionless and really began listening.

"What a fffucking asshole he was. Got all pppissy about it. She tossed his ass out the fffuckin' door and told him to come back when he apologized. Fuck, that was last Friday, a week ago." She signaled the bartender for another round. Mark motioned that her friend was starting to nod off and that she had downed both of those shots and most of her beer.

"She's got 'im you know. He doesn't love her, but he loves the kid. I was snooping around his stuff and found he got a DNA test. Yep, it's his. I told Marcia to stop fffucking round while she was trying to get pregnant by him. At least she listened to me that ttttime." Kathleen started laughing again, a drunken laughter.

"She stayed away from Jason until sssshe was sure ssshe wwwas knocked up." She brought the remaining beer to let lips and finished it. "She stated moving Jason's things in on Wednesday. That fffucker's in construction and isn't a steady job. But he's got lllllots of fffancy things." Then Kathleen let out a loud belch that startled her friend and half the tavern. They both laughed.

"Son-in-law got a good job. Was gonna be easy fffor her. He's workin' fffull time and goin' to school 2 evenings a week. She's workin' part time and I get to lllive there to help take care of the kid. Tonight was supposed to be my night off and I told her on Monday that sssince she fffucked up the gravy train, she's gonna to have to sssstay home 'cause I was leavin' for my fffuckin' night out."

We saw her grab his beer and he reacted. He grabbed his beer back from her without looking. "What she gonna do now Kathleen? It's his hhhhouse. Divorce the ppppanzy and take 'im for everythin'?" After downing his beer, he held up his empty beer glass and wiggled it back and forth. Finally getting the eye of the bartender, he shook it again for a refill.

"You bet. Asshole goin' to be makin' 'nuf money to keep us in a house and groceries. Marcia can continue to work part time and I'll watch the fffuckin' kid. Good time all around. Woulda been better if she hadn't ffffucked up and got caught." She shook her head in disgust.

I looked over at Mark and saw that he was writing something on a napkin. He passed it to me and I smiled and nodded. All it said "How we going to get them?"

My eldest son is getting divorced from a witch and we can't do a damn thing. It would only make it worse for my son. But we'd have no connection to this piece of dog waste. As Mark and I scribbled ideas down on our second and third napkins, the guy got excited and started to almost yell. "God dammmit. I'm due home in 5 mmmminutes. You gotta drop me off at my apartment by Horner Park at California and Irving. Quick. You can wwwwalk home from there."

"You want me to ddddrive? As ddddrunk as I am?"

"Come on Kathleen, you know the rrrrules. Who's the lllleast ddddrunk?" He belched and sloppily pointed to her. "It's yyyou. Let me take a ppppisss first." He walked to the bathroom holding on to the bar, tables and the wall to keeep from falling as he staggered along. As he was walking away we could hear Kathleen mutter under her breath. "FFFucking asshole. I've gggot 2 DUIs and lost my fffuckin' license for a year and I gotta ddddrive his claptrap piece of sssshit rrrrust bbbbucket. I do 'im a fffavor to help him pick up a package and this is my fffuckin' payback? Even had to split the last bar bill before we came here. FFFucking asshole."

Mark was tugging my arm and I pointed to the napkin. I wrote "My grandkids live around there." He wrote "I'm going outside to get my car to block them in. Find out what they drive and call me. I'll call the cops if I can't see one to flag down."

I nodded yes and wrote "I'll stall them if I can." He nodded to me as he went outside, throwing a couple bills to Joe, the bartender.

It took about 10 minutes for the guy to get back to the table. There was a long wet streak along one of his pant legs. It looks like he missed. It took another 10 minutes for them to pay their bill. They had to scrounge the money between them. He had his keys on the table while they were paying and arguing with each other. I saw that there was an older Chrysler key and a couple of house keys. I texted Mark the key information. He texted back that a cop was due to meet them as soon as he could and was not going to use lights or sirens when they got close.

The two stumbled out the door and on to the sidewalk. They had to look back and forth several times until they saw their car. I followed them out and then hung back. Hanging back wasn't an act. My quad cane and I have to make slow and deliberate steps. They headed south and I saw Mark in his minivan hanging three car lengths behind an old and beat up rusty Neon.

If it wasn't for the parking meters and storefront windows along the sidewalk, these two would have never made it. They were in no condition to walk let alone drive. It took them another 5 minutes to walk the half a block to the car. Mark texted me that if they got the car started, he would pull up next to them, feign a stalled engine and block them in.

He didn't have to do anything.

Once she got into the driver's seat and closed the door, a plainclothes cop yanked their door open and took the key. They both were startled. Showing his badge to them, I heard a loud feminine "Oh fuck" followed by a loud commanding masculine "Both of you get out and put your hands on the car." As they slowly and sloppily did that, it was evident to the cops that these two were in no condition to do very much. A second squad came on by and I heard "Let's open this trunk." That's when I heard a louder "OH FUCK." from the guy.

Still hobbling toward Mark's minivan, I saw that the trunk was loaded with very old guns. There was a blunderbuss, two Japanese swords, a gilded antique shotgun that had to be from 1700's Europe and more. Beneath it there were parts of swords and scabbards poking out. The box in the back seat was opened and I saw antique pistols and daggers. Then there was the sweet sound of the Miranda rights being read while handcuffs were clinking shut as I struggled into Mark's minivan.

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4) At the house, Robin and Dan and Dorothy and Greg

"Dorothy, I can't believe that your husband Greg is letting you do this. He's always been the quiet one and ..."

"Robin, once you told your husband Dan, he called Greg and they both wanted in on the action. This is better than sex for them." We both laughed, hard, very hard. "They haven't been this excited since winning the $500 on the super bowl pool squares at work. Look at them, they get to play spy and dirty tricks and get a conniving bitch in serious trouble. Both of 'em couldn't be happier."

"They are having a blast. Getting the costumes and disguises, the three unknown cars, backup fireworks ..."

"Happier than two pigs in shit. If it works out tonight, they'll be talking about it for weeks. We'll never hear the end of it."

"Greg told me that we're gonna open a bottle of rum and do some horizontal dancin' later."

I started to laugh. Making love tends to be fewer and farther between for old married couples. We're all getting older and there are fewer new things to do. "I made hubby promise that he'd bail us out if it went wrong." We both became quiet. We had the last 24 hours to pull this plan together and the men helped. But there was always a risk. As soon as I said that, it was like a bucket of cold water over our heads. It could go terribly wrong. It shouldn't, but it could.

A borrowed car, old temp license plates he found in the parking lot at work, the pick-up and drop-off points and the practice with the cigarettes and the M-80's was my hubby Dan. Greg helped us practicing our Jehovah's Witnesses spiel, the costumes, and 'casin' da joint'. Greg also had two cars for himself. He was going to observing the house from 4 PM on. We were going to show up around 6 and we all thought that the bitch would leave by 7.

Our two husbands were having a great time. After they heard what Marcia was doing and going to do, there was no stopping them. They came up with a couple of good ideas and helped us improve our ideas too. Our husbands were going to have our backs. They felt it was their duty to derail the bitch if they could and were having fun doing it. Was this going to be practice in case it goes south for our kids? I shuddered even thinking that. I prayed it would never happen.

It was dusk when Dan, Dorothy and I arrived at the block. "Ladies?" Dan always called us ladies when we were doing something improper. "After 4:02 PM, Investigator Greg had started driving past the house several times to observe and memorize the neighborhood. At 5:06, he had changed cars and parked the newest car where he could see the front door and gangway to the alley. At 5:23, the subject arrived home from work. At 6:18, a middle aged obese woman, expected to be the mother left. She was picked up in an old, rusty, yellow Neon. At..."

"And how do you know all of this Dan? A crystal ball? You making this up?"

Dorothy replied to me, "He's been getting texts from Greg all night."

"As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted." Dan gave a snicker and his face flashed a mischievous smile. "At 6:32, the target of our investigation.."

"OH COME ON NOW DAN. Do you really have to imitate the announcer on that cable show about catching people who cheat?"

"As I was saying" he gave me a smirk and continued. "At 6:32, the target of our investigation, a certain Marcia O'Flannagan Berthard left by the front door and entered into an older green Toyota that we believe is hers. She proceeded to drive south to Irving Park Road and then parts unknown. Our investigator Greg has reported that the light in the back bedroom on the second floor was on when the older woman was present in the house and was turned off 2 minutes after she left the house. No other signs of activity have been observed."

"Robin, aren't these guys are having way too much fun for this?" I giggled a "yes" in reply while Dan had a shit eating grin on face. "Ladies, it's now 6:43. It's Show Time. By the way, Greg hasn't seen any activity at the house directly to the north of her house. If you spend time there while casing the target house, it'll look normal, not just hitting her house alone. OK?"

We both nodded. Dan drove around the block and dropped us off on the north side of her block around the corner by the alley. He stayed and monitored us from behind. Greg was monitoring us from the front. Dorothy and I had our phones on vibrate if either of our husbands saw any problems.

As we exited the car and started walking, I said, "Dorothy?" She looked at me from under her grey wig. "This was a little scary and fun at the same time." She nodded yes and smiled with a large touch of worry.

We walked around her corner and stopped at the first house. We got into our practiced stance and remembered our lines. I rang the doorbell. A white haired man answered and when he saw what we were carrying, he slammed the door in our face. As we walked to the next door, Dorothy turned to me and said "I at least give them a 'No Thank You'. If they keep talking, then I slam the door."

We received the similar treatment from the next two houses. There was no answer from the one after that, but I heard a sitcom playing in the background. The next one was the one before Marcie's, I mean the Bitch's house. This house had no one home as promised. As I was hitting the doorbell, Dorothy was looking over at our target. She saw nothing going at the target or on the block, so we left the neighbor's house.

As we approached the target's front door, I thought about what we were doing. We were trying to save a child from a derelict mother. We were trying to help a good father. I started ringing her doorbell while Dorothy was looking into the living room. She whispered to me. "They must have four flat screen TV's in there Robin. The monster curved one and two more slightly smaller and a tiny one. There's no room for a crib at all. Glance around us to see if anyone is looking. If we're in the clear, I'll check for texts. Then you do that when I'm finished"

Everything looked good and the men kept an eye out for anyone, including the police. I dropped to my knee like I was attempting to tie my shoelace and lit the cigarette with a lighter. I hid the flame so it could not be seen from the street. While appearing to look into the house, I placed the cigarette with the M-80 on the window sill. We knew that there would be minimal visible smoke due to the slight breeze. Our hearts were beating wildly as we walked away.