QUICK CRIME
5 short stories of crime and justice
Chelsea Graydon
Copyright © 2011 Chelsea Graydon
Published by Fiero Publishing
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
A crime can happen quickly, on a sudden impulse, or be dragged out over years of planning or slow malicious acts. But the “quick” in this collection doesn’t really refer to the speed of the crime so much as our consumption of it. That is, our dread of it, our witness, and our cheering at the tables turned and the criminal caught.
Call it quick hits of primal justice therapy. Where else can you solve the problems of society in such an efficient satisfying way? These tales are meant to be consumed in a single gulp, relished like good fast food. And if they also open your eyes to the possibilities of nefarious motives and opportunities around you, well, that’s all to the better. One can never be too vigilant.
Fiat justitia!*
-Chelsea Graydon
May 4, 2011
*Let justice be done!
Electronic eyes only catch so much.
Chelsea Graydon
Copyright © 2011 Chelsea Graydon
Eva dropped her umbrella and grabbed at the bank’s doorframe as a man in a dripping black trench coat shoved past. “Out of the way!”
He jerked to a stop by the deserted teller lines. It was only eight a.m. Was he lost? The man cocked his head up towards a voice inside, and spun to barrel out into the rain again, kicking Eva’s umbrella onto the street as he went. The umbrella crunched under a passing car.
Eva gasped, then froze as he stopped and turned back towards her once more.
“Yoo-hoo!” chirped a voice. It was the plump woman who’d hired her yesterday, waving at her to join her behind the teller’s counter.
Eva ran.
Once safe, she scanned the bank interior and saw the workman up the ladder just inside the entrance. Hand to his ear, the workman watched the steely-haired madman burst in again. He nodded and called down to him with an English accent, “Right. You’re done, Mr. Z. Thanks much.”
“Mr. Z.” snorted, shrugged off his trench coat to reveal an expensive blue suit, and stomped off to the offices in the back.
The workman on the ladder caught Eva’s eye and winked. She smiled tentatively back.
“Mr. Angry Pants is Mr. Zanelli, our branch manager,” whispered the plump woman beside her, Mary Crawford. “He's upset that head office decided on this new video security without his input. The workers have been at it since seven, apparently.”
Still grieving her umbrella, Eva swivelled her head to spot three more cameras hanging from the ceiling in front of and behind the counter, one even pointed to cover anyone opening or closing the bank vault. “Are those on now?” she whispered.
“Oh no. Just installing and testing today. They go on tomorrow. Now,” she smiled at Eva, “let’s go through opening procedures, okay?”
***
By two p.m., Eva was adjusting. She’d worked as a teller two years back and learned quickly. And other than Mr. Zanelli, who regularly stormed out to check on things, everyone seemed nice.
“Security’s never been a problem,” Mary told her during a lull. “What with Buster at the door.” She nodded at the big-knuckled guard.
“Is that why Mr. Zanelli’s so upset about the cameras?” Eva asked.
Mary pursed her lips. “I think he just doesn’t like change. All the drilling into the ceiling, the high-tech monitoring. He thinks head office wants to drive him out.”
Eva nodded then looked up. “The rain’s stopped.”
“It’s about time.”
***
That night Eva was awoken by two policemen at her door. Taken down to the station, she was hustled into a room where a tired-looking Sergeant nodded her to a chair.
“Just getting details, Miss Gordon. Robbery at your bank tonight. Embezzlement actually.”
Eva swallowed. “I just started there. I don’t even–”
“We know. We want your impressions of the people you saw there today. Mr. Albert Zanelli. Did he seem upset? Out of sorts?”
“Well yes. But–”
“The surveillance camera installation. Did that specifically seem to bother him?”
“Yes.”
The Sergeant let out a deep sigh and rubbed his eyes. “Okay.”
Eva leaned forward in her chair. “You have no other suspects?”
The Sergeant looked up as if surprised to see her still there. “What? Sure. Simeon and his camera installers worked late. But none of them had the combo to the vault. None of them has the cash. Besides, we got Zanelli on surveillance tape entering the bank at quarter-to-eight tonight. No one else there. He tripped a silent alarm before he left.”