Casey's Slip Page 7

  One of the guys spoke up, saying he thought they were still somewhere at the shop, but he had no idea where.

  “Okay, that’s your job. Find them and don’t come back without them!”

  “Second. I want someone to find some police sirens we can put on our cycles. Then I want four or five of you to get some water-based paint and paint your bikes to look like police bikes. Who can do that?”

  Several of the guys volunteered for that, more than the four or five Smitty wanted. He cherry-picked the ones he wanted, then told them they had to have their bikes painted and a siren mounted on each of them before tomorrow evening.

  “Can do,” a couple replied. One of them wanted to know what the hell Smitty was planning. He told them he wasn’t sure yet. It still depended on a couple of things. He just wanted to be ready.

  “I’ll tell you this much,” he said. “We need to get in through the back porch. In order to do that successfully it’d be nice if there was something going on at the front of the house to distract the chef and whoever else might be there. I’m thinking some sort of a ruckus between some bikers and some cops would probably do it, but I haven’t worked through the details yet. I’m open to ideas if you got any.”

  Silence.

  “Okay, you guys got your orders for tomorrow. Let’s sleep on it and see what we come up with in the morning.”

  I’d forgotten about Lew and the golf bags. He spoke up, wanting to know what Smitty had planned for them.

  “Are they in the garage?” Smitty asked him. Lew nodded. “Good. Leave ‘em there.”

  I decided to do what Smitty had told me to do. Get some rest. On the way up to my room I peeked into the kitchen and saw no sign of Josie. In my room I stripped down to my skivvies and shirt and laid down to think.

  Outside of meeting Josie, everything was going wrong for me. Smitty was using me as a recruit and making me a part of whatever the gang was planning. His home invasion plan sounded wacky to me, we’d probably all end up in jail. Every time I suggested something that sounded normal, like going to the police with what we’d learned, they laughed at me. I was marooned up here in the hills with no way of escape. I had to think of something. With all that on my mind I couldn’t fall asleep.

  Finally I decided to go down to the kitchen and have some hot chocolate or something.

  The house was pretty dark. I had to feel my way to the kitchen, and I realized I’d neglected to pay attention to where any light switches were. Fortunately the switch was where it should be in any proper kitchen, next to the door, so I was able to get some light on the subject.

  Try as I might I couldn’t find any chocolate, so I decided to just go with a cup of warm milk and hope none of the gang caught me at it. I got the stove going, found the milk, found a pan and a cup and pretty soon I was seated at the kitchen table, trying to relax.

  Suddenly the door swung open, and in walked a vision of loveliness, Josie! She made a beeline for the reefer, grabbed the carton of milk and turned toward the stove. When she saw the dirty pan, she turned around in surprise and saw me. She certainly was a cool number. She wasn’t nonplussed for a second.

  “Hi,” she said. “You couldn’t sleep either?”

  I, on the other hand, was a little more than nonplussed. First of all, she had shorty PJs on. She was covered up, but provocative as hell, at least to me.

  My problem was I hadn’t expected to run into anyone. All I had on were my underwear shorts and an unbuttoned shirt and, glancing down; I realized the shorts weren’t buttoned. All I could do was pull my chair as close in to the table as possible and be glad it wasn’t glass topped.

  “I guess all the strange surroundings and what’s going on has me a little on edge,” I said, trying not to sound too lame about it.

  “Dad does that to people. When he gets his teeth into something, he has a way of dragging everyone along with him.”

  She’d found the chocolate and made herself some hot cocoa. She asked if I didn’t want cocoa instead of milk, but as I couldn’t get up from the table, I told her I preferred plain milk.

  She sat down across from me. I was trying to think of a way to start a conversation, when she said,

  “Who are you?”

  Instead of giving her my name and so forth, I started telling her the whole story. From my arrival at the dock to Smitty shanghaiing me to help him clear his name.

  “Wow,” she said. “Dad sure gets in some scrapes, doesn’t he?”

  “Yeah, he sure does. It looks like he also gets other people into scrapes too. I feel like I’m on a runaway train that’s going so fast I can’t jump off. Smitty doesn’t take no for an answer, does he?”

  “Ever since my mom died in that motorcycle accident, Dad kind of changed. He used to be terrible. Not to me – he’s been a great father to me. But not very close. He provided for us really well, but his first love with the gang. About four or five years ago, my mom made him promise to quit taking chances and start being a better husband and father. He was certainly trying, but then when my mother was killed it really changed him. He started spending a lot more time with me, and he resigned from the leadership of the club.”

  “When was that?”

  “About three years ago. Since then we’ve become good friends.” Maybe she felt she was telling me too much. Suddenly she switched topics.

  “Are you really a good sailor? Could you teach me how to sail? Do you have a sailboat of your own?”

  The questions were coming fast and furious, a perfect opportunity to blow my own horn and I did so.

  “Yeah, I’m a damn good sailor, actually,” I told her shamelessly. “And yeah, sure, I could teach you to how to sail, and no, I don’t have a boat of my own. But I do have access to lots of boats. Why?”

  “I’ve been sailing with my dad lots of times,” Josie said sort of wistfully, “but he never lets me do anything. He thinks I’m along just for the ride, or to fix a meal for us. You know what I’d like to be? I’d like to be a foredeck ape!”

  She raised her arm, made a fist and flexed her muscles.

  I had to laugh. “You know what a foredeck ape is?”

  “Not exactly. I do know they help run the sails up and stuff. Not much. Just mainly that they’re helpful and they have to be strong.”

  “First thing: foredeck apes are usually really knowledgeable sailors,” I informed my eager student. “They’re mostly used in races, where each person has a special job. Sure, you could be a foredeck ape. You’d probably be the prettiest one on the Bay.”

  I grinned, then wondered if I’d gone too far with the compliment, but she took it in stride.

  Peering into the bottom of her cup, she asked me, “When this is all over, you think you might take me sailing?”

  “Of course,” I said. “I’d be honored.”

  By that time we’d both finished our drinks, and she said she thought she’d head back to bed.

  I was still stuck at the table with my unbuttoned underwear. I couldn’t reach under the table and button them – that’d really look bad. Also I wasn’t sure if I was dressed left, right or center. I told her I wanted to relax in the kitchen a little longer. She left.

  I thought I’d really done a world-class job of getting things off to a great start with her until, at the door, she turned and said, “By the way, what’s your name?”

  CHAPTER 16

  “Okay, this is what I’ve come up with,” was Smitty’s greeting at breakfast. .

  “The logical place to get into the house is through the back yard and the porch. I think we can sneak in from the golf course, cross the lawn and onto the porch pretty easy. The screen won’t be a problem. A little more difficult will be the door or the windows. That’s why I want Nips to be on the team. He used to be a locksmith,” he said for my benefit, “and we may need him. That okay with you, Nips?”

  Josie leaned over to me and whispered, “His mom used to call him her little nipper and it stuck”

  “Anything you say,
Boss”

  “In addition to Casey and Nips I want Les to go because he’s big and in good shape. Les, you can be our go-to guy if there’s any trouble.”

  “You’re the boss, boss.”

  “Enough of the “boss” shit, you guys. Let’s get serious.”

  He continued. “We’re gonna walk up the golf course late in the afternoon. We’ll be the very last foursome dragging in just before dark. Dave said sometimes it’s real late before the guys finish and they have to walk in at dusk. That’s what we’ll do. Casually walk up the course ’til we get to Carpenter’s place, duck into the bushes and wait for dark.”

  Turning to me he said, “I might take Dave. He’s been there and knows the place better than the rest of us. If he comes, you can be my caddy.”

  Swell. I had no idea how to carry a golf bag. And I’m starting to wonder just how heavy these bags are. I’d never played golf in my life, never even held a golf club in my hands.

  Dave added. We should look like golfers. Good looking shirts and pants. And shoes – all golfers wear golf shoes. They look like regular shoes with cleats on them. I think we can get away with regular shoes. No motorcycle boots.”

  “Good.” Smitty added. “What we’re gonna do is create a diversion. Right after dark Three or four of you guys are going to start racing around in front of Carpenter’s house. Run up and down the block, make a lot of noise. Make it look like your racing each other, doing stunts, whatever you want. Take turns doing wheelies or something. Just make sure it’s good and noisy and lasts until our police come.” Smitty made imaginary quote marks with his fingers around the word police.

  “The trick is, they’ll have to show up pretty quick – we don’t want anybody calling in real cops on us,” he continued. “They’ll show up, but they’ll be our guys dressed in those old highway patrol uniforms. It’ll be good and dark by then and nobody will notice any difference in the uniforms. They’ll race up, sirens on and start grabbing and cuffing you guys. That should get everyone’s attention and give us time to break in without being heard.”

  The rest of the guys thought it sounded like a hell of a lot of fun, and totally plausible. I thought it sounded ingenious – and impossible.

  “What about the uniforms?” Smitty asked.

  “They’re here. Gus found them; they look a little ratty but will probably pass in the dark.”

  “Is Gus here?”

  “Yeah, he’s in the garage, you want him?”

  Gus walked in and got a big hug from Smitty. As tall as Smitty, he was just the opposite in build. Thin as a rail, maybe in his early sixties, he was dressed to the nines. Tweed jacket, dress shirt open at the neck, slacks and saddle shoes, he looked out of place. He immediately nailed me with piercing blue eyes.

  “You must be the infamous Casey I’ve heard so much about.” He grinned.

  Smitty introduced him. “Case, Gus here is my oldest and best friend. We’ve been through a hell of a lot together.” He turned to Gus, “Ain’t that right?”

  We shook hands and he said, “We need to talk, soon,” and turned away.

  Everyone wanted to be part of the wheelie gang. They drew straws then went down to the garage to start changing their bikes to black and whites.

  Smitty sat down with the four of us – Nips, Les, Dave and myself –“If we go with the plan the way I see it so far,” Smitty said, “we’ve got some real timing issues to work out. We need to get to the golf course right at dusk, while there are still some golfers out. Then we have to wait and make sure the group we follow is the last group coming in. I haven’t figured out how to do that, unless we post someone further back down the course to watch for any stragglers. It’d be hard to hide in the bushes if more golfers are comin’ up behind us.

  Next,” Smitty said, ticking off the items on his mental checklist, “we have to figure a way to let the bikers know when we’re ready for them to start making that ruckus out front. Even though he’s a hell of a locksmith, Nips may end up having to force the door. That could be noisy. And another thing, – we don’t really know how many people might be in there. Hopefully it’s just two.”

  It seemed that I was going on the raid whether I wanted to or not. I decided I should try to make it as safe as possible and contribute some ideas.

  “What about peripheral alarms? A house security system?” I asked him.

  “That’s another reason I wanted Les on the team. Les used to have a reputation as a pretty good second-story man. He can disarm a house alarm in seconds. Course it’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Les.”

  Les reassured him. “It’s still my hobby, security systems. I stay current. I still got the touch when it comes to alarms. But I’m not a second story man any more, not at my age. I’m a first-story man now, specializing in ranch houses.” We all laughed at the image.

  “Dave, didn’t you say you couldn’t see any signs of alarms or cameras?”

  He replied, “I Tossed a few golf balls into the yard and nothing happened, no alarms, no dogs. My bet? Carpenter relies on his strong-arms to protect him, without alarms. You know why? Alarms bring cops, and that’s probably the last thing he wants.”

  “But there’s another problem,” Les injected. “After we’re in, we’re gonna have to tie these guys up or do something with them. And, we don’t want them to be able to ID us. Any ideas on how we handle that?”

  Nips said he had a better idea. “Do what I used to do on those rumored second story jobs. We all wear bandanas around our necks and slip them up over our faces when we go in. And we don’t use our names when we’re there, for obvious reasons.”

  Smitty spoke up. “I like the bandana idea. But instead of using names, we’ll use numbers. I’ll be number one. Casey, you’re number two. Nips, you’re three. Les is four, and number five goes to Dave because he was the last one I chose. And to make sure we don’t slip up, we’ll start using the numbers as soon as we get out of the car.” Nods all around.

  “Okay. Can anyone think of anything we’ve left out?”

  After standing and delivering all his instructions, Smitty finally sat down. Now he stood and patted his stomach.

  “Then you guys should get yourselves some lunch ’cuz I think we’ll leave here about 6:30 tonight and it might be a long night. Anything else?”

  No one spoke up, so we broke up our little group and Smitty headed downstairs to see how the uniform fitting and the motorcycle painting was getting on.

  Dave said “I’m gonna fix up the golf bags. I bet they’ll look more authentic than any of you guys as so called golfers.”

  Nobody took the bet.

  CHAPTER 17

  The gang was split up all over the house. Garage, rec room, living room. Some were in the backyard. I really had nothing to do, so I headed toward the kitchen, driven by a hunger for food and the off chance of meeting up with Josie again.

  Josie was already there. I asked her it she knew what was going on.

  “I’ve got a general idea,” she told me. “I just hope Dad keeps his promise to Mom.”

  I told her what Smitty had said about “no violence,” and she wasn’t convinced.

  “He’s impulsive and sometimes a little bit nuts,” she giggled.

  “So, what’s for lunch,” I asked her.

  “Anything you want, “just don’t expect me to fix it for you. I’ll do dinner, maybe even breakfast, but I donot do lunch. Except for myself. The reefer’s full of food. Cold meats, cheeses, fruit, drinks – it’s all there, so help yourself.” She had a neat way of tossing her hair back from her eyes to emphasize what she was saying. I thought it was cute and fetching.

  “Were you serious about going sailing with me?” I asked.

  “Sure was,” she said. “Why? Is there a girlfriend or something in the way?”

  “No, no. I don’t have a girl friend. At least not anymore.”

  We spent the next half hour comparing our exes.

  “You know, it’s nice meeting you this way,” she sa
id, opening the reefer. “Usually when I meet someone and they find out who my dad is they disappear. This way you met him before you met me.”

  “On top of that apparently I’m not going to’ disappear, not if you Dad has anything to say about it.”

  “I know my Dad pretty well and just between you and me, I think he thinks you’re okay. You’re not going to disappear,” she repeated, distracted as her hand wavered between a Coke and a root beer. The root beer won. She also pulled out a box of eggs. “I’m having a fried egg sandwich,” she confided. “What are you going to fix?”

  I got the message.

  “Sounds good to me. Can I watch you and learn?”

  “Nice try. I still don’t do lunch but you can watch me and do your own.”

  That’s what we had, together with sodas, ice cream and cookies. While we ate, a number of the gang drifted in and fixed their own lunches, apparently well aware of Josie’s “I don’t gotta fix no stinkin’ lunches” edict.

  The Devils talked freely about Smitty’s plan. Josie was visibly upset when she heard about the break-in. When they realized their gaffe, the guys worried that they’d inadvertently spilled the beans to her, but she sighed dramatically and said, “Well, boys will be boys.” But I could see she was worried.

  As soon as I could, I told her again that Smitty had made it perfectly clear to the guys– no violence.

  “But breaking inis violence,” she said. I had no answer to that. Actually I felt the same. I told her I was being dragged along on the adventure and that I’d try my best to keep her father out of trouble. If nothing else, the idea of little old me trying to keep Smitty out of trouble made her smile.

  “You’re going to keep my dad out of trouble? That’d be a first!”

  Josie had an interesting way of going off on what seemed like a totally off-the-subject remark every once in a while. She did it again.

  “Do you like to read?” she asked me.