I Fought The Law...

This story was written for the Crime & Punishment 2023 Story Event. The identities of any people or places depicted in this story have not been changed to protect the innocent ... or the guilty.

© 2023 Candy_Kane54

August 1987

I was in luck. Just as I approached my destination, Jack's Salad Bar and Grill, a car pulled out of a parking space, making it available. It was diagonal, pull-in parking, so I wouldn't have to curse and swear as I tried to parallel park, one of my least favorite activities.

I pulled into the vacated spot, turned off the car, and sighed in relief. The job I had been contracted to do was finally completed after months of research, preparation, and practice. All that was left was to exchange the package for my payment. The job itself took only five minutes of intense concentration and action. Still, it succeeded only due to all the up-front effort I had put into it. I briefly thought about the item wrapped in bubble wrap in the trunk and the check I expected to receive shortly in exchange for it. "Worth it," I thought as I emerged from my car, a lovely Sunshine Yellow 1977 Datsun "Zap Z."

As much as I tried to not be ostentatious, my car was the only flashy item I allowed myself. In my business, you needed to blend into the background and avoid being noticed. That's why I didn't dress to the nines when I went out, preferring to wear off-the-rack clothes unless I needed to dress up for a meeting with a potential client.

I headed into the restaurant to meet my client's representative. I loved eating here at Jack's, not just for the delicious food but also for the wait staff. When I approached the hostess's desk, I saw that Christy was on duty and greeted her, "Hello, Christy."

"Hello, Terry," Christy replied, smiling widely. "Your usual table?"

By now, I was on a first-name basis with all the employees, always praising Manny, the head chef, for his salad creations and tipping the wait staff generously so they would be used to seeing me there. By getting to know everyone, and them, me, I could quickly tell if anything was out of the ordinary and change plans accordingly.

"Yes, please, Christy," I smiled in return. I was a regular customer and had gotten to know Christy and all of the staff, to ensure that it was safe to do business here. I've been a customer since they first opened in February of 1985, making sure to come in at least once a week so that they would be used to me coming in for lunch and meeting different people without drawing attention to myself. I continued, "I'm expecting someone to join me shortly."

"Okay, Terry," Christy said. "I'll direct them to your table when they ask for you."

"Thanks," I said, throwing Christy one of my high-wattage smiles. "What's new?" I asked as Christy led me to my regular table. I always sat at the table in the back corner where I could see everybody who came in. It also allowed me to slip into the restroom without being seen if someone came in and acted like they were looking for me.

"Everyone is talking about the theft at the Getty Villa Museum," Christy said as we approached my regular table.

"Oh?" I said as I sat down. "I just got back in town. What happened?"

While handing me the menu, Christy told me about the overnight break-in at the Getty Villa and how they were being tight-lipped about what had gone missing. When she turned to leave after telling me who my waitress would be, I smiled at the thought that I had planted the idea in Christy's mind that I hadn't been in the area, solidifying my alibi if anyone came around asking questions about me. As far as anyone who knew me knew, I had been unavailable for the past week while preparing for and then pulling off the job. While I wasn't expecting anybody to do that, having gotten away cleanly as far as I could tell, I didn't want to take any chances either.

I was surprised that the Getty Villa Museum theft was the top news, having heard earlier this morning about the Northwest Airlines Flight 255 crash that had happened last night. I guessed the robbery was on everyone's mind because it was local while the crash was in Detroit. Since I flew a lot, it had a chilling effect on me when I heard about it. Despite all the statistics showing that air travel was the safest mode of travel, it was also the most discrete in the outcome of accidents. Car crashes, bus crashes, and even train crashes are usually survivable. Plane crashes, not so much.

While waiting for Bonnie, I perused the menu to check out the weekly specials. I was familiar with the regular menu, so I knew what I would order unless a new creation by Manny caught my fancy. Nothing did, so I decided to stick with my original choice.

I smiled when I saw Bonnie coming up to my table. She was a beauty, and I could appreciate it without making a play for her. I had figured out by observation and through our conversations, even though she had not actually come out and said so, that she was in a committed relationship with an Air Force Captain named Virginia, so I wasn't going to make the mistake of drawing any attention to myself or making it uncomfortable to keep coming here by trying anything with her or outing her.

"Hello, Terry," Bonnie said with a wide smile when she stopped by my table. Bonnie looked lovely in her outfit, and I loved her long straight brown hair back in a low ponytail. I kept my blonde hair in a pixie cut so I could disguise myself with wigs when needed, but one day I would let it grow out, but not just yet.

"Hi, Bonnie," I said, returning her smile. Of all the waitresses working here, I thought Bonnie was the best. She was dedicated to giving her customers the best possible service, and I always showed my appreciation for her hard work when tipping her. "How are Matthew and Mark doing?" I asked. Over the past two years, I've learned from chatting with Bonnie that she was the mother of two wonderful boys she had raised practically all by herself after her deadbeat husband left her in the hospital with newly born Mark in her arms.

Bonnie smiled even wider and said, "They're doing great, Terry. Mom is taking them down to Long Beach to visit the Queen Mary and see the Spruce Goose."

"That sounds like fun," I replied with a smile, nearly blinded by Bonnie's infectious smile. When she smiled like that, you had no choice but to smile back at her.

"So, your usual?" Bonnie asked. She knew I always ordered an 'Arnold Palmer,' a 50/50 mix of unsweetened iced tea and lemonade, to drink with my lunch.

"Yes," I answered. "I'm also going to have the Steakhouse Wedge salad with bleu cheese dressing."

"I'll get your order right in," Bonnie said before turning away and heading back to the kitchen. I couldn't help but admire her ass, moving seductively in the tight high-waist shorts that were part of her uniform. It didn't hurt that her long, tanned, toned legs made my heart clench while watching her walk away.

"Down, girl," I told myself. With a sigh, I returned to scanning the restaurant to ensure nothing was out of the ordinary. As far as I could tell, most of the tables were occupied, mainly by tourists. However, I recognized several regulars like me, but nobody stood out as someone I needed to keep an eye on.

As I waited for my food and guest to arrive, I reflected on what happened last night ...

***

... As I drove west along the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH), I enjoyed the view and the clean salt air breeze coming in off the ocean. The sun was setting, and the lights were coming on in the business and residential areas along the coast. Just after passing Sunset Beach, I turned onto Sunset Boulevard, driving carefully to ensure I didn't draw the attention of any cops. When I got to Los Liones Drive, I turned left and made my way to the end of the road, where the parking lot for the Los Lionis Canyon trailhead was located. As I approached my destination, I noted the Church of the Later Day Saints parking lot across from the trailhead parking lot was nearly full, so something must be going on for the evening.

I parked my non-descript Toyota Corolla sedan in the parking lot and checked my appearance in the mirror. I ensured my wig was in place, changing my hair color to a mousy brown. After looking around to see if anyone was looking my way, I quickly applied the fake scar to my left cheek, blending the edges of it to my skin tone. I again thanked my mom for insisting I attend the Juilliard School of Acting to get my degree. I had learned from the best that it was always a good idea to have a removable distinguishing mark somewhere on your body to draw a person's attention if you were spotted. For tonight, if I somehow managed to have a camera catch me in action or come face-to-face with someone I wasn't expecting to see, they'll see a brunette with a scar.

Once I was satisfied with my look, I exited my vehicle. I looked around, taking note of the several cars in the parking lot. I donned my backpack and walked over to the trailhead. Once I reached the fork at the beginning of the trail, I turned off onto the El Ocasa Trail, which wended around the back of the Getty Villa Museum. By now, it was sufficiently dark that I wouldn't be easily seen, but there was still enough twilight that I could see where I was going. At the point where the trail made its closest approach to the museum, I made sure there was no one in sight to see me before stepping off the trail and carefully making my way across the scrub-covered terrain up to the back of the museum. Based on my research, I discovered that the cameras covering the outside of the museum didn't cover this area.

I checked my watch to make sure I had made it in time. Seeing that I was, all I had to do was to wait for the team of thieves I had hired to break into the museum tonight to make their move. I had used several cut-outs to connect and engage them, so I knew they had no idea I was the one who hired them. I was going to use their theft as a cover for my theft. That way, the police would be more likely to go after them than me since I was only there to get one item. It wasn't even the most expensive artifact in the museum, but it was the one my client wanted.

The crew I had hired was going after some of the more expensive and gaudier items displayed in the museum. They didn't know that their buyer, supposedly me, would never show up to pay for what they stole. I was out the fifty grand they'd demanded up-front to plan and do the job, but after I got paid for what I was taking, it would be money that was well spent. I figured the crew would try to find another buyer for their items and draw attention away from me if they got caught trying to move them.

I knew they would concentrate on Roman antiquities as I was going for a specific Grecian antiquity. I knew I could take more items than what I was going after, but then, like the crew I was going to leave hanging, I'd have to find a buyer for them, and that would expose me to too much risk of being caught. I'd resist the temptation and only take the item I was after.

From my research and by casing the scene, I knew I could get in and back out in under ninety seconds and be long gone before the other crew was even finished with their job. Hopefully, they wouldn't trip any alarms before I was gone, which was why I made sure the crew I hired had a rep for getting away cleanly. If everything worked out how it was supposed to, we'd both get out clean. After that, it was up to them to move their ill-gotten gains without getting caught.

I hunched down next to the wall, knowing no camera could see me there. I pulled a ski cap out of my backpack and pulled it on before donning a pair of black latex gloves. I rechecked my watch and saw that it was time for the crew to start their entry. I hugged the wall as I went around the corner and saw the door slowly closing that they had opened after disengaging the alarm. I noted that the camera covering the door had been disabled so I wouldn't be seen by it. I eased the door open and peered in, seeing nothing in the dim light. I slipped in and eased the door closed.

I quickly moved off to the left toward the Greek exhibit hall, knowing that the other crew had gone to the right to the Roman exhibit hall. Ten seconds later, I was in front of the display case holding the urn I was after. Now came the hard part, getting past the alarm on the case. I knew some cameras could see me, but I was in all black with no skin showing. Twenty seconds later, I had the case open. I quickly shrugged my backpack off, pulled out the duffle bag I would use to carry the urn, and carefully packed it in the duffle bag before putting my backpack back on. I closed the case and reactivated the alarm before picking up the duffle bag and stealing back out to the door. The urn's weight slowed me down, but I had considered that when timing the job.

Making sure there was no one in sight, I eased the door open and slipped out, making sure the door closed behind me. I edged along the side of the building and back out the way I came. Just before getting back on the El Ocasa Trail, I removed the ski mask and the black gloves, stuffing them in the backpack. I strolled as best I could with the heavy duffle bag down the trail until I was back at the trailhead.

I quickly looked to see if anyone was in the parking lot before returning to my car. I noted there were fewer cars in the parking lot, so I wouldn't be the only one leaving. I carefully put the duffle bag and my pack in the trunk before I got in, quickly started the car, and headed back down the way I came. As I drove, I removed my wig, shook out my blonde hair, and quickly removed the fake scar, tossing it out the window into the brush along the road.

When I got to Sunset Boulevard, I could turn left and wend my way through the various neighborhoods to lose myself before making my way back to Santa Monica, or turn right to get back on the PCH, a more direct route but leaving few options to lose anybody trailing me. I decided to turn right, and by the time I reached the PCH, the lack of sirens and flashing lights told me I had gotten away cleanly. I relaxed and enjoyed the trip down the PCH through Santa Monica and on to Manhattan Beach and home ...

***

... I roused myself from my recollection as I saw Bonnie returning with my 'Arnold Palmer.' We exchanged smiles as she put the drink on my table and said, "Your order is in, Terry. I'll get it out to you soon."

"Thanks, Bonnie," I said.

As Bonnie walked away from me, I admired her ass once again. I felt a little heat below and knew it was time to find someone to have a brief affair with before I made myself available for another job. One day I'd like to settle down with someone, but not until I was done with my career. I never mixed business with pleasure and planned to retire in five years when I turned forty.

As I waited for my food, I saw Christy bringing a distinguished-looking gentleman toward my table. I recognized him as the mysterious Mr. Wilson, the intermediary between me and the buyer. I greeted him with a smile as he approached my table. I thanked Christy, and we sat down, quietly appraising each other.

I've done business with Mr. Wilson before. Despite that, I didn't know his first name. However, he always dressed smartly and talked with a clipped British accent. I was sure that Wilson wasn't his real name and pretty sure that the accent was affected to hide his identity.

Before the silence stretched too far, I smiled and asked, "So, how are you this beautiful afternoon, Mr. Wilson?"

"My state of health is none of your concern, Ms. Sanders," Mr. Wilson replied. The sting of his reply was muted by the smile that broke over his face.

"Of course not, Mr. Wilson," I said. "However, the number of zeros on the check you have for me is my concern." I then added, "How is Brian, anyway?"

While Mr. Wilson's job was to be the intermediary between the seller and the buyer, to keep his client's identity secret, I knew who he was representing. I met Mr. Mooney last year when he decided to have me do some work for him.

Mr. Wilson's lips tightened with disapproval as he glanced around to see if anyone was close enough to hear us. He said, "My client's state of health is also none of your concern."

I pouted and said, "Oh, pooh! You're no fun at all." Before I could go on, I saw Bonnie heading toward me with my salad. I quickly asked, "Are you planning to eat?"

"No, I won't," Mr. Wilson said as Bonnie approached the table.

"Here's your salad, Terry," Bonnie said before looking questioningly at Mr. Wilson. "Can I get you anything else?" she asked.

"No, Bonnie, everything's fine," I said. "My guest was just leaving, so he won't be ordering anything."

"Okay," said Bonnie. "Enjoy your lunch." With that, she turned and walked away. Again, I watched her ass for a beat before I noticed Mr. Wilson's look of disapproval.

"What?" I asked, turning back to him. "A girl can't appreciate a nice ass?"

Mr. Wilson blanked his face before he pulled an envelope out of his briefcase and slid it over to me. "Here are the instructions for delivery and your check. You'll receive the rest of the money when the delivery is made," he said. With that, he stood up, said, "Good day, Ms. Sanders," and left without another word.

I left the envelope lying there and dug into my salad. It was delicious, as always. Bonnie stopped by to refresh my drink, and we chatted for a minute. When I was done, Bonnie came to the table with my check. I put a twenty on it and told her to keep the change. She smiled at me, prompting me to smile back, thanked me, and picked up the check and the twenty.

Once Bonnie was out of sight after enjoying the show, I sighed, opened the envelope, and pulled out the delivery instructions and a check for $100,000. With all my expenses covered, I could rest easy making the delivery. I scanned the directions and realized I could get that done this afternoon.

I exited Jack's and casually scanned the area to see if anything looked out of place. I saw nothing suspicious and got in my car, and headed out. As I traveled south on Sepulveda Boulevard toward Rancho Palos Verdes, I checked my mirrors to see if I was being tailed. I noticed how the fourth car back seemed to match my moves as I changed from one lane to another while traveling through Redondo Beach.

I turned off at Avenue G and noticed that the car I had singled out had also turned onto Avenue G. When I got to South Catalina Avenue, I turned left and immediately turned left again to get on Avenue H. I checked my mirror and saw that the car continued south on South Catalina Avenue. Just before I reached Sepulveda Boulevard, I turned right. I pulled into the alleyway behind the Bank of America building before turning into the parking lot behind it.

I waited for fifteen minutes, watching the streets around me to see if the car had passed by again. Not seeing anything, I heaved a sigh of relief and pulled out, getting back on Sepulveda Boulevard. I turned right on Palos Verdes Boulevard and followed it to Palos Verdes Drive, where I turned right and followed it around the peninsula until I reached Rancho Palos Verdes. As I drove, I kept an eye out to see if that car, or any other car, for that matter, was following me, but I didn't see anything that made me suspicious.

I pulled into the parking lot once I reached St. Peter by the Sea Church. The weekly arts and crafts show was held in the rear parking lot, where I was instructed to make the swap. I popped the trunk and pulled out the duffle bag with the urn wrapped up in it. I carefully carried it up to the first booth and set the duffle bag down before looking at their wares.