Attempted Robbery: Part II

By :

Frank Elias Georgalis

“Yes, but I have to have two. One to show and one to hide.”

“Why are you talking this way? I think that there is something wrong with you,” said the widow, getting up, “I think I am going to call the police.”

“Okay,” said , pulling on her white apron gently, “sit down and I will explain everything to you. Then you can do anything you want. Then you can call the priest, your aunt, your uncle, the chief of police…Sit down please.”

Having her eyes fixed firmly on his, the lady sat down slowly and carefully.

“The guy you were talking to, his friend has a bum knee. I thought I saw something suspicious on my way in here. I saw a car facing the street. That’s a getaway position. These guys need something. These are the guys the police are looking for. They are still out there; somewhere near.”

“You said they need something. Is it money?” asked the girl.

“I don’t think so,” said Erik, scratching his head, “If they wanted to rob the place they would have done it before I came in, while the place was empty. They wouldn’t talk to you as if they were old pals of yours.”

“What are they looking for?”

“ I don’t know. I don’t know what you have in here,” responded Erik.

“I have nothing but what you see, and some money that I have taken in, since I came back from the bank this afternoon,” said Pam, with fear in her voice and face.

“They are going to hit tonight. They are going to wait until I leave. If they see that I am not leaving they are going to hit anyway. They don’t know who I am.”

“They probably think that’s you’re a hobo,” said Pam smiling a little.

“Thank you, Pam.”

“A handsome hobo,” returned Pam smiling.

“Who is staying upstairs?”

“Six people. I know all six of them. One is Mr. Beaty, who comes here after an argument with his wife. Mr. Nash gets drunk and goes to sleep because he doesn’t want to drive home…”

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to give me the whole roster,” interrupted Erik.

“Do you want me to lock the door?” asked the woman.

“I f I were in my right mind, I would say yes, and I would tell you to lock the door after I leave, but as you can tell by now I am not. They would break the door down or would come back tomorrow,” said Erik, looking at her intently as if he were thinking of some additional comments.

All his remarks and answers were said in a low voice as if they were hints calculated to awaken suspicion in Pam’s mind to put her on guard.

“What do you think?” said the widow, “you don’t think that they are going to try to break the door in, do you?”

“That is a part of the consideration, Pam,” replied Erik, now looking around.

“I don’t like it, Erik”

“No kidding?”

“What are we going to do?” asked the woman horrified.

“That’s what I am trying to figure out, can’t you see that I’m thinking?”

“Thinking what?”

“I’m thinking of singing the Ethiopian national anthem,” said Erik sarcastically, “if I knew what I was thinking, I wouldn’t be thinking anymore.”

“You don’t know what you are thinking and I don’t know what to do, we are in one hell of a mess.” said the widow more terrified than before,  “What are we going to do? I think I should go and lock the door.”

“No, because if they’ll try to get in and they can’t, they’ll break a window and they are going to come in shooting. Where is the gun? Go get it!”

“Aren’t you making this a little bigger than what it is? Come in shooting is like the old west”

“Look! My mother used to say, watch out for the unexpected! Now, go get the gun!” ordered Erik hurriedly

“I have it here. It’s under my apron. I put it under my apron when the police told me what they were looking for.”

“You see, you are a little suspicious too. Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

“It’s easy. Isn’t it? Just point and pull the trigger.”

“You’ve seen too many John Wayne movies. Just give it to me under the table very discreetly!”

“Why discreetly? There is nobody in here except Linda, the waitress,” uttered the lady.

“Then take it out, swing it around for five minutes and then hand it over to me,” said Erik, “They might be looking in, Pam.”

The lady passed it to him with a slow hand and a galloping heart. Erik felt it in his hands and smiled with surprise.

“I love it, it’s a forty five. The best pistol ever made for my hand. It’s a G.I. issue.”

“How do you know that?”

“I was in the army.”

“Which army?”

“Venezuelan,” said Erik without a grin.” “American army what do you think?”

“How would I know that? You Greeks are spread all over the world like horseshit, pardon my French,” replied the woman, “Can I go to call the police?”

“No!” said Erik grumpily, “How far is the police station from here?”

“Next town, about fifteen miles. Erik, I am scared,” whispered the horrified lady.

“It’s natural. Try to relax,” rejoined Erik soothingly, “you see, Pam, by the time the police get here it will be over. If the police get here before these guys attack…”

“Attack?” she interrupted, filled with fear.

“No, they are going to come in with a pizza,” said Erik sarcastically again, “of course, attack. If the police get here before these guys attack, they are going to look around. They’ll find nothing and they are going to leave. The bad guys may come back knowing that the police will mark it as a false alarm. Second calls on false alarms are placed on the back burner. These guys know where the police station is,” said Erik.

“What are we going to do?”

“We are going to lie down and die, I am sure we will receive a proper burial.”

“Here we are in big trouble and you are joking. What are we going to do?”

“If you ask me again, what we are going to do, I’m going to smack you.”

“Oh, you like to smack women around?”

“No. I have never done it before but there’s always the first time for everything,” said Erik sternly. “But you are very pretty lady, it would break my heart to hurt your face.”
“With those words you are not going to make me fall for you,” said Pam.

“You mean to tell me, that when I leave, you are not going to give me your heart and soul to take with me?” asked Erik.

“I will give them to you, if you stay here by my side so I can see what you are doing with them.”

This statement was delivered in a demeanor originated in her increased sense of safety, being around Erik whom she knew a very short time but she felt was on her side.

“I’m scared, Erik.”

“Don’t panic! Just stay calm. Excessive confusion will bring horrible results. Listen to me carefully. I am an expert with the pistol; these men haven’t a chance against me. I have the training and the know-how to kill them before they have a chance of pulling off the first shot. So, be calm! I don’t want to worry about you.”

The lady submitted to this piece of practical advice and smiled, “you sound like Billy the Kid.”

“Billy the Kid was a killer and crazy. I am real. Do you understand?”

She nodded in assent.

“The best thing is, these guys don’t know if I have a gun or how good I am with one. But they are also stupid. Stupid people are unpredictable.”

“How do you know they are stupid?”

“No, they are geniuses,” replied Erik, “most crooks are stupid. They will come in recklessly. I don’t want to kill them. I don’t want to kill anyone. So if you don’t want them dead, do as I say!”

“Have you killed anyone?” asked the lady trembling.

“We’ll talk about that later when we’ll talk about your husbands,” said Erik hastily. “The reason they haven’t come in yet is because they want to give the police time to distance themselves from here. Every difficult situation can only be corrected like a religious ceremony.   First comes the prayer, then the sacrifice, then the waiting for an answer.”

“What kind of sacrifice?”

“We’ll sacrifice the bosomy waitress to Zeus. The ancient Greek god.”

“What?” shrieked the widow.

“Shh! Stop it, I am only kidding. You’ll do the praying, I’ll make the sacrifice and we’ll both sit and wait,” said Erik.

“You have a weird sense of humor,” replied Pam, scratching her head with both hands, “besides, you may be in cahoots with the threes to rob this place.”

“What, am I stupid? Does it take three men to rob a widow?”

“I don’t know. You said that most crooks are stupid,” returned Pam.

“My dear lady, you are a very charming and delightful creature, “ said Erik touching her hand, “and you have only one fault that I know of. You don’t trust people.”

“Do you know what I have gone through in this life, Erik?” said Pam, setting her teeth together and speaking more like a savage warrior who feeds on raw meat.

“Do you know how many times Prometheus had his liver eaten by vultures?” asked Erik.

“Who’s Prometheus, your cousin?”

“No,” returned Erik laughing, “Prometheus was the guardian of fire and Zeus, the supreme God of the twelve Greek gods, didn’t like Prometheus, because he favored the mortals, so Zeus tied him up and left him in a forest near the sea on a mountain of Caucasus while the vultures were eating his liver.”

“God Zeus did that? What a nice god he must have been.” Murmured Pam.

“Your God still does the same thing now. Look around you, girl.”

“You Greeks always go back to your mythology. My ex-husband George did that.”

“Let me correct you. It’s not mythology. The Christians and the Jews gave it the name of mythology, for they wanted  the people to follow the Bible. Greek mythology, as you call it, is both Greek religion and Greek philosophy and it’s very similar to Genesis. The ancient Greeks believed that the serpent wasn’t Eve’s enemy; it was her best friend for enlightening her. The serpent gave her food for thought,” said Erik.

“My God, my God, now I know why,” exclaimed Pam, hammering the table with her fist lightly.

“Why, what?”

“You see, Erik, this place here, a long time ago, was owned by a Greek and its name was ‘THE SERPENT’ everybody knew it by that name. He sold it to a Polish man and he didn’t like the name so he put up a big sign in the front of the building, ‘ABRAHAM LINCOLN’ and under that sign he put ‘ Better known as ‘THE SERPENT’, After the passage of the civil rights bill the NAACP came here and made him to remove it, saying that the sign meant that it was referring to Abraham Lincoln as being the snake,” said Pam , sighing deeply as if she had just finished a difficult task.

“Leave it to the Greeks and Polish, they are both capable of lousing up a junk yard,” said Erik with a vague smile, “any way, back in the farm, we have a problem here now and we must solve it.” said Erik earnestly.

“Tell me about it as if I don’t know.”

“In three minutes I want you to go into the kitchen and take the girl down in the basement. Hide, and don’t come up unless I call you or the police call you, most likely, if I get killed”

“Killed? You’re getting killed?  My God, I feel like screaming”

“Don’t! I am not planning on getting killed,” replied Erik, in an effort to calm her down, seeing the panic in her face. “Talk to me about your husbands.”

“You’re talking about getting killed or killing and you want me to talk about some stupid husbands.” The lady seemed to be much affected;  a great fear passed over her frame as she was convinced that she was destined to become an animated target. She began to think it was high time to cry, so she took the edge of her apron and before she wiped her eyes she looked at Erik from behind her tears.

“Shh! “ said Erik, touching her hand affectionately understanding that he had alarmed the poor widow sufficiently, he decided to change his ground of discussion, “Talk about them, it will make you feel better!”

“Which one?” cried the lady wiping the tears off her eyes with edge of her apron

The entire conversation took place at a very fast pace and in an almost confidential tone

There was no more visible confusion on the lady’s or Erik’s face. All that time, Erik’s eyes were wandering around discreetly.

“I don’t care. How many have you had?”

“Husbands?”

“No dogs,” returned Nik comically trying to convince her that he wasn’t scared,  “we were talking about dogs. Do you remember?”

“Boy, you are rough. Do you always treat women like they’re horses?”

“Precisely. Haven’t you heard the old saying? ‘Treat a lady like a horse and a horse like a lady’,” said Nick grinning.

“That must an old Greek saying.”

“Then you’ve heard it. You said your first husband is a Greek,” remarked Nick.

“Oh yes, my first husband’s name is George. He has a restaurant in Farmville.“

Nick’s eyes opened up with great astonishment ”George Papas?”

“Do you know him?”

“I know him well. I just left George. I told you, I was there two days ago. He has been married three times.”

“I was his second wife. Did he say anything about me” asked the widow, scanning Nick’s face with a worried leer, as if it were the first time she had laid her eyes on it.

“George with the one umbrella house, right?”

“Right. He is a sweetheart. He is a romantic fool,” said Pam.

“He is a great dresser. Go now! We’ll talk about George later.”

“When are you going to see George again?” asked the woman, with the same tone and smirk on her face.

“In a couple of years,” replied Nick without too much emphasis in his answer, as if he were hiding a question inside of him.

“I’ve got an idea, when they come in, I’ll turn all the lights off,” said the widow with a sudden bright feeling that she had just discovered something of good hope and after hearing that Nick wasn’t about to see George any time soon.

“Don’t!” uttered Nick, “I’m not going to play the mysteries of blind-man’s bluff. Just go and hide somewhere!”

“Go and hide somewhere?” returned the lady, “what an awful way of putting it. It sounds as if I’ve done something wrong and I am about to be punished ” After that remark, Pam Flood stood up, planted an encouraging smile on her face, and waved good-bye and off she went

Nick leaned back and gradually blended into his seat, holding a pistol in each hand, hidden under his jacket.

Suddenly, the front door to squeaked open and two men appeared standing in it’s shadow. The well-dressed man advanced very slowly, looking around intently, while the red-faced man stayed behind by the door closing it carefully, as if he were the sentinel.

Nick didn’t move a hand or a foot; he only turned his head and looked at the well dressed man who had gotten behind the bar looking around with the scrutinizing eye of a landlord as though

he were thinking that all this was his property. He was standing there behind the bar with his hands folded behind him, feeling quite at home. He grinned vacantly, as if he wished Nick to see his white teeth.

“Where is the boss woman?” he asked with diabolical sneer; and then without pausing for an answer, he added, “I want to talk to her.”

“I think she and the girls went upstairs for something. She asked me to watch the place until they come down.  She should be coming down any moment. You seem to know her, pour yourself a drink.”

“Who are you?” asked the same man sternly.

“Me? I am a humorous, homeless, harmless hobo who has very little to do and expecting to do less.”

“You talk funny.”

“I already said that I was humorous; you don’t understand English?”