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Somethin' Like That
By Carrillee Collins Burke
Claudia boarded a bus in front of the Barbersville Bank, plopped onto a front seat, checked the catch on her big leather purse to make sure it was fastened, then peeked out the window at policemen handcuffing a man wearing a red shirt.
She recognized that red shirt.
I shouldn’t let him go to jail knowing what I know?
She exited the bus at the courthouse and was crossing the street when a beep-beep startled her. It was her friend, Rowena Toad, in her Volkswagen.
“I’ve been lookin’ for you, Claudy,” Rowena yelled. “Did you do it?”
“You shoulda looked harder,” Claudia yelled back. “Park that thing and meet me in the courthouse.”
Rowena hummed softly while Claudia searched the information board for the Police Department. They went to the second floor, and Claudia asked the cop behind the front desk who she could talk to about a crime.
“How about me? I’m Officer O’Mallery.” His smile dimpled his fat face and his eyes scanned Claudia from her silver hair knotted atop her head to her short dumpy legs that supported her five foot, top-heavy body. He offered her a chair directly in front of him.
Rowena waited until Claudia was seated before she yelled, “Where’s my chair?” He pointed to one across the room.
“Thanks,” she said, folding her long, skinny frame onto the small wood chair. She nodded toward Claudia who sat straight and stiff with her swollen feet on the chair rung, and her hands folded in her lap. “She has something real important to tell you.”
O’Mallery leaned forward. “Okay, I’m all ears.”
“I’m a criminal," Claudia said.
O’Mallery strangled back a chuckle. “What?”
“Yep, it’s true,” Rowena said. “She pulled off a bank heist and I helped.”
“Hush,” Claudia ordered. “I’ll tell it.”
“What?” O’Mallery repeated.
“Do you want to hear about my heist or not?”
He smiled despite his attempt to be serious.
“Sure. Tell me about your, uh, heist.”
“Okay, it was like this: When me and Rowena paid our bills the other day, I said, ‘what with prescriptions and utilities so high, I need to rob a bank to make ends meet.’ And Rowena agreed. So, just like that, we had lunch at Tom’s Diner and planned the caper.”
“Why would you confess, if you did it?”
“Oh, she did it, and I drove the getaway car,” Rowena said.
O’Mallery snickered, then exploded with laughter. “Yeah, then what?”
“Rowena thought the Barbersville Bank was too big and busy. But I cased it anyway. She drove me to the bank this morning, and then forgot about me. I had to carry on alone.”
“I’m sorry,” Rowena said.
“Anyway, I got in line at the first window. I had a note and withdrawal slip in a McDonald’s bag ready to give to the teller when a little girl said I smelled like French fries. People stared at me and a man smarted off about me being too slow.
“I was too short to reach the window. So I placed my toes on this rail about a foot high that put me above the counter. And, being nervous, I slipped, hit my chin, cut my lip, and broke my lower plate.” Claudia pulled her lip out for him to see. “I dropped the bag. A man wearing a red shirt picked it up and gave it to the teller. He didn’t know a note in the bag said, ‘place money in the bag and pretend I’m drawing it from my account.’ Wasn’t that clever.”
O’Mallery rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Clever.”
“I was still below the counter when the nice man handed me my bag with the take inside. I quickly stuffed it in my purse. The alarm went off just as I exited the door. That’s when I noticed I was wearing my apron from making cookies this morning. I dropped my broken teeth in a pocket of the apron, took it off and stuffed it into my purse. Then I hurried to the alley where Dumbbell was to pick me up.” She punctured Rowena with her eyes.
“Dumbbell?”
“She means me,” Rowena said. “Go on, Claudy.”
“Well, Rowena wasn’t there, so I went back to the bank and caught a city bus. That man in the red shirt is innocent. All the proof is right here.” She pushed her purse across his desk.
O’Mallery pulled the apron out first and shoved it aside.
“Open the bag of loot,” Rowena yelled.
O’Mallery said the bag did, indeed, smell like french fries. He dumped six dollars and 32 cents with a receipt for $3.68 along with two wrinkled fries onto his desk. “What is this?”
“Oh, that’s the change from my McDonald’s lunch yesterday.”
O’Mallery gave her the money, tossed the bag and fries in the wastebasket, then asked Claudia her full name.
“Claudia Elizabeth Culpepper,” she said.
“Age?”
“Seventy-nine.”
“She lies!” Rowena yelled. “She’s eighty if she’s a day.”
“That’s all ladies. Why don’t you go on home and eat your cookies. Ya see, it was the third teller who was robbed by a man in a red shirt.”
An officer picked a slip of paper from the floor and placed it on the desk. O’Mallery read it and chuckled.
“But I attempted robbery,” Claudia protested.
“I know,” he said. “But sugar, butter, cocoa, and flour written on a withdrawal slip is not evidence of robbery.” He held up the grocery list.
Out on the sidewalk later, Rowena gave Claudia a folded piece of paper from her pocket. “I found this in my car. Is it important?”
“Oh, darn it, Rowena. It’s the note for the teller. Pure and simple I bungled the job.” She sighed and stared into space. Then a grin eased across her face.
“Heck. Still want to?”
“Sure, Claudy, why not?” Rowena said. “I mean like they say, ‘If once you don’t succeed, try, try again’ . . . or somethin’ like that.”