Carmella paced as she talked. She was thrilled with the divorce settlement, but less than thrilled that her lying, cheating ex-husband moved in with his twenty-three year old lover. And in the same town no less! He’d chosen a place to rent only a few streets over that she’d have to pass every time she left her development. He was set to marry the young floosy. It was a slap in the face, no doubt.
Poppy cradled the phone between her shoulder and her ear, while sorting through a stack of papers she’d let go too long. She really needed to go paperless and update their system. She’d started the process a few times and then let it slide. “It’s not worth getting upset over. If it bothers you that much, why not sell the house and make a fresh start?”
“I’ve put so much money into this place, making it exactly as I wanted. Besides Anastasia loves it here,” she whined. Anastasia was her prize winning Shih-Tzu that she coddled over. The little white dog was her entire world.
“I’m sure Anastasia would be able to adapt to a new environment. She’s a bright dog,” Poppy said, trying to soothe her friend, but knowing Carmella based most of her decisions around her pet.
“I suppose,” Carmella answered dramatically. As she passed the window, the one that looked out to the front yard and mailbox, she noticed something. Her beautiful flowers were mashed. Somebody had trampled her flowers around the mailbox. She clenched her teeth and cussed her husband’s name under her breath. She was sure it was him. “Oh, the nerve; how childish. He destroyed my flowers at the end of the drive.”
Poppy knew her old friend was going through a ruckus, but sometimes the whining got a bit overdone. “Who destroyed your flowers?”
“Oh, it’s so obvious, Peter, that stupid, conniving ex-husband of mine.” She opened the door to get a better look. As she stepped out onto the walkway, Carmella gasped. She’d turned toward her driveway, but something was wrong.
“What is it?” Poppy asked.
“My car is gone! Someone stole my car. I’ve got to go. I have to call the police.” She hung up the phone in a tizzy.
Poppy looked at her phone as the dial tone kicked in. Maybe she should go over. She’d need somebody to help calm her down, and Carmella had chased away most of her friends during the worst of the divorce proceedings. Poppy knew she didn’t have many people left to support her. Of course, her dramatic actions and words could prove tiring at times. It was always a theatric experience around the woman.
Poppy glanced over her shoulder toward her father. “Dad, can you cover the desk for a bit?”
“Sure thing,” he said, flipping through the channels on the television faster than he had time to register what was playing on each station.
Klondike Mike turned to his partner, Jimmy “Bag-of-Bagels”. The two had been partners in crime for as long as they could remember. Usually petty stuff, but each gig they pulled off gave them a bigger reputation where it mattered in their world. They’d just wrapped another job, or so they thought.
“Easy enough,” Mike said with a grin. He had gotten the white Mitsubishi out of the driveway without a hitch. The homeowner never saw them. Driving out of the development, he pulled over just a mile or two away. They needed to let their boss know the job was complete.
Jimmy looked over at Klondike Mike. His good eye was on the other side. Jimmy still hadn’t gotten used to Mike’s scar. Mike used to be Mike Dasher, for being quick on the run, but after his accident with the pick ax everybody started calling him Klondike Mike and it stuck. When it first happened, he wore gauze and a bandage, so you couldn’t see the mess, but now that he’d since healed, it was hard not to stare.
“Are you looking at me again?” Mike felt the stare of his partner. He growled and turned to face him. “Just take a good, long look at me and
Greg Shows, Zachary Womack