Issue #136 : To The Point
He sprinted around the corner, to see the crowd of people, milling around the tiny green, shuttered house. Karl glanced over his shoulder, and saw that the police hadn’t yet caught up within eyesight, so he pushed through the gate, and did the best he could to blend in with the people who had shown up for the open house.
The guests smiled at him over their glasses of champagne and plates, piled high with canapés and caviar. Karl avoided eye contact, not wanting to stand out in anyone’s memory. He wormed his way up to the house, and inside, to the living room.
He could tell right away how loaded these people were, despite the small size of their house. Paintings that they probably paid five figures for, plus another four figures for the frames. An entertainment center, filled with about a dozen high-end stereo components, that all went for at least five hundred each. Everywhere he looked, he saw pictures of the fat-cats on vacation, in some different part of the world. When he went on vacation, it was to the taqueria at the mall.
This house would net a huge fortune, and all he would have to do is hide out in the basement for a while, until the crowd cleared out. And as a bonus, he would likely lose the cops out there who were trying to chase him down. People like this probably had satellite TV, a pool table and a wet bar in their basement, and chances were pretty good that they would be pushovers, once he had them alone. At that point, it was nothing but easy money. To think, the cops had led him to such an easy score. He found the door in the kitchen leading downstairs, and stepped through.
The lights were out, so when he stepped down, he didn’t see the toy car before his foot came down on it and shot straight out. He yelled, and stumbled down the stairs, staying upright, but barely keeping his balance as he tumbled down, one stair at a time. His feet hit the bottom and he tripped over the mop handle that had fallen down, directly in his path. As he pitched forward, throwing his hands up in vain, he had just enough time to wonder who in their right mind would leave a pitchfork, jutting out of a trash can like that, before he realized it was his face, falling straight down onto rusting, exposed tines.
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