Sins & Needles(40)

At about four p.m. I revved Jose and peeled out of the cul-de-sac. If my uncle heard my wheels out in the groves, then the timing would make sense. I took a left onto the highway and headed for the outlet mall in Cabazon. I had a few hours to kill and that place was as good as any to get lost in a crowd. It would have been more fun if I had a few spare dollars to spare, but with my last twenty going to dinner and gas, I was flat broke.

I wasted my time walking around the stores and peeking in the windows, battered by the relentless wind that swept down the I-10 and kept the giant turbines turning. Considering I was forever consigned to pants or leggings, I’d never been too interested in fashion anyway. I wore what I had to and was comfortable with my uniform of jeans, pretty/edgy tops, and boots. When I grew bored of window shopping, I went and sat in my car with my dying Kindle, its battery flashing CHARGE ME for the next hour. Then, when the time was right, I popped a few Kava pills to kill my flaring nerves and headed back into Palm Valley.

This time my soundtrack was the album Sunset Mission by Bohren & Der Club of Gore, a German horror jazz band that was all instrumental. As silly as it sounds, listening to it not only calmed me down, but it made me feel like a femme fatale in a film noir. It was part of my pre-con ritual. It made me play the character of the grifter. It made me own my lack of morality. Of course when I saw it all in my head, my black hair was curled in a sleek bob and I wore red lipstick. I also drank scotch on the rocks while safecracking. Hey, whatever gets you ready for the job.

A few blocks before Camden’s, I pulled down a side street and went down two blocks. Then I went up another block and parked my car beside a small dog-walking park. If I headed across the street and went through a vacant lot, I’d be on his street and his house would be three doors down. It was a joyous day when Google Maps Street View came into our lives.

I cut the engine and spent a few moments scoping the darkness. The street was totally empty and very quiet considering it was only 9:15 at night. That could either work for or against me. When there weren’t many people about, if someone saw you, you were easier to remember. That said, you had a greater chance of not being seen.

I was prepared though. I reached in the backseat and stuck on a blue baseball cap and a pair of thin gloves. The rest of me was dressed in black jeans and a long-sleeved black basketball jersey to hide any sign of femininity. I tucked my notepad into the back pocket of my jeans and removed my car keys from the ignition. On the end of the keychain I had my trusty tiny Allen wrench I had ground down, plus a straightened out safety pin and paperclip, both strong enough to handle the five-pin tumbler lock that kept Camden’s house safe. The only other thing I had was a reusable Safeway bag that was tucked into my boots. I traveled light. It was easier that way.

After taking one more pill and a few deep breaths, I left Jose as casually as possible. The last thing you wanted was to be sneaking around and have someone see you sneaking around. I acted unpremeditated, like I lived around here, but still closed the door quietly. I walked easily across the street and crossed the vacant lot full of sand, rock, and dried out brush. Just…taking a stroll. Nothing to see here.

Once I reached Camden’s street, I walked with the same purpose. I was just a friend, just a friend paying him a visit and oh look, he wasn’t home. Sounded simple when you said it like that but one house away and I was starting to get really nervous. Puking my guts out kind of nervous. Second-guessing everything kind of nervous.

I couldn’t lose it. I passed by the quaint white bungalow that was his neighbor (thankfully not the ones who we had a close call with the night before) and suddenly there I was. Even though he had kept a light on in the garage and in the kitchen window, his jeep was gone. I had more than enough time now, I had to remember that.

I did a quick, casual sweep of my surroundings before making my way to his front door. As I thought, it stayed dark and he didn’t have any motion sensors. Still, I kept my head down low, just in case there was a camera mounted somewhere. It was extremely unlikely but it was better to be paranoid than dead.

When I saw the road was deserted and I grinned at the hedge of desert roses that kept me hidden from the occasional car going down the main street, I got to work on his lock. All deadbolts were five-pin tumblers and his was a Kwikset, which was as generic as you could get. Normally, lock-picking took a lot of time and patience, but when you grew up with a family of con artists, you were given locks to practice on more than you were given a Barbie or Lego.

I selected my trusty Allen wrench from the key ring, and as casually as someone just putting their house key into their house lock, inserted it. It took only a few seconds for me to locate all the pins from the first to the key pin and push them up past the sheer line inside. The cylinder turned and the door opened with ease.