A ROBBER'S REMORSE

by

CQB

The Story

The Chapters

INTRO

THE STORY

Joe Hardy looked out the kitchen window at the swirling colored leaves. Halloween morning started like every other day in his home.  His mother Laura had left early for her volunteer work.  She would be helping prepare the town’s festivities for the children at the Red Cross center in the library basement.  His father Fenton wasn’t home yet from New York City where he had just finished up a case he’d been working on as a private detective.  His older brother Frank was eating cereal at the kitchen table and his Aunt Gertrude was telling him to get a move on and finish his breakfast before it was time for school.

At exactly seven-thirty-five, Frank ran out the door to meet up with his friend Phil. “Catch ya later, Joe!” Frank called as he hurried out the door.

“See ya,” Joe called back as Frank ran out the door.  Joe sighed.  School just wasn’t the same since Frank started Junior High this year.  Joe was in his last year at Oak Street Elementary and he found it strange to not see his brother in the hallway or play yard during recess.

Joe took his bowl of cereal into the family room, with his aunt’s permission of course.  The news was on the television – not exactly prime time viewing for a sixth grader.  Joe started thinking about Trick or Treating and the big community party at the library afterwards.

It hadn’t taken Joe long to choose a costume this year; he decided to be Batman.  Frank was dressing up like a vampire. The two of them were going Trick or Treating with their friend Biff Hooper.  Biff was dressing up like Spiderman.

“…and the police are still at the scene of the bank break-in on the corner of Oak Street and Stewart Avenue…”

‘Oak Street and Stewart? That’s really close to my school,’ Joe thought as he suddenly tuned in to the newscaster’s words.

“Reports are still vague, but it appears that the bank’s alarm system interrupted a burglary in progress,” the news anchor stated grimly.  “The first officer on the scene found the body of a man near the vault.  The deceased is believed to be one of the robbers.  It is unclear at this time as to whether the man had been working alone, or with an accomplice. Bank officials have yet to announce whether any of the cash from the vault is missing…”

Joe jumped up, turned off the TV and quickly deposited his cereal bowl in the sink.  He ran up the back stairs to his bedroom, grabbed his back pack, and raced into the bathroom where he gave his teeth a two-second brushing before rushing back downstairs.

“I’m leaving Aunty Gertrude,” he called out as he hurried out the door.  He heard his aunt say something about having a good day.  As he headed down the sidewalk toward Biff’s house, he zipped his back pack open to see if his costume was in there.  It was.  Squished between his math and spelling books.

Biff was waiting on the sidewalk in front of his house.  “Did’ya hear the news?” Biff called out excitedly as Joe drew near. 

“About the bank robbery? Yeah, I just heard,” Joe answered.  “That must be the West Branch Bank.  We have to walk right past it to get to school.”

“Yeah, let’s hurry!” Biff replied and the two boys started running.  It didn’t take long at all until they saw a crowd gathered near the West Branch Bank.

“Let’s try to get closer,” Biff suggested.  Joe nodded and started jostling his way through the crowd.  Before he knew it, he was pressed up against the thick yellow plastic police tape.  He could clearly read the bold, black letters, POLICE LINE – DO NOT CROSS.

Joe looked around for Biff, but couldn’t see him in the throng of people.  He shrugged and focused on the scene in front of him.  An ambulance was parked near the bank’s front door, with it’s red lights flashing.  Police cars were all over the street and there were three TV station vans parked close by.  Joe glanced past the crowd to the street at the crossroad and recognized his father’s friend, Officer Con Riley, directing traffic away from the bank.

Joe squinted as he peered through the glass doors on the front of the bank.  There was a cluster of people gathered in a small circle around something on the floor. ‘That must be where the body is,’ Joe thought.  He’d learned from his dad that evidence had to be collected before a body could be removed. 

Joe looked up at the clock on the bank.  It was eight thirteen.  It would only take about two minutes to get to school.  He had time to watch a little while longer.

Suddenly, police officers were holding open the bank doors and two men in paramedic uniforms came out, moving a metal gurney between them.  On the gurney was a long, black bag.  ‘A body bag,’ Joe thought, sucking in his breath. He knew the dead robber was inside that bag.

The people around him had gotten very quiet as the body was brought out.  At first, Joe thought it was exciting.  But then it started to bother him.  A man was dead.  He was probably someone’s brother, or husband, or father. Joe felt a chill and shivered, despite the warm October sun.

“Husband and father,” Joe heard a voice say.

“Huh?” Joe turned to see who had spoken, but no one was there.  Most of the crowd had dispersed and the person closest to him was a little old lady.

Joe scratched his head.  ‘Must’a imagined it,’ he thought. For a minute, it seemed like someone had read his mind.

“I did. Weird, huh?” he heard the voice again.

Joe spun around.  Again, no one was close or even looking his way.  But the deep, whispery voice sounded like it had come from right beside him.

“I am right beside you.”

Joe shivered again and started to back away from the bank.  ‘This is too creepy,’ he thought, as he started down the sidewalk toward school.  He wished Biff was here, but he didn’t see his friend anywhere.

“Maybe I’m just hearing things,” Joe told himself.  That had happened once before, at church camp.  But that time it had been his friend Chet Morton.  Chet had been hiding under Joe’s bed and started whispering in a creepy voice. Frank had figured out that it was Chet and told him to knock it off.  But Chet wasn’t around this time.  He went to the Junior High with Frank.

Joe picked up his pace; he didn’t want to miss the bell or he’d have to stay inside during recess. He started to jog towards school.

“Hey, can you slow down? I’m new at this stuff.”

Joe stopped dead in his tracks. The voice had followed him.  He took a deep breath and started running.

“Wait, please! This is using up all of my energy!”

Joe felt a tug on the back of his jacket.  He whirled around, but just like before, nothing was there. Now he was really getting scared.  His stomach was churning and he began shaking.

“Sorry.  I didn’t want to frighten you, but it worked.  I made you stop.”

‘I just need to keep going,’ Joe thought, ‘until I’m safe at school.’

“Maybe not,” the voice said.  “I haven’t tried going through walls yet, but I’m pretty sure I can.  I just need you to listen to me a minute.”

Joe glanced around. Not another soul was in sight.  “All right,” he muttered, trying not to move his lips.  If anyone saw him, they would think he was a nut talking to thin air.

Joe ducked behind a big oak tree and stammered, “W-what are you and w-what d-do you want from me?”

‘I can’t believe I’m doing this,’ the blond boy thought, shaking his head.  I must be crazy!’

“You’re not crazy, kid.  But I was and now I’m dead.”

Just then, a fat squirrel jumped out from a nearby bush.  It run up an elm tree, knocking the lid off an empty metal trash can.  The lid crashed to the ground and went rolling down the sidewalk.

Joe nearly wet himself.  He put his hand on his chest and could feel his heart beating wildly.  He took a deep breath, and then looked around again.  He was alone.

Joe paused.  I am alone.  The ‘voice’ was gone.  Up until then, it had been reading his thoughts.

Joe squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated. ‘What are you?’ Joe thought. ‘What do you want from me?’

No sound.  No voice.  Joe smiled.  ‘I’m okay,’ he thought.  Now he’d really have to hurry if he wanted to beat the bell.  He turned to head off toward school again.

“Please! Please don’t go! I need your help!”

Joe’s fear returned. ‘What do you want?’ he thought again.

“Please,” the voice pleaded, “Please say something.  Please help me.”

“B-but you know what I’m thinking,” Joe said.

“No,” the voice interrupted, “not anymore.  See, it started when I was on the stretcher and they were wheeling me out of the bank.  I could read the minds of the ambulance attendants and when I got outside, I could read the minds of all those people.  It was rough.  There were a lot of really ugly thoughts out there, except for yours.  You were thinking about my family.

“That’s why I picked you,” the voice continued after a brief pause. “But something is happening.  I can’t read your thoughts any more.  I think I’m running out of time.  Please, will you help me?”

Suddenly Joe felt like someone had kicked him in the stomach.  He realized who the voice belonged to and it took his breath away.

“Y- you…you’re the guy…uh…from the b-bank,” Joe managed to gasp.

“The dead guy; yup, that’s me.”

“Right,” Joe said, backing away from the voice.  “I really gotta be goin’ now. I’m prob’ly late for school.”

“Please don’t go.  I have to tell someone so I can set the record straight…for my son,” the voice asked.

“I don’t know,” Joe said softly, but he sat down on the curb and waited.

“Thanks,” the voice replied.  Joe thought it sounded like it was right beside him.  “By the way, my name is John Anderson.”

“Joe.  My name is Joe Hardy,” Joe stated.  ‘I can’t believe I just introduced myself to a ghost.  I’m really losin’ it!’

“I need to tell you what happened today.  The robbery – it wasn’t something I wanted to do, honest,” the voice began.  “I know that’s not an excuse, but it is the truth.  Things had gotten pretty bad.  I lost my job and haven’t been able to find any work.  Then the landlord threatened to throw us out on the street because we owe so much rent.  I couldn’t let that happen to my wife and little son.

My friend Benny Carter told me he’d loan me some money.  Out of desperation, I accepted.  I thought he was my friend.  But last week, he said he wanted the money back, plus interest.

“When I couldn’t pay, Benny said he had a way for me to get the money. He came up with this plan.  He said it would be a piece of cake, the lying scumbag!  He used to work at the bank as a security guard.  Said he knew the layout of the building.  Said nobody’d get hurt.  Ha!  What do you call being dead?”

“What went wrong?” Joe asked, amazed that he was no longer afraid, but actually interested in John’s story.

“At first, everything went like clockwork, but then…”

“Let me guess,” Joe said, figuring out what probably happened.  “Benny tricked you.  He just used you to get into the bank.  When he didn’t need you any more, he killed you and took the money.”

“Right,” John’s voice agreed, “and now Benny will get away with it; the money and my murder.  The truth will never be told. My wife and son will think the worst of me.  But if Benny gets caught, my wife might understand and she’ll be able to tell my son that I wasn’t a terribly bad man.”

Joe thought a minute.  He knew he was already late for school and how would he ever explain to Mrs. Wilder that he was late because he was talking with a ghost?  No one would ever believe him.

“Okay,” the blond boy relented. “So, what can I do?”

“Thanks, kid,” John’s voice sounded relieved, but tired and fainter than before.

“There’s this program the police started,” John’s voice said, “it’s called ‘Busted’.”

“Yeah,” Joe said, “I’ve heard about it in school. It’s like a tip hotline.”

“Right. The number is 577…”

“I know it,” Joe replied.  “Mom made both me and my brother memorize it.”

“Good, Joe,” John’s voice said softly.  “If you go over to that pay phone on the side of the drugstore, dial for me and then I can tell the police what happened at the bank.”

“That’s a good idea,” Joe agreed.  “You don’t have to say who you are on the hotline.”

Joe hurried across the street.  He dialed the ‘Busted’ phone number.  He knew it was set up so it wouldn’t cost the tipster anything to call.

“Officer Moody. Thank you for calling ‘Busted’ crime tips,” a deep voice said into Joe’s ear.

Joe could almost feel John pressing in beside him. He shivered and tried not to think about John being…dead.

“Hello Officer Moody,” John’s voice said into the mouth piece Joe held out for him. “I know what happened at the bank…”

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Officer Moody asked.

Joe held the phone out a little farther and John spoke up.  “I’m here sir.  A man named Benny…”

“Hello?  Who’s there?  Speak up!” the police officer repeated, sounded more frustrated than before.

“He can’t hear me, kid! Can you hear me, Joe? Can you? Am I still here?” John’s voice asked in a panicked tone.

“I still hear you, John,” Joe whispered, covering the mouthpiece of the phone.  He thought for a second, and then said, “Maybe I’m the only one that can hear you.”

“Oh no,” John’s voice moaned sadly.

Joe looked down at the phone in his hand.  He could still hear Officer Moody on the other end of the line.  Joe swallowed hard and moved the phone back to his ear.

“I’m s-sorry,” Joe stammered, “I d-dropped the phone.”  He didn’t feel good about lying to a police officer, but he had to make up an excuse for not speaking earlier.

He quickly told the police all that John had told him, plus answering all of Officer Moody’s questions.  He even told them about where Benny planned to hide the money, thanks to John’s voice whispering in his ear.

“That’s a lot of important information,” Officer Moody finally said. “Would you like to tell me your name and how you know all of this?”

“I c-can’t,” Joe replied nervously.  “Do I have to tell you?”

“No, but if you did, it would help me to know you didn’t just make this all up,” the officer explained.

“I g-got the information from someone who was gonna help Benny, but he didn’t go through with it,” Joe grimaced as he spoke.  He was lying to the police again!  But how could he tell them a ghost gave him the information?

“Okay, son,” the police officer said.  “Well, the reason I ask is, there is a $1,000 reward if your tip leads to an arrest.  Where should we send the reward money if we catch this Benny Carter character?”

Joe hesitated.  He could sure have a lot of fun with $1,000!  He bit his lip.  Somehow, taking the money didn’t seem right.  It was John that really told him what to say.

Joe covered the mouthpiece again. “John, what’s your home address?”

“My address? 567 Poplar Drive, apartment 2B,” John’s voice replied.  Joe had a hard time hearing him.  The voice was barely a whisper now.

“If you catch Benny,” Joe told Officer Moody after he’d removed his hand from the mouthpiece, “the reward money goes to 567 Poplar Drive, apartment 2B.”

“Here in Bayport?” the police officer asked.

“Yes, Sir,” Joe responded. Joe hung up the phone before Officer Moody could ask any more questions.  He stepped out of the phone alcove.

“Joe, you told them to send the money to my apartment,” John’s voice said faintly.  “I don’t know how to thank you.  Your parents must be really proud of you.”

“My parents,” Joe repeated. “Oh man! They are gonna be so mad that I’m late for school! I hope the principal didn’t call them yet!”

Joe turned to where he’d last heard John’s voice.  “I really gotta go, John.”

“Me too,” the voice whispered.  “I think my time is nearly up.”

“Oh…well, okay,” Joe mumbled, not sure what he should say.  “Guess I’ll see you…ah, well…so long!”  Joe started running as fast as he could toward Oak Street Elementary school.

By the time Joe reached the school office, it was nearly nine-thirty.  He was an hour late.  He quickly explained to Principal Matthews that he’d been watching the excitement at the bank and lost track of time.  It wasn’t a total lie, but as Joe looked at the detention slip in his hand, he figured it was suitable punishment for all the lies he’d told that day.

He opened the door of his classroom and handed Mrs. Wilder the note Principal Matthews had written out for him.  She peered at Joe over the rim of her reading glasses.  “You may go to your seat, Mr. Hardy,” she ordered.

Joe slumped down in his desk, feeling the eyes of everyone else in the class watching his every move.  He heard a voice hiss, “Tardy Hardy,” and assumed it was nasty Brian Conrad.

“Where were you?” Biff Hooper whispered from his seat right beside Joe.  “I left after I couldn’t find you.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Joe replied, pulling out his books.  He opened his spelling book and tried to focus on what a consonant blend was, but it was hard.  He kept thinking about John.  ‘Wonder where he is now?’ the blond boy thought.

Just then, the curtain near the window stirred, billowing slightly.  Joe looked up at the window and was surprised to see that it was closed.  Mrs. Wilder moved to the window to check it, frowning as she discovered it was locked shut.  “Strange,” she muttered as she went back to the front of the room.

“Knew I could do it,” a very faint voice whispered in Joe’s ear, “I went through the wall.” Joe stiffened and sat up straight.  He glanced at the kids seated closest to him to see if they heard the voice.  They were all paying attention to the teacher.

“No one else can hear me, remember?  Anyway, I know you can’t talk to me, but I just wanted to thank you for your help, again,” John’s voice said.  Joe strained to hear above Mrs. Wilder’s voice.

Joe waited for more, but he only heard his teacher and Billy Spencer’s snoring coming from the back of the classroom.

Something felt different for the young Hardy boy.  Joe sighed.  He knew John was really gone this time. 

‘No one will ever believe any of this happened,’ Joe thought, but then he smiled.  Maybe no one else would, but Joe knew his brother Frank would believe him.  ‘And he’ll be glad I helped John.’

The End

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