The Thief

The Thief WL1964

The very moment she eased the soft beautiful notebook into her purse young Isabella Watkins began burning with fear and shame. More than anything, shame. Too late now. Wow! It was just that simple. She’d stolen it. She had in fact become a thief. There had been the petty theft of a few cookies from the grade school cafeteria years ago. Those taken in the company of two companions. They all did it at the time and she went along willingly to be with the “in” group. But this…. This was the first time in her life she had ever personally stolen anything. What in the world had come over her? She couldn’t even recall just what possessed her at the moment. She’d made a quick decision to cop the small black notebook. Gosh! It was really pretty and oh the cover and binding so, so soft and smooth. Problem was she did not have enough money for it. The shame and fear became overwhelming. She was sure the clerk had become suspicious. For a few seconds Isabella thought perhaps she could sneak the notebook back into the tray. Not possible, that clerk seemed to have eyes like a hawk. It looked as if she was just scanning back and forth over the area pausing at the sight of Isabella.

She thought big department stores like this one most likely had at least one and perhaps two detectives roaming around to deal with people just like her. Thieves! “Oh wow!” She thought. “I bet that clerk secretly signaled someone? Oh my she probably has already. Yeah she surely had, Isabella thought. I’m sure of it. I’m being watched this very minute. And, she’d been there so long now. She’d often heard older people talking among themselves about how store clerks most often kept an eagle eye on people like them. You know, people of color. It insinuated that they were more likely to steal something than their other or white customers. It was terribly embarrassing. And now bless pete she’d fallen into that sinful vacuum herself. She’d been warned many times by her Grandma Atwater to avoid even picking things up to look at them, because it might imply theft or worse yet give them reason to accuse one of theft.

Her Grandma Atwater was both mom and dad to her, for as long almost as she could remember. Her pops being lost in the war long ago and her moms, well she was gone also but for a different reason. Money. She’d met someone with lots of it. Grandma Atwater had preached all the time about how, even though they possessed very little, the world expected more of them as people of color. Now she, Isabella, was about to blow all that up. She had to move. In her desperation she picked up another of the beautiful black notebooks. Making a show of looking it over, she quickly saw the price tag for an amount well over anything in her purse and in a deliberate motion quickly returned it. The notebook was not going to save her.

Her grandma was determined Isabella would grow up, go to school and live a good life. And now “sweet Jesus”, a silent prayer formed inside her. “Please Lord don’t let me be arrested. It will just kill grandma.” She prayed on, promising the lord that if she could only get out of there with the now cursed notebook. “I promise I’ll mail it back and I also promise I will never ever set foot in this department store again.” Heavens, she thought, I don’t even have any notes to write.” She repeated the prayer over and over again and meant it too, every single word with all her heart.

Perhaps her prayers were about to be answered as no one bothered her when she timidly began to walk from the leather goods department. It seemed like a hundred yards to the elevator. She hadn’t noticed the matronly looking older woman who fell in step right behind her as she approached the elevator. She froze. From out of nowhere there appeared a huge bull necked wide shouldered man. His very appearance and general look screamed “store detective.” He simply had to be. Lord help her. At the moment his piercing gaze seemed to be locked on her. Looking back she now noticed the older women eyeballing them both. They all three got onto the elevator together. ”Please, please Lord,” she prayed and promised the same as before, mail back, never set foot again. On and on. Isabella’s mind raced. She’d never really stolen anything except those ole cookies so long ago and never again no matter what happens here now.

She thought about the next morning's newspaper headlines. “Teenage Negro School Girl Held for Shoplifting.” “A thief.” It would not matter that she was from a good home and had never been in trouble before. “Miss Isabella Watkins of such and such address arrested at the city's finest department store and is being held at…”Oh my the elevator light blinked”. The elevator shuddered to a stop. “Fourth floor!” At the same time the matronly woman moved closer into Isabella’s space. Heck she was actually touching her in the now crowded elevator as several new people got in. Isabella felt her knees getting weak and found herself actually leaning against the big woman a bit almost seeking unwarranted support.

An idea began to form in her head. “Yes,” she would remove the notebook from her purse and let it slip to the floor. She quickly realized this wouldn’t work. That big ole detective fellow, his hat all down over his eyes, was all over her standing so close. He’d surely see or hear it fall. Besides he was looking down so he’d see any strange movement of her arms or hands. By now Isabella could hardly breathe in the packed elevator. Her heart was pounding like a bass drum. Soon they would be on the ground floor, street level and she would be arrested for sure. “Oh, the light again.” “Third floor”. The elevator droned on downward.

In the corner of her mind Isabella wondered if her grandma would send her away after the scandal. Of course none of her friends would speak to her or have anything to do with her anymore. Good Lord, a “thief.” She now leaned more heavily against the older matronly looking woman who for some reason accepted it and seemed to lean even more toward Isabella herself. Strange? Perhaps she knew also and felt pity or sorrow for Isabella. “Yikes! Second floor.” The woman turned sideways to allow several passengers to exit. In doing so she crowded Isabella most roughly. Moments later the lady moved quickly away from Isabella as the crowd thinned somewhat. Now it was as if she had been touching a thief and wanted to get quickly away from her. Isabella having resigned herself somewhat thought, “I can’t blame any respectable person for that.”

The final shock was about to come and Isabella steeled herself and drew in a huge deep breath. She knew that the big ole detective would be the first to step out and there would be lots of shoppers and onlookers gathering around whispering and all as he humiliated her. He would open her handbag and find the notebook. Then in front of all those people he would handcuff her and lead her away to the police station. What in the world was she going to do? Oh, worse yet what was her grandma going to do? How could she have done this? Isabella knew in her heart that she had let her grandma down terribly. Then suddenly she formed another plan in her head. She would give herself up before they could place her under arrest. She would talk to the big ole detective and give the notebook up by her own free will. She’d still be arrested but perhaps without such a public scene and, hopefully, without handcuffs.

Thinking about all this she glanced carefully up at the matronly looking older woman who just a short time ago was all over her. Strange, she noticed now that the older woman’s features and appearance were hard and cold. “Oh wow!” Isabella thought she surely must be another store detective. “Yes! a police woman.” Isabella thought they must surely have put this woman on her upstairs. Guess they want a woman to take charge of her after the arrest. Isabella no longer cared about any of this. Nothing was going to alter her plan to surrender as soon as they hit the ground floor. The light flashed. Main floor! The elevator door seemed to fly open. The huge mean looking detective stepped out, turned immediately to face the open doors. Isabella

stepped boldly out of the elevator ahead of the matronly looking older woman and stood directly in front of him.

Having committed herself now to do the right thing she opened her handbag and began to speak when suddenly the huge woman rudely pushed her to the floor and leapt forward away from the large man. She had actually tried to use Isabella as sort of a shield. Off balance, Isabella stumbled forward causing the large woman to trip over her. The big man sprang on the falling woman with speed that surprised Isabella. “I’ve got you this time,” he hissed. “Amanda Moore, alias Amanda the Thief. Your reputation precedes you. Yep! Spotted you the minute you entered the store. And, I saw the whole thing in the elevator. I’m going to see you’re arrested this time.” Surprised and shocked, Isabella looked into her handbag. It was completely empty. Then, to her amazement she saw that it had been slit or cut open along the bottom. She felt light headed almost as if she might faint.

Then the store detective said “Yep. She’s been hanging around the store most of the afternoon. I suspected she was up to something but I really had nothing on her. That is until I saw her cut this here nice young lady’s handbag open and empty it into her own while they were all jammed up there in a crowd. Man! Look at all this stuff she stole. She'll go to jail for sure. We definitely got the goods on her this time.” Once again Isabella felt her knees go weak. This time she slumped to the floor in a faint. Shortly she heard a voice. “Young lady, ma’am.” It was the detective leaning over her, shaking her shoulder, gently talking to her in a soft voice, “Here’s your compact and comb, Oh! And, you know what, there’s a reward out for her. She’s a wanted criminal. Twenty thousand dollars I think. Since she tripped over you trying to get away, you’re the reason she got caught. The store is recommending you receive the reward. We have to keep your purse though for evidence. I’m sure the store will be more than happy to let you pick out a new one or something else nice. Perhaps a classy set of earrings or a nice notebook. We just took in some new really soft black leather notebooks. If you will allow me I’ll be glad to escort you up to the jewelry section or the leather goods. Here, I’ll call ahead.” Isabella was stunned.” Jewelry section, leather goods, ah ….” Words seemed to come out of her slowly, softly. “Ah, well, ah perhaps you could just send me something, maybe. No, no! I promised, err I mean I don’t think. I promised. Well what I mean is no thank you. It’s going to be a long, long time before I think about writing notes.”

Eudell Watts III