Scam Man

by

William Manchee

     This story is even hard for me to believe and I was there. You see I'm just an ordinary guy. I've never been a cop or had any military training. I don't have a black belt in karate or even a white belt for that matter. I've only fired a gun once in my life when I was twelve and it was a BB gun that belonged to a friend.

     It was a cool day in April and I was walking to the bus stop to catch a ride to work. I know. I know. It's hard to believe a thirty-year-old man wouldn't have a car in this day and age, but my job didn't pay that well and I didn't have any credit. Besides, my job as a short order cook for Danny's Diner was right on the bus route, so why did I need a car?

     Anyway, sometimes when I was on my way to work I would daydream that I was some kind of super hero like Clark Kent or Batman. When evil presented itself I would suddenly be transformed into a creature of great strength, speed, and cunning—Super Dude I called myself affectionately. Sometimes I'd get so wrapped up in my daydream that I'd miss my stop and end up being late for work. Although, I didn't work out, jog, or swim laps I trained through visualization. You've heard of that, haven't you? That's when you imagine you are doing something in you mind and if you imagine it over and over you get good at it. Well I'd been to every action flick Hollywood put on the screen, so I'd seen plenty of fight scenes and I knew all the techniques. I was an expert at visualization training.

     That has to be why I was able to do what I did. It really amazes me in retrospect. As I was walking past a shopping center on the way to the bus stop I had to pass by a jewelry store. There was a bright neon sign out front that read: Central Jewelry and Diamond Exchange. I'd seen their TV ads many times. Supposedly they had the best collection of discount jewelry in town and they'd gladly buy your old diamond ring if you were short on cash. I'd never been in the store before, but on this particular morning as I went buy, I heard arguing. I turned and looked through the glass front door and was surprised to see two men yelling at each other. Upon closer scrutiny I noticed one of them was holding a gun and was waving it at the other man who, I finally decided, was the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper was frantically collecting jewelry and placing it in a white plastic grocery sack.

     Without giving it a thought I suddenly was transformed into my Super Dude persona and charged into the store. The robber looked up at me with some surprise as I approached him with no apparent fear. He seemed conflicted by my presence. Should he take the gun off the shopkeeper, point it at my forehead and end to my intrusion or ignore me as a harmless wimp. He must have decided I was a wimp because he didn't take the gun off the shopkeeper and just yelled at me.

     "Stop right there asshole if you want to live another day!"

     I ignored his warning and when I got within arms reach I snatched the gun right out of his hand and wrestled it away. You should have seen the look on his face . . . and the look on the shopkeeper's face. Of course, when I got the gun in my hands I didn't know what to do with it, so I took it by the barrel and swung it hard across the robber's face. He screamed in pain, cursed, and then when I hit him a second time dropped like a brick. Looking down at him I saw that his face was as pale as the diamonds that were scattered across the counter top. As I was checking to make sure the robber was really out cold, the shopkeeper turned and scowled at me.

     "What the hell's wrong with you!" He screamed. "You could have gotten us both killed."

     I looked up at him incredulously. "Well, excuse me for saving your butt!" 

     "What? You think you did me some big favor coming in here like James Bond. You're a real nut case. Don't you know that's why they have insurance, so you can just let the thief take what he wants and you don't have to endanger your life?"

     "Yeah, well sometimes they just blow you away for the hell of it. That's just as likely to happen. I should have let him put a bullet in your head."

      The shopkeeper gave me a shove it up your ass gesture with his arm which really pissed me off. I was about to take the gun and smack him across the face too, but then I thought better of it. "Just go call 911," I said, "you ungrateful son of a bitch!"

     He shook his head, turned, and walked into the back room. I watched the door a moment and then looked out the front door. In the distance I saw my bus coming. Adrenaline began flooding into my veins as a devious idea came to me. Without another thought, I set the gun down, grabbed the white grocery sack, swept all the loose diamonds into it, and ran out the front door. The bus was halfway down the street so I had to run hard to catch it and flag it down. I climbed aboard, hurried to the back of the bus, and looked out the window at the jewelry store shrinking in the distance. The robber had come to his feet and was staggering out of the store. Shit! He was going to get away. I turned around and sank into my seat in despair.

     I looked around at the other passengers but nobody seemed to be paying me any mind. Oh, my God! What had I done? I was a thief! One minute a hero and then seconds later a thief. Fear shot through me like a piece of shrapnel from a hand grenade. What if the shopkeeper recognized me from the neighborhood? I walked by his shop every day for godsakes. Or what if the robber tracked me down to recovery his loot?

     Despite my anxiety, a curiosity came over me. I looked around to make sure nobody was looking, then I peered into the bag. I did a quick calculation in my mind. I figured with all the loose diamonds and everything else that was there, it all had to be worth a hundred grand at least. I'd have to buy a car now. I couldn't be walking past that jewelry shop anymore. It'd be too risky.

     That night the jewelry store robbery was on the evening news but there was no mention of me. The reporter claimed the thief had gotten away with an undetermined amount of jewelry and precious stones. I couldn't figure it out. Why hadn't the shopkeeper mentioned me? Then I remembered the insurance. He said he had insurance, but still that didn't explain why he hadn't mentioned my intervention, unless----.

     I went straight to my computer and did a search of the local newspaper's archives for Central Jewelry and Diamond Exchange. Sure enough my hunch was right. This was the third robbery of the store in eighteen months. The police had attributed the frequent robberies to the bad neighborhood. Now I knew why the shopkeeper was pissed off that I'd shown up and foiled the robbery. I'd messed up his little scam. Well, damn. I feel so bad!

Then I thought about it. If I couldn't be Super Dude, hell I'd be Scam Man. I'd seek out the predators of the world, help bring them to justice, and turn over my profits to the poor. In the spirit of my new identity, the next day I took the bag of jewels and sold them piece by piece. When I was done I had $88,239.23. This was less than I had first calculated, but I've always been an optimist. Since I'd need wheels I bought a used car for $7,994.00, tucked a little away for expenses, and gave the rest to the Salvation Army.

     Then I printed out the news articles about the three robberies, typed out my theory about the insurance scam, and put it all in an envelope addressed to the detective assigned to the case. I sent a duplicate envelope to the insurance company that was on the hook for the claim. The only thing else to do was find out the identity of the robber. I didn't figure that would be too hard since the shopkeeper would probably contact him sooner or later.

     For the next week I staked out the shopkeeper after work. I followed him home and then watched his house. He didn't go out much so it was pretty boring work, but on Friday I hit pay dirt. He went to a bar on Greenville Avenue and went inside. A few minutes later, guess who showed up? There was no doubt it was the man who had supposedly robbed the store. I followed him inside and observed him sit down at a table with the shopkeeper. They ordered a round of beers. One of the items I'd purchased for my new job as Scam Man was an expensive camera, so I got a lot of pictures of the two men together. After they'd left, I paid the bartender twenty bucks to take a look at the credit card receipt. The robber's name was Martin Levine.

     The next day I mailed both packages and included several candid shots of the two conspirators and the credit card receipt. I was careful not to leave any fingerprints or other evidence to lead the police back to me. I breathed a sigh of relief now that my first case was solved. Several days later it was all over the news. The shopkeeper was arrested along with Martin Levine. There was nothing on the TV news or in the newspaper about me, but that was okay. My work had to be beneath the radar. After all I was Scam Man.