Читать книгу Murder At the Cubbyhole - Alice Zogg - Страница 14

At that exact time, 20 miles east of the Huber residence, two employees were setting up a conference room at a Pasadena hotel. They arranged seven chairs around the rectangular table and then tagged each with its corresponding number, starting at the head with number one. Every first Monday evening of each month, hotel personnel went through the same routine of getting the place ready.

While placing two pitchers filled with ice water and seven glasses on the table, one of them said, “Hey Carlos, do you know what kind of weirdoes hold these meetings?”

“What makes you think they’re weirdoes?” his co-worker replied. “I’ve never met any of them. You know the rule; after setting up, we get lost.”

“Don’t you think by now they’d find their chair without a number on it?”

“Maybe they’re not the same people every month. How should I know?”

“Who are they anyhow?”

“My guess is they belong to some kind of religious organization or maybe even a cult. Or they could be members of a secret society club. It’s none of our business.”

“Let’s play a trick on them and switch the numbers around!”

“We’d better not if we want to keep our jobs.” Then he looked at his watch and said, “Let’s get out of here; they’ll start showing up at any moment.”

Two hours later, the meeting was coming to an end and Member One said, “So we’re clear on every detail. I’ll be there to make decisions should we have to improvise on the spur of the moment.” He tucked his notes into his briefcase and said, “Meeting over. Make sure all of you check for the green light before getting to the site.”

Members Two through Seven filed out of the conference room at the prescribed intervals to avoid contact with one another on the outside. In the end, Member One was left alone to linger in his chair.

He removed his eye mask and reflected on how it all started. Initially, it had been nothing but a vague idea in his head and then it became a challenge to prove that he could mastermind and organize the stunts. He had carefully selected his members and then planned the very first job, almost as a hobby. Soon it became an addiction and they were striking out once a month. It had been going on well over a year now and so far they were getting away with it. He attributed their success to the fact that all members had responsible day jobs and none had a criminal record. When adding Member Six to the team, he’d had reservations. Granted, Member Six’s expertise benefited the group, but he should never have allowed that particular member to join since the person was introduced by Member Five. The reason his operation worked so well was because the members had no connection to one another in their everyday lives.

Early on, one of the members had proposed leaving a toy monkey figure hanging by its tail at each scene. Personally, he thought the gesture was childish, but most of the others had applauded the idea and suggested making it their signature. It was such a minor detail that he gave in and let them have their monkeys.

Admittedly, even divided by seven, the payoff from the jobs was worthwhile, but the main attraction for him - - and he was pretty sure also for the rest of his crew - - was the thrill and danger they could expect anew at every site. Nothing compared to the adrenaline rush and frisson at the crucial moments of each heist. A quick smile came over his face as he thought of his wife. She had been asking a lot of questions lately and seemed more and more intrigued by his unexplained absences on many nights and his absent-mindedness when he was home. It was obvious that she suspected him of having an affair. Let her think that! Far better than if she would catch on to the truth.

He became somber as he considered that the February fiasco was evidence that he had made a mistake with asking Member Six on board. Up until then, the group had been able to hold to their non-violence code. True, it was already the beginning of April now, and neither the police nor anyone else seemed to have an inkling of who was responsible for the Cubbyhole incident. There was a good chance that the crime would never be solved. Still, he was uneasy and realized he might come to regret his decision to go ahead with their next heist. Too late to change his mind now; things were already set in motion.