The Wolf Heist
A crime story
See if you can find all the references to other crime stories.
This story is also available in my anthology More Word Associations.
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Ron and Claire Devereaux were consummate thrill-seekers, and their biggest thrill was crime. There was hardly a jewelry store in the tri-state area that the husband-and-wife team, known by the media as "Mr. and Mrs. Larceny," hadn't burglarized. They had also hit antique stores, rare book stores, a museum, and of course, a few banks. Now, for their fifth anniversary, Claire suggested they hit the prestigious Gilbert Theatre.
"Why?" Ron said, pausing his Game Boy.
Claire snatched it from his hands. "So a hundred years ago, there's this stage actor, Arsenio Wolf. When he dies, he gives the Gilbert Theatre millions of dollars in his will, plus some memorabilia—props, costumes, stuff like that. But there's been a rumor for years that he also willed them some of his most personal treasures, also worth millions, and it's all kept under strict lock and key in a secret room in the basement."
"Hm." Ron rubbed his chin. "Not sure that's enough to go on. Where'd you hear about it?"
"My sister used to work there. There is a room in there that nobody can get into. I wouldn't suggest it if I weren't confident."
"In that case, I guess it's not the biggest departure for us. We'll just need a plan."
Ron and Claire generally disliked violence, so a full-blown robbery was out. Breaking and entering at night could be fun, but they'd been bit hard by security systems in the past. Besides, where was the fun in brute forcing it? They preferred subtlety in their thievery. The best jobs were a bit like stage magic—the trick was in getting the target to pay attention to something else, so they don't even notice the quarter behind their ear. Or their wallet slipping out of their pocket, as it were.
In fact, Ron and Claire had first met when he was trying to swipe her wallet, and caught her trying to steal his. Right away they knew they were made for each other.
So the best time to get what they wanted wasn't when the doors were locked and everyone was home. It was when the place was open, and everyone was focused on the same thing: the actors on stage.
So they both got jobs as stagehands as the Gilbert prepared for Sickness Unto Death, a 1912 drama that, perhaps not coincidentally, starred Arsenio Wolf in its original performance. They took phony names—Ron became Steve Brant, Claire became Donna Weller—picked up burner phones, and arranged for phony backgrounds to check, even fake union membership. They rode separate cars. No one would have any idea they were married.
On their first day, the stage manager greeted them and the other stagehands in the lobby, in front of the bronze bust of Arsenio Wolf and the plaque commemorating his century-old donation. Costumes and masks and prop guns and swords hung in glass displays. The plaque read "My treasure is in the theatre."
Ron whispered to Claire, "So you think he meant that literally?"
"That's what all my sister's coworkers thought."
The stage manager gave them all a quick tour of the building, from the main auditorium to the wardrobe room to the dressing rooms, down the stairs to the basement. The stage manager showed them where to find spare tools, electrical equipment, and props, and motioned into one room at the end of the hall. "And here's where they keep the stuff donated in the Arsenio Wolf grant. We don't touch anything in here."
Nor could they see it. The door was shut with a password lock. And the Devereauxs weren't about to ask for a peek inside.
The stagehands got their assignments next. Ron had some carpentry experience, so "Steve" would help build the sets, and during the show, would assemble and disassemble them between scenes. Claire knew a thing or two about wiring (having disarmed burglar alarms in the past), so "Donna" would work on lighting. Already they had a preliminary idea for how to proceed. Just find a convenient scene during the show, then find an excuse to leave, go downstairs, and loot as they pleased.
But then they met the actors, and found they had a problem.
A teenage boy shook their hands and said, "I'm Shinichi James. I play Samuel. It's a pleasure to meet you. Let's put on a great show, all right?"
"Charmed," Claire said. The Devereauxs knew his face very well. They just never knew that the teen detective who'd been on their tail since he was a kid detective was also an aspiring actor.
When the Devereauxs met up at home, Claire looked Shinichi James up online. "Ugh, of course. Turns out, in between trying to solve our crimes and put us behind bars, he's been doing school plays and little theater productions. If we're not careful, we're going to bring his two greatest passions together in one neat package."
"Figures," Ron said. "This is how I know God hates us."
"I thought that was a given. Ten Commandments and all that."
"Yeah, but he doesn't have to rub it in." He turned on his Game Boy. Tetris always calmed him down. "We'll just have to keep an eye on him, stay on our toes. He's gotten close to finding us out, but he's never actually caught us."
"I know. But that stupid prodigy caught Julius after the airport incident. I can't help thinking it's just a matter of time before he gets us."
"If we can't outsmart a fifteen-year-old, we might as well turn ourselves in."
"Actually, he's sixteen, according to his Facebook."
"Good Lord, he's old enough to drive now? He'll be unstoppable."
At least at first, Shinichi James didn't seem to notice much of what the stagehands were doing. His focus was on memorizing his lines and getting to know the other actors. Occasionally he'd come over to watch Ron/Steve at work on a sitting room wall, but he was no different from any other curious kid. Meanwhile Claire/Donna was either too busy rigging the lights or manning the control to interact all that much with Shinichi.
A week before the premiere, Ron's lead came up holding a couple of plastic bins and took him aside. "I need to get something downstairs, and I could use some help carrying it up."
Ron followed him down the hall. Along the way, they passed the dressing rooms, and Shinichi and one of the actresses began following.
"Hey, you can come, too." The lead took them all to the stairwell. "The upper management doesn't like us to mess with it too much, but we're heading down to the Arsenio Wolf room. You wanna see?"
"Sure," Shinichi said, "why not?"
"Isn't that where the buried treasure's supposed to be?" the actress said. "Like in that urban legend?"
"More or less," the lead said. "Though I wouldn't call it buried. Just… stashed away."
The lead took everyone down the stairs to the locked door. Ron watched him enter the code—2-8-4-3-4—and translated it in his head to letters. N-V-R-M-R. "Nevermore." All he had to do was think of a raven perched on the doorknob, and he'd recall the code.
The door opened into a room full of carefully-organized props, outfits, and bits of scenery, plus other odds and ends—portraits, books, and what seemed to be a number of personal items.
"This is everything willed to the theater by Arsenio Wolf," the lead said. "He never had any children, so acting was really his whole life."
"And so he decided to give something back," Shinichi said. "Incredible. You sure management would want us down here?"
"Actually, that's why I needed to come down here. They gave us permission to take a few props out of here for the show, since it's so heavily associated with Wolf. "
"What are these books? His journals?" He picked one up and leafed through it.
"You got it. So far nobody's gone through and edited them. Of course, at this point so few people have heard of Arsenio Wolf it's hard to say that they'd sell."
"What's in the film can?" the actress said.
"A print of the original silent version of Sickness Unto Death, which Wolf starred in. As far as I know, it's the only complete copy left."
Ron had Shinichi pass over the journal, and he started flipping through it. If nothing else, Wolf's penmanship was impeccable, so neat and compact, still readable after all these years. If he acted as well as he wrote, then it was no wonder he was able to give so generously to the Gilbert. Everything in here was unspeakably valuable. Even one item from in here would be enough for Ron and Claire's next five anniversaries.
Ron handed the book back. He had to stay calm, especially with the teen detective standing right there. This wasn't what Ron and Claire had come for, anyway.
That was surely behind the large steel door in the corner.
The lead gave Ron a bin and had him load in a revolver, a camera, and some shoes, while taking some props for his own bin. Voices echoed in from above. If Ron's estimate was right, this room would be right underneath the stage. The actors' rehearsal was coming in through the ducts. You could probably listen to the whole play down here.
Finally, Ron couldn't help himself, and gestured at the steel door as they were about to leave. "What's in there?"
"That," the lead said, "I'm not sure about. It's been locked since the 1940's, and nobody knows what happened to the key."
"Nobody ever tried to replace it?" Shinichi said. "Seems like a decent locksmith could do it."
"I couldn't tell you why, I just know they've never done it. I guess if there's anything in there, it's not that important, at least to management."
Or it's so important, they wanted it sealed like a Pharaoh's tomb. This was practically being handed to the Devereauxs on a silver platter. Ron couldn't bust in there, but Claire was an ace lockpicker. Thanks to her, Ron hadn't had to worry about locking the keys in the car in years.
By the time the dress rehearsal came and went, Ron and Claire had a performance of their own fully sketched, scripted, and ready to begin.
It began with Act 3, Scene 2. Ron would help roll in the apartment set, and the action would remain there until the beginning of Act 4. This gave some of the stagehands enough time to slip out for a cigarette, or even a quick walk to the convenience store around the corner. Ron used the break to grab a Coke.
So as soon as the sets were in place, Ron and Claire would discreetly withdraw, meet up downstairs, and get to work unlocking the steel door. The security system shouldn't be an issue, since nobody could have gone in to update it in 80 years.
Whatever they found, they would stash in Claire's purse, then head back upstairs—separately, of course. If they found nothing, they'd just take the film can. It'd only make the film more valuable.
Toward the end of Act 3, the main character fires a gun at his rival. Thanks to the ductwork, Ron and Claire would be able to hear it in the basement. They would both need to head back to their stations to transition to a new scene, with a new set and new lighting, so if they took too long downstairs, the gunshot would be their cue to drop everything. The play was set to run for three nights, so they would get a few more tries. Not that a one-and-done was out of the question.
The best part was that the teen detective would be too occupied with the play to bother them. Half his lines were in Acts 3 and 4.
Opening night arrived. The seats filled. All hands backstage were on deck. The lights dimmed. The drama began. Ron did his duty, rolling the backgrounds into place, making sure props were where they needed to be, and that he didn't stand out too much to the audience. Claire sat at her console, making sure every light went on when it was supposed to, under the supervision of the lead lighting technician.
Act 3 began, and Ron told his lead he was stepping out for a snack. Claire told hers she was going for a walk. They each started toward the back exit, but then when no one was looking, took separate stairwells and rendezvoused in the basement.
"So far so good," Ron said. "Got the picks?"
"Right in here." Claire opened up her purse and brought out the case full of her lockpicking equipment.
Ron murmured "Nevermore" to himself and keyed in the password, They went into the Wolf archive room just in time for an especially emotional scene involving Shinichi's character.
"I gotta admit," Ron said as Claire worked on the lock, "the kid's actually a pretty good actor. He could probably make it in Hollywood or Broadway."
"Whatever gets him away from us," Claire whispered. "And keep your voice down. If we can hear them, stands to reason they might be able to hear us." The lock turned. "Piece of cake. I just hope nobody's ever thought to try this. If it's already empty in there because somebody already looted the place, I am going to torch something."
"At least it's good practice." Ron laid his palm on the handle, and Claire laid hers on top of his. They gazed into each other's eyes, just as dazzling as the day they first met, and gave each other a kiss. "Shall we?"
They pulled the door open.
It led into a room with bare walls, full of old dusty boxes and large industrial shelves. Framed documents hung on the wall, including Arsenio Wolf's diploma from the University of Kentucky. A vent pumped in cool air along with dialogue from the play above them. "You'd almost think they designed it this way," Ron whispered.
Claire opened a box on one shelf. "It's just old letters. I'd guess to family and friends."
Ron opened a small one resting on top of a stack in the corner. "Holy crap, a Purple Heart. Wonder which war?"
"Spanish-American, I suppose." Claire turned toward the largest box in the room, with a black cloth laid on top of it. One of the framed documents hung near it. "I wonder what this says… Last will and… Ron! Right here! It's Wolf's will!"
"What does it say?" Ron said.
"If you'll just give me a chance to read it." Claire went quiet and started muttering. "Okay, found that… Saw that…"
Ron headed toward the big box, and tugged at the cloth. "Wonder what's in here?"
Claire skimmed down, occasionally glancing at the box. "Hm." She froze. "Wait. Oh God, I think I know what this room is really for."
"Yeah?" Ron grabbed a corner. "What might that be?"
"Ron, don't—"
He pulled it off, exposing a glass case.
They both screamed.
They clapped their hands over each other's mouths. Even the dialogue above had paused, but only for a moment. Soon the actors were talking to each other again. Ron and Claire weren't listening. They were staring at what they'd uncovered.
Inside the glass was a human skeleton, neatly laid out across a velvet cushion, with the skull lying face up on a pillow.
"That can't be," Ron said.
"It is," Claire said. "Arsenio Wolf. It's right there in his will. He specifically requested that once he decomposed, his bones would be brought to the theater." She gazed up toward the vents. "Right here, where he could still listen to a show. It was his greatest treasure." She elbowed her husband in the ribs. "If you had just listened instead of rushing in like you always do—"
"Like I always do?" Ron spread the cloth over the case. "Whose idea was this job anyway? All because your sister heard a rumor."
"This is not my—" Claire balled her fists beside her. It was taking all their strength to keep their voices low. "Look, you and I both know we're not cut out to be grave robbers or tomb raiders. Wanna just call this a wash and leave?"
"Call what a wash?"
The voice came from the steel door, with a familiar adolescent squeak.
Shinichi James stood blocking the way, wearing his 1910's-era suit.
"Shouldn't you be upstairs?" Ron said.
"My scene's over," Shinichi said. "And I'm not in this one. The whole theater heard that scream, you know. Pat and Dave had to ad lib around it." He crossed his arms and leaned on the door frame. "A man and a woman. Late 20's, early 30's. One is an expert lockpicker. I take it Steve and Donna are not your real names?" He chuckled. "I've been spending all these years trying to track you two down, and here you've given yourselves away, Mr. and Mrs. Larceny."
"Aw, hell," Claire said. He knew their faces now, if not their real names. And they'd been doing so well…
"What do you want, you little punk?" Ron said.
"Want?" Shinichi said. "I want justice. I may not like the grinding engine of capitalism, but you two are no Robin Hoods, as far as I can tell. You're just glorified shoplifters with expensive taste." He looked at the large case. "I guess you found the skeleton?"
"Wait, you knew about that?"
"Well, he did say in his journals he wanted this to his final resting place. I've been coming down to read them every day since your lead showed us down here. I… heh, memorized the passcode. And, well, this door here was a mystery, and I'm all about solving mysteries." Shinichi straightened himself up, smoothed out his shirt and jacket. "And it just so happens I know how to pick locks, too. Just couldn't help myself. I had to come and see."
"All right, look." Ron stepped up and glared down at the scrawny boy standing in his way. If it didn't have every chance of making the situation worse, Ron would have thrown him across the room. "Now that we've found the bones, we've changed our minds. We're not taking anything. We're just gonna cut our losses and go home."
"You can't bust us on a crime we haven't committed," Claire said. "You can't get us on breaking and entering, either, since you did the same thing."
"True," Shinichi said. "On the other hand, I'm willing to bet there was a great deal of fraud involved in getting 'Steve' and 'Donna' their jobs here. And there's all the other crimes you've committed before." He took out his cell phone. "I was just about to give the police a call. If you want to run, now's the time to—"
Ron swiped the phone from his hand. Shinichi flung his arms out, but Ron held it so high that the best the boy could do was grab onto Ron's shirt. "Tough luck, gumshoe."
But when Shinichi stepped back, he was holding a phone—Ron's phone.
"How did you—?"
"You think I've always been on the straight and narrow?" Shinichi dialed a number and hit "Send." "That's why I try so hard to stop you. You're what I could have turned into." A voice buzzed on the other end. "Hey, Colleen," Shinichi said. "I'd like to speak with Inspector Gatchet." He flicked his eyes to Ron and Claire, mouthing silently, Start running.
A gunshot echoed from upstairs.
Ron tossed Shinichi's phone up in the air, and he and Claire ran just as instructed, down the hall, up the steps, through the back door they'd pretended to take before. By the time the police arrived, slipping discreetly backstage as the play reached its climax, the Devereauxs had fled in separate cars. Claire drove off and tossed her burner phone in the river. Ron ran his car into a ditch and had Claire pick him up.
The following day, the break-in made the front page, with the earthly remains of Arsenio Wolf revealed to the world along with the badge portraits of Mr. and Mrs. Larceny. The only witness was a young actor who said the two rushed out past him after they got spooked by the bones. There was nothing he could do.
Mr. and Mrs. Larceny are still at large, and citizens are asked to report any information they might have as to their whereabouts.
The premiere of Sickness Unto Death received rave reviews, and sold out the following night. Critics reserved special praise for Shinichi James' performance as Samuel. He'll be performing in the Gilbert Theatre's production of West Side Story this fall.