By Natasha Julius
Junior keeps singing his special brand of blues, only stopping to refill his hot little lungs with air. Over the commotion I can make out individual pairs of CD cases knocking against each other. I count at least five different crunching sounds. She could have as many as ten disks lining Junior’s stroller. No wonder he’s howling like a wolf with its paw in a trap.
“Come on, sweetie.” Hot Mama’s starting to get flustered. She bends down and lifts Junior out of the stroller. He sticks his little arms out and pushes her away as if he knows his mom’s no good.
I’ve got a split-second window to get my visual. While Hot Mama turns away, I move around to her side of the bargain bin and take a quick look. There’s a fuzzy yellow blanket covering the bottom of the stroller, but one corner is pulled back. The half-peeled security seal at the edge of a jewel case catches the glow of the overhead lighting as it hits my eye. Hot Mama’s goose is dressed, cooked and basted.
I’ve seen everything I need to see here. Time to move it along, Brody. As I look up I see Lucy peeking over from the cafe. Her eyes are full of a thousand questions, so I do the best I can to answer with a subtle nod. You’re gold, Lucy. Solid gold.
Hot Mama walks over to the elevators at the far end of the music section. No way can I follow her there without drawing attention. I head to the escalators and take them two steps at a time down the to first floor. The audio books section is closest to the elevator bank. Plenty of tall displays for me to hide behind.
The ding of the left-hand elevator sounds and I wait that long, heavy half second for the doors to swing open. She’s looking around suspiciously, making sure she has a clear line to the front doors. I fall in line behind her, holding John Grisham’s The Broker in front of my face. She’s walking quickly, acting like any busy urban mother.
We’re in sight of the front door now and there’s trouble up ahead. Lenny’s giving some guy directions and his back is turned. Maybe the guy is Hot Mama’s accomplice, or maybe this is just her lucky day. Either way, she’s ten feet from freedom and closing fast.
I move to the best seller table at the front of the store and knock Oprah’s latest favorite to the floor with a thud. Lenny doesn’t turn around, but Hot Mama sure does. I manage to duck down before she spots me. If a suspect figures out what I do, I’ve got no choice but to blow cover and pursue. And when that happens I’m finished at this store.
Hot Mama’s almost got the stroller level with the security scanners and still Lenny hasn’t turned around. What I wouldn’t give for Junior to start singing the blues now.
The nose of the stroller is past the scanners and the alarms haven’t sounded. Hot Mama did her homework; she knows how to disable our security devices. Five more steps and she’s home-free. She can take Junior and the dirty disks and disappear into the midday crowds on the Magnificent Mile.
Finally, the guy shakes Lenny’s hand and cuts in front of Hot Mama to leave. Lenny finally turns around. I don’t have time to check and who’s looking, I just jump to my feet and point.
Lenny raises an eyebrow, like he can’t believe this is the suspect. “Excuse, ma’am,” he says as he grabs Hot Mama’s arm. “Do you mind if I take a look in your bag?”
“I guess,” she says as she hands the diaper bag over.
Lenny feels around a bit and shoots me a quick look. I put my hand out in front of me and make a pushing motion. The stroller, Lenny, check the stroller. He wrinkles his brow a bit but nods.
“One more thing, ma’am. Could you lift up your baby for me?”
“My baby? Why do you need to look at my baby?”
“It’s just procedure, ma’am.”
I can see Hot Mama’s hands shaking as she lifts Junior up. She’s looking out the front door like she’s behind bars already. Lenny lifts up the blanket and shakes his head.
“That’s an awful lot of Wiggles CDs, ma’am. Could you show me the receipt for those?”
Hot Mama cracks. “Please, mister, you don’t understand! I promised the other mothers in my play group I’d get these and every store in town is sold out already! You don’t know what these women will do to me if I don’t come through… you have no idea what they’re capable of!”
Lenny grabs her arm in one hand and the stroller in another, marching toward the office. “You can tell it to the manager, lady. Maybe he’ll buy your story.”
We exchange a wink as they pass me, just Lenny’s way of telling me “good job.” I don’t usually celebrate a big collar, but there’s a warm banana-walnut muffin waiting for me upstairs and the bravest barista in Cook County to share in the success. I hop onto the escalator and think about the crinkly-nosed smile on Lucy’s face when I tell her how the sting went down. But just as I’m deciding what to say, something snaps me back to reality. Three steps ahead of me stands the figure of a woman in a soft pink sweater.
Rose.
[To be continued…]
Posted on April 7, 2006