Bobby Carter's Crimes

BOBBY CARTER’S CRIMES

 “Welcome to Shady Maple!” Maxine bellowed, extending her muscular, tattooed arms out toward the newest resident of the private women’s shelter, a tiny blonde wisp of a thing, barely half of Maxine’s formidable figure. “You must be Stella!”

Stella silently followed Maxine to the sleeping quarters where some of the other women were camped out on their respective narrow beds. The shelter was always maxed out at 12 women, and Maxine was sure to remind Stella how lucky she was to have a spot for the next 90 days.

“Now Maxine, we need to have a word!” shouted a red-faced, red-haired woman on the bed next to the empty one where Stella set down her bag.

“What is it, Sasha?” Maxine sighed, rolling her eyes.

“You said Bobby was the one, and now she’s gone, and things still missing here!” Sasha fumed. “My Rubik’s Cube is GONE. I had it last night, and now it ain’t there no more. I was gonna break my record!”

“We found Bobby with stolen items and she has been removed. Maybe you’re just losing your things in this landfill you call a sleeping area,” Maxine said curtly, casting a disapproving stare over the heaps of clothes and crumpled papers multiplying around Sasha’s bed before grabbing Stella by the elbow and moving her along. 

A tan, freckled young woman sat impossibly still on her bed, knees up, feet close to her hips. Her hands rested flat on the bed between them. She cocked her head and panted as they approached.

“Now, Susan is a dog,” Maxine whispered as they approached the next bed. “Well, she’s not really a dog, of course, but it’s just easier to go along with it, you’ll see.” 

“There’s a good girl,” Maxine said, bending down to scratch Susan behind the ears and giving her chestnut ponytail a gentle tug. 

Stella just stared.

“You can pet her, go on,” she said, but Stella kept her arms tight at her sides as Susan leapt up from the bed and bounded away, barking.

“Suit yourself,” Maxine muttered, guiding her gently by the elbow to the next bed where a woman’s face was squinting into a weathered copy of The Da Vinci Code. 

“Maxine, my glasses?” Tesla cried, squinting at the pages. "I only have the one pair and I really need 'em. They were right here!"

Maxine assured Tesla she would be on the lookout, but as Stella continued the tour, the women's complaints mounted. Angie was missing her GameBoy. Mary couldn’t find her late husband’s watch. Ramona was bleating about something or other that had just up and walked away.

“Don’t mind them,” Maxine said, ushering Stella quickly out the back door, away from the fray. “They tend to be a bit dramatic, and they’re all experts on how to get worked up over nothing.”

Maxine guided Stella around the edge of the large fenced-in backyard, which boasted several trees, an overgrown garden, and patchy lawn. A towering woman with black hair down to her thighs stood in the middle of the yard, grimacing as she stooped down to scoop something into a bucket with a bright red shovel.

“You’re doing a great job, Bianca!” Maxine shouted across the yard. “I’ll bring you some extra cookies tonight!”

“What’s with all the patches on the lawn?” Stella asked Maxine, her curiosity finally breaking her silence.

“Oh, those. Well, you see–” Maxine started, before frantically waving and shouting at someone squatting behind a large maple tree at the back of the yard. “Susan! Susan do not do that, you know better!”

Stella did a terrible job of not staring.

“So, should I be worried about my stuff?” Stella asked, her voice just above a whisper. If she had anything really worth stealing maybe she wouldn’t be here in the first place, but even people down on their luck own precious things.

“Oh, heavens, no,” chuckled Maxine, her thick, black bob bouncing against her full cheeks, her red lips parted in a huge smile. “I mean, as much as you ever have to worry in a strange place with strange women you don’t know.”

The thefts were all the women could talk about after lights out, much of it centered on the resident Stella had now replaced. 

“The lady here before you, she was no good, no good at all,” whispered Bianca, as Susan lay at the foot of her bed, chin in her hands, whimpering softly.

“Maybe she was, maybe she wasn’t,” murmured an older woman, furiously crocheting a blanket in the dim glow of her nightlight. “I don’t trust anyone. Could have been any one of you.” 

The women told her tales of Bobby Carter, the resident who had slept in Stella’s bed just a few nights before. Some said they heard she was a professional con artist, lying her way into nicer private shelters and making off with what little valuables the residents had with them. She was probably at another place right now, lining her pockets with thin gold rings, prescription glasses, and favorite lighters. They said she did it just for fun.

Stella checked the contents of the small velvet bag under her pillow one last time before finally drifting to sleep on the reasonably comfortable twin bed.

She woke up to the sound of a woman shrieking, “It’s gone! Someone took my ring! I knew it wasn’t Bobby. I knew it!”

Stella slid her hand back and forth under the pillow until her fingers brushed the bag. She sat up and felt around inside, making sure all items were still accounted for. All except one, a tiny Altoids tin with some old, probably worthless, coins her father had left her. She wasn’t the only one to wake up with something missing, and the accusations were fast to fly again.

Maxine sat upstairs on a big velvet chaise, listening to the women’s angry murmurs drift up through the vent in the floor as she munched on freshly baked cookies. There was a soft scratching at the door, and Susan came bearing gifts: A delicate gold ring, a silver locket, and a small Altoids tin that rattled when she shook it.

“Good girl,” Maxine said, giving Susan a pat on the head.