Ernie’s Alarm

  The house’s home alarm system went off. Outdoor lights flashed on, even though it was the middle of the day. Ernie punched down on the van’s steering wheel in frustration. How far had the kid gotten into the house? Was he going to come out the front door, or back out through the basement window?

   Ernie wanted to go to house and call the kid out, but he knew better. He even thought of holding the passenger door open for the kid, but figured the neighbors might already be looking. He wasn’t directly in front of the house the kid had snuck into, but he was close, and the neighbors might see that the van didn’t fit in this upscale cul-de-sac.

   Then Ernie heard the police siren. No way. The Police Station wasn’t that far from these ritzy houses, but it wasn’t that close, either. He sped four blocks away, grabbed the disappointedly empty hockey bags, and abandoned the stolen van for his dummy cable installation truck.

   Was the kid going to get away? Stephanie would freak. She had her substance issues but leaving her kid to the cops she didn’t deserve. Ernie called her, “They got him. I’m so sorry, Stef. You gotta get down there. The Police Station, tell them he’s underage, you have to be the adult present. Get a lawyer. Public Defender. Just tell to keep his mouth shut. If he didn’t take anything it’s a misdemeanor, and he didn’t take anything because I got the empty bags.”

   A siren had caught up with him. Ernie died inside as he pulled over the van.

   “You know why you were pulled over?”

   Ernie nodded, holding back the tears.

   “You can’t be on that cell phone and driving at the same time. License, registration, insurance.”

   “This is my license. The van is a loaner from Sharpie’s Garage. They didn’t give me any papers.” This was true as Ernie had stolen it from Sharpie’s Garage that morning, on the likelihood Sharpie’s would think it was on loan before they caught on that it was actually missing.’

   After four of Ernie’s nine lives the cop came back from checking the documents on his car computer.

   The officer sent Ernie off with a Distracted Driving ticket that wasn’t cheap. Worse, it was in Ernie’s own name.

   Ernie was halfway home when his cell phone rang. He pulled over onto the freeway shoulder to answer it.

   “Yeah? I know, Stef, I know. He’s going to be alright. I’ve never had this happen before.” It had happened twice before. One kid had made it back to the van, and the other had cried his way out of the homeowners turning him over to the cops. Neither kid would go out on a job again, whatever money Ernie promised. “He didn’t take anything, he doesn’t have to worry, they’re going to let him go, a warning, a little fine… a baseball trophy? He came out with a baseball trophy? They are not gold! They’re paint on plastic. I don’t care where the house was, nobody has in their home a real gold baseball trophy. A marble base doesn’t matter. You got enough marble to do a kitchen countertop before you’d get a few bucks for it. I know, Stef, I know. I’m sorry. I know, he thought it was worth something. It’s not his fault.” Of course, it was the kid’s fault. “He was supposed to wait for me. Four times now, he opens up, I come in with the bags and show what’s worth taking. Yeah, well, it is his fault, Stef. It’s his own fault. No, don’t call Wally! Stef, don’t call him. “She hung up.

   Ernie got back in the van and pounded the steering wheel again. Wally was Wallace Archer Devine. He was a violent man, and Stef had a restraining order against him which she renewed whenever she was sober for any stretch of time. Wally was the kid’s father, and out again on parole. Why couldn’t the kid have left without taking anything?

   Ernie drove up to his home, signalled the double garage door, and parked his van inside. Ernie lived alone. His ranch style home was beautifully furnished, and none of it was stolen. He was careful never to bring stolen goods back to the home. He had a rental storage in another town for that.

   He stayed in and waited for more calls during the day. When no one was calling he tried Stef several times. She wouldn’t pick and he didn’t want to leave messages. Not that he wasn’t covered. His cell was registered to a dummy corporation, like the van, and like his home. Nothing came back to him.

   The kid screwed up, that’s all there was too it. Ernie had done his stuff right. There was no alarm sign on the front lawn, no sticker in the window. The whole point of an alarm system is to just advertise that you have an alarm system and then Ernie would pick another house. Ernie had an alarm system for his home, and the sticker was in the window and there was a sign on the front lawn. That’s how you did it.

   And when go to rob a place and an alarm goes off you leave, and you don’t take anything, you leave.

   And you do the job during the day, when people are out at work, or whatever their thing is.

   And you never do the job at night. Ernie was a thief, not a burglar. Burglars are violent. Burglar’s hit you at night. They like the idea of trouble. They want you to bring it on. No, Ernie was a professional who only thieved during the day, and never hurt anybody.

   Night came, and still no calls, and no call backs. Nine o-clock, ten, eleven, midnight. Ernie gave up and shut off the lights to go to bed. Sleep was not going to come. He lied in bed turning everything over again and again. Staring at the ceiling in the dark. It was so unfair. Ernie never hurt anybody.

   And then his home alarm went off.