Women of Quality

Barbara Lewis had been in security and loss prevention at Iris Department Store long enough to know when she saw a shoplifter in action.

She smirked as she looked at live security camera footage of the chubby, tattooed woman hovering in the home goods section of the store.

“I’m watching you, trashy lady,” Barbara whispered.

Deciding to go undercover to track the thief, she put her store ID in her wallet on her desk in the security room and headed out to the floor.

The sales staff all straightened up when they saw Barbara. Although she was security and wasn’t technically their boss, everyone knew she was corporate's eyes and ears. Legend had it that Barbara had once gotten a district manager fired after she caught his wife lifting a bracelet from the jewelry section, but no one knew for sure.

Barbara, however, knew the store and the customers better than anyone. Sure, families sometimes came in together; but the majority of customers were women at different stages of their lives. Some were retired and were now soaking up pensions while they shopped for youth serums to turn back the clock. Some were the bored housewives of doctors and lawyers; in the market for lingerie to keep their husband interested or jewelry when they found his interest waning. There were the affluent soccer moms who brought their tween daughters to the cosmetic counters to learn how to apply make-up as every young lady should know. There were empty nester moms who were thinking of going back to work, looking at smart suits that would make a good impression in a job interview. Then there were the divorcees, flush with some cash from a settlement and looking for sexier wardrobes now that they were back on the dating market.

Barbara knew from decades of watching them, all of the women who frequented Iris Department Store had something in common and it wasn’t money; not all of them were rich. All of them were quality women, Barbara had decided.

And that was how she knew the trashy lady in home goods was a bad egg. She had no dignity; no elegance, certainly no quality.

The woman had gotten stares from some of the sales staff as soon as she had entered the store earlier. The clothing she was wearing looked more befitting a flop house than a fine department store. Fuzzy loose pajama pants, bedroom slippers caked with mud and the trash queen trademark of a dirty tank top, bra straps showing, of course.

Approaching the aisle where the woman stood, Barbara became aware of the pungent body odor of someone who hasn’t bathed in a long while.

She hadn’t expected this. Barbara was nothing if not scrupulously clean. She could handle just about anything but the stench of an unwashed person.

Before she could go any closer, she had the sudden urge to vomit.

She needed to get to one of the perfume counters before the smell of this horrid person made her sick.

The nearest one had the most expensive scents in the store and today, Delia was working it.

As Barbara neared the counter, she noticed a stunning woman talking with Delia and sampling different perfumes.

Barbara moved closer, breathed a floral scent deep into her lungs, cleansing her olfactory nerves of the stench of the thief that she knew she would have to deal with eventually.

Her eyes were cleansed too, as she surveyed the customer at the perfume counter. Barbara couldn’t help but move closer.

This was a woman of quality. Barbara thought. She stood a bit taller than Barbara and had the most beautiful blond hair that fell in natural waves to frame her delicate face.

And what a face it was. Perfect bone structure, only the slightest hint of make-up, barely-there eye shadow that complemented rather than covered the woman’s blue eyes and a thin coating of pink tinted lip gloss.

Delia looked up, noticing Barbara.

“Hello Barbara, how are you today?” Delia asked, uncertain as to why Barbara was here.

“Hello Delia,” Barbara said, but she smiled at the woman, “I was just curious about…. about what new scents you have gotten in lately.”

Delia nodded. She knew better but she was a pro and refocused on the customer.

“This is Nicole Steel, and she is looking for a perfume to wear on her wedding day!” Delia told Barbara.

“How delightful!” Barbara said.

Nicole smiled. “I know! I can’t wait but there is so much to do—I…I haven’t even picked a dress yet!”

“When is your wedding?” Barbara asked.

Nicole blushed, “Actually, it’s in three months.”

“Wow! That’s not far off!” Delia responded.

Barbara nodded in agreement as Nicole giggled.

“I can recommend a few bridal shops in town, if you’d like,” Barbara told Nicole.

“Really?” Nicole asked

“Of course,” Barbara said, “and don’t forget we do bridal registries here as well, so you could go through the whole store and make a list of everything your wedding guests could get you as a gift!”

“That would be so wonderful!” Nicole answered, smiling at Barbara.

“We would love to help,” Delia added, still uncertain why Barbara was insinuating herself into the sale. After all, Nicole was clearly not a shop-lifter, not a thief, not a security risk.

While Barbara named a few bridal shops, Delia looked Nicole up and down to see if she had missed anything.

The young woman wore loose-fitting taupe linen slacks with wedge espadrilles. She wore a white silk button-down shirt, possibly the boyfriend’s shirt. She also wore a small but expensive silver chain around her neck, diamond stud earrings in each ear that Delia was sure were vintage old-mine cut diamonds. That meant old money. And of course, on the third finger of her hand was the huge diamond engagement ring that couldn’t have cost less than twenty thousand dollars.

What the hell is Barbara doing over here? Delia thought. This young woman is obviously not here to steal anything. She is here to buy, probably with her rich fiancé’s credit card.

“Thank you so much!” Nicole was saying.

“No problem at all!” Barbara replied, oblivious to Delia’s irritation.

Dammit Barbara, this is my sale! Go away! Delia thought, staring at Barbara as if telepathy might suddenly develop between them.

Nicole’s voice fluttered over the glass perfume counter, “You see, Rob, that’s my fiancé, Rob finished his residency last year and just started as a surgeon over at the hospital so we are both new here and…”

Delia saw her opportunity. “Would your fiancé be interested in a cologne perhaps for the big wedding day? We have a wide variety of men’s scents.”

Nicole’s eyes opened wider, as if she suddenly remembered she was here to buy perfume.

“Oh yes! Yes! I definitely need to look at some items for him, but I really liked the one that you showed me,” Nicole said, her attention finally back on the sale, Delia thought.

Barbara smiled sweetly.

“Well, I’m going to let you get back to picking out a perfume for that big day!” she said to Nicole.

“Thank you and I will check out some of those bridal shops!” Nicole said.

Barbara reluctantly turned to leave the jewelry counter. She hated having to walk away from the dignity, elegance and class of the beautiful Nicole and back to the rotten, stinking thief that had no doubt hidden numerous things in her gear, which consisted of an old empty baby stroller with a bent handle and a soiled, cloth diaper bag.

First, she went to the security office and played back the video footage. It was grainy, black and white. Corporate should spring for new cameras with clearer images but today she didn’t need them.

Stinky the Shoplifter had picked up multiple things that somehow disappeared either into the stroller or into the gigantic bag.

Barbara could tell that the thief knew where the cameras were because she would turn around in such a way that Barbara couldn’t quite tell where she was putting everything.

While Barbara had been speaking with Nicole at the perfume counter, the thief picked up two blenders that never went back on the shelf. She also made her way to women’s clothing where she dug into a rack of designer dresses, leaving behind several empty hangers.

At one point she took several items into a fitting room and emerged with nothing.

Barbara nearly gagged at the thought of the beautiful clothing being pulled over the body of this disgusting creature.

Hopefully, she didn’t actually try them on, just stole them. Barbara thought as she sighed to herself.

Of course, Stinky had made her way over to the handbags. One on display worth nearly fifteen hundred dollars was missing as she wheeled the stroller away.

Barbara had seen enough. She picked up the phone to summon the local police.

Shortly after the call, Barbara approached the officer who stood just outside the glass sliding doors into the store, exchanging names as she shook his hand.

Officer Jones held a relaxed stance, feet apart, thumbs hooked into his gun belt.

“Be aware, she stinks something terrible, like she hasn’t had a bath for months.” She warned Officer Jones.

Officer Jones just gave a shrug. He seemed bored, Barbara thought angrily.

Barbara had confronted shoplifters many times, but she always felt a little excited, a little nervous before a bust.

Then it happened. The thief stepped out of the store and onto the paved surface of the parking lot.

Barbara approached her from one side, Officer Jones from another.

“Stop where you are!” Barbara shouted.

The thief looked confused first, then angry.

“What the hell old lady?!” she shouted at Barbara.

Then she saw the officer approaching from the right.

“Oh my god! What IS THIS?” the shoplifter shouted at Officer Jones.

“Please calm down ma’am,” Officer Jones said, “we just need to ask you some questions.”

Officer Jones grabbed the woman’s right arm and she began to struggle.

“What the….am I UNDER ARREST!?!” The woman demanded.

“You will be if you don’t CALM DOWN NOW!” Officer Jones had raised his voice.

Barbara tried to pull the bag off the woman’s shoulder, but the woman moved away from her, whirling toward Officer Jones. At that moment, the diaper bag hit Barbara in the face. Something wet and rotten was soaking through the cloth.

What was that?! She thought.

She wanted to run straight to the bathroom and scrub her face with antibacterial soap and scalding water.

But she would do that later; Officer Jones had the woman’s arm pinned behind her back.

Ten minutes later, after a small struggle, the woman sat at a table while Barbara and Officer Jones stood ready to search her items.

The woman’s stringy, hair was hanging in her face. She glared at them but said nothing, except for one question: “Am I under arrest?” she asked.

“Just give a us a few minutes ma’am.” Officer Jones had said.

Sliding on a pair of latex gloves, Barbara unzipped the diaper bag. Officer Jones searched the stroller and was coming up empty. Barbara reached into the bag with a gloved hand. This was always the best part, when you confronted them with the loot.

The first thing Barbara pulled out was a small worn wallet. She inspected it closely. It was not from the store.

She handed it to Officer Jones who opened it to find a driver’s license.

“Hayley Jean Beard.” He read.

“Is that your real name?” He asked.

“Why the hell wouldn’t it be my real name?” the woman asked.

Barbara reached into the bag again.

Carefully, she began pulling out the contents. Probably the designer dresses, Barbara thought.

However, when she began to pull out the items, the only things that came out in her hands were paper towels. Wads and wads of old, dirty paper towels.

“No, this can’t be right,” Barbara said as she kept digging into the bag.

Officer Jones had already inspected the stroller, so whatever the thief had must be in the bag, Barbara thought.

But no matter how much she dug, the only thing she could find were these paper towels.

When Barbara reached the bottom of the bag, she did solve the mystery of the of the wet thing that had hit her in the face; some of the paper towels had rotten tomatoes in them.

After all of the wadded paper towels were spread like dead birds across the table, Barbara turned the diaper bag inside out and shook it. Nothing.

Not the blenders, no designer dresses, no designer bags. Nothing.

Enraged, she looked at the woman, at Hayley Jean Beard, who smiled at her in triumph.

“Let’s strip-search her, she’s probably got everything stuffed down those filthy pants!” Barbara told Officer Jones.

“No way! No WAY DO I CONSENT TO THAT!” Hayley Jean screamed.

Officer Jones held up a hand, “Hold on, just hold on ladies.”

Barbara’s head snapped toward him. This woman was a thief. How dare he refer to them both as ladies.

He went on, “It seems that we made a mistake ma’am,” he nodded to Hayley Jean, “you are free to go.”

Hayley grabbed the diaper bag and zipped it up, leaving all of the trash on the table.

“You’ll be lucky if I don’t sue this place!” she spat at Barbara as she walked out the door, dragging the old stroller behind her.

After she was gone, Barbara demanded to know why Officer Jones didn’t search the woman.

“Because I didn’t have cause, we searched and found nothing. You said she had stolen blenders, designer bags, dresses. You were wrong." He told Barbara.

“I SAW HER TAKE THESE THINGS OFF THE SHELVES.” Barbara insisted.

“You were wrong. If you’ll excuse me, I have real police work to do.” With that he left Barbara standing alone and enraged.

Two hours later, Hayley Jean Beard was soaking in a bathtub when she heard the front door of the trailer open and close.

“Tammy Jo, is that you?” she called.

“You know it is, I’m glad you’re taking a bath, you were stinking!” Tammy Jo said, stopping at the bathroom door.

“My BO is probably the reason you didn’t get caught Miss “my name is Nicole Steel and my fiancé is a surgeon named Rob”. Hayley Jean said in a cartoonish voice with an exaggerated giggle.

Tammy Jo laughed and went into the bedroom to pull everything out of her loose-fitting linen pants and silk shirt.

“You have to admit, using the ‘steal’ and ‘rob’ for the names is pretty clever. I always wonder if anyone will pick up on it and they never do,” she told Hayley Jean, as she sat on the bed to pull off the linen pants.

“Did you find the blenders?" Hayley Jean called from the bathroom.

Tammy Jo had found the blenders where Hayley Jean had left them under a rack in women’s clothing; they were attached to her legs with small elastic straps just under the loosest part of the pant leg. The designer bag was flattened and taped to her stomach. She had also managed to lift three small bottles of expensive perfume while she talked with the security woman and the saleswoman about her non-existent fiancé and the imaginary wedding.

Afterwards, she had gone into the fitting room where Hayley Jean had left the dresses and put them on under her clothes. On the way out, she had managed to lift a leather jacket, which she had folded into an impossibly tiny bundle and stuffed into the waistband of her pants.

When the security woman had followed Hayley Jean outside, the sales person at the jewelry counter had been distracted by the drama. Tammy Jo took that opportunity to grab a few nice gold chains, an emerald bracelet and some sapphire earrings. She had hidden those in her trick shoes, the espadrilles with the hollow heels. They were best for anything small.

They had been doing this for years, starting when they were children, two starving sisters with a mother who bought meth instead of food.

First Hayley Jean would go into a store and act suspicious enough to get the attention of store security.

Then Tammy Jo would come in and play sweet and innocent. While the staff preoccupied themselves watching Hayley Jean, Tammy Jo would filch as much as she could carry.

That night, they sat down at the kitchen table with a calculator. They could sell everything at a deep discount off retail prices and still make thousands.

“That was a pretty good haul, but I feel bad for you,” Tammy Jo told her sister.

“Why?” Hayley Jean asked.

“You got hassled, they called the police and you didn’t steal anything,” Tammy Jo responded.

“It’s no big deal,” Hayley Jean insisted.

Tammy Jo smiled. “I got you a surprise,” she said.

She ran to the bedroom and brought Hayley Jean back a wallet, a nice one but a little used.

“It’s to replace the one you have that’s worn out,” Tammy Jo said.

Hayley Jean opened the wallet and immediately saw the store ID, Barbara Lewis, Loss Prevention

“Where in the world did you get this?” she asked Tammy Jo.

Tammy Jo smiled. “I stole it,” she replied.