The Failed Thief

I jerked the palm of my hand against my chin hoping to crack my neck, but instead of feeling the tension release, I was rewarded by the sound of a gun cocking behind my head. 

“Hands up. Turn around, slowly,” a woman’s voice behind me said. “Don’t try anything or else it’s over for you.”

Shit. 

I followed her instructions to be eye-to-eye with the barrel of a shotgun, hoisted by an older woman whose features I couldn’t distinguish much of in the dark. When the headlights of a passing car flashed through the windows, I only caught a stare that told me she meant every word of what she said. 

“Who are you and what are you doing in my cafe?” she asked. 

I pointed to my mouth which was biting down on a maglight, gesturing if I could remove it to answer her without the trigger being pulled. She nodded, and I took it from between my teeth, holding it between my fingers and returning my hand back in the air. 

“I bet it’s too late at night to say I’m the health inspector,” I said with a sheepish smile. 

She raised the barrel to my forehead. “You’ve got one more joke before I handle this now and let the police deal with the rest in the morning.”

Sheesh. Tough crowd. 

“Alright, alright. I was sent on a job to come out here, take whatever is in your safe, and get out,” I said, pushing down the sinking feeling that welled in my stomach. This wasn’t the first time I got caught, but I wanted to kick myself for not taking this particular job seriously. 

“By who?” the woman asked. 

I shrugged. “I don’t know their name, it keeps this all confidential, you know? They get what they want and I get my cash. But if you let me go, I won’t say a word and we can forget all of this happened.”

“Not happening. Don’t move,” she said as I saw her arm extend toward the wall. Her fingers were searching for something and with a flick of her hand, the lights came on, and I winced as my eyes adjusted.  

She lowered the barrel with her own eyes widened, “For god’s sake, you’re just a kid!” 

Well, I’m sixteen. But sure, a kid. 

It was clear that she had been sleeping before my intrusion since her hair was wrapped in a plush towel and the wide-rimmed glasses sitting on her nose were crooked like she had thrown them on. 

“And you’re Ms. Micah, the owner of The Greenhouse Cafe, right?” I asked even though I already knew the answer. I could see where it got its name; wide, glass panels lined the entry wall, and we were surrounded by shelves with an array of plants, from tiny succulents to tea trees that were up for sale. Decorative pots, bags of fertilized soils, and garden tools were sprinkled throughout the shrubbery to aid those with a green thumb. 

I would’ve come back to grab a cup of tea here… if I didn’t get caught. 

“The one and only,” Micah said as she dropped her arms, still holding the shotgun. “And fortunately for you, I’m not in the business of shooting children, even those who break into my establishment. So what, you have a part-time job as a thief once you’re down with homework?”

 I grinned. “Something like that. Except I didn’t account for the owner living in their establishment.”

“Built her from the ground up, so she’s home to me,” Micah said as she waved the gun to the nearest garden chair beside her. “Take a seat here, kid. I may not shoot you but I have other ways of making you stay while I figure out what’s going on.”

I obliged, not wanting to discover what she meant by “other ways.” It's not like I kept any weapons on me: I was a thief, not a fighter. She took a seat in front of me but kept her gun within arm’s reach beside her. 

“How did you get inside here?” Micah asked, tapping her finger against the ridges on the round, pine table. 

I held up my pouch of tools. “The same way I would’ve made it into you safe: picking the locks.”

“And you weren’t worried about any alarm system?” she said with a raised brow. 

“My client said I wouldn’t have to worry about it,” I shrugged. “Said you weren’t very good with technology.”

What they could’ve told me was that her living here was the security. 

Micah huffed but didn’t argue and instead just changed the topic. “Earlier, you said ‘take whatever was in my safe,’ which sounds like you don’t even know what’s inside.”

I tilted my head. “Kind of. They said to leave any cash but to take anything that looked remotely like a recipe. Didn’t say what exactly: a bit odd, I’ll admit, but I don’t question it.”

The older woman leaned back with her arm against the garden chair, and I could tell her thoughts were brewing because it was the first time her eyes diverted from me. I glanced around the cafe to see if I could make a run for it, but the door that I had unlocked to get inside was across the room, and I wouldn’t make it by the time Micah reached for her shotgun. Even if she said she wouldn’t use it on me, I wasn’t in the mood to test the validity of that claim. 

If she had any notion of who she thought sent me, she made no intention of showing it. “And if you don’t know who it is you’re working for, how do you discuss your terms?”

“Don’t need a face to text someone, just a number,” I said, holding up my phone – or rather, my second phone, which I use only to talk with my clients.

“Call them right now,” Micah said, resuming the tapping of her fingers. 

“They probably won’t pick up. Even if they do, they won’t give us anything useful,” I said as I tried my best not to shift in my seat. 

It was Micah’s turn to shrug. “Either you call them, or I call the police and give them the full description of the young girl who broke into my tea shop, and I’ll hold you here until they arrive.”

I felt the palms of my hands begin to sweat and beat myself again for not preparing as in-depth as I would have for other jobs. Being asked to break into an unarmed tea shop should have been effortless but now I was being forced to choose whether to risk my reputation for one client or the record for the rest of my life. 

“And don’t try calling a dummy number either, show me the texts. I may not be the best with technology, but I wasn’t born yesterday,” she said. 

She’s sharper than she looks.

 I opened the chat and scrolled through the blue bubbles, watching as Micah’s eyebrows furrowed trying to piece together the little information they provided. They didn’t say anything more than what I already told her: the address to the tea shop, where to find the safe, what I should grab, and that it was unarmed and empty if I went at the specified time. 

I gestured to the phone to confirm that she was ready for me to call, and the older woman gave me a stern nod.

We both waited with bated breath for opposing reasons, but to my dismay, it was Micah’s plea that was granted on the final ring.

“Hello?” a garbled, metallic voice said on the other end of the line: it was a voice alterer. 

I sighed and braced myself for what I had to say, “Hey, it’s me. Well, uh, I guess you don’t know who that is. But basically, I got caught. Your intel was crap, the owner is still here.”

There was a pause on the other end, and I was afraid they would hang up, but Micah intervened. 

“Who are you? Why would you send some child to steal what’s in my safe?” she asked, standing up with a bang of her fist on the table. “Answer me right now!”

“U-uh I think I would rather just go,” the voice spit out. “By the way, to the o-other person, you’re not getting p-paid.”

Damn, I can’t leave here with no cash and in handcuffs. I need a way out. 

“Wait! If you hang up, I’ll throw out what you’re looking for and you won’t ever get your hands on it–”

“No! Fine. I won’t t-tell you who I am, but n-name your price for the recipes you’re keeping in your safe.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. This all seemed so ridiculous for a couple recipes. 

If this guy wants to get his hand on some tea, why can’t he just come to the cafe and order it like the rest of us? 

It seemed like Micah was thinking something similar. “My recipes aren’t for sale. Just come to my cafe and I’ll pour you a cup, we really don’t have to go through all of this –”

Click. 

The line ended and Micah and I stared at each other in surprise. 

“How dare they! Looks like they really don’t care about it after all,” the owner said as she sat back down with a huff. 

Maybe if I help her figure out who this is she’ll let me go. 

I leaned forward, spreading my fingers on the table. “Listen, I think you have to know who this is. Is there anyone you can think of that’s out to get you? Like some rival coffee shop?”

“Not that I know of,” Micah said as she pressed her lips together in a firm line, rifling through any possible names that met that criteria. “I’ve spent my entire life building this cafe, but I don’t think I ever did anything to have someone want to steal from me.”

“Okay, well, before you caught me, I was on my way to your safe and knew exactly where to go – which means it’s someone familiar with the layout. Fire anyone recently?”

She threw her hands up. “No! Of course not, I do most of the work around here.”

I groaned and covered my eyes with my palms. She seemed like a nice enough woman who shouldn’t have been the target of my services. 

“What else?” I dropped my hands back down to the table and pointed to her. “They said you were going to be gone, were you supposed to have other plans?”

Micah nodded. “I was supposed to visit my sister tonight who lives out of state and was going to close up shop for the whole weekend. I had planned it for a few weeks now, but my flight got delayed until tomorrow morning.”

I felt the adrenaline start to course through my body again as this potential lead unfurled. 

“Great – and you don’t think it’s your sister, right?”

“She has no interest in any of this,” Micah said with crossed arms. “What’re you trying to imply?”

“If it’s not her, who else could have known that you were going to be gone tonight? Could she have told anyone who also knows where you keep your valuables?”

“I-I don’t know!” she said, hanging her head in between her hands. “Unless she decided to tell my ex-husband for some ridiculous reason, but I don’t see why she would have any need to do that because she only talks to him when it comes to –”

Micah’s head jerked back up as she stared straight into my eyes. 

“My son. She keeps in close contact with him.”

“Your son? Why couldn’t he have just asked you directly then?”

The older woman stood up from the table with a solemn expression, headed behind the countertop, and poured herself a glass of water. I eyed the shotgun that she left behind and wondered if I could take this chance. 

I should go. But I can’t just leave her here, can I? 

And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to know why her own son did this to her. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I made the choice to stay seated. 

“Ever since I divorced my ex-husband two years ago, my son doesn’t speak to me anymore. I don’t know exactly why, but I think he believes I’m the reason our family is broken. But it’s not as easy as that,” she said, swirling around the water in her hand. “And he’s been here many times; it was like his second home, which is how he knew where my safe was.”

“Then why is he interested in the recipes you’re hiding?”

Micah took another sip. “Your guess is as good as mine. Daniel was never interested much in what happened here in the cafe. He would stay locked up in his room instead of helping with customers and was more into his robotics club.”

I shot up from my seat. “Wait, is your son Daniel McHoon, president of the Reynolds High School robotics club?”

Her eyebrows raised. “Why, yes! Do you know him?”

“Yes, I do! We were in the same computer lab, but I can’t code for shit and he was nice enough to help me. Bit of a loner, but a nice kid,” I said, muttering the last part. I met her at the counter and pulled out my other phone – the one I used for my normal life. Since he already hung up on the previous number, I’d call him through this one since was kind enough to offer his contact to me in class in case I needed any help.

Without asking Micah, I called Daniel’s number and he picked up on the first ring.

“H-hello?” he said in his normal voice, and I passed the phone to Micah. 

“Daniel, it’s me,” she said in a soft voice that sounded like it was about to crack.

“Mom? W-what’re you doing with this number?” 

“Daniel, it’s been so long. If you wanted the recipe for my tea all you had to do was ask!”

“I-I don’t want to talk about this to you right now–”

“You haven’t talked to me in years and you know how much I love you–”

“But you love your precious tea shop more!” Micah had to yank the phone away from her face at the sudden volume change. “You always have! More than me.”

Micah’s lip quivered. “That’s not true…”

“You couldn’t even pick me up from school, and when I came to you for anything, I couldn’t even get 5 minutes of your time before you had to attend to something else. When was the last competition of mine you attended? When was the last time we had all sat down for a family dinner? Coming home late every night, even when Dad begged you to hire some help. And then you had the audacity to leave him?”

“It’s much more complicated than that,” she said in a whisper, burying her face in her hands. “I didn’t realize that’s how you felt. So why do you want what’s in the safe then?”

There was a long pause from the other end before we heard a deep breath as if Daniel had reset. 

“B-because even after all that, I still somehow miss your tea. And not the one you sell in the store, the one you would make growing up. I-I tried to recreate it myself but can’t find the recipe online and it never turns out exactly the same. So I was hoping that it was in there.”

Micah gave a sad smile that she knew her son couldn’t see. “It’s not. It was my mother’s recipe that I tweaked to your taste, so it was only made just for you.”

I felt my stomach drop at what I was witnessing before me, like an old wound that never healed under a bandage. 

And something that’s probably too personal for me to be around. 

“Come to the cafe, please, Daniel. I’m sorry that I didn’t give you the attention you deserved and that you felt like you were competing with the shop. I’ll listen to everything you have to say, cancel my flight tomorrow, and brew you that cup of tea. I miss you more than you could ever imagine.”

Silence. Then, the line ended. 

We both remained frozen like the plants surrounding us before I shifted my feet. 

“I think,” I said, taking a few slow steps backward, “that is my cue to leave.”

Broken from her trance, Micah nodded and I heard the sound of a drawer being opened behind the counter. She reached over and handed me a few bills. 

“I’m sure this isn’t as much as he promised you, but considering that you did break in here and I’m not going to report you, I’m sure you can manage.”

I snatched it before she could change her mind. “Thank you, Ms. Micah.”

“You helped me have the first conversation with my son in years, so you’re welcome back for a cup of tea. During opening hours, of course.”

I raised the palms of my hands in defense. “Well, now that Daniel knows who I am, I think I’ll have to lay low for a while. But I’ll take you up on that offer for tea.”

Micah tipped her head and I left through the door that I had entered. 

As I trudged along the road home, I shielded my eyes as a pair of bright headlights shined in my face where I caught a glimpse of the driver that looked a lot like Daniel.