Cinnamon's Swirl of Short Stories

His Successor

Thunder shook Amy to her core as she failed to ignore the storm happening outside of the double doors. Instead, her eyes focused on the small TV screen that provided the news. This bar was her sanctuary due to the lack of people at this hour. It sure did calm her anxiety. Trey's, the attendant on duty, eyes were glued to the screen also.

The great heist, that surprised Boston in 1990, was being brought up after twenty-eight years. Twenty-eight years since artwork worth five-hundred million dollars disappeared, along with two suspects. Amy's lips curled at the corners because of the award money offered to find the paintings.

Whistling, Trey glanced at her. "$500 million dollars?" He asked.

"The same amount as the stolen pictures." Army replied. Sucking her teeth, she let her gaze drop to her hands. "$500 million..."

"I wonder who pulled it off."

Excitement in his voice caused her eyes to roll and she stood up.

"Leaving already?"

"Yes, see you tonight..."

---

Before she took a step, a warning caught her ears. Whirling back to the TV, her eyes widened in concern. The words on the screen didn't make sense to her nor did she want to understand it. She heard the chilling statement, again, "we are much closer to finding who was behind this theft."

"I don't believe that..." Trey said and crossed his arms, winking at her.

Swallowing and clearing her throat she allowed herself to look at him. Trey wasn't just a stranger he was important to her. He knew secrets no one else knew. "Why do you say that?" She asked.

With a smile that seemed to make Amy shy, he leaned his built figure against the bar. "It's been twenty-eight years. The original thieves could be dead or living in a senior home."

"How do you figure they were old?"

"Easily by their description."

Amy released a laugh and ran her hand through her reddish hair. "Maybe..."

She needed to get home. Boston wasn't exactly like her home in Virginia. She missed the open fields and the distance between houses. Small towns and knowing everyone. Here was different...

Managing through the rain, she slipped into the door of her grandfather's townhouse. From the storm covering the sky, she couldn't see... Trudging close to the wall, Amy aimed toward the basement door. Her grandfather gave her this place in his will. She used to adore him and made the trip to be with him once a year. When he passed, she spiraled.

Down the steps, carefully, she flipped the light switch upward. Her eyes wandered around the crowded room, again, and tears trailed down her cheeks. The missing artwork was right in front of her. It was him, her favorite grandfather.

Amy had already called the police before coming in and now could hear the sirens blaring in the distance. Jump starting herself, she rushed up the stairs and snatched the bag from the kitchen table. Fumbling with the sliding door, she yanked it open and made it out. The rain was heavier than earlier, and it was difficult to escape from the backyard.

She forced herself over the fence and landed on the other side. Amy knew her grandfather was the famous heist thief from the time he died. She received a letter in the mail explaining everything and how he decided to "hide in plain sight", which caused the spiral to take effect.

The last sentence of the confession tugged at her heartstrings. The simple request that she would follow in his footsteps. The bag seemed to increase in weight as she pictured her plan in her mind.

A rush of relief filled her veins as she caught sight of Trey. Calling out his name caused a smile to play on his lips. "Amy, you're here early."

"Yes." She spoke.

"Do you have the stuff?" He asked.

"Yes, it's in the bag..."

Trey, carefully, took the bag and peeked inside. His smile widened and he reached inside. Black masks and a gun; the gifts her dead grandfather gave to her to make sure she followed his wish. "Are you ready?"

"Yes." Amy said. She swallowed hard and stood a little taller. It was time to be his successor.