As we sat in the McDonald’s restaurant waiting for our breakfast to be served, I could see that Garth was unhappy about my attempt to bring up his past.
“So, Mister Gilmore.” I said, trying to break the tension between us. “Have you got any ideas about what kind of business you want to start? There must be lots of possibilities.”
Garth glanced at me.
“You’re right. There are a lot of possibilities; and that’s the problem.” he said. “There are so many things about starting each different business that I don’t know anything about. Each business has its own problems. I don’t know where to start.”
“Isn’t there anything on the internet that could help you?” I asked.
Garth’s eyebrows rose.
“I hadn’t thought of that.” he said. “When we get home I’ll Google “starting your own business”. But there’s also the possibility of buying into a franchise. It’s very expensive but you’re virtually guaranteed to succeed. All the training and business knowledge is included in the price.”
“If you don’t have enough money, won’t the bank help you with finance?” I asked.
“Not before I’m twenty one.” Garth said. “Anyway, maybe I’ll strike it rich on the horses and then I won’t have to go to them.”
“Have you made any money betting on the horses?” I asked.
“A little.” Garth said. But, by the way his eyes wouldn’t meet mine as he said that, I knew that he wasn’t being truthful.
Although I was now living with Garth I knew that I had no right to interfere in his personal affairs and that if I tried to do so, he would undoubtedly be very angry and possibly even tell me to leave the house. It was becoming more and more obvious every day that he was under a great deal of pressure and I could only think that the cause was money.
Garth had told me that, apart from the house, he had also inherited “a nice sum of money”. If that was the case then he shouldn’t be having financial problems. Unless he was wasting the money on his horse-racing habit. But, even if this was the case, I knew that it was none of my business and that I shouldn’t try to interfere. The following day though, the truth about why Garth was so uptight surfaced.
I had got back to the house from work and found Garth in his study sitting in front of his computer studying the race card for the coming Wednesday’s race meeting.
“Would you like a beer?” I asked after I had kissed him.
“That would be nice.” Garth replied without looking up from the computer’s screen.
I went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. There were no beers. I went back to the study.
“There aren’t any beers.” I said. “Can I get you something else?”
“Damn!” Garth said. “I meant to get beers this morning. I’ll go and get some now.”
Garth left the house and I went to the kitchen to prepare our supper. Shortly after I’d gathered all the ingredients for the meal I heard a knock at the front door. I went to the lounge and looked through the window. A middle-aged woman stood waiting on the veranda with a large file folder in her hand. I opened the front door.
“Hello.” the woman said. “I’m Misses Phillips from the Child Welfare Department. Is Garth Gilmore in?”
“No.” I replied. “He’s gone to the supermarket to buy something. He won’t be long. Can I help you? I’m Garth’s girlfriend, Cindy Bedford. Please come in. Garth should be here any moment now.”
Misses Phillips walked into the house. I closed the front door and we went into the lounge. Misses Phillips sat down on one of the chairs.
“Can I get you some tea or coffee?” I asked.
“No thanks.” Misses Phillips said.
Just then I saw Garth coming up the short garden path carrying a six-pack of beer. He climbed the steps onto the veranda and opened the front door. As he walked into the house he saw Misses Phillips. I was surprised to see the look of shock and fear that quickly spread across his face. He closed the front door and put the beer down on the hall table. By the time he walked into the lounge his face was expressionless. He glanced at the file folder in Misses Phillips’ hand.
“Hello, Misses Phillips.” he said. “What brings you here today?”
“Hello, Garth.” Misses Phillips replied. “Sit down. We need to talk about something.”
“I’ll go and put the beers in the fridge and start making supper.” I said.
“No.” Garth said. “You might as well stay here and listen to what Misses Phillips has come to talk to me about. I have a feeling that it’s going to affect both of us.”
Garth sat down on the couch and I sat next to him.
“Garth.” Misses Phillips said. “The manager at the bank asked me to come and see him this morning. He showed me a statement of your investment account. The original amount was just over sixty thousand dollars but there is now only just over fifteen thousand dollars in it. He also showed me the letter that he’d received from the Department. I’ve checked with the Department and no such letter was ever authorized.”
I glanced at Garth. He was staring down at the carpet in front of him.
“Garth.” Misses Phillips said. “That letter is a forgery. You’ve committed fraud and fraud is a criminal offence. Did you know that?”
“But it’s my money. I inherited it.” Garth said. “Why can’t I spend it if I want to?”
“Because you’re under the age of twenty one and it’s the Department’s responsibility to see that you don’t waste your money.” Misses Phillips said. “What did you do with the forty five thousand?”
Garth continued to stare at the carpet. In the silence I could hear a dog barking in the neighbour's yard.
“I used it to gamble at the casino and on the horses.” Garth said sulkily.
I saw Misses Phillips shake her head in amazement.
“Now you can see why we didn’t want you to have access to the investment account.” she said. “Unfortunately there’s nothing that can be done about the money now. It’s gone. But the Department cannot ignore the fraudulent letter that you sent to the bank and their lawyers are preparing to lay a charge of fraud against you.”
I saw Garth’s head jerk up and he stared at Misses Phillips.
“I’m not a lawyer so I can’t say what will happen if the matter goes to court.” Misses Phillips said. “But fraud is a serious crime even when it’s committed by a juvenile.”
Garth shrugged his shoulders and I saw an expression of defiance settle on his face.
“I don’t care.” Garth said. “It’s my money and I should be allowed to do with it as I please.”
Misses Phillips stood up.
“Your daily limit on your credit card has been changed back to one hundred and fifty dollars.” she said. “And any transaction involving your investment account has to be approved by me. And, as far as the fraudulent letter’s concerned, showing some remorse would be a good idea. If the authorities see that you regret what you did they’ll be more inclined to be lenient towards you.”
“I don’t think that I did anything wrong.” Garth said. “I still maintain that it’s my money and you shouldn’t be allowed to prevent me from spending it on anything that I want to.”
“We’ll have to wait and see what the authorities decide to do.” Misses Phillips said as she walked to the front door. She opened it, stepped out onto the veranda and turned and closed the door.
In the silence that followed we could hear Misses Phillips walk to the front gate and let herself out. A short while later we heard he car door slam, the engine burst into life and she drove away.
“I’ll go and make supper.” I said. “Can I bring you a beer?”
Garth was staring down at the carpet again. He nodded.
I took a beer to Garth and then busied myself cooking our supper. Garth came into the kitchen and dropped his empty beer can into the rubbish bin. He went to the fridge and took out two beers. He opened them and handed one to me.
“Thanks.�
� I said as I began to dish up the stew onto our plates. “Come on, my friend. Let’s eat.”
We sat down at the table.
“I suppose you think I’m a bloody fool for losing all that money.” Garth said.
“As you said to Misses Phillips; it’s your money and you should be allowed to spend it as you wish.” I said. “I wonder what would have happened if you’d won a lot of money instead of losing it. Would it still have been wrong to have taken the money?”
“Good question.” Garth said. “But we’ll never know the answer; will we?”
We continued to eat in silence.
“So what are you going to do?” I asked. “Get a job?”
“I suppose I’ll have to.” Garth said. “But doing what, I just don’t know.”
“Shall I speak to the manager at Checkers?” I asked. “Mister Botha has been very good to me and maybe he can help.”
“Okay.” Garth said. “Although I can’t imagine what kind of work I could do there.”
"Maybe some kind of supervisory job.” I said.
Later that night I lay in bed next to Garth as he tossed and turned in his sleep and I realized that I had fallen deeply in love with him and I knew that I would do anything to help him make a success of his life. Once again though, that familiar feeling of helplessness filled my body as I realized how formidable a task that would be. Both of us were still so young and inexperienced and the world out there was so uncaring and harsh. We didn’t seem to have a chance.
CHAPTER 8
Once again Cindy was asked to step down from the witness stand and I took her place.
“Garth.” Paul Greave addressed me after I’d sat down. “What did you do after your attempt to access the investment account was uncovered?”
I inhaled deeply and sighed.
***
I now no longer had a decision to make. It had been made for me when my scheme to access the investment account was uncovered. If I wanted money to gamble with and live an easy life now, I had to relieve Mister Eksteen of his takings while he was on his way to the bank. One of the major races in the country, the annual Charity Mile over 1600 metres at Turfontein in South Africa, was scheduled to be run in three week’s time and Mister Eksteen was sure to take in a very large amount of cash that day. This gave me plenty of time to plan how I would take the money and escape without using violence and without being identified.
I began to follow Mister Eksteen every time he took his takings to the bank, sometimes walking in front of him and watching his reflection in the shop windows and at other times walking casually behind him. I varied the clothes that I wore and even took the lenses out of a pair of Aunt Rose’s reading glasses and wore the frames to disguise myself.
I decided to wear a dark ski mask rolled up to above my eyes when I carried out the robbery and just before I grabbed the briefcase I would unroll it to cover my face. I spent a lot of time trying to find a suitable escape route and I came across a narrow alley between two buildings that ran right through the block to the street on the opposite side. I decided that what I needed to do was walk close behind Mister Eksteen and as he reached the entrance to the alley I would grab the briefcase and dash along it to the other side of the block. As Mister Eksteen was an elderly man he was unlikely to chase after me and would probably try to attract other pedestrian’s attention and get them to chase after me. As this was bound to take some time I felt sure that I would be long gone by the time any pursuit was organised.
Carrying the briefcase was also a problem as it would be very noticeable. I bought a large rucksack that I could stuff the briefcase into as I ran along the alleyway. Then, just before I exited the alley I would sling it onto my back, pull off the ski mask, put on my fake glasses and casually walk out of the alley.
After much thought I bought a sturdy black rubber truncheon just in case I encountered any resistance from Mister Eksteen or an attempt was made to stop me as I ran along the alley. I was determined not to use violence of any kind but if my capture seemed imminent I wouldn’t hesitate to use it. I also reasoned that if I brandished the baton should anyone approach me it was likely to discourage them and allow me to escape.
With my access to the investment account cut off I could no longer feed my betting habit so I focussed on the impending attack on Mister Eksteen. In my mind I envisioned myself closing in on the man as he drew level with the alley, which would be to his right, grabbing the handle of the briefcase and ripping it out of his grip. As the empty rucksack would be on my back, both of my hands would be free. After some thought I decided that I would grab the briefcase handle with my left hand as this would allow me to be between my victim and the entrance to the alley. I also decided to hold the rubber truncheon in my right hand, ready to strike if the bookmaker put up enough resistance for me to have to subdue him. In that case I would hit the man on the side of the head to stun him and cause him to release the briefcase. Then I would make my escape along the alley as planned.
I continued to follow the horse races though, studying the form of the horses, the success rates of the jockeys and trainers and placing imaginary bets. The fact that the vast majority of my bets were unsuccessful didn’t concern me as I reasoned that the more I learnt about horse racing the more successful I would become. I kept telling myself that I was on a learning curve and that it was only a matter of time before I began to win regularly. And with the money that I got from Mister Eksteen’s briefcase I would make a killing.
Cindy avoided speaking to me about what I’d done to access the investment account and I appreciated this. I knew that I had disappointed her but I knew that I would soon win back her confidence in me when the money from my successful bets began to roll in. I could see that she was worried about the fact that the Child Welfare Department intended to lay a charge of fraud against me. This threat didn’t worry me though. I still maintained that the money was mine and the Department had no right to prevent me from spending it in any way that I pleased.
On the day of the Charity Mile horse race I took a number of imaginary bets, none of which were successful. In fact, none of them even ran a place. Most of the races that day were won by the favourites and I usually avoided backing them. But what really pleased me were the reports in the newspapers and internet news services that the money spent by the racing fraternity at the race meeting had set a new record. This meant that Mister Eksteen would probably be taking a large amount of cash to the bank on the Monday morning.
I tried to be as relaxed and calm as possible as the day of the robbery drew closer. It was vital to me that Cindy not become suspicious. And even after the robbery I would have to be very careful. Cindy knew what my income was and so I would have to be very careful about spending the money. I decided that I would only use the money for betting and as my winnings came in I would be able to justify any extra money that I spent. I also decided not to bank any of the money as depositing a large amount of cash just after a robbery had been committed in the area was likely to attract the attention of the police.
On the Monday morning of the planned robbery I took great pains to behave normally and as soon as Cindy had left for work I began to put my plan into action. I put on my blue denim jeans, a dark blue shirt and my grey running shoes. I then put on my dark blue windbreaker and stuck the rubber truncheon in under my belt where I could easily reach it with my right hand. I put my fake glasses in my shirt pocket and slung the rucksack onto my back. I put on the ski mask and rolled it up until it was just above my eyebrows. I left the house and walked quickly to the betting hall.
It was still early in the morning and there weren’t many people on the streets. As the bank would only open in a half an hour’s time, I wandered about on the pavement opposite the betting hall, constantly looking at my watch and along the street as if I was waiting for someone to arrive in a car and give me a lift. As the time for the bank to open drew closer I began to worry that perhaps Mister Eksteen wouldn’t go to the bank until much later in th
e morning when there would many more people in the area. To my relief though, he appeared at the door of the betting hall only a few minutes before the bank was due to open.
As Mister Eksteen began to walk along the pavement I casually crossed the road and began walking behind him, gradually moving closer as he approached the alleyway. I glanced around surreptitiously. There were only three people in sight and all of them were walking away from us. Mister Eksteen was wearing slacks, a sports jacket and a grey felt hat and, to my relief, he was holding his briefcase in his right hand. As he approached the alleyway, I rolled down my ski mask to cover my face and withdrew the rubber truncheon from under my jacket. As Mister Eksteen drew level with the entrance to the alley I rushed forward and grabbed the handle of the briefcase with my left hand, just behind where he was holding it. I could only get two fingers around the handle but it was enough for me to get a strong grip. I yanked the briefcase towards me, expecting it to break free from the book maker’s grip.
Mister Eksteen was a lot stronger that I’d expected and he didn’t lose his grip on the handle of the briefcase. Being a lot shorter and a great deal lighter than me I was able to pull him with me into the alleyway very easily. He stared up at me his eyes wide with fear. I raised the truncheon and hit him on the side of his head close to his temple. His eyes rolled up under his eyelids, he let go of the briefcase and slumped to the ground. I turned quickly and ran along the alleyway towards the far end.
As I ran I pulled the rucksack off my back and stashed the truncheon and the briefcase into it. I pulled off my ski mask and stuffed it in as well and slung the carrier onto my back. As I was almost at the far end of the alleyway, I slowed to a walk, took my fake glasses out of my shirt pocket and put them on. Without looking back along the alley I stepped out onto the pavement and casually sauntered away. Nobody took any notice of me.
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