"Next time get him to sign for the takings." I said. "Make him sign that they tally with the amount written in the deposit book as well. Do that every time you give them any money. In fact, make them sign for the money that you put into the safe every afternoon. Next, they’ll say that that money is also short."
"I'll do that." Cindy said.
Cindy got up and went to the kitchen to make our supper. I sat in the lounge and thought about what Cindy had just told me. If Mister Whiteside took the whole week's takings to the bank on a Friday it was probably a sizable amount. Cindy had told me how busy the depot was. I needed to know just how much the old man took to the bank each week. Knowing how much Cindy had grown to hate the two old people, I decided to take a chance. I got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen. I sat down at the kitchen table. Cindy stood with her back to me stirring a pot of stew on the stove. I took a deep breath.
"How much money does Mister Whiteside take to the bank on Fridays?" I asked.
I saw Cindy tense.
"This morning it was just over fifteen thousand dollars." she said. "Why do you want to know that?"
"No reason." I said casually. "I was just wondering."
I got up from the table and took another beer out of the fridge. I opened it and sat down at the table again. I watched Cindy as she worked at the stove.
"Garth." she said after a while, still with her back to me. "You promised me that you would never rob anyone ever again."
"Who said anything about robbing people?" I asked.
Cindy remained silent.
"But, now that you've brought up the subject, look at it this way." I said. "Those people robbed you of fifty dollars this morning and, if you think that they're actually going to pay you at the end of the month, you're being very naïve. I can tell you now that they'll stall and stall; saying that they're short of money but that they'll pay you your money as soon as they're flush again. And they'll go on stalling for months, even years. And even if you go to the Labour Council, they'll stall them as well. You'll never get your money from those two crooks. Take my word for it."
Cindy continued to stir the pot of stew on the stove in front of her. I waited, sipping my beer and watching her surreptitiously. Eventually Cindy switched off the stove and turned. She placed the pot on the table and ladled the contents onto our plates. She set one in front of me and sat down opposite me with her own.
"Garth." she said. "Two wrongs don't make a right. The fact that they've stolen from me doesn't give us the right to steal from them."
I nodded.
"In a way, I suppose you're right." I said. "But to me life's about survival of the fittest. Those two people are just begging to be robbed. For an old man to walk to the bank unescorted with fifteen thousand dollars in an old plastic shopping bag is crazy. Somebody's going to attack the old man sooner or later and take the money. So why shouldn't that somebody be me? Those two have probably got millions in the bank anyway. That's why they're so stingy."
Cindy took a mouthful of stew and chewed thoughtfully. I continued before she could finish chewing.
"Those two are thieves." I said. "And they deserve to have their money stolen. Earlier, I was convinced that you hated them. Am I wrong?"
"No, you're not wrong." Cindy said. "I do hate them. But what if something goes wrong and you kill Mister Whiteside by accident like you killed that bookmaker?"
"We don't know that he died because I hit him with the truncheon." I said. "He could have died from a heart attack."
Cindy sighed.
"I don't know what to say." she said. "My heart says yes but my brain says no. What if you're caught?"
"I'll plan this very carefully." I said. "Far more carefully than when I robbed Mister Eksteen. And when I've got the plan together we'll discuss it and, if you think it's too risky, we'll drop it."
"I'll have to think about this some more." Cindy said.
"If we do this and it comes off, we'll have fifteen grand." I said. "After we've paid Mister Bogdanovic the money we owe him we'll still have enough money to easily last us six months. And it will take the pressure off both of us. The need to find work won't be nearly so urgent. And, who knows? Another opportunity may show up. The important thing is that we'll have to be very careful and never let down our guard."
"Are you saying that we should make a career out of crime?" Cindy asked.
"No, not at all." I said. "Once we have permanent jobs we won't have to do that anymore."
***
The suburb of Windhoek West where the Ace Dry Cleaner depot was situated was an old suburb with many buildings dating back almost a hundred years. For this reason most of the city blocks had old service alleys that ran behind the buildings and were used mainly for refuse collection. The owners of the buildings would leave their refuse bins in the alleys to be emptied by the municipal refuse collection department once a week. The alleys were kept clear of weeds and rubbish and most of them ran from one side of the block through to the other.
Cindy had told me which bank branch Mister Whiteside visited to deposit the firm's takings and collect the wages. It was just over five city blocks from the depot. She also described Mister Whiteside to me so that I would recognise him as he walked to the bank. And she told me that the plastic shopping bag that he always used to carry the money in was green with white lettering on it.
I walked the route that the old man took to the bank. It passed several alleyways. As the alley in which I had attacked Mister Eksteen in had provided the ideal escape route, I decided to use one of the alleys that Mister Whiteside passed as my escape route as well. But it was important that the alley that I used had to lead out into a busy thoroughfare as this would allow me to mix with the other pedestrians quickly, should anyone be following me after the robbery. Three of the alleys proved suitable.
As Mister Eksteen's robbery plan had been so successful, I decided to use exactly the same plan when robbing Mister Whiteside. I would pull or push the old man into the alley, grab the shopping bag with the money in it, and run away along the alleyway. As I ran I would stuff the bag of money into my rucksack, pull off my ski mask and put on fake glasses. Even if Mister Whiteside tried to follow me or shouted for help, I would be at the far end of the alley by the time anyone responded. I would then sling the rucksack onto my back, and casually walk out onto the pavement and mingle with the other pedestrians.
I chose the third alley that Mister Whiteside would pass on his way to the bank, reasoning that he would be less vigilant by then than he had been when he first started out. This would make it easier for me to approach him. But I also knew that it would be dangerous to follow the man from the depot. I therefore decided to wait for him about fifty metres from the alley and then begin to move in on him. By doing this I was less likely to attract any attention.
As I'd thrown the frames of Auntie Rose's glasses away I went to the supermarket and bought a cheap pair of black-rimmed reading glasses and removed the lenses. The change that they made to my appearance was amazing.
I discussed my plan with Cindy and she couldn't find any flaws in it.
"What I can do is SMS you when Mister Whiteside leaves the premises to go to the bank." she said. "Then you won't have to follow him from the depot and you can wait somewhere along the route. And you'll also know when to expect him."
"That's a brilliant idea." I said. "Can you also SMS me the amount of money he'll have in the shopping bag? Then if it's a lot less than we're expecting I can abort the plan. We don't want to make the same mistake as I made when robbing Mister Eksteen and end up stealing only a small amount of money."
Cindy nodded.
"I can do that." she said. "And nobody will be aware that I've been in contact with you. An SMS would be perfect."
"So you're happy with the plan?" I asked. "Can we go ahead?"
"Yes." Cindy said emphatically. "But please try not to use any violence, Garth."
"I'll try not to." I said. "I have a feeling that
Mister Whiteside will be too shocked to do anything."
"So when are you going to do it?" Cindy asked.
"Why wait?" I asked. "We'll do it this coming Friday."
***
My plan to attack Mister Whiteside worked perfectly. As Cindy was going to send me an SMS as soon as the old man left the depot it wasn't necessary for me to be anywhere near the area where I planned to attack him. I walked around the streets of Windhoek West, stopping to look at the merchandise displayed in the shop windows and even spending a short time sitting on a bench in a small park.
Eventually the SMS arrived. Mister Whiteside had left the depot with the week's takings and was on his way to the bank. The amount of cash in the shopping bag was just over fifteen thousand dollars. I shook my head in amazement that an old man was prepared to walk through the streets of Johannesburg on his own with fifteen thousand dollars in an old plastic shopping bag. As far as I was concerned, he deserved to be robbed.
I walked to a spot about fifty metres from the entrance to the chosen alley and saw Mister Whiteside approaching. Cindy's description of him had been very accurate and he was also carrying a green shopping bag with white lettering on it. With my ski mask was rolled up to just above my eyebrows, I began to close in on Mister Whiteside, surreptitiously watching the other pedestrians. None of them took the slightest interest in either me or the old man.
By the time Mister Whiteside reached the entrance to the alley I was walking right next to him. As quickly as I could I pulled my ski mask down over my face, shoved him into the alley and grabbed the shopping bag with my left hand, holding the rubber truncheon under my jacket with my right hand. To my surprise, Mister Whiteside made no attempt to fight for the bag of money. As he stared up at me through his thick glasses I could see the shock and fear in his eyes. He was paralysed with fright. I pulled the shopping bag away from him and turned away, sprinting along the alleyway as fast as I could and expecting to hear shouts for help at any moment. But the old man remained silent.
As I ran along the alleyway, I pulled off my rucksack, opened it and stuffed the bag of money, the truncheon and my ski mask into it. I closed it and slung it back onto my back. I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the fake glasses. As I neared the end of the alley I put on the glasses, and even though I had told myself not to, I glanced back over my shoulder. Mister Whiteside stood at the far end of the alley staring at me, his shoulders slumped in resignation.
I stopped a short distance from the end of the alley to regain my breath. Then I casually walked out onto the pavement and mingled with the other pedestrians. I could hardly believe that it had been so easy to steal fifteen thousand dollars.
***
I had expected Cindy to be excited and pleased when she got home but when she walked into the lounge where I was sitting on the couch with the shopping bag of money she looked sad. She sat down next to me. She pointed at the money.
"Have you counted it?" she asked. "Was my figure correct?"
"To the cent." I said. "Your idea of sending me that SMS was brilliant."
"I'm glad." Cindy said. "I'm also glad that you didn't have to use any violence."
"Yes." I said. "It went off like clockwork and Mister Whiteside was so shocked when I gripped him and shoved him into the alley that he let go of the shopping bag as soon as I grabbed it. And he didn't even shout for help, he was so shocked. When I got to the far end of the alley and looked back, he was staring at me with his shoulders slumped. But what's wrong with you? Aren't you pleased with our success?"
"Garth." Cindy said quietly. "Those two old people are broken. Mister Whiteside arrived back at the depot, walked into the office and sat down at his desk. He began to cry quietly. Misses Whiteside came into the room. He told her what had happened. She also began to cry. "We're ruined." she said quietly. "That's the last straw. The business is gone and now all the people that work for us will lose their jobs. We won't even be able to pay them the wages that we owe them." Misses Whiteside looked at me. "Cindy." she said. "We've been struggling for almost two years now to keep the business afloat. Our overheads were killing us. We'd used up all our life's savings to keep the business going. But times have changed. Dry cleaning isn't as popular as it used to be. The pressure on us has been unbearable. And now this. We're finished; ruined. I'm afraid we won't be able to pay you for the work you've done for us, so you'd better leave. I'm sorry."
Cindy looked up at me as tears began to trickle down her cheeks.
"What are you crying for?" I asked. "That's life. You win some; you lose some. I'll bet that their business would have closed anyway. A business that size doesn't close because it lost fifteen thousand dollars. They're trying to use the robbery as an excuse. I don't understand you, Cindy. Yesterday you hated those people and now you fell sorry for them."
"Garth." Cindy said. "I've experienced a great deal of despair in my life, and I'm sure that you have too. But the despair that I saw in those two old people's eyes today was appalling. We were young when we experienced despair and were able to recover from it. Those people are too old to recover from what has befallen them. Regardless of how they treated me I can't help feeling sorry for them."
"You'll get over it." I said. "Life goes on. We've got our whole lives ahead of us. Now we can pay off our debt to Mister Bogdanovic and start anew. The future's ours. Let's make the most of it."
Cindy took a deep breath and smiled weakly.
"I suppose you're right." She said. "I will get over it. It may take a while but eventually it will fade into the past."
She stood up from the couch.
"I'll get some beers." she said. "Let's celebrate."
***
"Your Honour." Cindy's attorney, James Foster said, addressing Judge Bester. "My client, Cindy Bedford, assures me that she has recovered her composure and can continue with her testimony. Perhaps this is a good time for Garth Gilmore to step down from the witness stand and allow Miss Bedford to continue."
The judge nodded.
CHAPTER 11
"Cindy. Are you sure that you're able to continue?" James Foster asked me as I looked at him from the witness stand.
"Yes, thank you." I said.
***
Garth paid back the money that he owed Mister Bogdanovic and I began looking for another job. But the economic climate had changed drastically. The housing bubble in the United States had been burst by the sub-prime mortgage crises and this had impacted harshly on the rest of the world, especially developing countries like Namibia. Companies began cutting their budgets and tens of thousands of workers were retrenched.
Misses Phillips, from the Child Welfare Department came to visit us late one afternoon. We sat in the lounge. I could sense Garth's hostility towards the woman and I thought that this was unfair. Although she had reprimanded him for forging the document to the bank and fraudulently withdrawing the funds, she was only doing her job which was to look after Garth and his estate until he reached the age of twenty one.
"Garth, your estate's in serious trouble." Misses Phillips said. "The original amount of money that your aunt left you in the investment account earned sufficient interest to cover the cost of the rates and taxes on the house, the domestic worker one day a week and a part of your daily allowance of a hundred and fifty dollars a day. The balance of your allowance had to come out of the capital amount thus reducing it by almost a thousand dollars a month. I had hoped that by now you would have found employment and this allowance could be discontinued. Do you understand?"
Garth nodded, still looking down at the carpet.
"The problem is that the capital in the account has been so drastically reduced that the interest that it now earns won't even cover the rates and taxes on the house. For this reason I'm going to have to terminate the domestic's employment as well as your allowance. If I don't, all the money in the investment account will have been used up in about six month's time. You can see therefore, just how important it is that you find a source
of income as soon as possible. I've spoken to the bank about a mortgage on the house but they've told me that the only way that they can do this is if you can show them that you have sufficient income to pay the instalments.
On top of this, the Department is still considering laying a charge of fraud against you. If you can show that you’re genuinely trying to improve your life they will quite possibly decide not to lay the charge."
"As far as the domestic worker's concerned, that's not a problem." I said. "I'm quite happy to do the washing and ironing and keep the house clean and tidy."
"That's very good of you, Cindy." Misses Philips said. "But will you be able to do that and still do your work at Checkers?"
"I don't work at Checkers anymore." I said. "At the moment I'm also unemployed. But I'm looking for a job. It's just that finding work is becoming more and more difficult. The economy changed for the worse. There just aren't any jobs that I can do."
"Oh, dear." Misses Phillips said. "I am sorry to hear that. So now you're both unemployed. And you're quite right. It is becoming more and more difficult to find work. But it's vital that the two of you do find work. It would be a tragedy if you were to lose the house. And even if you did have to sell the house it wouldn't solve your problems as you would then have to pay for your accommodation as well as your living expenses.
“Even if you invested all the money from the sale of the house, the interest that it would earn wouldn't nearly cover your expenses. On top of that, the bottom has fallen out of the housing market. The prices of houses are falling drastically. There are far more sellers than buyers. This is a very bad time to have to sell the house. Garth, Cindy. It's vital that both of you find a source of income."
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