Good Story to Read.com: Short Story Collection #01

only the sound of gravel crunching under his truck tires behind.

  I came up with the idea for this story when I used to live in an apartment. Sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night worried about somebody breaking in. I could never get back to sleep until I had a look around the place. In my first version of the story all of the action took place around the apartment buildings where I lived at the time. But later after I moved to a house, I got the idea to make the setting in a mansion in the countryside. The caretaker and his dogs followed wherever I placed the story.

  The Caretaker and His Dogs

  Copyright 2011 by S. Thomas Kaza

  Holding the end of a small torch between his teeth, the burglar opened each dresser drawer and quickly rifled through its contents. He threw sweaters, blouses, and socks out of his way, all the while running his hands along the bottom and sides of each drawer, feeling into each corner. He imagined he would find an envelope with money in it, a little jewelry box, a key. He found nothing.

  “Damn!”

  He took the torch back in his hand and walked over to the closet door. He had already searched between the mattresses on the bed. He even searched under the bed. The only place left to look was in the closet. Reaching for the doorknob he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he bumped into the closet door. Someone tall stood behind him in the dark room. His heart racing, he pointed his torch at the shadowy figure.

  “Hey! Get that light out of my eyes!”

  It was Vance.

  “Bloody hell!” Cameron said, switching off his torch, “Don’t sneak up on me!”

  “I wasn’t sneaking,” Vance said, “I thought you heard me.”

  “Why aren’t you keeping watch?” Cameron asked.

  “I am keeping watch,” the taller man said. He walked over to the window and pulled the drapes back to look outside. “There! Nothing! There’s probably not a car within ten kilometers of this place.”

  “What do you want?” Cameron asked.

  Vance walked back over to Cameron. “I don’t know about this whole thing,” he said, lowering his voice, “That guy’s mad.”

  “You better not let him catch you,” Cameron said, “Not up here talking to me.”

  Vance shook his head. “Why did he have to go and kill the old guy?’

  “You saw it yourself. He reached for his gun. It was kill or be killed, self defense.”

  “One bullet is self defense,” Vance said, “One bullet and two to the head is murder.” He put his hand up to his forehead and rubbed it. He turned away for a moment, looked at the door. When he turned back his voice faltered.

  “Cameron, we could’ve knocked the old guy out. We could have tied him up.”

  “He saw our faces,” Cameron said, “He’d recognize us.”

  Vance shook his head, still not convinced. Cameron suddenly reached out and grabbed the taller man by the shirt collar. He pulled his face close to him.

  “Listen to me,” he whispered, “You signed up for this. You knew somebody might get hurt.”

  “Hurt, yes….. but killed?”

  “It’s done now,” Cameron said forcefully, “It’s finished, alright? Let’s do what we came here to do.”

  He let go of Vance, who stepped back, straightened his shirt. Cameron turned his back on him and opened the closet door.

  “You better get back downstairs,” he said over his shoulder, “before Cole finds you’re gone.”

  Vance left Cameron searching the bedroom closet. He walked out into the dark hall. A floorboard creaked beneath his foot. He switched on his torch and jumped when a light shined on him. At first he thought it was Cole. Then he realized it was only his reflection in a large mirror mounted on the wall. Feeling silly he found the stairs and quickly descended.

  The old, rich woman who lived at the house was away for the evening, attending a social event, a party for a writer friend of hers. Several weeks before Vance had read about it in the paper. He told Cameron, because he knew his old mate burglarized homes to “keep up on his payments” as he liked to say. Vance wanted in on the action, but Cameron hesitated to introduce him to Cole. Finally several days before the night of the party, he relented.

  “I guess I’ve got no one to blame but myself,” Vance grumbled to himself. He recalled their first meeting.

  Cameron arranged everything. They met in a pub on the east side. Vance had heard of Cole, but never met him until that afternoon. When he got his first look at him, he realized he might have made a mistake. Cole had small, penetrating eyes that seemed to sink deep back into his skull. Thick, dark eyebrows underlined his receding hairline. He scowled at Vance, didn’t reach across the table to shake his hand.

  Instead he turned to Cameron and said, “Why’d you bring this Nancy boy along?”,

  Vance was smart enough to know to keep his mouth shut. Cameron stuck up for his old mate. He explained how Vance used to drive a taxi. He knew all the roads and alleyways. Cameron also spoke highly of Vance’s ability as a mechanic. But he didn’t mention Vance was an out-of-work mechanic.

  “So now we need a chauffer?” Cole asked.

  “This next place is big,” Cameron said, “We’re going to need a lookout.”

  He went on to explain how he scouted out the old lady’s place recommended to him by Vance. The house was several kilometers from the nearest town out along an old country road. It sat all by itself up on a hill above a river. Cameron reported it looked ripe for the picking. He had seen some very nice furniture in the front room.

  “And where there’s nice furniture…..” Cameron smiled.

  “There’s bound to be money,” Cole smiled back. It looked more like a leer.

  “The good news,” Cameron said, pausing to sip his beer, “there’s no alarm system.”

  “Are you sure?” Cole asked.

  “I tried to sell her one,” Cameron said, “explained all the benefits. She wouldn’t hear of it. Something about living in a good neighbourhood.”

  Vance looked away. He had already heard this part of the story.

  “What else?” Cole asked.

  Vance looked back.

  Cameron shrugged his shoulders. “There is an old caretaker. He’s got two dogs. But he lives out back.”

  Cole smiled. “I’ll take care of them,” he said cracking his knuckles.

  It was then Vance noticed a swastika tattooed on Cole’s right middle finger. He shivered recalling the look Cole gave him when he caught him staring at it.

  In the end it was agreed for a share of the take Vance would be the lookout. They would also let him drive the old car Cole borrowed from his sister. It bothered Vance that they didn’t say for how much of a share. But he didn’t complain, at least not in front of Cole.

  Vance reached the ground floor of the old house. He quickly looked around, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw no sign of Cole. He wondered what possessed him to leave his post and go upstairs to talk to Cameron in the first place. Cameron was right. If Cole knew he left, there would be hell to pay.

  He slinked into the front parlor and peered out the window into the night. The clean, well-kept front lawn of the estate spread out before him like the fairway of a golf course, disappearing into the darkness beyond the light of a couple spotlights on the front of the house. A driveway ran right down the middle of the yard. It was empty, the way it looked the last time he checked. He looked at his watch. It was 11:57.

  “Come on,” he thought, “How long does it take to rob a house?”

  He figured he would have finished the job himself in ten minutes.

  “Get in and out as quickly as possible,” he thought, “Grab something of value and beat it. Don’t waste time rifling through an old lady’s underwear drawers.’

  To prove his point, he walked over to a little coffee table. He remembered Cole telling him not to touch anything. In the dark he could make out something on the table. He reached down and carefully picked it up. It was a smooth
stone in the shape of an egg and a little brass stand to set the egg in. He ran his fingers over the stone. It felt expensive. He looked up to make sure he was alone. Then he quickly pocketed the egg, setting the empty stand back on the coffee table.

  “Don’t touch anything…..” he sneered, “this is probably worth more than anything those two idiots will find.”

  Vance walked out of the front parlor across the hall and toward the back of the house. He glanced at his watch again. It now read 12:01. He worried the old lady might come back at any minute. If she did, they had agreed on a plan. He was supposed to call to Cameron and Cole. When the old woman came in the front door, they planned to slip out the side door. Their car waited for them there, hidden in the shadows.

  But after the way Cole brutally shot the caretaker and his dogs, Vance began to worry what would happen if the old woman really did show up. Maybe Cole wouldn’t want to slip out the side door? Maybe he had plans for the rest of the bullets in his gun? Vance didn’t want to find out. He just hoped the old woman didn’t return home until they cleared out.

  Reaching the back of the house, he was suddenly startled by the sound of a slamming door. He heard swearing coming from down the hall, and he knew it was Cole.

  “Bloody idiot!” he mumbled to himself.

  Through a small window Vance glanced out the back of the house into the garden. There was only one spotlight on this side of the house, so it was mostly shadows. But something caught his eye. He squinted and put his face up close to the glass to get a better look. He thought he saw something…..