Civic Duty

By Denise Rajauski
Part 3

Joe gasped as he was spun around, and found himself face-to-face with an extremely large, extremely irate-looking security guard. He barely managed to keep Kate from falling. She clung to his leg, staring up at the angry stranger in mute terror.

"Goin' somewhere, Lightfingers?" the guard snarled in a murderous tone.

Joe floundered for a moment. "Er,ah -- look I um -- I can explain quite easily, I ..."

The guard grabbed his arm and began propelling him back to the store. A crowd was gathering. Joe dug in his heels.

"Wait!" he shouted frantically, "This isn't what you think ..."

The guard cut his protest short. "I don't think nothin'," he growled. "Tell it to the cops." He shook his boulder-like head in disgust. "And in front of your kids, too. You make me sick," he spat.

As he was once again yanked towards the store with a now sobbing Kate in tow and an equally squalling Paulina on his chest, Joe twisted his head around to signal Jameson and Ms. Crowe that he was in a bit of a jam. He thought they must not have seen the commotion, or surely they would have intervened by now.

His mouth dropped open. They weren't there by his car anymore. He scanned the snickering crowd desperately. No sign. He began to feel decidedly nauseous as the sick realization dawned on him. Either the pair were waiting for him in the security office to get him off the hook, pat him on the back, and congratulate him on his sense of civic responsibility, or he was about to get caught with several hundred dollars worth of stolen jewelry in his child's diaper bag.

The scene at the store's security office was long and for Joe, extremely depressing. He sat, white faced, on a cold metal folding chair. In the crook of one arm rested Paulina, her alert brown eyes quietly taking in the scene over the bobbing pacifier. On the opposite knee sat Kate, who was calm now but hiccuping somewhat. The diaper bag had been overturned onto a table-yielding up its sparkling loot amongst the diapers, bottles and wet wipes.

The salesgirl, Rhonda, had been escorted in to identify him, and had done so with a short nod and a disgusted "Yeah, that's him."

A search of his pockets had produced the list of stores and merchandise, much to the amusement of the assembled store personnel and police.

"You know what we call people like you?" one of the cops had asked. "Job Security."

They'd all dissolved into laughter as Joe reddened. The explanation he'd given had brought on a level of hilarity in the room that he hadn't thought humans were capable of. And worst of all in Joe's mind, they'd called his wife.

He'd had no choice, of course. The police had needed someone to come and get the children before carting him off to jail. Although he'd almost rather have preferred thumbing through a telephone directory and picking a name at random, he'd given them Frankie's pager number.

Twenty minutes later, Kate's eager shout of "Mom!" brought Joe's head up from its resting place on his chest. She scrambled down from his lap and leapt into the arms of the slim, regally tall woman who had just stepped into the room.

Frankie Thompson wrapped her arms tightly around her daughter and smiled. Joe had half a grin on his own face until she turned her gaze to him. His whole face withered as he realized that the reassuring smile had been purely for Kate's benefit. He opened his mouth to explain, to say something, but she held up a slender hand and turned to the policemen.

"Mrs. Thompson?" one of the officers, a sergeant, asked.

Frankie nodded. "Yes, I'm Mrs. Thompson." she said. "Can you tell me what my husband's been accused of please?"

The sergeant snorted. "Accused? Caught with, you mean." He pointed at the bracelets laid out on the table beside the pile of jumbled baby things and the diaper bag.

Frankie walked over with Kate wrapped tightly around her and stared down, open-mouthed, at the jewelry twinkling under the overhead light. She turned to the sergeant, shaking her head. "There must be some mistake," she said, disbelief coloring her words. "We have plenty of money-my husband doesn't need to steal."

The other policeman, the one who'd passed the remark about job security shook his head vehemently. "No, ma'am. Those bracelets were discovered in that bag," he said, gesturing at the diaper bag. "And what's more, we got him on camera taking 'em."

Frankie stared over the table at Joe in shocked silence. Finally, she shook her head as if to clear it and spoke to him directly for the first time since entering the room. "I ... am sure ... there must be a logical explanation for this, Joe."

Joe nodded, looking acutely embarrassed. "Yes I'm sure there must be one as well," he muttered.

Frankie lowered her brows, pursed her lips, and opened her mouth to snap. Suddenly she closed her eyes for a moment. Every person in the room could practically see the numbers one to ten moving through her mind. Then she turned to the sergeant. "Is there any way I could be alone with my husband for a few minutes?" she asked.

The cop shook his head. "I'm afraid not ma'am." he replied.

Frankie swept her hand around the room, taking in the security guards, store manager and several off-duty salesclerks. "Then is it necessary to your investigation for all of these people to be in here?" she asked shortly as she put Kate down and grasped her hand.

The sergeant looked meaningfully at the store manager, who clapped his hands.

He shouted "Okay people! Everybody who's not involved, back to work. All others, wait for my summons." He ushered the group to the door and then turned to glare pointedly at Joe. "I'll be right next door in my office." he said as he jabbed a finger squarely at him. "I AM pressing charges. You foreigners got to learn to respect our laws sometime."

Frankie sighed as the door slammed shut. She pulled up a second folding chair and sat next to Joe. Paulina squirmed as she recognized her mother, and Joe handed the baby to her. Frankie patted the infant's back softly as she stared at her husband, her expression unfathomable. Suddenly her eyes narrowed and moved up to stare at the Santa hat still perched on his head. Without taking his eyes from her face, Joe slowly reached up and removed it. He began wadding it up over and over as he spoke.

"Frankie, I know this looks bad, but ..."

"Did you steal those bracelets?" she asked quietly.

Joe took a deep breath. "Yes."

Frankie's brows shot up.

"And no." He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture. "I was only trying to help ..."

"Help?!"

Frankie's raised voice made the two policemen, who had decorously turned their backs, jump and peer over their shoulders. She lowered her tone. " 'Help'. How did I know that word would come into play at some point tonight? I would have thought you'd run screaming in the opposite direction upon hearing it uttered by now."

"Kate can verify everything I've said, but they won't listen to her," Joe began, but skidded to a halt at Frankie's angry gesture.

"Kate should not have been in a position to verify anything in the first place. Do you never think, Joe?" she ground out.

"But Mom, Daddy was teaching me a lesson." Kate piped up helpfully.

Frankie heard the two cops snort derisively at this, but she forced herself to smile at her daughter. "I'm sure he was, darling." She returned her gaze to Joe. "And now Daddy is going to tell me all about it."

The next few minutes saw an interesting display of incredulous facial expressions on Frankie's part as Joe described how he came to be in his current predicament. Once or twice she looked at him as if she expected a cuckoo to pop out of his forehead on a small spring, but she made no comment until he'd finished.

"And that's how ... it ... I just wanted to buy you something nice for..." He trailed off, risking an apologetic grin. For a long moment, not a muscle on Frankie's body moved except for the hand patting Paulina's back as she digested the story.

Finally, she spoke. "Let me see if I understand ... you were approached by two complete strangers claiming to be mall security, and you took them at their word."

"Jameson had a badge," Joe interjected defensively.

"Which had 'Security Guard' on it?"

"Well, yes. But he also had an I.D. card," he countered.

"Which had 'Identification Card' on it?"

"Erm. Ah."

Frankie continued. "You then let yourself be talked into consulting a list for committing acts of petty larceny on their behalf."

"I thought the things would be returned."

Frankie nodded thoughtfully. "It never occurred to you to ask for some sort of card or letter to carry with you in case you were caught with these stolen goods?"

"They told me that mentioning their names would suffice," Joe mumbled.

Frankie smiled humorlessly at that statement, then ruthlessly pointed out the most obvious aspect of the whole scenario. "And lastly, it never crossed your mind even once to question why a Head of Security would use an individual right off the street to accomplish this task instead of employing someone trained in loss prevention?"

Joe could only shake his head, slack-jawed. Now that he knew it had all been a scam, it was transparently obvious. He was mortified in the extreme that he'd been taken in. But at the time, it had seemed so much like a good thing to do. He looked down at the crumpled Santa hat clenched in his fists. God, he'd done it again. He looked up into his wife's dark, penetrating eyes and sighed heavily.

"I'm sorry, Frankie. I've really ballsed it up this time, haven't I?" he asked resignedly.

Frankie's eyes softened, and she reached for his hand. She was about to reply when the sergeant cleared his throat. Joe swiveled his head around to see both policemen approaching him purposefully.

"Christ," he whispered. "I hope my cellmate doesn't snore."

Joe had just been told to stand up and place his hands behind his back when the cavalry in the form of the thunderstruck store manager rode in to save his hide. Just as one cop was about to slap a set of handcuffs on his wrists, the door to the security office opened and the manager stuck his head in. He beckoned the sergeant over, and the two of them held a brief whispered conversation punctuated by a few muffled snickers. The door slammed shut once again, and the sergeant held up a hand.

"Hold it Charlie." he said to the other cop. Joe spun around to face the pair as both Frankie and Kate appeared at his side. The sergeant shook his head and chuckled in amazement. "I never would've believed it in a million years, but the manager says they just nabbed a man and a woman out in the parking lot. They were going up to people and claiming to be in charge of security."

Joe let out a deep breath, unaware until that moment that he'd been holding it. His face lit up.

"Then I can go?" he inquired hopefully.

The sergeant grunted. "Yeah, well, as of right now the manager says he won't press charges 'cause you thought you were doing the right thing, but he also says he doesn't want to see your face in his store anymore. As for us, you'll be called to come down to the station and make a statement. Probably have to testify eventually."

Joe urged again, "But I'm free to go?"

The sergeant nodded. "Yeah, you can go. Lucky for you we don't prosecute for stupidity in this country."

Joe opened his mouth to lob a retort, but Frankie grabbed his arm. "Never mind Joe," she said. "let's just go." He saw the wisdom in her words and gathered up the baby's things, stuffing them back into the diaper bag.

Then he scooped Kate up and hugged her tight. "Come on,my brave girl." he said, "Let's go home."

Later that night, after the girls had been fed and put to bed, Joe and Frankie sank gratefully onto the sofa. All of the lights had been turned off except for the multicolored strings illuminating the massive Christmas tree in the corner. Joe stretched out and Frankie cradled his head in her lap, stroking his hair with gentle fingers. He allowed himself to be lulled by it for awhile, then a morose thought tugged at him and he sat up.

"Why do you put up with me, Frankie? Always interfering, always being so bloody naive?" he asked quietly.

In response,she moved closer to him and kissed his lips gently before responding.

"Because everything you do is motivated by love. You wanted to help Paul and Linda out of love, and the desire to give them what we have. You wanted to help tonight out of love for Kate and the desire to teach her right from wrong. Love centers your entire world Joe, and it centers me as well." She laid her head on his shoulder. "I never thought I'd say this, but I hope you never change."

Joe pretended to be aghast. "God, I hope not. I have to acquire some sense sometime."

Frankie laughed. "No, I mean I hope you never lose your will to help. It makes you the person you are, and I love that person."

Joe grinned. "I hope you remember this conversation the next time I do something daft."

They cuddled in companionable silence for awhile, then Joe disengaged himself gently and walked over to where the shopping bag lay on the floor. He fished out a small gold box and returned to sit on the sofa, where he held it out to Frankie.

"What's this?" she asked, puzzled.

"The cause of all the trouble. Your Christmas present," he said. "Go on, open it."

"But it's not Christmas, yet," she protested.

"I know, I know. But I want you to have it now. I want you to know tonight did have a purpose. God knows I went through enough to get it home," he said with an amused twinkle.

Frankie smiled and took the box from Joe.

She made no move to open it, and after thirty seconds Joe asked "Is something wrong?"

Frankie peered up at him intently. "Perhaps you'd best put your shoes back on before I open the box, Joe." she said. "Because if this is a gold bracelet, I'm counting to three and then you'd better run."