Mel worked with him at the kennel. She was only part time, but there was something about her that was a natural draw. Apart from the fact he wanted to bang her. It was like destiny or something for them to meet up. She had contacts with people who brokered in stolen goods and he’d done some home invasions when he was a teen. He’d only gotten caught the last time and the older kid he was with had had the record. DeWayne had come from a good home and his dad was a lawyer, so he’d gotten the lightest slap on the wrist possible and his record had been expunged when he turned eighteen.
He’d been ready to quit the kennel because the pay was crap, but one night after work Mel had told him it was the ideal place to work for someone with a good eye. They’d been slamming back shots or Jaeger and he really thought he might get in her pants. But then she’d laid it on him why she really was there and that she’d noticed how he looked at the people who brought their pets in. She’d read him like a book and before he knew it, he was breaking into somebody’s house.
They didn’t do it with everyone and not even with all the rich-looking folks. It would be too easy for the police to trace back to them if they did that. And she sometimes had contacts who fed her addresses. But occasionally, a rich white woman would waltz in with her furs and her necklaces and her diamond rings blinging all over the place and he and Mel would look at each other and just knew they were going to get it on.
They had all the information they needed right there. Where the people lived and how long they’d be gone. The most surprising thing to DeWayne had been that this particular couple lived in an apartment.
“They probably don’t live here,” Mel had explained. He hadn’t understood what she meant. “They probably live on the other side of the state or something and hubby had to relocate over here temporarily to oversee the plant or audit the books or consult on something. Why buy a house if you’re just going to be here a short while?”
That had made sense. But still, if it had been DeWayne’s money he would have sprung for something swankier than this place. A townhouse or something. But maybe this had been all they could find on short notice.
He spotted a shoebox just behind where the pictures had been and got excited. This might be something. DeWayne took it down and took off the lid.
There were no fewer than two-dozen rolls in here. He took one out and slid off the rubber band. They were all hundred-dollar bonds. He guessed there were about fifty in each roll and times that by twenty-four…
That was at least ten thousand bones, by his simple math.
He called Mel back.
“Yo, I just found the buried treasure!”
“You dug a hole in there?”
“No, that’s just an expression. There’s a shoebox in the closet filled with bonds. It’s gotta be like ten thou at least.”
“Bonds… I don’t know about bonds. Can’t they track those?”
“I don’t know.”
“You should put those back.”