She took a slow well placed step onto the sidewalk from the stoop of her apartment building. Mrs. McKenzie adjusted her worn suede purse and began the three block journey to the neighborhood markets.
Hmm, I need bread, cookies, and a fresh fillet of haddock for dinner. Perhaps a warm cinnamon bun as a treat would be nice too. Mrs. McKenzie mentally made up her shopping list as she passed by the rows of brownstone apartment buildings. She lived in an older area of Brooklyn, the same area she has lived in for the past thirty years,
I wonder if Maggie is working at the fish monger today. I must remember to ask her about her new baby niece.
Mrs. McKenzie walked to the markets as part of her daily routine. Many of the shopkeepers looked forward to their visits with Mrs. McKenzie, her smile and caring concern always brightened their day, no matter how stressed they might be. Mrs. McKenzie often commented that she had adopted the keepers as her second family. Maggie, an employee at the fish monger grew concerned three weeks ago, when Mrs. McKenzie had not dropped by as usual and went to check on the elderly woman. A slight head cold had disrupted Mrs. McKenzie routine. Of course the spry almost eighty year old woman wasn’t going to let the nuisance of a cold slow her down.
The bell jingled as Mrs. McKenzie entered O’Malley’s, the local fish monger. A salty presence embraced Mrs. McKenzie as she approached the counter. The row of cases filled with a colorful illusion of layered fish waved at her from the other side of the glass.
“Maggie, if you don’t look more beautiful today than ever. That sweater brings out your lovely eyes.” Mrs. McKenzie’s eyes danced with love, and care towards her young friend.
“Oh you are a charmer Mrs. McKenzie!” Maggie tried to wipe her hands clean on her apron. A useless effort for the pungent aroma must be scrubbed with hot soapy water to remove the annoying scent at the end of the day. “You are looking wonderful yourself. Your cold must be completely gone now. How can I help you today?” Maggie reached out and gently patted her friends’ hand.
“I have a craving for one of those inviting haddock fillets, please. I must ask. How is your new niece doing? Babies are so precious, I remember the scent of my babies when they were new. Jayne, she smelled like a soft spring rain, and Michael smelled of the seashore after a storm. You know all rough, tuff, and new.” Mrs. McKenzie sighed very softly as her shoulders fell heavy with memory.
Maggie expertly packaged the fillet, rang up the sale, and smiled, “Mrs. McKenzie you have a way with words, little Sara is doing beautifully well. I’m going over to my sister’s right after work.”
“That’s wonderful, I’m sure you’ll have a great time. Please give the baby a kiss for me, and a hug to your sister. How much do I owe you?”
“Oh, it’s $2.50 please.”
“Here you are, take good care of yourself. Good bye!” With her new parcel secured on her arm Mrs. McKenzie left.
The autumn day was brisk but clear. The sun hung low in the morning sky and caused Mrs. McKenzie to squint.
There is nothing like autumn, the colors so plentiful, and the air fresh. It makes me feel so much younger than I am. I am so blessed to be able to take care of myself. Of course, I’m also to stubborn not too. She softly chuckled to herself, and began the second leg of her journey.
Mitchell hopped down the last three steps of his stoop. His highly polished shoes clicked the sidewalk. He turned left towards the neighborhood shops.
Perhaps I’ll get lucky there today. Damn it, why does autumn always seem to arrive earlier every blasted year. I really hate all these leaves, and I hate squinting into the sun even more. No one knew how much Mitchell hated the reasonably short walk to the market district, he would smile and nod to each person he passed along the way. Mitchell meticulous about his appearance, a well tailored top coat, tasteful black leather gloves, a well fitted fedora and always clean shaven whenever he left the apartment. He presented the image of a well groomed gentleman.
Mrs. McKenzie’s senses felt hugged as she entered the warm inviting Bakery. The heavy yeast smell of freshly baked breads, and heavenly scented cinnamon buns dazzled her taste buds seemed to be calling out to her.
First things first, I must get what I came in for, then perhaps the treat of a bun.
She waited a short time for her turn to be served. “Hello Frank, you are testing my diet again. What a wonderful smell in here today!”
Frank knew there was no diet. “Eh, what’s that now? You don’t need to loose a pound. As a matter of fact I think I need to fatten you up a little, perhaps a treat today? Hmmm?” His smile was infectious, and he knew Mrs. McKenzie enjoyed the harmless flirting.
“You know me all too well, Frank. Let’s see I need a loaf of whole wheat bread, and a dozen oatmeal cookies. I just love those with my tea in the evening, especially now the weather has cooled.” Her eyes wandered to the end of the case where the cinnamon buns sat, still calling her name. “Oh, and I guess you could get me a cinnamon bun too, please.”
Frank grinned and fixed up her order. The bread and cookies wrapped were placed into a paper sack, and with love he placed the largest cinnamon bun on waxed paper wrapping it twice.
“Here you are, and please be careful on your walk home Mrs. McKenzie. It will be $4.67 all together.” He winked and added, “The bun is on me.”
“You are a man of sweetness aren’t you, Frank!” She giggled at her own pun. Mrs. McKenzie handed over the money, settled the new purchase with her other and began home.
Mitchell had reached the row of shops, and glanced around at the people shopping.
Ah ha! Now she’d be the perfect target for today. Look at her balance those packages, I can snap up her purse easily. Looking back and forth in haste to cross the street quickly Mitchell made a straight line towards Mrs. McKenzie as she exited the Bakery.
Mitchell yanked the old purse from her arm, the worn out strap broke with ease. He turned quickly on his shiny shoes and bolted down the block, he nearly struck his shoulder on an old fashioned lamp post in his quest to escape. Mitchell glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone had witnessed the act, the old woman had fallen. He turned and rushed back to her, grabbed her arm and helped her to regain her balance.
“I’m sorry lady. I didn’t mean to make you fall down. Are you alright?” Mitchell fussed over the old woman, straightened her coat, and brushed leaves from her back. “Honestly Madam, I am sorry. A gentleman should never make a lady fall. I’m down on my luck, you see. I really need the money. Please don’t turn me in. Are you alright, really?” Words rambled from Mitchell. He honestly didn’t want to hurt her. His own Mother had taught him better manners than that.
Mrs. McKenzie dazed and confused tried desperately to comprehend what had just occurred. She stared blankly at the young man who had stolen her purse yet returned to help her up. She shook her head in disbelief.
“Who are you? Look what you have done.” Mrs. McKenzie reached for her packages, and began to put things back into the correct bags. “Oh my gosh, my keys where did they go?”
Mitchell saw the keys close to the roads edge and quickly scooped them up, “Here they are Madam, I’m terribly sorry. Please say you won’t turn me in?” Mitchell handed over the keys. He picked up the bags now haphazardly packed, and passed them back. “You see, I lost my job. I was downsized in the company. I honestly need the money for rent. I truly have never done this before, you do believe me?”
Mrs. McKenzie looked into his eyes and saw the desperation, “I understand young man, let me give you the little money I have.”
I’ve never seen such a thing before. He’s so polite, and sorry for what he has done. I really shouldn’t make his life miserable by punishing him more. “Here, young man, it isn’t much but take it. I wish you luck dear.”
Frank had witnessed the events, and called the Police. He rushed to Mrs. McKenzie’s aid. Mitchell had just left for the second time as Frank shouted, “Wait! Don’t move the police are on the way!” Mitchell bolted.
He had only gone two blocks down the street when the policemen apprehended him. Despite Mrs. McKenzie’s plea to the officers that she really didn’t want to press charges, they still planned to take Mitchell to jail. They explained the situation as an attempted robbery and Mitchell must go before the Judge, but if Mrs. McKenzie wanted to testify on his behalf she could do so at 9:00 a.m. the next morning.
It was precisely 8:45 a.m. when Mrs. McKenzie had settled herself in the court room. She glanced around at the dreary room. Old mahogany rails separated the seating area from the defendant and prosecution desks. The stale offensive odor of cigar smoke lingered in the room, Mrs. McKenzie coughed, while trying to get comfortable. Ten minutes later Mitchell was escorted into the room, he was handcuffed and looked very solemn. The guards seated him at the defendants table to face the Judge.
Judge Rodman entered the courtroom, glanced at Mrs. McKenzie and then at the defendant. “I see it is attempted robbery you are accused of Mr. Richman.” The Judge looked directly at Mitchell undeniable detest in his eyes. “And how is it you plead today? Guilty or not guilty?”
Mitchell rose, unconsciously straightened his clothes, extremely wrinkled from his overnight stay in jail. “Sir, I plead not guilty. I also have a person that would like to speak on my behalf. She is the lady I am accused of robbing. Mrs. McKenzie would you like to speak?” Mitchell sent the most heartwarming smile towards her.
“Is this true Madam? Are you really here to testify on this man’s behalf?” The turn of events mystified the Judge.
“Yes Sir, I would like to tell the court that I do not wish to press charges against Mr. Richman. Yes, he did attempt to steal from me. But once I had fallen, he returned quickly to help me up. He told me about his situation, loosing his job, and needing money for rent.” Mrs. McKenzie voice wavered. “He was visibly upset at what he had done, Judge. I honestly believe he is sorry and would not do anything like this again.” Mrs. McKenzie breathed heavily, her hands shook as she reached for the back of the seat in front of her. “After all Judge, how many criminals do you know of that would be such a gentleman to help an old lady up after stealing her purse?”
The exasperated Judge looked at the kind old lady, “Mrs. McKenzie, there is no easy way to tell you this, and I am very sorry you have been the victim of something so unspeakable. Especially the deception this young man played on you.” The Judge shook his head and sighed. “This is not Mr. Richman’s first time in my courtroom, and this is certainly not the first time he has pulled such a stunt. Heaven only knows how many times his scheme has saved him from being arrested. But, I intend to put a stop to it here and now. Mr. Richman,” the Judge turned in his chair, raised the gavel, “I sentence you to three years in jail, with no parole for good behavior. You must serve everyday of your sentence. I hope at the conclusion of your time in jail you will have amended your ways.” The Judge brought the gavel down with vigor. It rang through out the courtroom.
Mrs. McKenzie sat dumbfounded, her heart broken at the deception.
How could I be so gullible? He was so charming and polite. He is only 10 years younger than my son. He has so much of his life before him, why?
Mitchell’s arms grasped by guards turned towards Mrs. McKenzie, a slow grin formed the words, “Thank you.” He nodded and bowed, always the gentleman as he turned to leave. Mrs. McKenzie smiled back, his charm still able to keep a hold on her heart, even just a little.
