Open Features: The Key
There's a nasty surprise waiting for George after his long spell inside, as Mary Clemons's story reveals.
George surveyed the passing scene through the taxi's window. Many things had changed in twenty years and yet much was still the same. He adjusted the collar of his new grey pin striped suit. It didn't fit quite right. Someone in the prison had a sense of humor issuing striped suits.
It didn't really matter, none of it mattered. Today he became a free man, a rich free man. He smiled. They had never found the money. He had put it in a safe deposit box and hidden the key. Now if he was frugal, he would live comfortably on their money.
The taxi stopped in front of the house.
"What's the fare?"
"It's covered," responded the driver as he drove away.
George wondered why the house was so dark. No lights were on, not even the porch light. Some one had forgotten to notify his mother of his release.
He smiled. He had waited for this day. Now as he had promised himself over and over, the first thing he was going to do was get that key.
Counting the bricks that lined the flower border, he stopped at seven. Twenty years had settled the brick in place. He dug and wiggled until the brick ease away. Then carefully his fingers searched. The key was not there. He cried out his anguish. Dusting off the dirt, he headed for the front porch. It was then he noticed the house numbers. This was not his mother's house.
The police swarmed from the side of the house. The Captain's two way radio clicked and buzzed.
"That's right, seven from the left of the walk."
After a brief silence, a voice responded, "We've got it."
