A Criminal Drawn into the Web, Fiction

You can imagine my surprise when I ran into the Quick Stop store to get some milk and bread when there were two men standing there with the clerk hands up in the air. I froze in my tracks and almost screamed, "my God, the customer has a gun" but instead, my voice caught in my throat. Gingerly, I backed toward the door when suddenly; I felt something hard jammed into my back.

"That's enough, old lady! Get back in there," A threatening voice, commanded.

It startled me so that I knocked my glasses off and they crashed to the floor. I knew it was a gun in my back, so I didn't even think to argue. I tried to reach down for my glasses but was quickly reminded who was in charge of the situation.

"Forget it, you don't need them glasses. Seein' could get you killed." Menacing laughter rolled out of his throat and shook me to the core as he prodded me again with his gun.

"Ok, Ok!" I shouted back, "But if you want me to go anywhere you'll have to lead me. I can't see my hand in front of my face without them."

Discretion is the better part of valor, or so I've been told. I sure didn't want to be a target of these men if I could help it. So I decided it would be better to step forward and obey his orders.

The short, swarthy man took my arm and jerked me forward. There was nothing gentle about him. Under normal circumstances I'd have protested. Instead I kept my mouth shut for a change, but I had to bite my lip to do it. My mouth began to bleed as he shoved me toward the counter.

"What did you do to the old lady?" His taller companion asked. "She has blood running down her face. Did you hit her?"

"Naw man! Dammit, I didn't touch her! She lost her glasses over there. All I did was bring her here, cause she says she can't see without them," the shorter one answered. Apparently, the taller of the two was in charge.

"Well, take her over to the corner and sit her down until we're ready to go." He waved his gun in the air pointing in that direction.

I could smell the garlic and onions on his breath as it mixed with the odor of sweat running down his heavy brow. I wondered why he was more nervous about the situation than I was. Soon I would know the answer to that question.

Once again the short man jerked my arm, almost pulling it out of its socket. He dragged me toward the corner cola display and shoved me down hard.

As I hit the corner of the metal display case and fell on my knees, I cried out. "Owww."

"Shut up woman, before I waste you. It wouldn't take much for me to do that, you know." He was not the sympathetic type that was apparent.

I turned around and sat on the floor, as my hands went to my wounded, throbbing, arthritic knees. I rubbed them then suddenly realized he hadn't taken my purse, which was a surprise.

He stood there glaring down at me, gun pointed in my direction, while the other man hollered at him. "Come get a rope and tie her. We don't want her calling someone before we get out of here."

Shorty was rather stout and hurriedly waddled over to me. He brought a rope and bound both my arms and legs.

Maybe, he had a grandmother and thought about her. Or he could have just been trying to be kind, but I think he figured I wasn't very strong. He bent over me and he tied me up gently, being careful not to hurt me.

Then he asked me, "Is that to tight? I don't want to cut your circulation off?"

Then maybe he had experienced the same kind of thing and knew how it felt. I assured him, "No, it's just uncomfortable sitting this way."

"Well, don't try to get away or we'll have to shoot you. You understand?"

I nodded my head in agreement

As soon as I was tied to the coke display rack, he walked over behind the counter. I saw him dipping his hands into what I thought must be the cash register and dumping its contents into a paper sack. I couldn't help wonder where the clerk was and if he was all right. There hadn't been a word from him and I hadn't seen him but that few seconds after I entered the store. I hoped he wasn't hurt.

Then as I waited, the taller man came over to bring me my glasses. He shook them in front of my face and laughed. The red, yellow and black snake tattooed on his right arm caught my eye. It seemed to me to be fairly good art work.

"You're lucky you can't see old woman but to be sure you can't identify us, I'm going to help you along." With that he threw my glasses on the floor and stomped on them. I heard the glass break beneath his feet, crushing them into the concrete floor.

The last thing I remembered was his swinging a big, silver gun at my head and the world turned black. I disappeared into another place and time.

I'm not sure for how long I was out of it. When I awoke, the men were gone and there was no sound anywhere. I shook my head looking around. Then I twisted out of my bindings. It didn't take a lot of effort and I was free.

Running to the counter, I looked down to see the clerk bound and gagged. While trying to free him, I realized he was unconscious and his head was bleeding.

I quickly picked up the phone and called 911. It seemed like hours, but I know it was more like minutes before the police and an ambulance arrived. The clerk was whisked away by the EMTs and the officers began to question me about the two suspects.

When I told them I could draw pictures of each of them, they seemed skeptical. They figured I didn't have a clue as to who the two were, I know.

"Where do you live? What's your name and occupation, ma'am?"

"I'm from Ft. Worth and my name is Joellan Barber. I'm an art teacher at nearby local college."

I pulled a pad from my purse and began to draw. One of the policemen bent over my shoulder as I drew. He seemed to recognize the man in the sketch immediately.

"That's Bad Billy Bickleman. I'd recognize him anywhere. Boy, that's a perfect likeness of the guy. How can you do that? Come look at this, Sarge?"

The Sergeant came and looked at the drawing too. "You're right, that's him for sure. I bet I know who the other guy is going to be too."

They stood there in amazement, watching as I finished the pencil sketch of the second man as well.

"Jimmie Lee Dugan, just as I thought," The sergeant quickly put out an all points bulletin on the two of them.

He turned back to me and asked, "How did you do that without your glasses, ma'am? I thought you said you couldn't see."

"Well, I'm far sighted but I didn't want them to know that. So I pretended not to be able to see. It seems to have worked because they smashed my glasses and I still was able to identify them." I laughed. "It didn't do them a lot of good to ruin my glasses though, as I could see them clear as day. You see I only need glasses for reading."

"Wish we had your kind of witness more often Ma'am. You're a great help." The officer said thanking me.

After the clerk recovered from his head wounds, he also thanked me. It was an event that both of us would have difficulty forgetting. A few months later the two of us testified against the bandits, who were tried and convicted. Since they were two-time- losers, they will spend the rest of their lives in jail.

My drawings helped to convict them and justice was served, all because a little old lady knew how to draw.

By the way, the police told me it was not uncommon for criminals to get hungry after they commit a crime. They apprehended the two crooks only four blocks away when they stopped to get a hamburger.

I bet they will never forget that an old lady with a sketch pad and a hungry stomach put them in the slammer?