Looking BackMature

I’m more than just a famous novelist. Since I left school, I have been working alongside Gareth Sturm to commit crimes across Queensland.

I was just getting started planning my very first Crime Master novel, New Murder, when Gareth knocked on my door and, without asking me, entered.

“G’Day, Derek.”
         I replied with a slightly mad, “Gareth. It’s been a while. And I see you’ve lost some of your manners.”

“Quiet, Koslov,” he roared, before putting on a nasty grin. “You don’t want to mess with a master criminal.”
         That took me by surprise, and not a good surprise either. Before then, if you told me Gareth was going to take up a life of crime, I would have laughed hard in your face.

Long story short, he asked me to help him, and I agreed. All of a sudden, he had become dangerous.

The following day, we met up outside Mrs Moreton’s house. Mrs Moreton was, at the time, away on a trip to the US, and Gareth believed her necklace, worth a couple of thousand, remained in the house.

Luckily Mrs Moreton was not worried about thieves, and thus the door was not locked. We looked around us to ensure that we weren’t being watched by anyone, then entered.

Outside, Mrs Moreton’s house looked like any other house, but inside it smelled like rotten cabbages. The shelves were crammed with photos of neighbours, children and grandchildren. Even more photos from her past covered every square inch of wallpaper.

The bedroom was just as bad. It was shocking how much room she had for so many photos.

Gareth seemed to know what he was looking for, because within a minute, we found it. Almost one hundred percent pure gold, the rest diamonds. The necklace.

Gareth turned his head to me. “See, Derek? We could become millionaires, without having a job of any sort.” Then he stuck his hand out to me. “So what do you say?”

Thoughts crept into my head. I had been having dreams of becoming rich, not having to get a job. But I had big plans to write, and surely that would make me rich.

Gareth put on his menacing grin, reminding me that he was dangerous.

“Yeah, alright.”

And I never came to regret that decision afterwards.

As we were leaving, I noticed Gareth doing something to the box. I was wondering, so I asked.

“I’m removing our fingerprints from it,” he replied. “We don’t want to be caught, or we’ll end up imprisoned and never end up minted.”

I completely understood that.

Since then, we’ve made advances in our crime-committing. The use of both Poppo and our code were my idea.

And this criminal activity has been going on for five years.

The End

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