Chapter Nine – Her Hair Was the Color of Copper and Milk Chocolate.

  The Boston Garden was off in the distance. The last time he was there, it did not have air conditioning. But that didn’t matter much. People went anyway. Tech ventures and law offices seemed to be on the rise. Middle- and lower-class people were not. They had it harder. Still, there was some major construction. The “big dig” was happening, and no one seemed to care who didn’t like it. The world was changing, and it didn’t ask permission.

  Up ahead were red brick buildings. The pubs in the area were mainly frequented by working class people and the occasional group of college students. Frank pointed behind him toward the harbor. It wasn’t visible, but he spoke about it anyway, “That’s where the USS Constitution was docked. It should be in drydock now, having a major overhaul. We got a tour before they were supposed to take it. Magnificent ship. Smaller than you’d expect.”

  A large man walked next to Frank. Most people called him Tee, Big Man or Bear, but his name was Fredrick Martin Bare. At times, Frank introduced him as Tee, but he called him Fred. Fred had seen the picture of the man, the lady and the ship. She kept a bulletin board of the places they had been. In the picture, they were standing on the dock with the ship behind them. They were holding hands. She was smiling. He was himself. He only smiled on two occasions. One was when he was with her. He knew where his friend’s mind went. He let him have his memory. This caused Fred to be quiet and a little sad.

  A woman scooted by. She was short and slim. Her long chestnut hair was clipped back with a large green clasp. Her clothes reflected office work. She flowed through the mass of people around her. Probably, she worked at a bank. She was middle management at best, and she had caught someone’s attention. She was being followed. Frank sped up.

  Fred noticed her resemblance to someone else. Her hair was the same warm coppery chestnut, and her movements were feminine, like the lady in the picture. He glanced at Frank with some concern. This was not the woman they were tracking. He hadn’t noticed anything unusual. But Fred followed Frank’s lead anyway.

  In appearance, the thief was as normal as normal could be. That was his disguise. His camouflage was to be an anybody. And it usually worked. A wallet, a purse, a bracelet, and a watch were gone before the mark noticed. It was easy with practice. It was even easier on a busy street full of distracted people with destinations.

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  The woman with the long chestnut hair was one of those distracted people. The strap to her bag had slipped off her shoulder, and she held this small bag between her fingers as she wrestled with a satchel. Her short steps grew heavier as her destination neared.

  This was the thief’s last opportunity with her. Soon, it would be gone. He moved.

  Her attention was on crossing the street. If she hurried to the corner, she could make it. That meant arriving a couple minutes sooner. Hustling was the way to get ahead and move beyond her lower-class roots. She didn’t see his hand reach. It was a day like any other day for the young copper-haired lady. The purse, her purse, just slipped away unnoticed.

  Frank’s left hand grasped the purse before the red-haired office worker had taken another step. The thief didn’t have time to turn his head. He didn’t glimpse the face that belonged to that hand. He felt the crunch and the snap. The purse slipped away, and a mournful scream left his lips. Three of the thief’s fingers on his right hand had been bent back at a very unnatural angle. When he went to defend himself, he ended up on his knees. In the end, his pained face was away from the street and the people.

  The young lady turned in a start. Her eyes darted around the three men in front of her. Several people paused. She was puzzled.

  Frank’s back was to her. He said, “Fred, do you mind?”

  He replied, “Not at all.” Then he grabbed the thief. He wondered what flashed across Frank’s face. Was that a smile when the thief's bones broke?

  Frank straightened up. He turned to the lady with the coppery chestnut hair. He offered her the purse as he spoke, “Ma’am, I believe this is yours.”

  She looked into Frank’s eyes, and she looked down at the purse. She lifted her eyes and took the purse. She said, “Thank you?” It sounded like a question. She was still confused.

  Frank saw her confusion. He gestured and said, “He tried to steal it.”

  She tightened her lips and nodded.

  Frank asked, “What do you want to do with him?”

  She wobbled her head. It was almost a nonanswer. She didn’t want trouble for anyone.

  Frank understood. He said, “Yeah, you’re right. Time is money, and the police are bothersome at best. He won’t be stealing anything for a while. I think he broke his hand. I won’t argue if you want to set him free.”

  She said in a soft voice, “Oh? I think that would be okay. I have my purse.”

  Frank replied, “Yes, Ma’am, as you say. Just one more thing. Fred, if you would.”

  Frank and Fred forced the kneeling man in front of the woman. Frank slapped the back of the thief’s head. He said, “Apologize to the nice lady, so we can be on our way.”

  The copper-haired lady’s eyes grew wide. The thief was slapped a second time. The young lady finally took a moment to think. Was this guy with the salt and pepper beard crazy or something? Maybe? Even so, he had such a nice smile.