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“Can’t you see what’s going on? They all moved to the house next door, probably for dinner. We need to hit the place now, while there’s nobody there.”

“But I thought we were going to wait until after midnight, when they’ve all gone to bed.”

“That was Plan A,” said Jerry carefully. Long association with his partner had taught him to always move at the speed of Johnny’s intelligence, which was pretty much a snail’s pace. If he tried to rush things Johnny could get mulish: he’d refuse to budge until he had the whole thing laid out to him in minute detail. “Look, I asked around, and this broad is the daughter of the people next door, and I’ll bet they’ve all gone over there for dinner, so if we move fast we have the place to ourselves. If we wait until after midnight, we might bump into the cop that lives there. You know how cops suffer from those night terrors, on account of all the trauma and stuff, so he’ll probably come traipsing into the kitchen just as we’re lifting his nice flatscreen. What?” he asked when he noticed how Johnny sat staring at him with wide eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“A cop!” said Johnny. “You never said anything about a cop!”

“It doesn’t matter! He’s next door, enjoying a nice family dinner. The coast is clear, Johnny, but it won’t be for long. You know how cops eat. They wolf down their meals and before you know it he’ll be flopping down in front of the television to watch ESPN.”

“I’m not going in there,” said Johnny, shaking his head stubbornly. “You never said anything about a cop and I don’t like the idea of burgling a cop’s house.”

“It’s not his house. The place belongs to his girlfriend, some reporter chick.”

“Yeah, but if she’s dating a cop…”

“Look, I’m going in there and I’m going to take whatever loot I can find. You stay here and act like a pussy. I don’t care.”

It was a risky move, but one that had worked in the past.

“Okay, fine,” said Johnny finally. “I’ll go with you. But if we bump into that cop I’ll tell him this was your idea.”

“Oh, so now you’ll rat me out, huh?”

“I didn’t know it was a cop’s place!”

“It’s not a cop’s place—oh, rats.” He climbed out of the car. Sometimes he wondered if he wouldn’t be better off working alone. No endless arguments and no sharing the loot with a partner. But then he figured he’d probably miss the big oaf. Johnny might not have a lot going on up there, but he was basically a happy-go-lucky guy with a sunny personality that complemented Jerry’s sour-grapes character extremely well.

Both crooks quickly crossed the road at a trot, checking left and right as they did, and then disappeared into the shadows between the two houses. Emerging at the back, Jerry couldn’t believe their good fortune when he found the glass sliding door ajar.

“Un-freakin-believable!” he hissed as he put on his leather gloves and pushed the door further open.

“Yeah, this is a good sign,” Johnny agreed, though he still seemed nervous, darting anxious glances to the house next door, where the cop was enjoying his family feast.

They stepped inside and would have made a beeline for the television if Jerry hadn’t suddenly noticed a big, fat, red cat lying on the couch and staring at him with its glassy cat’s eyes. He shivered. He hated cats. They were even worse than dogs. Next to the fat red creature a smaller gray specimen rested, also watching them intently.

“Hey, kitty, kitty,” said Johnny. Though he preferred dogs, he was partial to all creatures great and small.

He reached out a hand to stroke the fat one’s fur when Jerry hissed, “Leave those stupid cats alone, will you? This ain’t a social call. Grab that TV and put it outside. I’ll look upstairs for the jewels and the money.”

From experience he knew that most people kept their valuables in the bedroom where they hoped no one would find them. Why this was he didn’t know. He would never keep anything in the bedroom, knowing that was where fellow crooks looked first.

He took the stairs two at a time, then moved into the bedroom, lighting his progress with the small penlight he kept just for these occasions. He searched around until he found the dresser and he’d only opened two drawers before he hit the jackpot: a small box filled to the brim with jewels. Earrings, bracelets, pendants, you name it, the reporter chick had it. Most of it wasn’t worth much, he could see at first glance, but there were one or two pieces that might fetch them a nice price.

He emptied the box in his shoulder bag and moved to the closet where often a small safe was located. No such luck here. He crossed to the second bedroom, which was some kind of office with an elliptical machine, and searched the drawers. Nothing much, but he took the laptop and the tablet computer. Then he proceeded to room number three and rifled through the closets. He quickly gave up, his expert eyes telling him there was nothing of value stored in there.