“It will be easy money!” exclaimed Adam.

He had the looks of a man in his mid twenties, that was, until you got to his face. Years of bad decision making clearly aged his appearance by quite a few years.

“What the hell kind of idea is that!?” I returned, almost yelling.

“Hey man, keep it down. But hear me out, it could really work out!”

I calmed my tone to a whisper, “You want me to help you kill a man? Are you serious?”

“Well, it sounds harsh when you phrase it like that. I just want to ‘dispose’ of someone that’s getting in the way of my master plan.”

Adam, quite frankly, was an idiot. He seriously wants me to help him get rid of some old rich guy because he heard some rumors about a chest full of rare baseball cards in his basement. His “master plan” is full of holes and is a guaranteed jail sentence. Though, I might have thought of something to help him go through with it.

“Alright. I’ll help.”

“Hell yeah man! I knew I could count on you.”

We went back to his place, and discussed the plan over cheap beer and half cold take-out. The idea we came up with was: I pretend to be some big-shot journalist asking the rich guy about how he gained his fortune and all that, Adam goes in with me pretending to be my assistant, suddenly in the middle of the interview Adam has to go to the bathroom, he then sneaks his way into the vault, takes as much as he can carry, and books it to the car and drives off, at which point I fake receiving a text about him having stomach problems and leaving early, and then I shoot the guy in the head and call it a day. It’s not the best plan and there’s tons of things that could go wrong, but Adam believes it to be solid as stone, so I’ll let him keep thinking that.

Adam and I planned our day of the break in and went about our lives for the next few days. I received the occasional excited text from Adam talking about “going to the club,” our code name for the operation. I always responded feigning the same passion as him.

The day finally arrived. I packed my notebook and pen, a gun, and my phone in a little side bag. He brought an empty backpack and his phone along.

“Holy sh*t… How did you afford a Lamborghini to drive us?” Adam’s mouth agape.

“I took a loan. I mean it’d be easy to pay back after we pawn off those cards.”

“Ohh yeah makes sense.”

“Well, let’s not waste any precious time.”

We got in the fancy car. The car had a clean black leather interior. It looked almost untouched. The glory of being in such an expensive car was clearly shocking to Adam. The expression on his face told me he had never felt this luxury. I almost felt bad for the guy, but his corrupt desires fueled nothing but apathy in me.

The drive was a long one, about two hours. Despite Adam’s previous excited nature, our chatter was nothing but average the whole time. I simply got to know the guy a little better. He had an unfortunate childhood, ended up with the wrong crowds and all that.

The car slowed on a long winding road and we drove through a large gate, detailed with spiraling shapes. We eventually parked in a large cemented area and we stepped out.

This rich guy’s house was definitely more of a mansion. Tall pillars led to intricate arches surrounding the whole house as if it were a barrier. The house itself was a beige stucco with perfectly cleaned windows, each crowned with a hand-crafted frame. The garden was filled with bright colourful blooms, designed perfectly in a satisfying order. The trees were freshly trimmed, not a leaf out of place.

We walked up to the giant doors and I rang the bell. We waited. There was no answer. I waited a couple more seconds and rang again. Still no answer.

“This might be our lucky day!” Adam said, full of joy.

“I suppose so.”

“So do we just break in or what? It doesn’t look like this guy’s servants or anything are home.”

“It doesn’t appear that he’s home either.”

“Sweet! Then let’s just bust our way in.”

I pulled out my gun from my side bag. I turned off the safety and cocked it.


I shot the doorknob off.

We walked our way around the building. The winding hallways were confusing, but we eventually found our way to a staircase leading down. We stepped down and walked up to a large splintering wooden door. It looked out of place compared to the clean marble walls.

“Open it first, Adam.”


He squeaked open the door.

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!” an officer shouted, brandishing his gun at Adam.

“Wait! Sh*t what the hell do I do?” Adam looked to me for advice.

He looked in terror. I held a grin on my face. That’s when he understood my plan. A bit late for him, though. That “old rich guy” is none other than me, chief detective of the LAPD. And Adam is just another one of those low-lives that chose the wrong person to trust. There weren’t even any cards to begin with.

“You really thought it’d be that simple, huh?”

“I-I guess- I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Adam meekly stutters.

I put this ‘master plan’ to an end with the words, “Put your hands behind your back. You have the right to remain silent.”