The Big Idea

Flash Fiction by Hillary Lyon

“I’m bored.” Roslyn pouted. She stretched and reclined on the hotel’s California king sized bed. “I wanna go to a movie.”

Danny tossed her the remote. “So find something on pay-per-view.”

“I wanna be around people.” She threw a pillow at him.

He picked it up off the floor and threw it back at her. “You know we have to lie low for a little while longer. Until the media finds another sensational crime to obsess over. It’ll happen before you know it. Reporters have short attention spans.”

“Yeah,” Roslyn giggled. “Like goldfish.”

“The Feds offering a $50,000 reward is going to keep us in the news longer than I’d like.” Danny cracked his knuckles, a nervous habit he developed in prison. “You know, in the old days, I could’ve walked into a bank, pulled a gun, and left with a bag full of cash before the police even knew I was in town. But nowadays… we have to chill for a bit.”

“In the old days, I would have been a gangster’s moll,” Roslyn sighed. She raised her arms and wiggled her fingers. “Draped in furs and diamond bracelets. Eating expensive dinners, drinking exotic cocktails. Dancing the night away in a speakeasy.”

She sat up and frowned. “Now I’m imprisoned in a four-star hotel room.” She slipped off the bed and wandered over to the room’s plate glass window. Roslyn yanked the drapes aside. “Look at all those lovely glittering lights. You know people are going out on the town tonight, having a wonderful time.”

Danny moved up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “We could have a wonderful time, too,” he murmured against her neck.

She shrugged him off. “We did that last night. And this morning.” She turned to face him. “I want to go out, see a movie or have a fancy dinner.”

He walked over to the room’s little writing desk and picked up the room service menu. He handed it to her. “This place is plenty fancy. Pick out something nice and call room service.”

Roslyn snatched the menu out of his hand.

“Be patient,” Danny said. “Soon there will be more than enough money for fancy dinners and expensive whatevers.”

“I know but,” here Roslyn assumed her sexy pout again, “what’s the use of having loads of money if we can’t get to it? Where is it all, anyway?”

Danny plopped down on the bed and patted the space beside him. Roslyn dutifully sat down next to him.  “I told you: It’s stashed in a private…ah, the less you know, the better.”

“So you stole this money electrically…” she prodded.

For somebody who graduated magna cum laude with an MBA in accounting from Wharton, she sure likes to play the dumb blonde, Danny noted, not for the first time. “Electronically,” he corrected. “The money was siphoned off several big bank accounts, then quietly transferred to a secret, secure account.” Off shore, he added to himself.

“Okay, if you had such a big idea—how did you get caught?”

He sighed. Yes, how did I get caught? He had an inkling: Somebody near and dear to him raised the alarm. Somebody who wanted that reward money all for herself. That same somebody now cuddling up next to him.

“An office drone noticed a trend of balance discrepancies in several unassociated accounts. Huge accounts. Then forensic accountants working for the Feds spotted an electronic fingerprint, so to speak. Linked it to the guilty party,” he said, watching her out of the corner of his eye. “But you know all this.”

Roslyn picked up the menu. “I want a big steak with a twice-baked potato, and chocolate mousse,” she muttered, apparently now bored with this subject.

***

After dinner, Roslyn snuggled up to Danny and kissed him deeply; she was always more affectionate when she got her way. And she got her way this evening. He’d reluctantly acquiesced to one of her earlier demands; they were going out to see a movie. The Terror of Toluca Lake at the Bijou Cinema down the block.

Danny leaned back from their embrace. “Aren’t you a bit over-dressed for a movie?” Roslyn was wearing a bright red min-dress and black patent-leather kitten heels. The outfit showed off her long legs, but it would make it more difficult for her to run. A pair of chandelier rhinestone earrings dangled through her tousled platinum blond hair.

“You know I love to dress up!” Roslyn gave him a sexy, crooked smile. She turned on her heel and said over her shoulder. “Gotta finish my make-up.” She slipped into the bathroom and became engrossed looking at herself in the mirror.

Seeing she was occupied with applying her mascara, Danny pulled out a burner phone hidden in his coat pocket, and began texting. Bijou Cinema 8:15 show. Red dress, platinum blond. Can’t miss. He slipped the phone back into his coat pocket.

***

They walked down to the Bijou, weaving through the sidewalk crowd. So much foot traffic on a Friday night, yet they still stuck out thanks to Roslyn’s flashy attire. Danny noticed several men—with or without dates—didn’t bother hide their stares at Roslyn. She bit her lower lip and grinned. She noticed the attention, too.

Arriving in the cinema lobby, Danny pried her manicured fingers from his arm and said, “How about I get the tickets, while you go on to the concession counter, get us some popcorn and sodas or whatever you want.” He open his wallet, pulled out a few bills and handed them to her. She took the money, giggling, and blew him a kiss before sashaying over to the counter.

Danny stepped back and leaned against the wall between two coming-soon posters. He watched as several men, nodding to one another, encircled Roslyn. She didn’t notice until she gathered up her popcorn and candy and turned away from the counter. That’s when one of the men roughly grabbed her elbow, causing to drop her popcorn and to shout indignantly, “Hey! What’s the big idea?”

Leaning in close to her, one of the men flashed his badge and said something to Roslyn that only she could hear. Her eyes grew large, her lipsticked mouth dropped open. For once in her life, she was at a loss for words. A third man waved away the gathering crowd. None of the men were smiling.

As they hustled her out of the cinema, Roslyn, now panicked, caught Danny’s eye. Danny shrugged and gave her a sad little smile. His burner phone buzzed; he retrieved it from his pocket. On the little screen, a text message from the FBI read, Target acquired and confirmed. Reward wired to your account. Thanks for keeping America safe!

Danny walked to the admission counter, paid for one ticket. He made his way through the small crowd of excited people milling about the lobby, chattering like monkeys. He pushed open the theater’s door, found a plush seat in the middle of the darkness, and waited for the show to begin.

---

Bio: With a Masters in English Lit, Hillary Lyon founded and for 20 years acted as senior editor for the independent poetry publisher, Subsynchronous Press. Her horror, science fiction, speculative fiction, and crime short stories, drabbles, and poems have appeared in more than 150 publications. She’s an SFPA Rhysling Award nominated poet. Hillary is also the art director for Black Petals. You can find her at her website HERE.

Cover photo by pexels/Jessa Leigh

Read more Flash Fiction on The Yard: Crime Blog

Follow us on:

Looking for a book to read? Try our Bookstore.

Support The Yard through Patreon

Checkout the Sabre Door Stop alarm through the affiliate button below. These things work great for any door. They are wonderful for travel. hotels, and Airbnb’s. Read a review HERE.

Protect your home with solar powered security lights. See details, pricing and more shopping through affiliate button below.