those metal fire boxes. It was locked. Mr. Hari popped it with a screwdriver.'
'Where was Punk?'
'Oh. He was gone. Mr. Hari paid him and he left. Only me and Mr. Hari.'
'The metal box. What did you see?'
'Mr. Hari pulled out a bunch of old baseball cards. He goes through them one at a time. Nodding his head and saying 'This one is very good; Oh, this one is so cool; Shit, can you believe it, a Babe Ruth.' Then he gets to this one card and says 'Holy shit, I can't believe it.'
'Rebel, what was the holy shit card.'
'Gee, Mr. Picker, I don't know nothing about baseball cards. Mr. Hari said it was a Wagner something or a something Wagner. Honest Mr. Picker, I don't remember too good.'
Between 1909 and 1911 the American Tobacco Company inserted 2.5' x 1.5' baseball cards in their cigarette packs. I suspect that Bigfoot discovered a rare Honus Wagner. One of the best players of his time, Wagner is a Hall of Famer. His nickname was “The Flying Dutchman' and he spent most of his long twenty-one year career with the Pirates. He won eight batting titles and had a career batting average of 327. If this is the card in question it could fetch anywhere from $1 to $1.5 million dollars at auction. Maybe worth killing for?
Connor piped up. 'There's your missing piece Picker.'
What makes this card rare is that it was pulled from production after 200, give or take, were issued. Enthusiasts speculate that somewhere in the vicinity of sixty of the 1909 Wagner edition still exist. It is commonly believed that many of the remaining cards are in poor condition.
'Rebel, thanks a bunch buddy. You've been very helpful. See me next week; I'll have something for you when this is all over.' I turned to Jaw-lone. 'Do me favor, take Rebel home.' The two men got up and left.
'I know what happened.'
I explained my thinking to my Connor and TJ. Both of them sat there nodding their heads in agreement. Neither of them was able to poke a hole in my theory. Finally, when all was said and done, I looked at them both and asked,
'Who wants to go to work?'
Ball 4 — Man on base
The squad car drove slowly down the alley. The spot light roamed the walls and sidewalk. It settled on three men and three dogs. Two Rottweiler’s and a Shepherd.
The officer observed Connor picking the lock to the back door. He shouted, 'Hey you!'
My brother handed me the picks and said, 'I've got this.'
He took his time as he approached the cop. Connor offered his hand in an unthreatening manner. The cop, from ingrained habit, shook hands. I realize looking back that it's hard to believe, but you don't know Connor. Unbelievably charming; class wrapped in a five thousand dollar suit; it is not uncommon for ones' defenses to dissipate when he turns on the charm.
Here's the hard part to believe: he introduces himself as Connor Jones. Actually uses his real name. My brother is either a criminal genius or certifiably insane. But get this. The cop introduces himself as well. James O’Donnell. “Call me Jimmy.”
Connor reaches into his suit pocket and removes a white envelope. Hands it to the police officer. He says, 'Officer, while it is true that we are breaking and entering, our intentions are neither to steal anything nor harm anyone.' Suggestion: Imagine this being spoken with a posh British accent.
I suppose that is technically correct. I mean, you're not really stealing something if it has already been stolen. Are you?
Connor spreads his coat and pirouettes for Jimmy. “No weapons Jimmy. No gloves to conceal our identities. What do you think?” Balls, real balls. The honest straightforward approach. Who would have thought?
The officer peers into the envelope and sees five-thousand in brand new, crisp hundred dollar bills. 'How long do you boys need?' We lucked out; thank God this guy is a veteran and not some idealistic rookie.
'Half hour will do it Jimmy.'
'In that case Connor, I’ll see that you are not disturbed.' He backs out of the alley and parks his car; blocking the alley. Kills his lights and sits there. This Philly police officer is now on our payroll as a sentry. Un-fucking- believable.
Connor walked back to the door, gave me this huge grin and finished picking the lock. Once inside he bypassed the alarm. Note: This is not the same as disabling the alarm. By doing the former he is tricking the system into thinking that nothing has occurred. Doing the latter would probably send a silent signal to some monitoring company or even the police department.
The two Rotties are Zena and Zeus; Nathan's dogs. I point at the rear stairs and tell them, 'Search.' Up they go. This is risky on my part. If they discover someone upstairs, unarmed, they'll simply detain them. However, it they discover someone holding a gun, well, that's a different matter. The possible outcomes are: the dogs may disarm them; injure them slightly; injure severely or even kill them. Depends on how they perceive the threat. The truth is I really don't care. As much as harming another human being disturbs me, it's much better than us being shot.
'What now?' TJ asks.
'First set up the screen.' Burger's safe is set up behind the counter at the front of the store. That means anyone passing the front window would observe us breaking into the safe. TJ stopped at Hocus Pocus, a magic supply shop, on S. 4th between Lombard and South Streets. There he purchased a black back-drop with a light frame for quick assembly and easy breakdown. An impromptu stage curtain for magicians and other performers.
'TJ, after that come back here to the office. Go through Burger's paperwork; let's see what we can learn.'
Connor and I stand around for three whole minutes twiddling our thumbs. TJ returns and goes to work on the desk. There is enough light from the street lamps out front to navigate to the safe. Once in position, Connor places a small maglite between his teeth. One minute later the floor safe is open. I often wonder where this boy picked up his skills.
The first thing that Connor does is to take pictures of the contents in situ with his smart phone. When he gives the word we empty the safe and go through everything; one piece at a time.
There's twenty or thirty thousand in cash. I see the cards that Burger said he bought from Hari. What I do not see is a 1909 Honus Wagner.
'Shit! Shit! Shit!' I close my eyes and think. Could I be wrong? No. I’m not wrong. I can feel it in my bones.
I tell Connor, 'Put it all back. Lock it up.'
I return to the office. 'Look what I found.' TJ's holding up a piece of paper. It's too dark for me to read.
The Rotties have returned and are sitting in front of the desk. Kato is still out front guarding my brother. 'What is it TJ?'
'Bank statement. Mr. Burger has a safety deposit box. Bingo.'
Connor, carrying the broken down backdrop under his arm, and the beast step into the office.
'Did you hear that brother? Safety deposit box. How the hell are we going to break into that?'
That gentlemanly crook, aka my brother Connor Jones, smiles that beautiful smile.
'I've got a plan.'
Base hit
Connor disappeared.
The next morning when I awoke there was no sign of my brother. Fortunately, Kelly's mane of red hair was
