Twist

"Her name's Annie Rivers. She's a vice-president for Cooper Industries, lives alone, and must keep a good hundred to two hundred thousand in cash and jewels in the house at any one time," Al had told him when they'd met under the neon beer sign in the back booth at the Malibu Bar and Grill.

Al described the security system-- a good one, but one that Jack had cracked many times in the past.

"She's got some relative, Fannie Albright, lives in Arizona, named in her life insurance policy," Al explained. "When I talked to her about her homeowner's policy, she told me there's no other relatives, no husbands, ex-husbands, or boyfriends."

"What about her schedule?" Jack asked.

"That's up to you to figure out. I've done everything I can." Al gathered up his papers and stuffed them into his briefcase. He'd shown Jack her entire file, including a rough layout of the house and Polaroids of the security system and many of the rooms. Everything he'd shown Jack went back into his briefcase so he could return it to the office. The two wouldn't talk again until Jack delivered Al's ten percent.

Jack had spent the three weeks following his meeting with Al watching Annie Rivers' home, tracking her arrival and departure times until he felt certain of a time when she would be away from the house long enough for him to ransack it. Most evenings she returned home between six and seven, but each Thursday she played racquetball with one of the company's other vice presidents. On those nights she never returned home before nine.

The time between eight and nine seemed best. By then the sun would have gone down and her nearest neighbors would be unable to see him prowling around outside. He could be inside her house within ten minutes, could ransack the place within fifty minutes, and be back in his car and pulling away moments before she arrived home from her game.