Part 3
Heist of Mitchell Map is still on
Snark sat on the Waterman’s Park bench in Urbanna staring at the river. He saw that more rain was coming down river. The storm clouds looked as furious as he felt.
His anger was like hot lava running down his throat and into his stomach. The nerve of that woman whom he had once thought he loved! Whiz, who just last weekend had gotten him excited about picking up some extra bucks by committing the perfect crime swiping the Mitchell Map in her one horse town in Virginia and now that he was here and ready to do the deed, she chickens out on him! What a holy crock! He would show her!
He felt churning in his bowels, then, realizing if he were going to commit the perfect crime he would have to calm down, started a series of deep breathing. After a few minutes he felt better. He would simply carry on, pull off the stunt as planned and the devil with Miss Whiz!
The storm was returning. Black clouds were racing toward him as if to urge him to shelter. Gusts of wind sucked the air and the tall pine trees shuddered. All birdsong ceased as the river turned into a frothy stew as if on a burner at full boil.
The drums began to roll. Snark jumped up and ran down Cross Street for his sailboat anchored off the Urbanna Town Marina. He was at the Scottish Factor Store Museum on Virginia Street where the Mitchell Map was displayed when the rain came down, not in mere drops but in full torrents. He bolted up the stairs to the museum porch to seek shelter.
A fine pickle I’m in, he thought, collapsing into a chair. He was feeling a renewed charge of anger that somehow made his drenched clothing feel even more wretched clamped against his skin.
The rain stopped as abruptly as it had started but before Snark could exit the porch a man in colonial dress came out of the museum.
“Welcome to our museum!” the man said. It was Urbanna’s retired Doc Robo. “We were just about ready to close for the day but do come in and hear about our famous Mitchell Map!”
What an opportunity to case the joint, Snark thought almost breaking out into a laugh as he followed the man into the museum. The first room was a display of colonial products for sale. In the next room was the Mitchell Map, encased in framed glass, so massive it took up almost the full interior wall.
Snark gasped. He had no idea it was such a large map. How could he steal such a huge document and store it safely on the Goose? He half listened as Doc Robo gave him his expert rundown of the history of the map printed in 1755 and how it had become the first official map of our United States and is still used on occasion to settle various boundary claims.
Snark feigned interest as Doc Robo delivered his spiel all the while taking in lighting, alarm system and floorboards. A shrill beep-beep could be heard from the basement area. “It has to do with my opening the front door,” the doctor explained and his assistant, Miss Tweeter, left to turn it off. Snark wished he could follow the lady and see how this was done.
Doc Robo ended his speech and cozied over to Snark, perhaps hoping to strike up a friendly conversation.
“Thank you very much for the information, sir,” Snark said quickly before Doc Robo could get too chatty. Snark had no intention of giving out any information as to who he was and where he had come from. Snark said goodbye and bolted out the door.
“What a strange fellow that was,” Doc Robo remarked to his fellow volunteer. “He seemed not the least bit interested in our map. Have you ever seen him before, Miss Tweeter?”
“Never. Maybe he’s a tourist or someone from the Piggle Wiggle Campground? I did not see where he ran off to but I don’t think he came in a car. I hope he had a car parked somewhere nearby as it’s pouring rain again!”
“Well, if we see him walking in town we can offer him a ride somewhere. Come with me. My car’s parked in back. We can make a run for it and I’ll give you a ride home.”
Meanwhile Snark had purposely run in the opposite direction of his sailboat. He was too smart to be seen running downhill because that would be a dead giveaway that he was on a boat. The brilliance of his plot — come by boat, make a fast heist, leave by boat — would never be suspected as total attention would be on roads leading in and out of Urbanna.
Snark had popped into the corner country store and stood by the front window so he could keep an eye out for Doc Robo going home. A sales lady approached him. “Could I help you find something special?” she asked.
Snark mumbled a gruff “no!” and pretended to be looking at some denims at the front of the store.
“Those are women’s clothing, sir. The men’s department is at the back of the store.”
“I’m just looking!” Snark mumbled again. Why was she bothering him?
“We have a nice line of men’s sweaters just in if you’d like to see them.”
Snark felt himself becoming angry. “I told you, lady, I’m not interested!” he shouted. Then he saw Doc Robo’s car pass by and knew it was safe to leave. He bolted out the door and toward the hill to the harbor.
“You dropped your hat!” the sales lady called from the front steps. Drat! what a bother she is! Snark knew he had to retrieve it. Now she had seen he was headed down to the waterside. The life of a thief was such a pain! What next could go wrong? He wondered. Would the sheriff himself suddenly pull up and ask him if he needed a ride in this terrible monsoon?
He ran down the hill to his boat as the rain continued to pelt down on him. Miserable was too nice a word to describe how he felt. Drowned rat was more like it. The life of a felon did not seem to be much fun. So far there had been zero thrill in crime. Maybe this kind of life is not all that it is cracked up to be on TV and movies.
As he ran back down the hill on Virginia Street to reach his dingy and row out to the comforts of the Goose, he was tormented with the words of warning from Whiz. Maybe she was right. Maybe he should give up on this foolhardy plan.
Snark shuddered at the thought. He could do many things. But one thing Snark could not do, could never do, is to ever admit he was wrong. He would pull off this heist if it was the last thing he did.
→ Part 4
Note to readers: The actions and characters that appear in this story are fictional. The story is written for entertainment and to promote knowledge of our town and local history.
