Congratulations !
You have been awarded points.
Thank you for !
- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Horror
- Subject: Horror / Scary
- Published: 09/07/2018
The Wrong Man
Born 1964, F, from Gordon, ACT, AustraliaMy name is Peter Gifford. My real name, that is. I have a few others that I have … borrowed from time to time. I’m not a nice person, but I don’t deserve this.
You know me. I’m the tradie sitting at the table in the corner of your local watering hole having a couple of brews after work. Mud on my boots, dust in my hair, red-faced where I’ve caught the sun. I’m pretty ordinary looking. Not handsome, but I don’t have any trouble getting laid. Quantity over quality, though, if you know what I mean.
Life’s good. Well, was good. I didn’t really need to work, not with the money I was making with my "other" career. But it provided useful cover. A kind of disguise, I guess. My real job, my “paying” job, as you’ve probably guessed, was stealing people’s identities.
The best plans are simple ones. My plan was simple, strong and foolproof. Well, nearly foolproof, anyway. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.
Like I said, I’m pretty ordinary looking. There are a thousand men out there who look just like me. A million! I’ve played this game for a long time, and I’ve never had a problem finding a target.
What I do, see, is look for someone who looks like me. Like I said, not too hard. I wait for a while, wait for him to get a bit … happy, careless. Then I wait until after he’s shouted his round. Patience, that’s the key.
Those guys who make jeans? They do a lousy job with back pockets. Have a look around sometime, see how many wallets are sticking out of men’s back pockets. Only an inch or two, sometimes, but that’s all I need.
Brush past, hook the wallet out of the target’s pocket, then straight to the bathroom. Take a photo of his credit cards front and back, swap his driver’s licence with my current identity’s licence, then wander back. Hand him back his wallet, here mate you musta dropped this. Yeah, cheers mate. Thanks very much.
Too easy? You bet, but think about it. When was the last time you pulled out your licence? How closely do you even look at it? By the time this guy realises it’s not his licence, I’ve moved on. He most likely won’t even connect it with the good samaritan who returned his dropped wallet weeks or even months ago.
Oh man, the things you can do with a licence and a credit card number. I buy stuff I don’t want, book flights that I don’t go on. Just for the pleasure of spending. It’s better if you apply for another credit card under your new persona, though. That way, you don’t have to worry about the real person checking their balance on a credit card that they don’t know they have.
Of course, one of the first things you need to do with your new identity is rent a post office box. I rotate between about half a dozen post offices. You go in during the busy times to pick up your parcels, don’t be too friendly or cause any problems. They will not remember you six months down the track when you turn up under another name. Trust me on that.
And learn from my mistake. Don’t get too greedy. Just be happy with buying what you want and reselling stuff you don’t want so you’ve got some legit money to spend. Me? I wasn’t happy with that. I figured I could buy a car for a couple of grand on a credit card, the car yard registers it under my current identity, I drive it around for a couple of weeks, then sell it for five hundred bucks cash in hand. Easy as. Until it wasn’t.
*****
Meanwhile, back at the station …
Robin Walters had been a policeman now for a grand total of one month and one week. His current responsibilities include checking emails and notifications, answering the phone, taking his turn on the front desk. His hand trembled now as he looked at the details on the printout. He was either about to catapult his career, or make an enormous fool of himself. What if this was a practical joke? Report it and suffer the humiliation, or don’t report it and … He didn’t want to think about the consequences of not reporting this turn of events if it was for real. His stomach churned with indecision.
He finally made up his mind and knocked on the boss’s door.
“Sir … Jefferson Jeffries just bought a car.”
Jefferson Arnold Jeffries. 38 years old. A very bad man. Rapist, murderer. Main income derived from armed holdups. Also wanted for shooting and killing an off-duty police officer who tried to stop one of his hold up attempts. Well, not just an attempt. Jeffries stayed long enough to grab a hundred bucks out of the drawer and a can of Coke. He had to boot the cashier’s body out of the way before he could open the fridge door. All captured on security camera. A dozen people identified him, but Jeffries, for all his sins, had also neglected to update his address for a very long time. No surprise, really. Now his face was in every police station in every state. The first face in a long line of most-wanted faces.
And now Jefferson Jeffries had bought a car.
They had the vehicle’s make, model, colour, year, and best of all … licence plate. It was only a matter of time.
And now here he sits awaiting trial. Australia’s most wanted, most dangerous fugitive.
Claiming he was some guy called Peter Gifford.
I don’t think so.
The Wrong Man(Hazel Dow)
My name is Peter Gifford. My real name, that is. I have a few others that I have … borrowed from time to time. I’m not a nice person, but I don’t deserve this.
You know me. I’m the tradie sitting at the table in the corner of your local watering hole having a couple of brews after work. Mud on my boots, dust in my hair, red-faced where I’ve caught the sun. I’m pretty ordinary looking. Not handsome, but I don’t have any trouble getting laid. Quantity over quality, though, if you know what I mean.
Life’s good. Well, was good. I didn’t really need to work, not with the money I was making with my "other" career. But it provided useful cover. A kind of disguise, I guess. My real job, my “paying” job, as you’ve probably guessed, was stealing people’s identities.
The best plans are simple ones. My plan was simple, strong and foolproof. Well, nearly foolproof, anyway. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.
Like I said, I’m pretty ordinary looking. There are a thousand men out there who look just like me. A million! I’ve played this game for a long time, and I’ve never had a problem finding a target.
What I do, see, is look for someone who looks like me. Like I said, not too hard. I wait for a while, wait for him to get a bit … happy, careless. Then I wait until after he’s shouted his round. Patience, that’s the key.
Those guys who make jeans? They do a lousy job with back pockets. Have a look around sometime, see how many wallets are sticking out of men’s back pockets. Only an inch or two, sometimes, but that’s all I need.
Brush past, hook the wallet out of the target’s pocket, then straight to the bathroom. Take a photo of his credit cards front and back, swap his driver’s licence with my current identity’s licence, then wander back. Hand him back his wallet, here mate you musta dropped this. Yeah, cheers mate. Thanks very much.
Too easy? You bet, but think about it. When was the last time you pulled out your licence? How closely do you even look at it? By the time this guy realises it’s not his licence, I’ve moved on. He most likely won’t even connect it with the good samaritan who returned his dropped wallet weeks or even months ago.
Oh man, the things you can do with a licence and a credit card number. I buy stuff I don’t want, book flights that I don’t go on. Just for the pleasure of spending. It’s better if you apply for another credit card under your new persona, though. That way, you don’t have to worry about the real person checking their balance on a credit card that they don’t know they have.
Of course, one of the first things you need to do with your new identity is rent a post office box. I rotate between about half a dozen post offices. You go in during the busy times to pick up your parcels, don’t be too friendly or cause any problems. They will not remember you six months down the track when you turn up under another name. Trust me on that.
And learn from my mistake. Don’t get too greedy. Just be happy with buying what you want and reselling stuff you don’t want so you’ve got some legit money to spend. Me? I wasn’t happy with that. I figured I could buy a car for a couple of grand on a credit card, the car yard registers it under my current identity, I drive it around for a couple of weeks, then sell it for five hundred bucks cash in hand. Easy as. Until it wasn’t.
*****
Meanwhile, back at the station …
Robin Walters had been a policeman now for a grand total of one month and one week. His current responsibilities include checking emails and notifications, answering the phone, taking his turn on the front desk. His hand trembled now as he looked at the details on the printout. He was either about to catapult his career, or make an enormous fool of himself. What if this was a practical joke? Report it and suffer the humiliation, or don’t report it and … He didn’t want to think about the consequences of not reporting this turn of events if it was for real. His stomach churned with indecision.
He finally made up his mind and knocked on the boss’s door.
“Sir … Jefferson Jeffries just bought a car.”
Jefferson Arnold Jeffries. 38 years old. A very bad man. Rapist, murderer. Main income derived from armed holdups. Also wanted for shooting and killing an off-duty police officer who tried to stop one of his hold up attempts. Well, not just an attempt. Jeffries stayed long enough to grab a hundred bucks out of the drawer and a can of Coke. He had to boot the cashier’s body out of the way before he could open the fridge door. All captured on security camera. A dozen people identified him, but Jeffries, for all his sins, had also neglected to update his address for a very long time. No surprise, really. Now his face was in every police station in every state. The first face in a long line of most-wanted faces.
And now Jefferson Jeffries had bought a car.
They had the vehicle’s make, model, colour, year, and best of all … licence plate. It was only a matter of time.
And now here he sits awaiting trial. Australia’s most wanted, most dangerous fugitive.
Claiming he was some guy called Peter Gifford.
I don’t think so.
- Share this story on
- 7
Barry Doughty
09/11/2018I Like your style of writing Hazel, and I liked the idea of the twist. I think you could make more of your story though, maybe give your characters a bigger build up, like, make your reader dislike your culprit more, before he gets his comeuppance, and make your twist more of a surprise.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Hazel Dow
09/21/2018Thanks Barry. I do like you're idea, and will definitely keep that in mind in future. I try to write longer stories, but they kinda keep writing themselves. I like to have a character build so readers are invested one way or another. Thanks for the feedback, it's hard to know sometimes if you've hit the mark, so comments from people like you are absolutely invaluable in helping me develop. Cheers, Hazel
Help Us Understand What's Happening
JD
09/10/2018I love poetic justice, and so I really enjoyed the predicament your pick-pocket identity thief got himself into. I only hope the original slime bag got his just desserts as well! Thanks for another great short story, Hazel! : )
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Hazel Dow
09/21/2018Ha! I didn't even consider the original slimebag being caught lol :-D I am definitely a horrible human being!!
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
09/09/2018Well Hazel,
This was a twist I can live with. Justice with Karmic impact. Smiles, Kevin
COMMENTS (3)