Tinman had been waiting for a week, and it was driving him crazy. At times like this, even pool wasn’t enough to distract him. The only thing that worked was cooking. So that’s what he was doing.
He and Peach had done all the groundwork for their latest upcoming heist, and there was nothing left to do but wait for the safe to be delivered. Tinman had come up with the angle when watching late-night TV. An advertisement came on from Capital Golden Home Storage Investments. It was geared toward people who wanted to own gold, but unlike most dealers where the purchaser never actually possesses the gold, this company provided real bullion and a home safe with a minimum purchase of $10,000.
Catfish was recruited to locate a mark, and after hanging around the kind of watering holes that attracted well-to-do businessmen, he roped in a likely candidate. Over drinks, the two got to talking about investments, and Catfish, the consummate conman, played the part of a man who didn’t trust the markets with his money. He told the mark about this Capital Gold deal, and soon the sucker was hooked. Catfish gave him the contact information, and the two parted ways, with the mark promising to return to the bar the next day to tell Catfish how it all went.
The next day, the man told Catfish he had jumped on the deal, and the safe and gold were on their way. The plan was put into motion. Tek, the computer whiz of the Posse, located the man’s house through tax records. He also found that the chump was a divorcee and lived alone.
Peach and Tinman began regular casing. When the safe was delivered, it would be their cue to move in. Yesterday, during Peach’s shift, the safe had been dropped off and a handyman had shown up to install it.
The company foolishly listed the type of safe it was, and Peach had already found the specs and manual online. It turned out the company did provide real gold, but they skimped on the safe, and Peach assured Tinman he could open it blindfolded, likewise with the house locks and security system.
Now, it was just a matter of waiting for the mark to leave. Tinman’s shift had started at five this morning, and he’d been relieved by Peach at three in the afternoon. It was a Saturday, and the man hadn’t budged.
Probably playing with his new gold, Tinman mused.
Ever since he’d arrived back at his little apartment, he’d been edgy and bored. Finally, around six, he started cooking. He stayed in his black heisting outfit to be ready if the deal went down that night.
He had a large repertoire of meals he could produce, and given the particular circumstances, he chose one that took a long time to make. He didn’t want to do something quick and easy and finish too soon. Then all there would be to do is wait some more. Of course, though the dish took a while to prepare, it came with benefits. He would be set with leftovers for some time to come.
The preparation is what took so long. First, he had to boil five skinless chicken thighs. While they were cooking, he started a large pot of water to cook a combination of rainbow pasta and farfalle. While it was heating up, he grated a few carrots, minced some stalks of celery, and diced a large zucchini. Once the pasta water started boiling, he added four cups of rainbow pasta and five cups of farfalle. While it cooked to al dente, he chopped a large onion into fine pieces and minced half a serrano pepper.
By the time he finished, the chicken was done. He drained it, rinsed it with cold water, and stripped it from the bones. Then, he chopped the meat into medium pieces. Next, he drained the pasta and rinsed it with cold water.
In a large wok, he heated some olive oil and added the onions, serrano and dried Italian seasoning. A few minutes later, in went the carrots, celery, and zucchini. After stir-frying for a couple of minutes, he added a small amount of water to begin the process of leaching the moisture from the vegetables. He covered the wok and stirred occasionally.
For the topping of the casserole, he sliced two roma tomatoes and five cremini mushrooms into thin slices. Finally, he crumbled up a couple heels of 13 grain bread, and sliced some Swiss cheese.
The vegetable combination was now tender and cooking in its own broth. He added the chicken, mixed it in well, then added a can of cream of mushroom soup. Once everything was well combined, he added just a bit more water, but not too much. He found if he added too much, the leftovers were runny when reheated. He wanted it thick but not rigid.
When he was content with the consistency, he added handfuls of pasta to the mix, and stirred. Once the pasta was one with the mixture, he ladled the concoction into a large casserole dish.
To top it off, he sprinkled on the crumbled bread and layered the mushrooms and tomatoes over the surface. Lastly, he sprinkled a little parmesan cheese over the top. He would add the Swiss cheese slices during the last few minutes of cooking after he had removed the tin foil.
Now he had a decision to make. He could either cover it with some foil and stick it in the refrigerator for later baking, or pull the string now. With the oven set at 425, it would take over an hour to fully cook. The question was, would he have the time, or would Peach show up and say the heist was on.
He closed his eyes and tried to sniff out what the future might bring. But he was no seer, and the only thing he smelled was the casserole screaming to be cooked. So he turned the oven on and waited fifteen minutes for it to preheat.
When the little red light went out, he tented the casserole with tinfoil, poked a few vent holes, and slid it in on the middle rack. He was contented and decided to wait out the time doing a crossword.
He was on 53 across, facing a blank, blank, L, blank, M, blank, blank, Y, with a clue reading, “A Jane to avoid?” when Peach burst through the door.
“It’s a go! Come on! Hustle!” cried Peach. “No telling when he’ll get back!”
Tinman was stuck to his chair.
“What are you doing?!” shouted Peach. “We’ve got to roll. I’ve got Tek keeping watch. But I don’t know if the guy ran out for smokes or if he’s out partying. Why in the hell are you looking at me like that? Hey. What smells so good?”
“My casserole.”
“Nice! Haven’t had that for a long time. It’ll be a great post-heist meal. Now come on!”
“It’s in the oven.”
“Good place for it. Come on. Hut, hut.”
“You don’t understand. I have to take it out in a little over an hour, or it’ll be ruined. You know how long it takes me to prepare that.”
Peach stared at him, not quite comprehending. “So what you’re saying is, you’d rather babysit a casserole than fill your pockets with cash. Interesting life choice. Okay, see you later.”
Hearing it put that way brought Tinman to his senses. He jumped out of his seat, grabbed his black ski mask and gloves, and headed for the door. “You think we can make it back in time? I can’t stop it midway.”
“No sweat,” said Peach, airily. “Place is only ten minutes away. We’ll be back in no time. Yum. That really does smell good.”
“For now. Let’s go!”
“I should have turned the heat lower,” said Tinman, his face drooping.
“Nah. You said when you cook it in lower heat, it takes forever for the center to get cooked, and, by then, the rest turns to mush.”
“Better than turning into ashes,” said Tinman, ruefully.
Up to a point, everything had gone according to plan. They had parked Peach’s car half a mile away from the house and Tek had shuttled them back to the target. He would function as the getaway driver.
The mark had not returned so Peach breezed through the locks and security system, and five minutes after gaining access to the house, they located the safe. True to his word, Peach barely broke a sweat opening it, and they found the stash of gold ingots, approximately worth the promised $10,000 (commodity markets are so fickle).
They were at the side door preparing to leave when they heard the sirens. Within minutes, the quiet street filled with police cars and utility trucks. Men in orange vests were milling around, and a crew of workers were digging up a section of the road.
“Must be a gas leak,” said Peach.
“And we’re trapped,” said Tinman.
“Looks like Tek bolted.”
“They probably made him go. Or he took off the minute he saw the black and whites.”
“That’s how we trained him.”
“Sure, but now what?”
They watched the men in orange vests fan out and begin knocking on doors. The people who answered were obviously told to evacuate, many of them running out of their houses without bothering to get fully dressed.
One of the men headed toward the mark’s house, and Peach placed a finger to his lips. Tinman knew if he still had a chance to save his casserole, something had to be done immediately.
At the sound of the doorbell, he pulled off his ski mask and marched toward the door.
“What are you doing?!” cried Peach.
“Saving our dinner!” declared Tinman.
Peach yanked off his ski mask just as Tinman swung open the door. The man in the orange vest barely had time to open his mouth before Tinman, holding the satchel filled with the loot, waved his hand impatiently.
“We are aware of the problem. Our neighbor called to warn us. How long do you think it will be before we can return to our home?”
“Not sure, sir,” said the man. “Could be an hour, maybe more.”
“Not a problem. We’ll just stroll downtown and kill some time in the casinos. Come on, honey.”
He glanced back and saw Peach looking over his shoulder for “honey.” Then he caught on and swung around, tool bag in hand, and said in an affected voice, “Coming darling!”
He sashayed over to the door, hooked his arm around Tinman, and they hustled across the yard to the sidewalk, losing themselves among the evacuees and workers.
“What if one of the neighbors saw us coming out?” asked Peach. “They’ll think the guy’s gay, and we’re his little buddies.”
“Let ‘em talk. What do we care?”
They found Tek a few blocks away. Both of them piled into the car, and Tinman told him to hightail it back to the apartment.
When they pulled up, little wisps of smoke were seeping out of cracks around the door. Tinman swung it open, and a grey cloud enveloped him. He rushed to the oven, popped open the door, and saw a blackened mass of charbroiled casserole.
Peach looped an arm over his shoulders and said, “Look at it this way, brother, with the dough we made tonight, we can go have a four-star meal.”
“I don’t go to restaurants.”
“I know. I’m just saying if you did, then we could go out to one. We scored big. Surely, that’s got to take some of the sting away. After all, they’ll be other casseroles.”
Tinman nodded sadly and said, “Yeah. But this was one of my best batches ever.”
“So next time you’ll outdo yourself.”
“But now what do we eat?”
“Tek and I’ll run out and get some Chinese. Sound good?”
Tinman said, “No. But you go ahead. I’ll scrape something together for me.”
Peach slapped him on the back and said, “Suit yourself. Back in a jiff.”
When he was gone, Tinman plopped down in his seat and picked up his crossword. His eyes scanned to the clue he had been working on. “A Jane to avoid?” He studied the existing letters and empty blocks.
Despite his sour mood, he laughed aloud and filled in the blanks—CALAMITY.
