Subsequent Wickedness
Angie- Chicago
Circa 1925
Angie had been warned about operating in Chicago, but she was too lured by the smell of big money not to take the chance.
She was not disappointed. For the first week she found a wealth of pick able pockets and purses. Swiftly accumulating more money in that short period of time than she had garnered in the past 4 months
But she was not sly enough and before the second weekend she was visited at the dump of an apartment she was renting by two suited men. There was a price to pay for the privilege of working in Mr. D…..’s turf, and they had come to collect. She was given a choice, if it could be called that. Either she could lose a pinky, at this one of the men pulled out a rather sharp looking stiletto knife, or she could earn her dues by performing a small task.
She had chosen the “small task”
Within a couple of days she was installed as a maid in one of Mr. D……’s plush, luxury apartments. She was given precise instructions. Within two weeks; Select a loaded lady, widow or one left alone most of her nights. Angie soon discovered that they were quite a few ladies who lived in the complex that fit that classification. It took her almost the entire first week to select one. When Angie told the Apartment complexes private detective the targets name, she found that she was assigned to clean that lady’s rooms on a daily schedule.
Next Angie was to shadow the targeted lady’s movements, learn her schedule. Find out where she keeps the good stuff and compile a list of anything valuable, especially small and easily carried items. Once that task was completed, Angie was to hand the list to the apartments Dick, and then she was told to await further instructions.
So she found herself carrying out those final instructions three weeks to the night that she had been paid her visit. She had taken her cleaning cart with towels up to the chosen victim’s room around 9:00 in the evening. Following her had been the gentlemen the private detective had led to her; cool as ice, as trim as the tailored suit he was wearing. She had knocked at the targets double door. When the silken night gowned lady who lived there answered, Mr. Ice took over, clamping his hand over the startled victim’s mouth, as he produced a knife from nowhere and forced her back inside. Angie was to stand guard outside with her cart until he had finished and called her in.
It as she was doing so that the door across the hall opened and a red headed man came out. He looked quite dapper in tux and tails, clenching a telegram in his slender fist. She recognized him as a newer tenant, who along with a wife, was newly moved into the city. (actually the wife had been on her short list, missing out only when her husband had come back into the picture early from his business trip abroad)
Spying Angie he asked where the nearest telegraph office was. Just down the street she informed him, amazed at how well she was keeping her cool, with Mr. Ice robbing the rich broad just a few feet away behind the door. She also did not mention that the office was doubtlessly closed. Spying her cart, he then ordered her to bring in some extra towels to his wife.
Angie smelled opportunity, and as the red headed man disappeared down the hall , she looked at the closed double doors, liking the odds ,figuring she could risk it. Picking up the towels she knocked on the door and was admitted by a pretty little thing in a black satin robe covering a long gold night gown of luxuriously glossy liquid satin. Around her neck was hanging a gold necklace just dripping with sparkly diamonds. Seeing the towels in Angie’s hands she pointed towards a far door instructing her to take them there, several gem encrusted rings flashing from her fingers.
Angie went in and placed the towels on the wicker hamper. Angie looked at the freshly laundered long evening gown that was hanging from a hook, taking a second to feel its luxurious softness before returning. Then coming back into the room the lady thanked her, telling her to wait, she had a little something.
She turned her back to Angie(mistake! thought the “maid”) and reached down into a small purse, Angie had moved so close she could smell the ladies ‘expensive perfume. The lady stood up, backing into Angie who apologized as she accepted the nickel tip from her. Angie left, returning to the cart.
She had made it back in time. As she waited Angie fingered something in her pocket, thinking back to the apartment she had just left:
As the satin clad rich lady had been reaching for her purse, Angie had in a flash made two observations: The first was that the lady had been putting lotion on her hands and that she had removed her rings, the second was that one pocket of her satiny black robe was a little more open than its twin. She had easily dipped her fingers into the robes pocket as the rich lady had backed into her and lifted the shiny rings up and out, extracting them as carefully as any surgeon, Palming the cool rings as she accepted her stingy tip from the rich broad.
As Angie now fingered those rings her mind had gone to the wealth lady’s magnificent diamond necklace. Too bad she thinks, too bad there wasn’t a way to acquire the jewels of a woman as she wore them.
Her thoughts were interrupted as the door opened a crack, he nodded to her and she went inside with the cart as he left, causally walking down the hall, whistling. She said nothing about her little episode.
The lady was nowhere in sight, but she could hear whimpering coming from a room. On a divan was a healthy pile of jewelry, expensive purses, a few pricy looking knickknacks, as well as a couple of stunning gowns, almost as nice as the one she had stolen a feet back across the hall. She quickly loaded the items in her cart, covered them with towels, than left.
She took the service elevator, riding it to the basement. Than taking the cart out a back door, Angie entered a dark alley. A van waited, two men took the cart from her and began to load it.. Angie turned her back and walked away down the desolated alley without turning back, soon disappearing into the misty streets.
Angie vanished back up into Canada where she spent a few weeks lying low. The first item of business she did was to unload the hot rings. Spying a pretty, silvery necklace she bargained for it, still making a nice chunk of change in addition. She than revisited her childhood haunts, feeing like a real lady wearing the fancy necklace, and her purse holding a modest amount of jake. In her line of work she usually refrained from wearing anything that would attract someone’s notice.
On a whim she stopped into a fortune tellers shop. The ancient, toothless gypsy read her palms, saying a few obligatory predictions, before looking Angie in the eyes, pausing abruptly. She worked her way to her feet, just a minute dearie, I’ll be right back. She soon was back and laid an old, very well thumbed pamphlet at Angie’s fingertips. This is something I believe you can use she murmured. Angie picked it up, looking through it, her eyes growing wide as she realized its purpose. I was just, she stammered, how did you know? she asked flabbergasted. The old gypsy smiled toothlessly, not saying anything. Angie though of the diamond necklace on the lady last week, the leaflet basically laid out how she could have taken that diamond necklace on the spot.
What do I owe you; Angie finally managed to ask when she had come to grips with herself. You have already paid love, she cackled, as she opened her dirty old shawl, revealing the shiny new silvery necklace around her wrinkled throat, the same necklace Angie had been wearing when she had entered the small shop. Her hand instinctively shot up to her throat, surprised to find it totally bare, despite the evidence before her.
Angie looked once again at the small pamphlets title:
Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip : inscribed by Gaston Monescu .
And with tingles of delight, she knew, that her ship had just come into port.
**********************************************************************
Editor’s Note:
Our Thanks to Mr Gardner for pointing out the existence of Mr. Monescu’s 1826 guide
This is a link to a You Tube Video of a thief not unlike our Angie.
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
*************************************************************************************
All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents
The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.
No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.
These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment only, and should never be attempted in real life.
We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.
Angie- Chicago
Circa 1925
Angie had been warned about operating in Chicago, but she was too lured by the smell of big money not to take the chance.
She was not disappointed. For the first week she found a wealth of pick able pockets and purses. Swiftly accumulating more money in that short period of time than she had garnered in the past 4 months
But she was not sly enough and before the second weekend she was visited at the dump of an apartment she was renting by two suited men. There was a price to pay for the privilege of working in Mr. D…..’s turf, and they had come to collect. She was given a choice, if it could be called that. Either she could lose a pinky, at this one of the men pulled out a rather sharp looking stiletto knife, or she could earn her dues by performing a small task.
She had chosen the “small task”
Within a couple of days she was installed as a maid in one of Mr. D……’s plush, luxury apartments. She was given precise instructions. Within two weeks; Select a loaded lady, widow or one left alone most of her nights. Angie soon discovered that they were quite a few ladies who lived in the complex that fit that classification. It took her almost the entire first week to select one. When Angie told the Apartment complexes private detective the targets name, she found that she was assigned to clean that lady’s rooms on a daily schedule.
Next Angie was to shadow the targeted lady’s movements, learn her schedule. Find out where she keeps the good stuff and compile a list of anything valuable, especially small and easily carried items. Once that task was completed, Angie was to hand the list to the apartments Dick, and then she was told to await further instructions.
So she found herself carrying out those final instructions three weeks to the night that she had been paid her visit. She had taken her cleaning cart with towels up to the chosen victim’s room around 9:00 in the evening. Following her had been the gentlemen the private detective had led to her; cool as ice, as trim as the tailored suit he was wearing. She had knocked at the targets double door. When the silken night gowned lady who lived there answered, Mr. Ice took over, clamping his hand over the startled victim’s mouth, as he produced a knife from nowhere and forced her back inside. Angie was to stand guard outside with her cart until he had finished and called her in.
It as she was doing so that the door across the hall opened and a red headed man came out. He looked quite dapper in tux and tails, clenching a telegram in his slender fist. She recognized him as a newer tenant, who along with a wife, was newly moved into the city. (actually the wife had been on her short list, missing out only when her husband had come back into the picture early from his business trip abroad)
Spying Angie he asked where the nearest telegraph office was. Just down the street she informed him, amazed at how well she was keeping her cool, with Mr. Ice robbing the rich broad just a few feet away behind the door. She also did not mention that the office was doubtlessly closed. Spying her cart, he then ordered her to bring in some extra towels to his wife.
Angie smelled opportunity, and as the red headed man disappeared down the hall , she looked at the closed double doors, liking the odds ,figuring she could risk it. Picking up the towels she knocked on the door and was admitted by a pretty little thing in a black satin robe covering a long gold night gown of luxuriously glossy liquid satin. Around her neck was hanging a gold necklace just dripping with sparkly diamonds. Seeing the towels in Angie’s hands she pointed towards a far door instructing her to take them there, several gem encrusted rings flashing from her fingers.
Angie went in and placed the towels on the wicker hamper. Angie looked at the freshly laundered long evening gown that was hanging from a hook, taking a second to feel its luxurious softness before returning. Then coming back into the room the lady thanked her, telling her to wait, she had a little something.
She turned her back to Angie(mistake! thought the “maid”) and reached down into a small purse, Angie had moved so close she could smell the ladies ‘expensive perfume. The lady stood up, backing into Angie who apologized as she accepted the nickel tip from her. Angie left, returning to the cart.
She had made it back in time. As she waited Angie fingered something in her pocket, thinking back to the apartment she had just left:
As the satin clad rich lady had been reaching for her purse, Angie had in a flash made two observations: The first was that the lady had been putting lotion on her hands and that she had removed her rings, the second was that one pocket of her satiny black robe was a little more open than its twin. She had easily dipped her fingers into the robes pocket as the rich lady had backed into her and lifted the shiny rings up and out, extracting them as carefully as any surgeon, Palming the cool rings as she accepted her stingy tip from the rich broad.
As Angie now fingered those rings her mind had gone to the wealth lady’s magnificent diamond necklace. Too bad she thinks, too bad there wasn’t a way to acquire the jewels of a woman as she wore them.
Her thoughts were interrupted as the door opened a crack, he nodded to her and she went inside with the cart as he left, causally walking down the hall, whistling. She said nothing about her little episode.
The lady was nowhere in sight, but she could hear whimpering coming from a room. On a divan was a healthy pile of jewelry, expensive purses, a few pricy looking knickknacks, as well as a couple of stunning gowns, almost as nice as the one she had stolen a feet back across the hall. She quickly loaded the items in her cart, covered them with towels, than left.
She took the service elevator, riding it to the basement. Than taking the cart out a back door, Angie entered a dark alley. A van waited, two men took the cart from her and began to load it.. Angie turned her back and walked away down the desolated alley without turning back, soon disappearing into the misty streets.
Angie vanished back up into Canada where she spent a few weeks lying low. The first item of business she did was to unload the hot rings. Spying a pretty, silvery necklace she bargained for it, still making a nice chunk of change in addition. She than revisited her childhood haunts, feeing like a real lady wearing the fancy necklace, and her purse holding a modest amount of jake. In her line of work she usually refrained from wearing anything that would attract someone’s notice.
On a whim she stopped into a fortune tellers shop. The ancient, toothless gypsy read her palms, saying a few obligatory predictions, before looking Angie in the eyes, pausing abruptly. She worked her way to her feet, just a minute dearie, I’ll be right back. She soon was back and laid an old, very well thumbed pamphlet at Angie’s fingertips. This is something I believe you can use she murmured. Angie picked it up, looking through it, her eyes growing wide as she realized its purpose. I was just, she stammered, how did you know? she asked flabbergasted. The old gypsy smiled toothlessly, not saying anything. Angie though of the diamond necklace on the lady last week, the leaflet basically laid out how she could have taken that diamond necklace on the spot.
What do I owe you; Angie finally managed to ask when she had come to grips with herself. You have already paid love, she cackled, as she opened her dirty old shawl, revealing the shiny new silvery necklace around her wrinkled throat, the same necklace Angie had been wearing when she had entered the small shop. Her hand instinctively shot up to her throat, surprised to find it totally bare, despite the evidence before her.
Angie looked once again at the small pamphlets title:
Cutpurse: skilles, artes and Secretes of the Dip : inscribed by Gaston Monescu .
And with tingles of delight, she knew, that her ship had just come into port.
**********************************************************************
Editor’s Note:
Our Thanks to Mr Gardner for pointing out the existence of Mr. Monescu’s 1826 guide
This is a link to a You Tube Video of a thief not unlike our Angie.
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
*************************************************************************************
All rights and copyrights observed by Chatwick University, Its contributors, associates and Agents
The purpose of these chronological photos and accompanying stories, articles is to educate, teach, instruct, and generally increase the awareness level of the general public as to the nature and intent of the underlying criminal elements that have historically plagued humankind.
No Part of this can reprinted, duplicated, or copied be without the express written permission and approval of Chatwick University.
These photos and stories are works of fiction. Any resemblance to people, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.
As with any work of fiction or fantasy the purpose is for entertainment only, and should never be attempted in real life.
We accept no responsibility for any events occurring outside this website.