It was just luck that let me find the handbag. You can determine what sort of luck it was. I was rifling through my purse while strolling through the park, hoping to find an extra couple of dollars in there, even though I knew there weren't any. Then a gust of wind blew my last solitary note out of my purse and into the bushes.
I had no choice. It was all I had. I scrambled into the bushes after it, cursing the spiky things as I pushed the branches away. I'd just snagged my errant note when I noticed the handbag. What would you expect me to do? I snagged that as well.
I naturally assumed that it would be empty. A bag like that, thrown into the bushes? Some purse-snatcher getting rid of the evidence was my assumption, but it was a nice bag anyway.
There was a pleasant surprise when I opened the bag. It contained purse, phone and an iPod plus all the standard things in a ladies handbag. And the purse contained nearly five hundred dollars and a couple of credit cards and a driver's license.
I looked at that license and it seemed to me that the picture could easily be a bad shot of me. On the spot I decided that I was Marie Henderson for the immediate future.
I had a ball for the next few days. The credit cards were those new ones that you just wave over the EFTPOS machines and they accept it, as long as you don't go too high. On the second day I had another stroke of luck.
I was snooping through the phone, looking at the various contacts to see if we had any mutual acquaintances and I came across an entry Carol Card and instead of a phone number it had two four digit numbers. The real Marie couldn't be that stupid, I thought, but I tried them out at an ATM and in turned out she could.
Over the next few days I managed to extract a nice little sum, wandering around the town and taking money and goods from here and there. I kept expecting the cards to be cancelled, but it didn't happen.
I didn't want to push my luck so I decided that I'd better dump the cards and things and go back to being me. But. And it was a big but. I saw this dress, and I really wanted it and the cards still seemed to be good, so I went into the shop and bought it in what was going to be my last purchase.
For some reason the stupid salesgirl was taking ages to process things and I was starting to get suspicious and wondering if I should take a hike. Before I could a hand closed over my arm.
"Marie Henderson, I believe?" said this voice.
It was quite a voice, too. If rocks could talk they'd sound like this character, And I don't mean little rocks. I mean great big slabs of granite, which is something else this man resembled. I decided to bluff it out.
"Yes," I said. "Can I help you?"
"Didn't think you'd make it this easy for us to find you," he rumbled. "You'd better come along quietly. A lot easier for everyone."
"I don't know what you mean," I protested. "I don't know who you think I am, but I think you've made a mistake."
The great ape took this photo out of his pocket and looked at it and looked at me.
"Looks like you," he said.
Then the arrogant sod snatched my purse and fished out the driver's license. He looked at the license, compared it to the card, looked at me and smirked.
"Yep!" he snapped. "Marie Henderson in the flesh. And quite lovely flesh it is, too. Come along, now, and quietly."
Next thing I knew I was being hauled out of the shop. I was too worried to protest too much, but I was quite vocal about it all. The man monster just dragged me over to this car and pushed me into the back seat and got in next to me.
"OK. It's her. Let's go," he told the driver and the car took off.
"I assume that I'm under arrest?" I said in a very small voice. As you can imagine I really wasn't very happy. I was about to become even unhappier.
My friendly thug just laughed.
"Don't you wish the cops had found you first," he said. "The boss wants a few words with you."
Boss? What boss?
"Um. I think you might have made a mistake," I told him. "I'm not really Marie. I just found her purse and have been using her stuff. I know I shouldn't have and I will pay it all back. Honest."
More laughter. Even the driver was laughing at that one.
Why is it that when you want a cop there's never one around. The driver was speeding all the way to where we were going and I know he went through a red light. And does he get pulled over? Pardon me while I laugh.
Eventually we finished up at this factory on the outskirts of town and the car pulled into a garage there. Thug One, as distinct from the driver, who I'll call Thug Two, hauled me out of the car and the car took off again.
"He's gone for the boss," Thug One said. "You might as well make yourself comfortable."
He dragged me into the factory and over to a room to one side. (Figuratively, he dragged me, not literally. I actually walked. Reluctantly, but I walked.)
Once in the room he pushed me down onto this couch and produced some handcuffs and fastened me to the couch. Then he turned on the TV and sat back to watch a football game. I asked if we could watch something decent and he pointed out the game was on. What more could I want?
About half an hour later I heard the car arrive and Thug One turned off the TV.
"Company," he said, and went to get them.
He came back with Thug Two and a dapper little man who I assumed was the Boss. He took one look at me and scowled.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.
