NYC Crime Caper - Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead

“This is our chance lads, don't you see? If we put on this play its a win win: we get time off porridge and more importantly we get even with Mr High-and-Mighty, the Mayor himself.  There’s not a one of us who hasn't had it worse for him sticking his nose in. I’ve  dreamed of giving him his comeuppance, shoving that greasy pole where the sun don’t shine, and now we’ve got the chance. And if we play our cards right we may see the back of this place for good.”

“I don’t know Harry, he was the one who identified me.  He’ll recognise me won't he?”

“Nah, you’re not so pretty anymore, Trent, not with your broken nose. Christ, he worked with me on the trading floor for three years and I doubt he’d know me. I had hair then. No, you’ve got nothing to worry about. He’s so up himself he won’t even consider he could have anything in common with the likes of us. Vinny, Carlos, you in?”

“After that farcical porn charge, you bet. The Bastard’s had it coming for years. Just surprised no one’s beaten us to it. But I’m not much for acting,mate.

“Jeez, Vinny, we’re not actually going to put on a production!  It just needs to look like we are. I was thinking about it and I reckon I’ve cracked it.  ‘Wizard of Oz’, that’s our game.  The witch gets flattened under ‘Dorothy’s’ house, right at the start, remember? If we can convince the Wanker-Banker to take the part of the ‘Wicked Witch’ we can rig a prop house to fall on him, put a couple of concrete breeze-blocks in their for good measure,” he cackled warming to the idea. “Can’t you just see it? Such a tragedy! And then we’re rid of the bastard for good.” It had to be said the plan had merit. The lads stood around, smiling at their toes, imagining the satisfaction of pulling this off. It would make doing the time a whole lot sweeter.

“But it gets better,” continued Harry, ”Carlos, you said your cousin was a long distant trucker? I reckon if we use my old motorhome as a dressing room, after we’ve flattened Benson we can get away, leave the country. We could drive it onto the back of his truck and hightail it to Spain. We’d be living the highlife come summer. You can’t beat life on the Costa-del-villainy. Sun, sand and a señorita in your lap, eh boys? Bob, what do you say?”

“You know me Harry, anything to get me out of here.”

“Good, then it’s settled. I’ll get an appointment with the Chief and get him on board. I wasn’t born with the gift of the gab for nothing.”

The meeting with the chief, an enthusiastic fellow named Officer Crawford, all went according to plan and a week later he personally escorted them to the Mayor’s office, going in ahead of them to lay the ground work. 

 The Mayor peered dubiously through the glass door of his office into the waiting area, eyeing the straggle of men gathered there.

“I know I said I was looking for volunteers from the community on this project, but I meant the tax paying element Officer. Are you sure they’ll tow the line?”

“They’re keen as mustard Sir, spurred the initiative themselves. They’re all hard workers and have impeccable behaviour records.”  he replied enthusiastically. Mr Benson arched his eyebrow.

“Ah, so you’re saying they’re trustworthy villains?”

“The finest we have Sir.” 

Mr Benson turned to look at Officer Crawford to see if he was in jest. Did he not realise this was the scum of Heathford Vale he was talking about, not the Heathford School’s scholarship students? But as Mayor and a member of the Tattersal Players he had promised Mrs Tilbury that he would personally find the funding and ensure the Theatre was fully operational in time for their production of ‘Oliver’, or his name was not Mr Bumble.

“But it isn’t” she had said confused, “your name’s Mr Benson, Mr Benson”

“Yes, Mrs Tilbury, but I shall play ‘Mr Bumble’ in the production, do you see?” he’d explained, “‘Or I’ll eat my hat!’” 

“Oh, Mr Benson, you tease!” Mrs Tilbury had smiled weakly, then looked about for a hat.

Mr Benson walked round to the far side of his desk and sat in front of the enormous press photograph of himself in full Mayoral attire, shaking hands with the Prime Minister. He adopted what he felt was an authoritative pose and glanced quickly about the room. The heavy gold chains of office along with the intricately brocaded red coat glinted smugly from a dress makers mannequin. He felt reassured by their presence and the satisfaction of superiority settled on him like a protective aura.

“Bring them in then Crawford.” Officer Crawford nodded curtly and opened the door.

“In you come lads.”Harry winked at the boys,

“We’re on. Let me do the talking.” Then they trooped in to the Mayoral Office.

“Gentlemen,” Mr Benson began generously once they were assembled, ”Officer Crawford tells me that you are willing to assist us in raising money for the theatre by staging your own production. Is this correct?”

“Yes Mr Mayor. We’ve been fortunate enough to benefit from some drama workshops run by the prison services and we welcome the opportunity to show the public what we can do.” simpered Harry

“And you are?”

“My name is Harry, Harry Matters.” He stepped forward wondering if Benson would remember him and offered his hand to shake but it was left hanging in the air between them. Harry continued unfazed, relieved. “This here is Bob…”

“Sir.”

“…Vinny,”

“Mr Mayor.”

“…Carlos and Trent.” Mr Benson looked at them in turn. He felt a slight frisson of excitement at being in the same room as so many villains. It reminded him of his time as a trader on the stock floor. Here he was, a fat cat, master of all he surveyed, living dangerously once more.

“Right gentleman, you better tell me what you have in mind.”

 “We’ve been working on ‘The Wizard of Oz’ in group, so we know most of the script and songs already. We thought that would be the best bet.”

“But you are all men. Whose going to play ‘Dorothy’?”

“Oh, Come on now Mr Mayor, this is acting. You know better than anyone that a good actor can take on any roll and make it their own. Carlos does an amazing ‘Dorothy’.”

“And what about Glinda the good, who’s going to play her?  Trent?” Mr Benson looked derisively at Trent’s hulking figure covered in Maori tattoos, his shadow filling the room.

“No!”laughed Harry, “Trent is the ‘Cowardly Lion’ and well suited to it too. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, unless he’s told to that is. Unfortunately, it turns out that’s no defence in court. Well, societies loss is our gain, hey Trent! No, I play ‘Glinda’. This here is our ‘Tin Man’,” he said patting Bob on the shoulder, “and Carlos there is ‘Scarecrow’.” he indicated. “What do you think lads, shall we show him what we’re made of? ‘Follow the Yellow brick road’ on three.” They linked arms. “One, two…” Mr Benson raised his hand.

 “That wont be necessary, thank you.” He paused for effect and then as graciously as he could manage said, “Ok, you can do your play. I have a provisional date of the fifteenth June. I presume your diaries are free?” He smirked at his own joke before recomposing himself as the figure of authority in the proceedings. “You are being offered an opportunity here Gentlemen, to make amends to your community. It is not a jolly holiday. If you let me down I will see to it personally, that your hopes for parole become a fond memory. Understood?”

“Of course Mr Mayor. 

“Do you have any questions?”

“Well, if we may be so bold, we were hoping you would consent to be the voice of the wizard?  You are a much loved member of the community and a thespian yourself I believe?.  It would be an honour to say we had performed with you.” A rather unbecoming pink rash started to seep up from the neck of Mr Benson’s shirt. Flattery was nectar to him and he was a fool for it. “Also, we thought if we could put you as top billing, say ‘The Wizard of Oz by Mr Mayor and company’ and not mention our names, it might sell more tickets?”

“That’s a good point. Of course the rest of the players will want to be the supporting chorus.” 

“That would be marvellous” Harry said, hamming it up,”although they may not want to share dressing room space with convicted felons. May I suggest a solution? My cousin Jimmy has a motorhome Sir. If he parked it at the back of the theatre, we could use that, leaving the larger space for the chorus and of course the star dressing room for you.”

Mr Benson’s vanity caught hold. He imagined his name in lights and the rapturous applause of a fine production. He spoke again, almost more to himself. “Its a shame not to have my moment in the spot light.” But Harry was ready to feed his self importance.

“Well it would be fantastic if you would come and greet people front of house. And how grand it would be if you were there in your official capacity as Mayor, in all your finery. Can you just imagine the headlines,’Rehabilitating the Nation’; the papers would have a field day. And if you wanted a role on stage maybe you could play the ‘Wicked Witch of the East’? Thats right at the beginning. And then you'll be finished.” Carlos tittered at this until Trent quickly silenced him, squashing his foot into the floor. “I mean you can enjoy the rest of the play from the auditorium.”

“I’d like that very much.” 

“Sadly due to our particular circumstances we will only be able to take leave for one rehearsal at the theatre and a single performance, Mr Mayor.  But don’t worry, we will ensure that it all runs just the way we plan it.”

“That’s settled then. I will tell the other players about the chorus and see you at the dress rehearsal. Good day.” The lad’s began to file out. “Officer Crawford, please give these men any assistance they may need. You have my authority.”

“Thank you Sir.”he said, and closed the door.

Mr Benson sat back in his chair trying to understand why the prisoners seemed to look so pleased with themselves. He was new to philanthropic acts of kindness, but allowed himself to believe it was because of his generosity. He sat there for some time, basking in the warm self righteous feelings of giving those poor buggers a chance to improve their lot, and it felt good.

For the next few weeks the lads were given special dispensation to listen to the score of The Wizard of Oz, extra time in the woodwork club for prop making and time in the hobby room to create their costumes. Every detail had to look authentic. It turned out Officer Crawford was a bit of a closet Am-Dram fan and the only fly in the ointment was that he often popped in to see how they were getting on or to join in with a chorus.

‘He’s pretty good Harry,” Vinny said one day, “we should give him a part.” 

“No Vinny,back stage has to be our turf. If we’re going to pull this off, Officer Crawford and his colleagues need to be in the auditorium. Gives us a clear run to  rifle through the Chorus’ abandoned stuff while they’re prancing about on stage.  A bit of spending money would come in handy in Spain and we can always pawn the iPhones and laptops and stuff once we’re there. We could all do with a new wardrobe too, I don’t fancy travelling in my prison gear.”

Carlos got word to his cousin Andre, who arranged an empty low-loader for June fifteenth.  

“He’s going to bring a motorhome with Spanish plates and leave it near Plymouth. He’ll put Bilbao ferry tickets and all the documents under the sun visor, then meet us at South Mimms services. We can dump your motorhome there Harry, blow off the Fuzz, and he’ll take us to the other van waiting at Plymouth. I’m just a Spaniard returning home for a visit, easy.”

“How we coming with ‘Dorothy’s House’ Trent?”

 “ Woodwork shop is ready to put it together without a floor. We’ll have to make the adjustments once we are at the theatre. A mate of mine is working round the corner and says he can get an extra palette of breeze-blocks no questions asked, all we have to do is barrow them over once the floor’s in, and haul them up into the rafters on one of the stage pulleys before they’re seen.  We can tell them it’s a one time gig and we daren’t drop it before the big night in case it breaks, do the dress rehearsal with just the trap door. Benson won’t want to risk the house being smashed for a rehearsal.”

They kept the Mayor busy during the rehearsal and everything ran like clockwork. While the whole cast were involved on stage doing a run through of ‘Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead’ and the Munchkin chorus the lads secured the floor in the house and moved the breeze-blocks into place, then hauled the whole lot up into the  rafters. They didn’t need to check the trap door in the end as Benson was happy not to have a run through. As lock up was called that night, the lads lay in their cells dreaming of sweet revenge and impending freedom. 

The performance went exactly as planned, the house fell on cue and the stage was misted with dry ice to cover the concrete dust while the chorus sang ‘Ding Dong, The Witch is Dead’. While Carlos had been playing a stunned, post-twister Dorothy, Harry, Bob, Vinny and Trent had cleared the dressing room of clothes and valuables. After rapturous applause the audience sat waiting for the next scene which never came. Mrs Tilbury and the rest of the chorus made such a commotion about the loss of their belongings, that it was hours before anybody thought to check under ‘Dorothy’s House’ by which time Mr Benson had bled quietly to death.

In a quiet Spanish mountain village, a cafe called the ‘Dulce  Venganza’ serves drinks until all hours. The owner, Carlos, wears a red brocaded coat and Harry,the barman, has a heavy gold Mayoral chain about his neck. Everyone knows better than to ask any questions, besides, the heavily tattooed doorman is enormous.