She was a child drawn to the shine of bright things like the candlesticks in church. Or a silver cup left over from before her mother couldn’t work anymore. Looking out from her window in the projects, Doris thought she’d like to scoop up all the stars in the sky, which is when she decided to become a jewel thief.
She practiced by filching rhinestone rings inside the Five&Dime, easy enough to slip one on her finger, then turn it toward the inside of her palm. The trick was not to rush, not to seem like she was in a hurry, guilty of some petty crime like shoplifting. Either that or to appear bored as though any item was beyond her refinement. She gathered a collection of red and blue glass rings, and shared them with friends at school. Everyone wanted to sit with her in the cafeteria. No one believed that a girl in braids with a neatly folded collar and a smile on her face would dare what she did, not Doris, not a little black girl. And she never told anyone, especially not her mother.
By the time she’d graduated from high school, Doris had a locked box filled with diamond bracelets and earrings; she plied her trade at luxury malls dressed in second-hand designer shoes and handbags, her hair neatly rolled into a bun. After her mother died, she was able to support herself.
Throughout the course of her career, she stole at least two million dollars in fine jewelry, traveling from Paris, Monaco, and Tokyo with an occasional stop in Palm Springs.
Salespeople were particularly easy to roll over; they would not question her ability to pay. Why would they? It would be insensitive to insult a woman who was so impeccably dressed and who spoke so well. She was always prepared with a backstory, a different one for each occasion. Doris was inventive. On some days she was originally from Jamaica where her family owned a highly productive sweet potato farm, on others, her husband was an international business realtor.
“Oh, I just dropped that earring on the floor. It must’ve rolled beneath the counter.” Feigning distress at her own clumsiness, she slipped a pair of 24-caret diamonds into her purse as a nice young man got on his hands and knees and tried to find the jewels.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’ll help you to look.”
He was terrified. “No, madam, that won’t be necessary.” He had been trained never to allow customers to wrangle their way behind any display counter even though the company was heavily insured.
By now, Doris was a woman in her eighties. She had pursued her American dream to the tune of several new houses and a lifetime of travel. She always walked out of any courtroom, the same way she had walked out of the 5&Dime when she first was learning her trade.
The judge asked why a woman of her age stole jewelry. Didn’t she have grandchildren to keep her busy? She nodded her head and flashed a smile that shone as brightly as the stars in the sky.