The Jersey Bounce

The woman entered a stall, taking care to avoid looking into the eyes of the attendant in the brown uniform. Myra knew intuitively that this was a sign of someone who would not leave a tip. She had done it herself sometimes in the old days. These people also declined to wash their hands to evade any sense of obligation forced on them by an attendant with a handful of paper towels. The idea made Myra feel better, considering what she was about to do.

The woman uttered a soft oath when she discovered the taped lock. Soon, Myra heard the familiar sounds of bladder relief. She stepped to the door, pulled it open and punched the surprised woman sharply in the eye. Crying out as she began to topple, the woman extended her arms to support herself on the stall sides. Myra hit her again, swinging from the waist as her hips pivoted to transfer leverage from her legs to her upper body. The powerful blow caught the woman at the temple, and she collapsed insensibly between the commode and the wall. Myra ripped the tape from the keeper, twisted the knob and locked the door shut. In cramped quarters, she dislodged the woman, pulling her free by her feet. Then she taped the woman's mouth shut, adding a second strip for insurance, which also covered the nose. She turned the unconscious body, taped the hands together behind the back, and the legs together at the knees and ankles. Then she dumped the woman's handbag, snatched a wallet as soon as it hit the floor. A handgun tumbled out. Myra picked it up and collected all the loose cash. She saw that there were several hundreds among the bills. She shinnied the wedding ring from the woman's finger, but left the other rings. She thought twice about the necklace, deciding finally to leave it.

First opening the door a crack and peering around to be certain the lavatory was still empty, Myra ran out, grabbed the paper carrier that held her belongings and hurried back into the stall. She tore the hairnet off, untied her apron, slipped out of the uniform and changed back into her street clothes. Finally, she pulled the latex gloves from her sweating hands. She dumped the wallet, gun and cash into the bag, then shoved the maid's apparel on top of them. She forced the wedding ring onto the third finger of her left hand.

Outside, the upper lobby was beginning to fill, and as Myra started for the down escalator, she had to step aside for a woman who was hustling toward the ladies' lounge. On the boardwalk again, she saw that dusk was falling. The evening was balmy and warmth filled her. She strolled unhurriedly down the long ramp to Pacific Avenue where she hailed a cab.