The Secret Life of Haans Gerhardt

Untitled Part 8

Chapter 9

Haans Gerhardt was sitting at the breakfast nook in the kitchen of his plantation home. His wife, Susan, had brought him a cup of coffee, a pumpkin streusel, and the morning newspaper. The Hillside Robbery had made the front page. As he read the account of the previous day's events, he calmly took a sip of his coffee. Those idiots! he thought as he bit into the pumpkin streusel, still warm from the oven.

It was wrong. It was all wrong. No one was supposed to be hurt. No one was supposed to die. But now, with a cop's wife dead, the business was sure to tank. He had also lost one of his best people. It couldn't get any worse for the business. Those two good- for- nothing punks would have to pay!

Susan saw the look of anger that had crept into Haans' eyes. 

"Honey Bear, what's wrong?" she asked, settling into the chair beside him and laying a concerned hand on his knee. 

He looked up from the paper and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek.

 "Nothing, Meine Schatzie." he said, using the pet name for her when they had met in high school. 

He'd been the foreign exchange student whom her neighbors, the Williamsons, had sponsored.

She turned her head as he leaned over, and his kiss landed lightly on her soft lips. As they parted, she spoke. 

"You just look so angry about something. Is everything ok at the office?" asked Susan. 

Haans sighed, then replied, "It's not the office, my dear. It's this." 

As he spoke, he slid the paper over to her. As she read the story, she gasped, then threw a hand to her mouth in surprise. As she finished reading the account, she began to sob.

Susan had immediately recognized the photos of Tommy and Helen Douglas. 

"Oh, poor Steven." she finally whispered. 

Susan decided that later that day, she would go to the hospital to see how Tommy was doing. The poor dear would be devastated to learn of his mother's death. Helen had been the Tornadoes' most dedicated team mom, too. When Johann needed a ride to a game, Helen was there. When Jaime had broken his leg on the field while sliding into third base, it was Helen who had ridden to the hospital with him, and sat with him until Haans and Susan could be there.

Susan was saddened to learn of her friend's passing. And all for a few dollars in the coffee shoppe cash register! Who could be that desperate? She thought. As if reading his wife's thoughts on her face, Haans spoke softly.

 "How could anyone do such a thing?" 

Then, he wrapped his arms around her and held her as she cried for Helen.

After breakfast, Haans got into his new white Dodge Charger and began his morning commute to the Daimler- Chrysler office building. On the way, he called his team. 

"Get me all the information you can on the Hillside Coffee Shoppe robbery." he told the person on the line. 

"Of course, Sir." replied a thin, airy female voice. 

Haans hung up the phone. He would find out what went wrong, and why, and he would require a larger cut of the money for the trouble this would cause for the business. Still angry about the botched robbery, Haans walked into his office building with a scowl on his face. 

"Hey, Boss!" called one of the office guys from the water cooler. 

Haans waved, and, without a word, walked into his office, slamming the door behind him.