Runner-up 3

Genie’s heart was pounding as she pushed Falco’s front door buzzer the second time. “He’s not going to let us in!” she hissed.

“No, but he’ll let YOU in. Shut up, smile at the security camera and quit looking over here! I mean it!” snarled Ernesto. He was hiding in the bushes to the side of the entry courtyard, with the Beretta trained on Genie.

Suddenly Ernesto saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Two big men in cheap suits walking down the sidewalk in front of the house next door. They were trying to look casual but they were watching Genie. And also looking at the bushes where Ernesto was hiding, so they had seen him. Damn, he’d been so intent on getting the gun from Genie, he hadn’t noticed that they were being followed. Or were these goons there already? Ernesto tried to replay the last few minutes in his mind. He had noticed a black BMW a block or so away, but that hadn’t seemed unusual in this neighborhood. Lots of people in Beverly Hills had private security. Plus, there were always paparazzi hanging around the area, hoping for a big break.

But Ernesto was sure they had seen him, and his gun. If they did work for Palmieri, they would be looking for the flash drive, and Ernesto had to make sure they didn’t find it. He was planning to take that to Palmieri himself. He needed to ditch the drive someplace safe, and fast. As he continued to hold the gun on Genie, he slowly backed along the front of the house, trying to stay hidden in the shrubbery.

Evelyn Falco watched silently from behind her curtain of rosebushes. She was accustomed to watching the neighbors this way, shrouded in foliage and wearing her queen-sized green floral gardening apron and hat. Her neighbors were famous young Hollywood people and often partied in the backyard with other actors and actresses. Evelyn had even seen them sunbathe nude a few times (oh, wouldn’t the tabloids kill for a picture of that)! But an armed man with a reality-TV actress for a hostage was much more interesting than anything she had seen in the neighbors’ yard.

Her husband must be into something really nasty this time, she thought with a smile. She had known he would self-destruct eventually, and she just wanted her freedom and her share before he blew it all on women, drugs and gambling. He had opened several brokerage accounts in her name, and all of a sudden there was a lot of money in those accounts. Money that hadn’t been there last year. She didn’t have any idea where the money had come from, and she didn’t care. She just knew that it was time to plot her exit.

Once she was sure the man had returned to the front door area, she laid down her garden hose and turned off the water. Then, slowly and silently, she walked to one of her big azalea flowerpots next to the front fence. From just under the top layer of dirt, she pulled out a flash drive. It looked like the ones she used for family pictures and vacation videos. She removed her canvas garden gloves and slipped the drive into her bra -- the last place my husband will look, she laughed to herself. Then, Evelyn Falco went to the far back wall of the garden, opened the back gate, silently closed it behind her and started walking. She could almost see the headlines now. She loved headlines.

Nancy Keegan is a retired investment banker who says she finally has time to write. She hopes to have something published so “then maybe I would be comfortable calling myself a writer.”