Thief Among Us

Prologue

Mr. Toufel's mornings usually started the same way every day: he would awake each morning to a freshly brewed cup of black coffee and the newest edition of Westmanor Weekly resting on his nightstand. While his maid would iron his clothes he would then take his favorite watch- a gold-plated Martinae with shiny silver hands- and would proceed outside to his balcony that overlooked Westmanor, the upper side of town. He enjoyed listening to the early morning chirps of starlings flying past and the aroma of freshly baked bread reaching up to the balcony from down below at Matthew's bakery. It was this quiet, calm peace every morning that Mr. Toufel always looked forward to, a time when he could be alone, lost in his thoughts, lost in the sounds and smells around him.

It didn't last long, though. A muffled ringing sound coming from inside his room snapped him out of his daze. Wondering who in their right mind would call anyone at seven in the morning, he shuffled back inside to answer the call, setting the watch he was about to put on down on a table.

The call came from a telemarketer, only the eighth one to call him this week. Before the man could even say what he was selling, Mr. Toufel set the phone back down on the receiver, perhaps a bit more forcefully than usual. He shuffled back outside to resume putting on his watch.

This morning was a little different though. This morning, he wouldn't be wearing his favorite watch to work. Because the Martinae wasn't on the table where he'd left it.

He could've sworn he set it down right before answering the phone. Surely it didn't just get up and walk away. He checked the chair he'd been sitting on, under the large rug beneath the table, even scanned the sky expecting to see one of those starlings flying off with it (though he wouldn't be able to do much about that). He was dumbfounded. Where did he put that watch?

Then he saw it: something out of the corner of his eye. A speck of light, a reflection down below on the street corner. It was making its way up the street. He saw that it was the Martinae. And that someone else was wearing it. For a second, it almost looked like...

"Alex Conmare!", Mr. Toufel bellowed from his balcony. "You give that watch back, that's not yours, do you hear me? I'll have the hounds called on you, boy!" He watched the young boy round a corner and disappear from his sight. He quickly shuffled back inside to call the chief of police, confident that he'd get the watch back, and that finally, after all these years, catch Alex once and for all.

A few days later, Mr. Toufel went downtown to buy a new watch.