Who Stole the Tarts?

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Alice, like Quinz' had said, replaced the previous receptionist. She now understood why the old receptionist was playing on her phone, it was a boring job. Day number three and Alice had not had more than seven customers (and the ones she did were madder than a hatter).

But like most things in the city everything is always in motion and boredom soon turned to...

"IT'S GONE!!"

"What's gone?"

"Who's gone?"

"Where's gone?"

A thundering bull, the 'Queen' charged through the crowd in the break room. People parted (most involuntarily) like a gaggle of geese before a hungry fox.

"MY PRIZE CROQUET RACKET IS GONE!"

"Maybe it went shopping?"

"Maybe it went on vacation?"

"MAYBE IT'S BEEN STOLEN!"

'Who would be dumb enough to steal something from Quinz'?' thought Alice. 'Someone with a death wish is who'.

"YOU!" All eyes turned to Alice, a red faced Quinz' locked eyes with her soon to be victim.

"Me?"

"It's the only explanation! You're new here, YOU DID IT!"

"I really don't think that's how it works..."

"Well it's how it works here!"  Alice didn't know how to explain herself. With no prior warning, no valid alibi (she'd actually require the specific time of the theft for that), and no realistic reason for why she was being framed, Alice was, in everyone's eyes, the culprit. Especially Quinz's.

"Found it Sweetie!" Mr Hearts had finally made his appearance and in his possession, he had Quinz's croquet rachet. "It was getting its weekly wax."     

"Well. Good! Alice why are you standing there like a wide mouthed frog?! Get back to work!"

Alice was at a cross road. Should she embrace the madness of the city or return to the sanity of her home town?

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