He entered the antique shop and noticed a man sitting at the desk.

“Hello, sir. I would like to get these things appraised. It’s an old collection my grandfather gave me in his will,” Chuck said, trying not to gulp.

“Of course,” the old man responded, gesturing for Chuck to place the items on the counter.

After a while, the vendor frowned. “You said this was an inheritance. Right? Interesting,” the old man muttered, reaching beneath the desk. A loud siren bounced through the wall, making Chuck jump back in fright.

“What’s happening?” Chuck said, his hand covering his ears. He saw the doors and windows coming down in loud bangs like in movies, and his eyes flared and glared at the old man.

“Don’t try to escape. It’s futile,” the old man said calmly. “But would you like to hear why I know these items were stolen? “It was almost 38 years ago to this day…”

A well-dressed man, Arnold smiled as he entered the kitchen, greeting the staff, including Jared, who had worked for him for nine years. Arnold was a second-generation antiquarian, carrying on the legacy that made his father extremely rich.

Jared greeted his boss and told him his cook, Catherine, made him his favorite breakfast.

“Oh, also, Jared. An old friend of mine is coming to visit us today. Please prepare everything for him.”

Arnold’s friend, Edward, arrived after lunch. They hugged each other while the staff helped with his bags and prepared everything for dinner.

“My friend, I found a collection of dishes from the 18th century on the black market! The ones my father wanted.”

Edward didn’t believe him. He knew Arnold’s father and learned about the allusive collection.

“I’ll show you!” Arnold said with glee. “Oh, Jared. Head back to the kitchen and discuss tomorrow’s meal with Catherine. Edward and I will be busy, so I don’t want any disturbance.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared said, knowing his boss didn’t want him to see whatever they discussed. The servant may not know anything about antiques or the black market, but it sounded ritzy. So, instead of going to the kitchen, he dashed upstairs to his boss’s room and hid in the closet.

Jared saw his boss entering the bedroom with his guest trailing behind and noticed everything he did, from grabbing a secret key stashed beneath a tile to uncovering a large vault behind a large dresser.

“Sorry, you can’t be too careful. Even at home,” Arnold said, finally opening his safe.

“You are your father’s son,” Edward nodded, chuckling. But his laughing stopped after seeing the contents of the safe, which Jared couldn’t see. But his boss’s guest marveled and offered him almost a million dollars on the spot.

“Not for sale, my friend,” Arnold laughed. After what seemed like an entry, his boss returned everything to its place, and they both left the room. Jared came out of the closet with several thoughts and a plan in mind.

He asked to head home for the night, and his boss agreed readily.

But Jared didn’t go home. He went to the local morgue late at night in his old uniform. After a few shifts as a coroner, Jared realized he preferred to work with living people, but he learned a few things. He reached the mortuary fridge room quickly. People weren’t that worried about anyone robbing the dead.

Finally, he started checking each fridge, looking at the tags on each foot. Finally, he read the words “John Doe.” Probably a homeless man with no family, so Jared felt no guilt about taking it. He carried the body the same way he came in. No one would even notice the body was gone.

At home, Jared placed the body on his bed and found gasoline cans he always kept in his garage. He poured everything all over his house, feeling the adrenaline rushing through his veins. A tiny matchstick was all it took to ignite his entire home.

He ran away quickly, leaving his old car in the garage to burn too.

It took a few weeks to execute his heist, but he finally arrived at his old boss’s house one night, disguised as a cop, and cut off power to the entire estate. With the help of a flashlight, Jared made his way to the house and knocked on the door.

He blinded the servant with his flashlight for a second until he realized it was a new hire – his replacement. His boss wasn’t home, and the man asked what he could do for the officer.

“Good evening. I’m Officer Graham. We received a call that someone intentionally turned off the power supply at this address,” he said. “My chief happens to be a good friend of your boss, and he asked me to come and patrol the area for the night.”

“Thank you. It must be true because the power just went out,” the servant nodded.

“Is anyone else in the house?” Jared asked.

“Only the cook, but the staff house is about a hundred feet away,” the servant answered. “Would you like to come in and check things inside?”

“That’s a good idea,” Jared said, and once the servant turned his back on him, he struck. He tied and gagged the man, leaving him on the floor as he rushed upstairs to his old boss’s room. He bagged the heavy collection quickly and ran down, exiting through the backdoor.

Once outside, he took cover in the trees where he had hidden some clothes. Jared changed, placing his cop costume in a pit he had dug up earlier. He doused the uniform, lit it, and took off deeper into the forest with his heavy bag.

Finally, Jared reached the car he had stolen in preparation, hauled the bag into the trunk, and took off.

The police couldn’t do much because the new guy hadn’t seen “Officer Graham’s” face clearly, and the blow to his head caused a concussion

Jared left town, and 14 months later, he was living quietly and unassumingly, working odd jobs here and there. He had to wait before finding a buyer. A man named Harry, a collector, was interested.

He offered Jared a ton for the collection and agreed to meet at a bar. Jared had to wait for Harry for several minutes.

“Where is it?” Harry asked as soon as he sat.

“I wouldn’t bring it to a bar,” Jared answered, swiftly drinking.

“I’m not a man you want to play with,” the collector said menacingly.

“Come with me,” Jared said, finishing his drink and walking away.

Harry followed, but as they rounded a street, Jared saw his old boss, Arnold, sporting a dreadful expression. When Arnold’s eyes lifted, Jared took off, only thinking about saving himself. But his old boss had brought reinforcements who pursued, warning him they would shoot.

But Jared was tenacious and crafty. He ran, skipped, turned, and swiveled through alleys, fences, and trashcans. Finally, he found a vast crowd gathered for some protest, and cut through it, jumping to another path and scurrying away before the cops knew what had happened.

“And that’s how we lost track of him,” the antique shop owner finished, sighing at Chuck. “No one knows if Jared ever sold anything or if he lived miserably, hiding.”

Chuck was sweating, still helplessly using his fists to knock on the doo