It was a cold night, and the wind only made the night watchman more chilly as he sat at his perch atop the watchtower. It was nights like these when it was a challenge to stay alert, but he knew it was also nights like these when it was most important to be alert. The night watchman, a young man by the name of Mr. DK, took his job very seriously, and with good reason – the safety of this small town, known simply as A, depended upon his vigilance.
Mr. DK shivered, and turned slightly to his left. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a movement in the shadows. It appeared that a figure had just gone into the City Hall, about 100 yards away from the watchtower. Mr. DK jumped toward the stairs and raced down them, then quickly headed toward the City Hall, trying to be as quiet as possible. He tiptoed up near the front entrance, and hid behind a large marble pillar.
Just then, he heard the front door open again, and he peered around the pillar to see who or what would come out. What he saw froze his blood. By the light of the half moon, he could immediately tell it was Mr. B, the mayor of the town, quietly closing and locking the front door to City Hall. But what Mr. DK stared at was the parchment partially hidden underneath Mr. B’s long, black coat. It was the C.
All the townspeople believed that the C had helped them achieve their current prosperity, and it was in fact the most revered object in town. Mr. DK’s heart was in his throat and his mind was racing. He stepped out from behind the pillar, but Mr. B had already vanished into the dark shadows along the storefronts next to the City Hall.
In the morning, Mr. DK, highly agitated, ran to the Sheriff’s office. The Sheriff was a woman by the name of Mrs. NP who had only been on the job for seven days after replacing Mr. DH. At this moment, that suited Mr. DK fine, since Mr. DH had always been a close friend of Mr. B. On his way to the Sheriff’s office he passed by the City Hall and saw a large group of citizens and several police milling around, all distraught over the apparent theft of the C.
He did not stop, but continued to the Sheriff’s office. Luckily, she was in, and Mr. DK rushed into her office, closing the door behind him. He breathlessly told her what he had seen the night before. "Thank you for your vigilance and for coming here to tell me this," said Mrs. NP. "You’ve helped me tremendously. Now what shall we do?"
Mr. DK thought for a long minute:
.....Part of him wanted to run into the street and shout to all the townspeople that Mr. B was the thief. After all, there was no doubt in his mind. Once the townspeople knew, they could all go to Mr. B's office and arrest him immediately.
.....But another part of him felt that perhaps he should just keep quiet, because Mr. B was still the mayor and the townspeople would likely call Mr. DK a crazy fool if he said Mr. B was a criminal. And after all, Mr. B would only be mayor for two more years. Perhaps it would just be easier to wait until he was no longer mayor and then try to get the C back.
After some thought, Mr. DK spoke: "We have only one choice. A proper investigation must take place. Through this legal procedure, it will be determined who stole the C. After all, that is what the law calls for in case of such a crime." Mrs. NP agreed wholeheartedly.
That afternoon, Mrs. NP announced to the townspeople that an investigation would take place into the theft of the C. And so, over the next few days, the Sheriff, with help from the police, held a series of hearings in which all the evidence of the theft was assembled and examined.
The video footage from the security cameras, although grainy, proved extremely helpful. As did the test of the fingerprints on the doorknob, and a study of the bootprints in the soft ground just outside the courthouse. All the evidence pointed toward Mr. B, and the townspeople became increasingly convinced that Mr. B was at fault.
In fact, when all the hearings were finished there was simply no choice but to call for a trial, which Mrs. NP did with a heavy heart but with a firm resolve. Of course, Mr. DK testified at the trial against Mr. B, and though the fierce supporters of Mr. B put up quite a fight, I’m happy to say that this story had a happy ending.
On the morning of the last day of the trial, Mr. B fled town, never to be seen nor heard from again. The police busted open the door to his office, where they found the C, which they quickly restored to its rightful place in the City Hall.
And the townspeople of A lived happily ever after...