To Find a Thief

By E. A. West

“You wanted to see me?” I tried not to fidget, but anxiety hit every time I got called into the restaurant’s office.

“Where’s the silverware?” Mr. Jones glared at me, his already small eyes squinted.

“What silverware?” I smoothed the front of my uniform, an ankle-length black dress with a lace-edged white apron. I hated the thing but was grateful for the busgirl job.

“The silverware you’ve been taking off the tables.”

“In the kitchen, I assume. That’s where I always put it, anyway.”

“Nice try, but I know you’ve been stealing some of it.” He rubbed his fleshy face. “This is what I get for hiring a petty thief.”

“Former thief.” I fought to keep my temper under control. I’d shoplifted once when I couldn’t afford groceries and gotten caught. Even though I’d paid for my crime, it still haunted me. “I don’t steal anymore.”

“And yet the silverware is still missing. The same silverware you clear off the tables.”

“Every fork, spoon, and knife I pick up goes to the kitchen. Maybe you should talk to the dishwasher.”

He glowered at me. “Unlike you, Greg has never stolen anything.”

I fought the urge to punch him. It might make me feel better for a moment, but I needed this job too badly to risk it. How could I prove my innocence? “What if I find the real thief?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose with chubby fingers. “Fine. You have until the end of your shift. Otherwise, don’t bother coming back tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

He waved a hand, dismissing me.

I walked out of the office kicking myself. What was I thinking? I wasn’t a detective. Even the most amateur of sleuths would laugh at the thought of me solving a crime. Yet I had to find the real thief if I wanted to avoid getting labeled a relapsed criminal.

I scanned the dining room, but nothing suspicious stood out to me. The linen tablecloths were as crisp as ever. A young couple sat at a table near the center of the room. Another table by a mass of potted plants in the front corner waited for me to clear it.

As I collected china and linen napkins from the table and put them in the plastic bin, I tried to remember if I’d seen anything unusual in the last few days. Nothing came to mind. Bussing tables was boring, so I didn’t pay much attention to what I was doing beyond making sure the table was clean.

I set the last knife in the bin and grabbed the edges to lift it. The clink of silverware stopped me. I looked toward the diners, but they were chatting while finishing their drinks. Neither of them touched silverware.

The clink sounded again—behind me. I turned toward the potted jungle and listened carefully. The soft scrape of metal on metal was accompanied by quiet chittering. Had some kind of bird gotten in and created a nest?

I stepped over to the plants and hesitated. The thought of scaring a wild animal didn’t appeal to me, but I couldn’t leave an animal loose in the restaurant.

Moving cautiously, I shifted leaves and stems out of my way as I searched for whatever had taken up residence. A rustle at the back let me know where the critter was.

“It’s okay,” I whispered, hoping it would calm the animal. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

I moved a particularly large leaf aside and gasped. A small, bright green dragon stared back at me from atop a pile of knives and spoons. It pulled a spoon closer to its body, making it clear it was protecting its stolen treasure.

“So you’re the reason my boss is calling me a thief.” I smiled, certain Mr. Jones would be mad when I proved him wrong. “You stay there with your shiny collection, and I’ll be back soon.”

I hurried to the office. “Mr. Jones, I’ve found your thief.”

He looked up from his computer. “Oh, really? Who is it?”

“If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you.”

He released an exasperated breath but followed me into the dining room. As we approached the plants, he rolled his eyes. “Are you going to tell me the Jolly Green Giant did it?”

“No, but the thief is green.” I moved the foliage aside, relieved the culprit was still there. “Here’s your thief.”

“A dragon?” Jones’s exclamation received a hiss and a scowl from the animal in question. “This is great!”

“What?” Where was the anger? The disgust that an animal lived in his restaurant? “But it’s been stealing your silverware.”

“It’ll be a great draw for customers.” He reached toward it, but it backed away. Jones pulled his hand back. “Figure out how to get it to come out so we can put it on display.”

Marvelous. I’d gone from detective to dragon tamer.

I studied the lizard-sized creature meticulously arranging its hoard. How did one convince a dragon to do anything?

Then it hit me.

“Build a wishing well.”

Jones stared at me. “Why would I do that?”

“Because the dragon likes shiny things.” I waved my hand at the pile of pilfered utensils. “If you build a wishing well for it, people will constantly give it shiny coins and keep it happy.”

“Brilliant! I’ll go make some calls.” He hurried away.

I turned back to the dragon and found it watching me with intelligent, gold eyes. “You want to live here and have people give you shiny things?”

It cocked its head as though thinking.

I pulled a quarter from the pocket on my apron and held it out. “If you’ll live by whatever Mr. Jones comes up with, people will give you things like this all the time. You won’t have to steal ever again, and neither will I.”

The dragon crept closer and examined the quarter. Then it took the coin from me, climbed into my hand, and chittered softly as it petted its new prize.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Award-winning author E. A. West is a sucker for happy endings. She’s also an animal lover, a yarn crafter, and a research junkie. Tea and chocolate fuel her imagination. She has two dogs who are her constant companions and have helped brainstorm more than one story, which could explain a lot.

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