The Stealthy Thief

The buzzer rings – three quick pulses. Then another long one…

This cannot be good. We don’t get very many visitors and the ones who do come normally just knock on the door. The last time the buzzer rang, it was some man who said he was here to do a “wellness check”. Strangely, Mom had not seem overly concerned but it was a very unpleasant half hour for my brother and me.

Time to go hide behind the curtains where you can still hear and maybe even sneak a peek without revealing your presence.

Mom ambles her way slowly to the front door. She clicks open the three locks in succession and pulls the door open.

-Does he belong to you? Spits a red-faced older man while holding my brother by the scruff of the neck with one hand.

-I caught him stealing this piece of art from me! 

He holds out his other hand and shows a delicate and glittery object. 

-This is not the first time a piece of my collection goes missing and I suspect that I finally found the culprit. If you cannot control your brood, then I will call the authorities and let them deal with your miscreant!

-Please come on in and let us talk about this, mister..? 

-Mr. Schmidt, Hans Schmidt. I live just across the alley from you.

-It hardly seems possible, says Mom with a tremolo in her voice. How could he? She adds while shaking her head.

******************

It was bound to happen. Marco is a big and some might even consider handsome, fellow. His long dark hair, his green eyes and his easy demeanour could probably charm the coldest souls. And if that didn’t suffice, he is pretty resourceful or one could even say, devious. I knew this dark and brooding boy would no doubt mean trouble with a capital T!...

He came into our lives one rainy evening in March about two years ago. I remember it as if it was yesterday:

-Francesca, my princess, where are you? I am finally home now and I have a surprise!

Surprises from Mom are generally of the edible variety, so I quickly made my way towards the kitchen. I have to admit, I love just about any treat you can eat. Soft, crunchy, in a bag, from a tin, I enjoy them all. As I waited next to the counter, Mom appeared with a bag of one of my very favorite snacks, yay! 

However, following right behind her, was a boy… What is going on?

-You guys can share this little snack and then we will get to know each other.

I watch him scarf down the food at an impressive speed. I was stunned and I may even have lost my appetite. And that never ever happens.

-Now that you have had a bite to eat, let me introduce you guys: here is my dear Francesca, and I’ve already told you lots about her on the way over here, she starts while looking at the boy.

He glanced at me briefly and then turned and walked away. How rude!

-This is Marco, actually Marco-Polo. People at the centre where he ended up could not find out his real name but since he is apparently a bit of an adventurer, this name fits him. He has been living on the streets for a while and at least one of his parents is from Maine. That is all they know at present, other than he is in need of a good foster home.

-But why does it have to be with us, I ask with a snarl while looking in his direction.

-Come on now, you guys can surely be friends, or at the very least, tolerate each other.

I hissed a sigh of discontent and made my way to the next room where my bed with fluffy pillows awaited. I laid down, closed my eyes and hope that he would run away and be gone in the morning.

No such luck. I am awakened by a dark figure with extremely bad breath. What has he been eating? Rotten fish?! I extended one leg out of the bed to push him out of my personal space.

He came even closer.

Now my long nails, and my best defence, come out and I tried to take a swipe at him.

Unfortunately, he was much faster than me. In one agile motion he moved his whole body out of my way and gingerly strolled away.

Why did we need him to disrupt our perfect life?! 

I was adopted by Sofia nearly five years ago. She confided to me that she had been feeling very sad and lonely since her husband Franco passed away. Around the same time, I was placed in foster care as my family could no longer take care of me. Sofia came in looking to possibly adopt one of us. When our eyes first met, we took one long look at each other and we connected instantly. Only a few days later, she helped move me into her small New York apartment. I got my own bed and a beautiful pendant with my name on it: Francesca. Even though my former name was “Ruby,” I was so happy to belong with someone and plus, I thought Francesca sounded quite posh and sophisticated. I was blissfully happy – a warm place to live, good meals and lots of loving attention from Sofia.

Over the next few months, Marco and I have settled into a routine, mostly staying out of each other’s way.

He goes out almost every night – when Sofia is sound asleep – he sneaks out through the living room window, onto a small platform and then jumps off the ladder for the fire escape. I often go to that window right after he leaves to see where he goes, but the alley is badly lit and there is an enormous old tree obstructing my view. No way I am following him out there, I’m not one to associate with the riffraff. He normally returns as the sun is rising and stealthily makes his way to his bed.

Lately, he started to bring back small creatures that needed saving, or at least that’s what he believed. First, a small bird, then a baby squirrel. He would leave the small animals on top of the kitchen table for Mom to find and presumably rescue and enjoy. At first, she thought it was cute and that Marco was just trying to please her because he knew she liked to help stray animals. She laughed it off and only gave him a light hearted warning to stop that nonsense.. 

But he started to bring specimens in worse and worse shape. The straw that broke the camel’s back was the day she found a mouse with clear evidence of fairly severe trauma, judging by its bloodied head and neck. She had reached her limit. Mom got extremely mad and scolded Marco like she never had before. She clapped her hands forcefully, looked him in the eye and screamed at the top of her lungs:

“Marco, you stop that right now! I don’t want to see any more of these animals!! I have had more than enough!!!

Then adds, in a quieter voice: I take care of you and your sister and that keeps me plenty busy. 

Mom left with the mouse and Marco and I went to our respective quarters.

That was the last time he brought back a living creature.

Though he continued to go out most nights, he didn’t bring back anything for several weeks.

For a couple of mornings in a row, I notice him coming in with a tiny shiny object. He kicks them around on the way to his lair and runs to catch them before they come to a stop, but he doesn’t leave them on the kitchen table for Mom. He probably just plays with them for a while and then hides them somewhere just in case he needs them for a rainy day.

I decided it was time to see where he got his loot. Curiosity got the best of me and I follow him out one night.

He didn’t walk very far. One his pals sporting a buzz cut was at the base of the big tree waiting for him. As soon as he saw Marco, he started to go up the tree. Marco went around the other side and they reached one of the highest branches at the same time. I made it halfway up and opted to stop there and observe from afar. In an impressive feat of agility, with Marco leading the way, they both jumped from the tree unto a balcony. They walk over to a patio door and pace in front of it for a while, as if they were expecting it to open all of a sudden. The friend eventually gave up and made himself comfortable on a cushioned Adirondack chair. Marco, ever the explorer, took a few steps over to another smaller wooden door. It seemed as if it was not latched properly because he was able to push it open and go right in! I expected him to come out any moment with another one of those shiny things.

Instead, there was a big kerfuffle going on inside, screeching and yelling could be heard from inside the place. OK, that was my cue to leave and as I looked around the balcony, I saw the chair is also vacant.

Inside the residence, a scary scene was unfolding.

-Simon, can you please come upstairs to the penthouse quickly. There is a robber in my home!

-Coming right up sir! Responds the security guard.

Minutes later, Simon knocks at the door and lets himself in.

Is everything ok sir?, he yells from the entrance.

-Yes, I finally caught the party I believe responsible for the theft of two, and almost three art pieces of mine. And I think I can even handle that burglar myself.

-Yeah, says Simon as he sees the culprit lying in a prone position and barely able to move. That heavy netting of yours worked like a charm. He’s pretty big, but you’re definitely bigger. I think you can take him no problem.

As they get the burglar freed, Mr. Schmidt notices that he is wearing a medal-like pendant.

-Well, let’s check this out…

************************

This brings us back to the present time. Mr. Hans lets go of Marco who immediately makes a bee line for his lair. I sure hope, for his sake and yours, that I can find the rest of my things where he’s going, says Mr. Schmidt as he marches purposefully in my brother’s footsteps.

We just have time to see Marco jump off his bed and make himself very small in the corner of the room.

Mr. Hans scans the whole room slowly and methodically. After a few minutes, he couches down and looks under the bed. He reaches out and picks up two small objects and holds them up for Mom to see.

-well, well, well –what do we have here?! Just as I suspected. More of my artwork!

One of the objects is a tiny gold coloured bird with shiny blue eyes and the other one is similar except for the bright red eyes.

-These are part my unique collection of seven avian figurines. I created them myself. They are partly made of gold and the eyes are precious stones like for these two specimens, sapphires and rubies. Together, they are worth a little fortune.

I didn’t notice right away when the first one disappeared, but once the second figurine was gone. I started to wonder who could be the thief and how he or she was getting into my house. I live on the top floor of a 5-story building with a security guard. I am away during the day but everything is locked and the alarm is set. I am always home during the evenings and at night and I keep all the doors locked, except for the glass sliding door giving access to the balcony from the kitchen. I leave it slightly open because I like having the fresh breeze. I thought that was fairly safe since it is quite a climb, even for a cat burglar! 

Nevertheless, starting from the premise that the burglar might somehow have climbed up and come through the balcony door, I devised a plan to catch the thief in the act. Instead of leaving the patio door partly open, I would use another door which opens onto the balcony from the living room. It is a wooden door with no windows. I decided to leave this solid door unlocked and ever so slightly ajar figuring that if the thief was really eager to get in, he/she would try looking for another entrance once he saw the patio door was closed and locked. I rigged a heavy weighted netting that would trap the intruder within a minute after the door was pushed open. Choosing this door would have dire consequences for whoever dared to come in through it. Fortunately for me, not only did we catch him, he was also wearing a pendant with his name and address on it. So here we are!

Then, his face lightens up and Mr. Hans lets out a big belly laugh and declares: 

-Now that I have all my pieces back, I think that you are off the hook Madame…

-Sofia, just call me Sofia. 

-I rather find this very comical…Who would have thought that a cat burglar could be an actual cat?!

-Well, I may still have to keep a better eye on both my cats, Marco-Polo and Francesca…