The Wrong Suspect!

The museum was loaded with swarming, lively tourists. A group of Russians yapped amiably as they pointed to a glimmering diamond balanced inside a glass cage carefully. Guards cocked proudly at the front of the glass. A name was etched into a hefty label nearby, bearing, fair letters. "The Hope Diamond".

A red-haired, stout man leant casually on the railings of the museum. He punched a couple of numbers into his Blackberry. A bronze watch shimmered on his hairy wrists, as he limped realistically away, eyeing the crowd slowly. A group of kids, lumbered by, gaping at the gleaming diamond. The guards shifted uncomfortably as the kids reached forward for the glass cage eagerly.

An ashen-faced woman, hastily pulled her students back, adjusting the name tag swaying over her pale neck. She apologized constantly with a flushed face as she led her students swiftly to the fossil corner with gritted teeth.

Three adults paced around agonizingly in the diamond section alone. The red-haired, burly man, a thin-lipped, sourly looking woman, who constantly checked her phone and a boy, or more like a young adult, about eighteen years old staring into the glass cage of the Hope Diamond, eyes widening, and mouth dropping open. Coincidentally, the boy and the burly man appeared to have shiny red hair.

On spur of a moment and abruptly, a crash resounded into the hall. The vibrant sound of glass clanking echoed and muffled yells and shouts aped through the air. "Seal the exits!"

Colourful strands of dust billowed into the air, blocking everyone's view in the section. The exits had been sealed and the dust cleared rapidly. The guards stood up, enraged as they fumbled with their uniforms and bellowed anxiously. "The diamond. It's gone!"

Glass pieces were absurdly strewn across the tiled floor, and a guard was knocked out. Nervous crowds were bustling about, and the scene of the robbery looked disastrous. The three adults had vanished completely into the massive crowds.

Sirens blared from police cars and ambulances. The paramedics lifted the knocked out guard, arm stewing with rich blood onto a stretcher. A detective stepped out importantly. The boy with red hair was called Noah. He stared at the detective nervously. He looked like he meant business.

His suit was a little crumpled at the bottoms, and he was tall and sturdy as police officers surrounded him, clutching similar bulky revolvers. The detective knelt down, and frowned, picking up a pair of tweezers. Gingerly, he lifted what looked like Noah thought was a strand of red hair. Noah choked, nibbling on his cracked lips. The detective was going to think it was him, he thought. But it couldn't have been him. He couldn't have stolen it. Or did he? Muddled thoughts formed up in his brain, swarming around. "No, no, I'm not the robber! There was someone else," he muttered, flushing.

"Officer Watson, did any of the guards have red, short hair?" the detective inquired sharply.

Officer Watson shook his head firmly. "No. Two had blonde hair. One had brown." he answered.

The detective sauntered sharply to the crowd. "I need all of you, to split into four groups, please. I will have to inspect all of you, I'm afraid."

"This is ridiculous!" someone yelled.

"I have a train to catch." a woman agreed.

The detective apologized, as he proceeded to the first group, asking quick questions. "Watson, check for any clues on the ground, please."

Officer Watson saluted firmly, as his troop settled to the cage, picking up ginger glass pieces and pointing stinging flashlights onto the marble floor.

As the detective proceeded towards the third crowd. Noah trembled. Would the detective believe him if he told him he wasn't the thief?

As the detective advanced to Noah. He whistled softly, drumming his fingers, and staring at his red hair. Noah grated his teeth and clamped up his sweaty fingers. "Young man, step out from the crowd please," he ordered.

Noah shook, terrified as he stepped out carefully, his face going red. This had to be a mistake. There was another suspect! It couldn't possibly be him. He tried to protest, but a soft croak uttered out.

"We will need to take you out for questioning. Name please?" the Detective asked squarely.

"Noah. Noah Knott. Sir, I can assure you I didn't do it. I saw someone else with red hair here too." he urged.

The detective snorted. "Mr Watson, please cuff him to the car."

The officer roughly shoved him inside the car. "You will pay, thief." he hissed into Noah's ear.

The detective frowned. "I see no sign of the diamond." his eyes rolled up and down, as he inspected Noah.

"He must have worked with a gang." Officer Watson spat bitterly.

"Now, now, Watson. He is still a suspect. He might not be a thief. The robber could have worn a wig."

Noah's flipflops miserably squeaked as he headed to the police office. Look what a trip to the museum would bring, he thought heatedly.

He was behind bars. What would his parents think of him? One year into his job, and he had become someone on the run.

The detective frowned at Noah. "Look, young man. If you tell us where the diamond is, it will spare us some time."

"I didn't take it. I told you, you shouldn't arrest someone, just because they had red hair." he protested earnestly.

The detective sighed. "I'm not arresting you. If you come clean, or we find out that you're not the real robber, you're free to go. You were one of the only ones with red hair in the museum. It was inside the diamond case, and only the robber could have gotten that far."

"I did see a burly man with red hair. He had a Blackberry, and he had a denim jacket and some sneakers." Noah explained.

The detective grimaced as his phone vibrated.

"Any news, Clark? A shoelace? Are you sure? Yes, yes, he did mention sneakers and someone with red hair. Oh goodness, he's escaped. I'll meet you there, in about fifteen minutes. See you there."

The detective sighed. "You're not guilty. There was a shoelace near the glass cage, and the guards claimed that no one had ever come that far to the cage before, so it must have been the robber. No guards wore sneakers as well, and as far as they can remember, they're quite positive that the robber wasn't as tall as you." he replied.

The detective walked to the cell and sighed. "He's escaped. And of course, I'll need your phone number and house address details, just in case we need you back," he replied.

Noah wheezed and inhaled, as he skipped onto the park, grinning widely, as he held some shoelaces in his pockets and whistled merrily. He dialled a number on his phone.

"You still got the jewel buddy? Good. No one will ever guess." he cackled, flashing an evil smile as he pulled off into the driveway, clutching the real address details and phone number in his hand.