As I opened the large and overpowering doors to the coach house my nerves spiked. My body began to buzz from the excitement of the first day at my dream job. The night before had been filled with visions of my first day. Halfway through opening the door, memories of all the hard work, time, and effort I put in to getting a job as a tour guide to the Vanderbilt’s coach house. As I proceeded through the grand doors I expected to be greeted by the site of antique cars, sleighs, and carriages that had once belonged to the Roosevelts or Vanderbilts. Instead I was greeted by the site of an empty room and only the aroma of old cars. My new Chanel bag fell to the floor with a thud, skimming my leg on the way down. I stood there wearing the deer-in-the-headlights look.
After a few minutes of staring in awe at the horrific site that lay before my eyes, I started to walk around the room. My thoughts were far away from my Chanel bag that now sat in dust on the old stone floors. My eyes swept the room once, twice, three times. Each time I came to the same conclusion: the priceless antiques were gone. Among the valuables taken were the shiny, custom-made 1933 Cadillac and Eleanor Roosevelt’s small, beautiful, black personal carriage. Finally I mustered the nerve to walk around for the first time. As I walked I noticed how the dust perfectly outlined where the cars used to sit. My eyes also picked up the lack of footprints (except for mine) and the lack of tire tracks that the cars, carriages, and sleighs should have left behind.
As I stood in the huge empty room I began to wonder how did the thieves get everything out without leaving a trace? After a few torturous minutes I thought that I should call my boss, the head of the coach house, and tell her what happened. Immediately after this thought new thoughts suddenly popped into my head, what would happen to me…would I get fired…would people suspect me of the crime? As the phone was ringing I was silently vowing to find the thief or thieves who had done this.
When Nicole Valcole, the head of the coach house arrived, my nerves were on fire. I was extremely embarrassed to be the person to tell her that all of the precious artifacts that she was accountable for had went missing. Strangely enough when she got here she didn’t seem as rushed to see the damage herself or as worried as I thought she would have been. I stood by the doors and watched her clumsily untangle herself from the seat belt and almost tumble out of the car. I looked into her car and noticed an almost full Dunkin Donuts coffee. As Nicole strode toward me I realize that she was wearing heavy duty boots caked with mud.
When she reached me she said, “Ok, so what’s missing?” in an oddly calm voice.
“Everything is missing Mrs. Valcole.” I said in a weak low voice.
As she walked into the room to asses the damage I thought I heard her murmur, “Good,” under her breath.