One last job...

"Okay, I understand the 'how,' Mr. Conrad, but I still don't understand the 'why'." Detective Carson paced the room as another man, handcuffed to the table, sat silent. "Well, isn't it obvious, Detective? It’s because I could. Your claim that the Crescent Jewel was theft-proof meant I had to try.” Carson scoffs. “For someone so smart, you are stupid. You must have known it was a setup. And yet, the FBI still managed to catch The world's greatest thief, Theodore Conrad”. “It’s Teddy, I don’t appreciate the tone”. “My apologies, Teddy”. Teddy relaxed, smiling. “Of course I knew you would set me up. I knew all along. You all made it too easy for me. As you put it, I’m smart. Smart enough to spot a fake, and smart enough to know you wouldn’t replace the jewel. Ah, therein lies the rub, detective. That was never the real heist; this was." Suddenly, all the lights go black as a thick smoke fills the room. “Sir, the gem, it’s a fake!“ A frantic officer runs to the room, only to find an unconscious detective, an empty chair, and an open note on the table that reads “Thanks for Everything! - T”