The Long Con

I thought it was the perfect setup.

Get him to like me. Show my competence. Work for him for years, demonstrating my trustworthiness over and over.

Boss had had a stroke. His associate had brain damage from an assassination attempt. The co-owner was a blackout drunk. Another associate was on serious painkillers. His daughter, I swear, was a kender in disguise; luckily we knew where her "secret stash" was and cleaned it out periodically. Things went missing all the time.

I made my move only after most of a decade of exemplary service, observing their habits.

Things went missing. A ring here, a necklace there.

I picked high quality, but not the priciest.

I only did it when there were others in the same cases that day, ever mindful of the cameras. Things passed hand to hand. The shuffle was perfect.

I swallowed them. I cleaned them later.

Other things went missing. On days when I didn't work. Perfect cover.

So why am I the only one in jail?

Because everyone else was stealing from him too.

Including himself. He raked in the money from insurance, blaming it on all of us.

They set me up to take the fall.