The Missing Watch

Detective Clara Morgan stood in the middle of the luxurious living room, eyeing the spotless space with suspicion. It was the kind of room that felt too clean, too perfect. The victim, Simon Dreyer, a wealthy investment banker, had been found dead in his study just hours earlier. No signs of struggle, no forced entry. Just a single missing item—his prized gold watch, a family heirloom worth a small fortune.

Clara glanced at the woman sitting on the leather couch across from her. Amelia Dreyer, Simon’s wife of five years, looked more annoyed than grief-stricken. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, makeup intact, not a tear in sight.

“So, Mrs. Dreyer,” Clara began, flipping open her notebook, “you said you were upstairs when you found him?”

Amelia crossed her legs, her voice calm. “Yes. I had gone to take a nap. When I came down, Simon was just… lying there. I didn’t touch him. I called 911 immediately.”

Clara nodded slowly. “And the watch—when was the last time you saw it?”

“Yesterday morning. He wore it to work, as always,” Amelia replied, her tone clipped. “That watch was his pride and joy. Never took it off unless he was sleeping.”

“Right.” Clara’s eyes narrowed. “Strange, isn’t it? Someone kills your husband but only takes the watch?”

Amelia shrugged. “Maybe it was a robbery. People get killed over less.”

“True,” Clara agreed, though something about Amelia’s nonchalance bothered her. “You and Simon… were you close?”

Amelia’s lips tightened. “We had our ups and downs. Like any couple.”

Clara scribbled something down in her notebook, watching the woman’s body language. “Was he having any issues at work? Enemies?”

Amelia hesitated for a moment. “Not that I know of. He didn’t talk much about work with me.”

Clara’s instincts flared. There was something Amelia wasn’t saying. But she didn’t press, not yet.

Just then, Simon’s business partner, Greg Thompson, entered the room, his face pale, eyes red from crying. He looked genuinely distraught, a stark contrast to Amelia’s cold demeanor.

“I came as soon as I heard,” Greg said, his voice shaky. “I—I can’t believe this. Simon was like a brother to me.”

Clara studied him carefully. “Mr. Thompson, was Simon having any trouble at work? Any threats?”

Greg shook his head vigorously. “No, nothing like that. We were doing fine. Better than fine, actually. Business was booming.”

Clara tapped her pen against her notebook. “And the watch? Do you know anything about that?”

Greg’s face darkened. “The watch… Simon cherished that thing. It’s been in his family for generations. I can’t imagine anyone stealing it. But… Amelia hated it.”

Clara’s eyes flicked to Amelia, who stiffened in her seat. “Is that true, Mrs. Dreyer?”

Amelia scoffed. “It’s a stupid piece of jewelry. I didn’t hate it. I just didn’t see the point of him obsessing over it.”

Clara leaned forward. “Funny thing, though. If this was a robbery, why take only the watch and leave the rest of his valuables?”

Amelia shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Clara’s gaze. “How should I know? You’re the detective.”

Clara’s lips curled into a smile. “You’re right. I am. And I think the watch wasn’t stolen. I think you took it after Simon died, to stage this whole thing.”

Amelia’s eyes widened, panic flickering across her face. “That’s ridiculous—”

Clara stood, pulling a small evidence bag from her coat pocket. Inside was the gold watch, blood still smeared on the clasp. “Found it in the trash behind your house.”

Amelia’s face went pale. “I can explain—”

“I’m sure you can,” Clara said coldly, pulling out her handcuffs. “But something tells me you’re running out of time.”