It was the summer of nine seventy two. Local librarian Jet Cassidy hurried across the street and up the church steps under the cover of darkness. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning, and the streets had long since cleared of potential witnesses. Tucked under his coat, he had gloves, a flashlight, a pistol, and a small piece of paper that was going to change his entire life. The church doors were always open to the public, no matter the
visitor's intentions. Jet slipped inside and strode quickly across the room. The girls he had overheard in the library had been specific tucked in the corner where they thought no one was listening. They said the secret that would grant its seeker untold riches would be located somewhere up high, and there was nothing higher and older than the chandelier. Taking a moment to listen to make sure the church was truly empty, Jet went up past the altar, farther than
he'd ever gone as a member of the congregation. He followed a short hallway to the stairs that led to the double balconies, one for more congregation seating space for funerals and weddings, and the last a prayer sanctuary frequented only by the pastor himself. The third floor was a small space, the slanted roof tilting in so sharply he was almost too tall to stand. Across from him at face height was the chandelier. Jet had never seen the fixture this close before. It was dark this high up.
The wide stained glass windows on the first or provided very little moonlight to see by. Jet took out his flashlight and shined it at the chandelier, his eyes picking over the intricate brass fixture, one filigree at a time. There, near the center, wrapped around the stem of a decorative leaf, was a small, tightly curled piece of paper tied to the twig with wire. The paper seemed to be wrapped around something, something shiny. Jet looked down at the pews
forty ft below him, then back at the chandelier. Hanging eight feet away from the edge of the balcony. Leaning against the wall was the candle snuffer the church staff used to put out the candles. All he needed was to pull the light fixture closer to the balcony edge and the treasure would be his. The next morning, the steward opened the church doors to find Jet Cassidy's broken body smashed across the tops of the pews. His blood was sprayed across three floors in a pinwheeling arc that
dashed the balconies, entrance and altar in biohazard. The chandelier was shattered on the ground around him, The candle snuffer still hooked on its base after Jet's fatal grab. It took them three days to scrub the gore from the stone. What no one realized was that the secret that had cost Jet Cassidy his life was already gone. Mere minutes after the librarian had fallen to his death, the clever girls he had tried to steal from crept into the church.
Together they had managed to pluck the paper and the object wrapped inside from the chandelier, exiting again with no one The wiser m