The Omega Watch

 Pictured below is a 1987 Omega Seamaster. 

Fred is a semi-retired actuary who still occasionally does consulting work. He used to perform full-time risk assessments for insurance companies and pension funds. Now, he assists small businesses, local community projects, construction, parks and recreation, hospitals, day care centers, and regulatory compliance. He does not need the money for the lifestyle he chose; he simply enjoys staying busy. Fred is also an avid genealogy enthusiast and occasionally writes for the local paper about genealogy, as well as local crime—with a particular focus on scams targeting the elderly.

He retired from full-time employment two years ago when his wife was diagnosed with a rare form of skin melanoma. She passed away less than a year later. Having received a modest inheritance from his parents, money has not been a concern for much of his later career.

Fred goes to the local gym three to four times a week during its quietest hours, between two and three in the afternoon. 

One afternoon, while the locker room was completely empty, Fred set his gym bag on a bench and noticed a wristwatch on an adjoining bench. It was a stainless steel and gold Omega Seamaster, which he immediately recognized as a semi-vintage model.

That is where this story begins. 

On his way out, Fred handed the watch to the gym manager, explaining that he had found it in the locker room. The manager introduced herself as KC—a unique name for a woman, Fred said. KC explained that her mother chose the spelling as a clever alternative to "Casey" as a nickname for Cassandra when she was born twenty-seven years ago.

KC was supposed to place the watch in the lost-and-found drawer, where typically 85 percent of valuable items are eventually reclaimed. However, at the end of her shift, KC decided to keep it. Her husband was turning thirty in a few days, and she planned to give it to him.

When his birthday arrived, KC presented her husband with the watch, falsely claiming it was inherited from her father after his sudden passing years prior.

They had planned to go out to dinner that evening, but her husband called to say some of his co-workers wanted to buy him a few drinks first. He drank quickly so he could get home promptly, but halfway back, he was involved in a severe accident. Witnesses reported that his car swerved to avoid an oncoming white, European-style two-seater that fled the scene. His car hit the shoulder, flipped twice, and crashed into a tree.

Late that night at the hospital, among the personal effects returned to KC, was the Omega Seamaster. Her husband remained in a coma.

When Fred returned to the gym a few days later, he noticed KC was absent. A trainer informed him that KC's husband had been in a  car accident and that she would be taking a month off.

A month later, on her first day back, KC quietly placed the watch into the lost-and-found drawer. She continued to visit her husband every evening at the hospital. He was now conscious  though still not able to get up on his own. A few more weeks of physical therapy were needed but he will never be able to walk.  Only a wheelchair will get him moving again - for the rest of his life.

A week after KC's return to work, an elderly woman called the gym inquiring about a lost Omega Seamaster, explaining that her husband often forgot where he misplaced items. After verifying the details, KC confirmed they had it.

That afternoon, Mrs. Stanescu, a woman in her late seventies, arrived to collect the watch. She asked if she could personally thank the person who turned it in. KC took her contact information and promised to pass it along to Fred.

KC handed Fred the phone number a couple of days later, explaining that the owner's wife wanted to thank him. That evening, Fred called Mrs. Stanescu. She invited him over for coffee the following afternoon, expressing gratitude for his honesty.

The next day, Fred drove up the long, curving driveway of Mrs. Stanescu's home, where she was waiting under a covered patio in the back. As she refilled his cup, Fred asked, "So, where is Mr. Stanescu?"

"My husband died four years ago," she replied.

Surprised, Fred asked how the watch ended up at the gym.

"That is for you to find out," she said. "I gave that watch to my husband for his 60th birthday. It felt fitting because the car he cherished was his white Alfa Romeo. You know, from Alfa to Omega."

She briefly showed him the Alfa Romeo parked in the garage. While Fred did not press further on the circumstances of the watch he found at the gym, his curiosity was piqued.

A few days later, Fred contacted Detective O'Toole, an acquaintance from his municipal consulting work, to inquire about the hit-and-run investigation. O'Toole shared that progress was limited; witnesses couldn't recall the license plate, though they identified the fleeing vehicle from sample photos as a small, white Italian sports car—likely a Maserati, Fiat, or Alfa Romeo.

That detail immediately captured Fred's analytical mind, trained to weigh probabilities and coincidences.

Later that day, Fred tried calling Mrs. Stanescu for another chat, but the number was no longer in service—the same number he had successfully used previously.

The next morning, he drove to her home and noticed a "For Sale" sign in the front yard. Thinking he had simply missed it during his first visit when he drove up the driveway toward the back where they had previously met.  Although he did wonder why Mrs. Stanescu did not mention selling the house.

Before knocking, he peered through a window to see if anyone was inside. Just as he was about to ring the doorbell, a voice behind him asked, "May I help you?"

A young woman stood by her car with the driver's side door open. Fred explained that he was looking for Mrs. Stanescu, mentioning their visit a few days prior and adding, "The number I used to call her no longer works."

"That's impossible," she said.

"You mean that the number is disconnected?"

"No, I mean my aunt who owned this house passed away several months ago. I'm the realtor for this property. It took some time to complete repairs and clear her belongings through an estate sale. The 'For Sale' sign has been up for a month now."

"This may sound strange, but Mrs. Stanescu asked me to contact her to personally thank me for finding her husband's watch at the gym locker room."

"Let's go inside," she replied. "Tell me exactly what happened."  

The realtor, Mary, explained that  her father is the brother of Mrs. Stanescu's husband. 

"So Mr. Stanescu is still alive?" Fred asked.

"No, he passed away four years ago.  By the way, Stanescu is my aunt's maiden last name.  She started going by that last name when my uncle died. I knew she was very proud of her Romanian heritage. She was a young girl when her parents immigrated to start a new life here.  When we were young she used to scare us with all kinds of Gypsy lore and weird but fascinating tales. One notable aspect is the belief in the muló, a spirit of the dead that can seek revenge on those who wronged them during their lifetime."

Thoroughly confused, Fred said, "I don't understand any of this." He explained finding the watch, turning it over to the gym manager, and then meeting a woman for coffee who had apparently died months ago.

Mary retrieved a photograph from her handbag showing herself beside an elderly woman.

"That's Mrs. Stanescu I visited last week," Fred confirmed. "She showed me her husband's Alfa Romeo in the garage and explained why she bought him the Omega Seamaster for his 60th birthday."

"This is unbelievable. I'm texting my dad to come over and talk to you," Mary said. "By the way the car you described was sold at the same estate sale a while back".  Mary was pressing buttons on her phone.

"Before you do that, can you tell me how Mrs. Stanescu died?"

"She died of intense heartache and severe stress. Her daughter, Elena—my closest cousin—committed suicide a couple of years before my aunt passed away."

"Can you tell me a little bit more? I mean, could you please tell me a few more details?"

"I'll give you the short version.  Elena met this guy through a friend at a party.  Elena and Tony hit it off almost immediately.  Then two years later, one of the few times I did get to see her when she and Tony were dating, Elena confided to me".

"You said, "were dating", did they break up the relationship?"

"That's what I was about to tell you. Elena was pregnant.  Tony did not want her to carry it to term.  Instead he suggested that she needed to have the pregnancy aborted if she wanted to continue with their relationship. Elena did not want to. I agreed with her and promised to go with her to see a counselor at our church.  I was going to make the appointment and I will accompany her to the  office that  Monday.  That Sunday evening we found out Elena was at the hospital.  Apparently, she went to have the abortion done by some unlicensed practitioner.  She died the next day. There, that's the whole short version of her sad story.  And my aunt's, as well.

"Did Tony go with her to have the abortion done?"

"I don't know.  He was at the funeral but didn't say anything. Didn't want to talk to any of us, not my aunt, not to Elena's friends, not to me."

"My uncle, Elena's dad, was spared the anguish because he died before all of these happened. So my aunt carried the entire burden - the loss of their only child. My aunt retreated from everything, slowly, painfully and tragically."

"What happened to Tony"?

"For over a year I never saw him again.  Until one afternoon, maybe a few months ago.  I was at the mall to pick up a new printer for the office. I was coming out of the electronic store when I literally bumped into Tony who was hand in hand with whom I concluded was his new girlfriend.  After a few awkward pleasantries he introduced me to his wife.  They knew each other from college.  Which means that Tony knew her before he met Elena. Anyway, there was little to be done or discussed."

"I don't even know why I would remember that whole episode. I know why. His wife made it a point to explain her name, almost proud of it actually. She said she writes her name as KC instead of Casey, the usual nickname for Cassandra!"

P.S. 1

That my dear reader concludes another of my special Halloween issue. This is the third time that I muse about a story appropriate to the night of October 31 when children come to harass homeowners with Trick or Treat. At least here in the U.S. and some other countries that observe it.  Recall that my last year's and the year before blog for Halloween  were: 

A Story Never Once Told Till Now  (October, 2025)

Scary Witches, Recast (for Halloween 2024)

P.S. 2

Fred was going to be busy with whatever his mind can handle on the subject of probabilities and coincidences.  He was already excited about a genealogical search into Romania's Gypsy lore; not the least is a deep dive into the Stanescu family tree.

P.S. 3

As to reading between the lines that I usually implore my readers to do, please don't fail to see the overarching messages to human nature's ethical landscape and the slippery slope of misjudgment and moral myopia.