Ten days ago my other half and I were out at the local hardware store. I reckon we should just bite the bul1et and move in to the place. We’d set up a comfortable nook with our bed, my favourite pillow and a copy of “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil” resting on the bedside table. We seem to spend all our waking hours there. You see, a couple of months ago, we moved into our dream house. Lovely place. Not much to do to it, just move in. Hummph! There’s always stuff to be done, from shoring up the rotten wood on the garage roof to re-enforcing the glass sliding doors. Ah now there’s a story to those sliding doors.
Last Sunday we turned into our alley from yet another trip to your friendly store. The neighbour’s car was blocking the access to our parking spot and he approached us rather purposefully. His van had been broken into and an eagle-eyed neighbour had spotted a ne’er-do-well with a red woollen hat running away from the scene. It was not an early Santa Claus visitation. We commiserated and introduced ourselves to our two neighbours and chatted for a few minutes, catching up on the local gossip, particularly about Monica from up the street and her heart condition. Then I entered our back garden and noticed the shed door was open. Strange, but nothing seemed out of place there. I walked on to the deck to the sliding door at the back of our house. It was already wide open.
I went inside and heard the security alarm sounding. A voice called out from the front door – “Is anyone home? This is the police.” I checked around to see if anything in the kitchen was gone, but all looked ok. I started to go upstairs but the officer stopped me. He wasn’t sure if the intruder was still in the house. Oh G0d, I was thinking, and my panties are strewn all around the bedroom floor – what a way to impress the whippersnapper policeman. The very least the r0bber could have done was to phone ahead and tell us he was breaking in so I could have tidied away my dirty laundry.
All sorts of messages came over the police officer’s radio. Break-ins elsewhere and a multiple stabbing incident on Commercial Drive. “It’s been a killer of an afternoon,” Officer Jim complained. Rambo here (me) still wanted to bound upstairs and confront the intruder. Interesting thought: when your home has been invaded, often you don’t immediately think of personal safety. You’re just really angry that someone has stepped into your private space. Anyway Jimbo went upstairs hotly pursued by me and the equally angry OtherHalf. There was no sign of the intruder.
The bedroom was a mess. Yes, my underwear was scattered across the floor. I blamed OtherHalf. He dragged me to the hardware store with minimal notice. The cop smiled wryly when I suggested perhaps the intruder had a panty fetish. Bags were opened and the contents dumped on the floor. My expired passports lay next to the window. Drawers were open. It looked like someone had been searching in a hurry. I couldn’t see anything obvious missing. My prized possession, a button accordion, remained in place on the bed. I didn’t know whether to be insulted or not. It was worth a lot of money. I decided that our unfriendly burglar had no discerning musical taste whatsoever.
While the other two were downstairs checking out the rest of the house, I searched around. I had a faint suspicion that the burglar was still around so I checked under the bed and in a couple of secret hiding places. I’d obviously been watching too many detective mysteries. The intruder was well and truly gone. After a few minutes, I realized I couldn’t find my passport. I raced downstairs. On Jimbo’s radio we heard that a suspect had been apprehended at the local rail station, which was fifty yards down the road. I ran down the street to see if I could retrieve my documents.
People love an incident. Around fifty people were being kept back by police while a rather unkempt looking man – no red hat in sight - was being searched by two officers. I approached and identified myself. I scanned the man’s possessions which were laid out on the hood of the police cruiser. I was aware I was the centre of attention for the watching crowd. I didn’t need a placard with “Victim” in foot high letters. I looked for my documents amongst the five dollar bills, numerous syringes, folded silver foil and a strange looking Buddha necklace. I decided not to berate the young man for having the gall to ignore my button accordion. There was no sign of the passport. After a couple of minutes, I had the feeling that this individual had nothing to do with the incident. He seemed too spaced out to have broken in to our house. He happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Back at the house, a crowd had gathered outside, wanting to know what had happened. I got the impression that this was a quiet neighbourhood, so they were glad of some excitement. A couple of ten year olds animatedly told me about the man with a red bobble hat. Turned out they didn’t actually see him themselves. I was mightily upset about the passport and went back in and searched again. Thank heavens to Betsy, I found it at the back of the cupboard. Office Jimbo was not terribly happy about that. He wanted it to be found on the suspect, that way they could charge him with something. He let us know that there was insufficient evidence to keep the man in custody so they had let him go.
The police left, the security company called and were given copious details, the crowds subsided and then the two of us were left there, sitting in the living room in shock. The new house had been idyllic until then. We loved it. We kept saying that the previous owners were going to phone up and tell us that it was all a mistake and they wanted their home back. The break-in was a serious dose of reality. After knocking back a couple of beers, we made a few adjustments to the sliding doors to deter future intruders.
Meanwhile I am working on the strategic placement of a huge stone ball just above our bedroom doorway and six thousand venomous spiders are being trained to attack at will. In my deluded world, I am making sure that when BurglarBob comes back, he has to run the gauntlet to try to steal my accordion, as clearly by now he will have seen the error of his ways and now appreciates its true value. He will be back for sure. I’m ready for him, with bells on.
