It’ll take the cops at least ten minutes to get here, unless they’re sitting right around the corner, so I put my shoes away and put the kettle on. Since they are tired of me calling all the time, it’s the least I can do. I need them to take me seriously, so I want them happy as clams.
I pace across my living room while I wait, running through every single person I know in town and if they’d have reason to do this to me. Most folks I don’t even know by name, and I can’t think of anyone, outside of Tom and package delivery drivers and the cops, who knows where I live. Well, probably the paramedics, too. All right, maybe the town clerk, if you want to get real specific, but to most people I’m just another friendly face at the grocery store, maybe even one that smiles a bit too much… if they remember me at all.
When I first moved here, I tried to talk to the grocery checkout people like we do back home, but I learned quickly that the expected conversation is a quick, cursory exchange of hello, how are you, and have a nice day. Nothing deep, norealanswers. I think I’ve made far too many poor teenage checkers at the Market Basket panic by trying to make actual conversation than I can count.
So, unless they arereallyholding a grudge about that—a year-long grudge—I think most people I come into contact with are out.
Generally speaking, everyone, outside of Tom, leaves me alone. I don’t bother anyone… except maybe the local emergency services, and no one bothers me.
They are going to ask me about if I have any enemies… I know, and I just don’t have an answer. Until a week ago, I would have made a joke about the guy in my nightmares, but now… yeah, I don’t think I’d say that’s the case. I’m frenemies… lovenemies…somethingwith the made-up guy in my head.
The only person on the entire planet that I can think of who would want to hurt me ismaybethe guy that mugged me… but I also know they won’t want to hear that again.
I still haven’t thought of what to say by the time I hear the squad car roll onto my drive. The doors shut, and Henry starts barking up a storm. He’s used to delivery drivers by now, but I guess their cars sound different. He probably also picks up on my nerves whenever the cops come. Regardless, he’s barking.
I grab onto his collar and open the door, holding him far away. SergeantMonotoneMontrose comes in with his newest trainee. I’ve met the trainee a time or two, but I have to read his nametag to remember his name. Ah, Cadet Tessier.
“Evening, Ms. Kimball, what seems to be the problem? Myrna mentioned breaking and entering?” They settle down on my couch, obviously not concerned in the least. “You got any of that tea you make?”
“Sure do!” I say, trying to make my voice as chipper as possible. I pour them each a cup of tea and don’t start to tell them what’s going on until they are settled with it.
“So, um,” I lower myself to a chair across from them. “I have had a few incidents with someone breaking into my garage.”
Sergeant Montrose sighs, like he’s annoyed I didn’t let him finish his tea before I started telling him my tea. He takes out his little notebook. “Detached, right?”
“Um, yes,” I say, wringing my hands. In the past, I know I’ve called them for smaller things, so I can understand whyhe might not take me seriously, so I want to be as clear and as calm as possible.
“Was anything stolen?”
“Not that I can tell, no, just… moved.”
“Moved?”
“Yes, see, I’d been receiving these messages from my old cell phone number, telling me to put up my Christmas lights.”
“Your old number? Like your old phone number?” Cadet Tessier asks, frowning.
I hate that they do this… every time. I know what I’m talking about, but they act like I’m not consistent with details or something.
“Right, I haven’t had it since the mugging. Remember, Sergeant, I changed it… just in case?”
He nods. “That is strange that it was your old number, but that doesn’t mean it was them…”
“Well, they sort of said it was. See, after a few days, they texted that they’d gotten my decor out for me, and when I went outside, all of the boxes were on my porch. Then, they texted me a picture of said boxes that clearly showed it was dark outside!” I breathe deeply, trying to calm myself.
You are calm and collected, Ada. Chill out.
“I see.” Montrose scribbles something in his notebook. “Was there anything else?”
“Today, I went outside to clean up the boxes, and they were gone. Then, I realized that the person had put up all of my lights and put the boxes away.”
“And that’s a problem?” Tessier asks. Montrose laughs, and I squirm in my seat.
Great, now I look like a fucking idiot. Why did I call them again?
“They were outside my house while I wassleeping.”
“Of course, of course. And did this uh… Clark Griswold bandit take any of the lights? The decor?”
