Saturday, we found a note stuck in our door (and what looked to be similar ones at many of the neighbors): three houses down, a car had been broken into. Nothing appeard to have been taken.
Monday morning, my car showed signs of a hasty search: contents of the center console piled on the driver's seat, ashtray out, a plastic bag in the back seat holding my motorcycle raingear* had been dumped. Door was unlocked. Footprints led up the alley to my car door and then up towards the garages of The Democrat and The Other Female Engineer.
During the day, Tam and OFE crossed paths. Someone had gotten into OFE's garage Sunday night; she'd noticed the light on, seen other worrying signs, and called the police. They cleared it and had her check for missing items: a leafblower'd been nicked.
Tam (being Tam) followed the footprints as far as she could: all the way up our alley, no turning back.
Disturbingly, I had misplaced my spare car keys Saturday. I normally lock my car. I might've forgotten to do so; the last trip of the weekend was a big grocery run with Tam and we'd made multiple trips bringing them in. You'd think our thief would've clouted my car if he'd found the keys; maybe he's just not ambitious, maybe there's no real market for eight year old, bottom-of-the-line Hyundais. Maybe he was hoping to find a garage door opener (nope!) and get access to smaller, more easily-fenced items. Anyway, I've been parking inside the secured perimeter ever since; tomorrow, I'm having all my car's locks replaced. Car alarm system may follow.
And buddy? Wrong house. Majorly wrong house.
* Also useful for outside work in wet weather.
One Evening On Kansas II
1 week ago