Chapter 11 #3
So, unless they are really holding 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… something with 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 is maybe the 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. Sergeant Monotone Montrose 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 why he 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 was sleeping.”
“Of course, of course. And did this uh… Clark Griswold bandit take any of the lights? The decor?”
“… I haven’t really checked. I thought maybe it had been Tom, my neighbor, but he was—”
“Away in Philly, yeah.” Montrose waves his hand. “Alright, Ms. Kimball, do you know anything about this perpetrator that might help us with our investigation?”
“I have their number… and the text messages?”
“Great.” He hands me a card. “Text some screenshots to that number there, and we will get back to you as soon as we know anything.”
The officers stand as if to leave, and I leap from my seat. “What? No, don’t you want to see the garage or anything?”
Cadet Tessier waves his hand. “Nah, you’d be amazed what we can do with cell phones these days.”
“I see, I see…” I say. I’ve listened to Serial, I know what sort of things they can figure out from cell phone records.
“Thank you, Ms. Kimball, for the tea. We’ll let you know what we find.”
I squeeze my hands into fists. “And you’re sure I’m safe?”
“Perfectly.” They put their caps on their heads and mosey toward the door. As they are heading out, Sergeant Montrose looks over his shoulder at me. “Oh, and Ms. Kimball? If you wouldn’t mind, text that number back with my cell from my card.”
“Oh, sure, if you think it’ll help!”
“Yeah… also, I haven’t gotten my lights up yet, in case they’re looking for anywhere else to hit.”
Officer Tessier snickers where he stands in front of him, and they shut the door.
Well, double fuck.