My contribution to support the April Fools 2020 event.
If you want to whine about me or any of my stories, be forewarned that I gave up caring about whiners for Lent. I have to tell you that it feels so good that I may adopt it as a new lifestyle. It only takes a few seconds to delete a rant, so please don't spend more time than that writing it. If you need to vent, put it in an email.
This short story takes liberties with how the legal system works. If that bothers you, leave now. Besides, that sounds like you might be whining (see above).
Please read my profile for my stance on comments. Feel free to email suggestions or to start a conversation. Private messages work too.
Stevie Nicks: "Did she make you cry, make you break down, shatter your illusions of love? And is it over now, do you know how, to pick up the pieces and go home?"
+ + + +
We were coming back from enjoying a tasty dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant. Tori drank a little more than normal. We've been married for five years and things have become a little strained at times. It's been a week since we last had sex. It's been more than a few months since we made love. I can't put a finger on what's come between us. Hopefully tonight we can make love again and get us back on the rails.
I hit the garage door opener and got nothing. When I stepped out of the car, the motion detecting porch light should have illuminated the area. Some kind of power outage? Not really, as all of our neighbors were well lit.
Using my cell phone as a flashlight, I approached our front door. It was slightly ajar. I couldn't detect any damage to the door or frame.
"Our front door is open!"
"Did we forget to close it before we left?"
"I don't think so. I'm positive I locked it after getting the mail. Besides, I know I activated the security system when we left. It wouldn't have let me do that if a door or window was open."
Looking at my phone, there were no messages from the security company. Normally I get an alert when we have a power failure, so I don't know why I wasn't notified.
Tori yelled at me from the car "JOHN! We should call the police. If someone broke in they might still be there!"
Not wanting to be a hero, I let Tori call the police. Ten minutes later two squad cars arrived. The officers casually left their vehicles. After Tori and I introduced ourselves, Officer Wes Unger provided backup as Officer Vic Stearns entered the house.
A few minutes later the lights came on and Vic came out of the house. He said the power box breakers had been tripped.
"It does look like you've been burglarized. Why don't I escort you through the house while Wes does the same with your wife?"
The insurance company always tells you to make lists, take pictures, and update your records. I'd done none of that. My security system was supposed to protect me from theft. Vic and I stopped by the security control console and determined that the system had been put into a dormant state. Whoever broke in knew my code and how to deactivate the whole system.
"Let's go into the garage and talk."
After fifteen minutes, of asking things like who had grudges or vendettas against me, Vic and Wes decided to swap. For the next fifteen minutes Wes asked practically the same questions as Vic.
I guess these guys see this stuff all of the time as they were very upbeat when they left the scene. They'd taken our statements and several dozen photographs. Toss in dusting for prints on the doors, power panel, and security system and I felt like I was in some television crime show.
My stomach was turning thinking about what might be missing.
When the officers left, Tori announced that being burglarized made her feel dirty and that she was going to take a shower. While she was in the bathroom, I checked every room, trying to find something missing. I came up with nothing. Granted I'm not completely familiar with everything we own, but the major things were still here. Did we interrupt them before they could fleece us? Maybe we lucked out.
That hoped for night of passion never materialized.
+ + + +
There was no overcoming the feeling of having been violated. Tori thought some boxes of unused checks were missing, so we contacted the bank. It was a pain in the ass to establish a new checking account, but removing the possibility of that bank account being drained did provide some comfort.
We didn't have sex for another week. Tori claimed she didn't feel safe and it was difficult for her to be passionate. Sucks, but she had a point.
Four weeks after the burglary, it happened again. Ours is a small enough town, and the same two officers responded. Not surprising I guess, as it was the same day of the week and same time of day. The only difference this time was that Wes interviewed me first. His questions this time included wanting to know what insurance claims I'd submitted. He certainly hinted that he had to rule out insurance fraud.
Much like the first go around, each officer spent fifteen minutes with me, and fifteen minutes with Tori. Once again, Tori announced that being burglarized made her feel dirty and she headed off to take a shower. The officers smirked at that comment then bid me farewell and left.
This security system is worthless. After complaining to them, they led me through the steps to reprogram the access code. Yet, here I am again with the police dusting for prints and taking dozens of pictures.
Again, I couldn't find anything missing. Yes there were drawers open and things scattered about, but my cameras were still here, my computers were untouched, and they hadn't taken any of Tori's jewelry. My bullshit detector was blinking. There's something fishy about these break-ins.