I figured that C had gone into the car after we got home from school and just hadn't slammed the door well enough. Not even bothering to check out the car, I bumped the door with my left glute and went up to bed.
The next morning, Franny and I were just starting on our walk when I noticed a Voltron zipper pouch (don't ask) identical to the one that I normally keep in my glove box lying on the ground a few distant yards away down the alley.
Deducing that the chances of there being two identical, 80's-vintage Voltron zipper pouches in my town, let alone the state of Oklahoma was pretty remote, I retrieved it and quickly scanned the nearby terra firma. Sure enough, the bags contents were scattered about as well....box of wet-light matches, a pen, a pad, plastic pouch containing my registration and PofI, box of spare fuses, and a white plastic container of dental floss (no one can ever accuse me of not being prepared for any emergency). Everything was present and accounted for...just not residing safely in my glove box.
That tingling sensation went up my spine and in a CSI-montagy flash of images, I realized my little Civic had been burgled last night.
I loped back to my car and found that the only thing missing was my mini-maglite (holster was still there, but the torch was gone) and the Volton bag (I told you, don't ask). The pocket knife was still in the bottom of the glove box as was my Leatherman, about $4 in change in the ashtray, all the trash and leavin's typical of a Dad-mobile (at least the thief could have cleaned up a bit...sheesh), and most importantly, my Supergirl action-figure that sits on my dash.
Fuming a little at the violation of property, and fuming a lot at the loss of my mini-maglite, Franny and I made our way back down the alley. I was trying to decide whether to call in the report or not, when I spotted, leaning up against my neighbors garage, my mini-maglite. It worked just fine -- so the question needs to be asked, why would the burgler toss away a perfectly good and functional mini-maglite?
My deduction -- it was a kid (somewhere between 10 and 15 I imagine) who had no idea how to turn the darn thing on ("There's no button to push..how do you turn this confounded thing on...oh the heck with it!") and just tossed it aside.
Had I been in my Law and Order mode, I would have remembered to pick up the flashlight using some rubber gloves or the plastic baggie that I carry around for Franny's dookie. But I was just happy to get it back, and once retrieved, I put the incident behind me, as people who grow up in cities have been trained to do with petty offenses against their property.
Flash forward to yesterday, when I pull the rubber band off the local paper that sits patiently on my front porch, and read the following headline...
Ding-Ding. Give that man a stuffed animal.
They have the kid on 17 known vehicle break-in's, with many more unreported, according to the Police Chief.
They recovered $159 in cash $12.37 in coin, video games, and clothing that were either stolen or purchased with the ill-gotten gain. Just some greedy, bored, misguided kid, who got away with it once, and it became easier to do as he kept getting away with it.
I say make the kid wash every car he broke into, every weekend for a year. Or at least make him mow our lawns for the entire summer. Heck, I'd even pay him a few bucks to do that.