Petty crime sure doesn’t make this year any easier. Someone stole the registration stickers off our car, and it’s the second time it’s happened. Theft of any size feels so violating.
No matter, as a Sherlock enthusiast, I donned my cap, popped my collar, and began looking for a motive. They could be trying to avoid registration fees, or maybe it was just teenage hooligans (a phrase I feel entitled to use now that I’m in my 30s).
Registration stickers aren’t hard to take, but I was still surprised someone would actually kneel down and pry them off like that. When we noticed it the first time, I couldn’t have told you if it had been days or months, so it was hard to tell if the trail was hot or cold. Undaunted, I resolved to be more observant and catch the thief if it happened again. I’m glad I did.
The second time it was actually Makayla, or should I say Watson, who saw who did it. The perpetrator wasn’t kneeling as much as standing, and it turns out our suspicions should have been less directed at teenage hooligans and registration fee dodgers and more at the two foot and under population that enjoys a good, durable sticker.
In classic crime novel fashion, we should have known that while we were investigating, the thief was right there watching us. Petty crime is so much worse when it’s a relative.
Joel and Katy