My town. I just love it. I love that it is tiny. And quaint. And filled with old homes. And mature trees. And friendly, older neighbors who have lived here most of their lives. Some call it Mayberry. Our mayor is not only one of neighbors, he also teaches our boys karate. Our town is a one stop-light town. ("At the stop light, take a right and that's our street," is how we tell people where we live. Or "right across the street from Pastor Michael." If we say that, everyone will know our exact house. And who lived here before we did.)
So when I noticed two police cars on my street yesterday, I thought that was odd. We have a "town resident," who works for the county's sheriffs office and he is assigned our town as his main duty post. We know him by name. We see him driving around town frequently, but he is always alone.
And I thought it was even more strange when I saw a Maryland State Trooper car driving down our street. (We live on a dead end.) I kind of hovered near the front door wondering what was going on. Making sure the door was locked, as it always is. And when I saw sheriff's deputies canvassing my street, going door to door, I nearly flipped my wig. I had to abruptly end the call I was on to answer the door with a panicky, "what's wrong?!"
The one and only bank on Main Street was robbed and, apparently, the suspects ran down my street. Down. My. Street. My little Mayberry-town street.
It was only minutes before Taylor was due home, so I hovered the front door nervously, watching for the suspects. Not wanting to see them.
Taylor arrived home safely. I promptly escorted him into the house and waited. I looked out the door. Some neighbors were out on the street. Some (like me) were locked away. When I noticed an elderly neighbor coming home, I thought I should warn him. As we were standing on the street, a young man walked down the street. Then a police car pulled up. I decided to go back to my house and as I passed by, one of the officers said on his walkie-talkie "do we have a photo of the suspect?" So, I walked a little faster home.
As soon as I got inside, my phone rang. It was my best friend calling to warn me. I answered the phone, walked back to the door and this is what I saw:
They were frisking him. In a matter of seconds, three police cars, a police SUV, and an unmarked (FBI ?) car were in front of the house interrogating the guy.
I'm giving the play-by-play to my friend, while running to my laptop and emailing my sister the same details (she works for the same bank, but in the main office).
Turns out, after smelling the suspect's hands (yes, they did, I would not make that up), and an FBI agent's visit to a neighbor's house to verify his story, he was released. Bad timing is what is was. He was on his way to visit one of my neighbors. At least by the time he reached my neighbor's house he was laughing. My neighbor was nearly doubled over in laughter.
As of this morning, I have yet to see anything on the news or online for the one-and-only county newspaper. It's not mentioned at all, which makes me think the suspects are still at large.
Oh, and did I mention that Joe is out of town again this week? Nice.
(And here's a mouse update: I caught one. I discovered it yesterday before all the excitement. I had to put a bag on my hand so that I could touch the trap. I did not even scream. I seriously contemplated leaving it there until Joe's return on Friday night, but it was on my kitchen floor. And then I contemplated having my 81-year-old neighbor getting it for me, but then I thought that was too much to ask. And this morning Taylor warned me that there's a giant spider on the loose in my bathroom. Here's to being a lot more brave than I ever thought possible!)