Kat Burglar

"The moment I woke up, I knew something wasn’t right."
“What does that mean, Mr. Smith?”
“I don’t know. It was like the vibe of the house was different.”
“Different, how?”
“Chaotic.”
“Chaotic?”
“Yes, Detective. Chaotic.”
“In what way?”
“When I went to bed, everything was peaceful – serene, even. But when I woke up it felt different. Chaotic and disturbed.”
“You’re telling me you feel the emotions of your house?” The detective snorted, his disbelief and condescension blatant.
“No. I feel the vibe of the place. I keep my space calm and as peaceful as possible because the world, at large, is vile and full of people who thrive on sowing chaos and hate. I woke up this morning and the peace was gone.” Mr. Sheldon Smith refuted coldly.
“And how was it gone?”
“I wasn’t sure until I went to make my coffee. Half of it was gone.”
“You know how much coffee you have to the point of knowing if half is gone?”
Sheldon inhaled deeply, forcing himself to check his urge to lash out at the detective and his sneering disdain. He closed his eyes and mentally counted to five.
“I have a single cup machine that uses the pods.” Sheldon finally responded with a tight jaw and icy glare at the other man. “I buy two flavors, chocolate and hazelnut. All of the hazelnut pods were gone, so, yes, half of them were gone.”
“I see. Was anything else missing?”
“All of my left shoes, all my batteries, all of my purple guitar picks, all of the white buttons off my clothes, and the dishwasher pods.” Mr. Smith ticked off. “Oh, and every light bulb was loosened in the socket so my lights flickered and every third DVD was out of place – not missing, out of its usual place.”
“That’s very specific.”
“And annoying.” Sheldon grumbled.
“Is there anyone you can think of who’d break into your home in this manner?”
“Not really. I tend to keep to myself.”
“Do you know how they entered?”
“I do. They came in through the pet door on my deck and left through the front door.”
“And how do you know this?”
“There was mud tracked in through the pet door and the front door was left open.”
“How do you know your pet didn’t track the mud in?”
“Because Mr. Tibbles left paw prints not long skids that looked like feet being pulled through.”
“Interesting. Is there anything else we need to know then?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“Would you like a forensic team to come by and dust for fingerprints and try to collect other…” The detective began to offer, but Sheldon cut him off with a shake of his head.
“No. I didn’t realize it was going to be as big of a deal as it is so I tidied up already. But if it happens again, I’ll be more cautious.”
“Then why did you bother to come down here and report this?”
“Because it if happens again, it’s on record.”
“I see. Well then, I’ll make sure this is filed correctly and I hope, with all due respect, that we never meet again.”
“Normally, I’d take offense, but I must say, I agree. Thank you.”
Sheldon left the station, his irritation at having spent the bulk of his day thus far dealing with the disturbance of his space a constant thorn in his pride. Most of the missing items he could deal with but where were his left shoes? And who takes just the left shoe?
A scowl darkened Sheldon’s face as he turned slowly into his driveway. A man he’d never seen before with a small child sat on his porch with a box at his feet. He knew he wasn’t expecting a delivery, nor did he know anyone with children. Putting his car in park and killing the engine, Sheldon kept his gaze on the man as he unbuckled the seatbelt. Cautiously, he opened the car door and stepped out into the grey mist of winter. As he did so, the man and child stood up, the little girl clinging to the man’s leg.
“Can I help you?” Sheldon asked as he approached the house and walked up the two steps onto his porch.
“Are you Mr. Sheldon Smith?”
“I am.”
The other man nodded then bent to pick up the box at his feet. “I’m Jacob Jones. My family and I moved in next door a few days ago. My daughter, Kat, and I are here to return your stuff.”
Sheldon glanced down at the little girl who was shrinking behind her father’s leg as she continued to grip it tightly. When he looked back at Jacob, he noted the deep flush of embarrassment tinting the other man’s neck and face.
“My stuff?”
“Yes. Kat has a tendency to sleepwalk when she’s overly tired or stressed and I’m afraid moving has been exhausting and stressful for everyone. I believe she had an episode last night and she managed to slip out of our house and into yours.”
“While sleepwalking?” Sheldon gaped.
“Yes. I found this box with your address on the outside in her room so I made the assumption that it is your stuff. It’s random things like left shoes, guitar picks, and buttons.”
“She did all that while sleepwalking?” Sheldon struggled to comprehend.
“She did. And we’re very sorry she did. I’ve put a small bell in the box for you to hang on whatever she managed to enter your house through. It should wake her should she try again. We’ve already put the usual sensors and alarms up on our own house now that we’re fully in this house. I hope you’ll forgive us and that we can be on friendly terms.”
Sheldon accepted the box from the other man then nodded. He looked at the little girl then back to her father.
“Nice to meet you. And thanks for returning my stuff.”

Word count: 996