On the very day that Blork’s scooter got stolen, I got a letter from the cops saying they were watching our neighborhood closely, after a round of burglaries. They said we should be wary of people looking into houses and cars while taking notes or speaking on cellphones.

The next day, while getting into my car, I noticed a guy across the street, looking up at our place and talking on a cellphone. I distinctly heard him say “well, if we concentrate on the second floor…” (and guess what floor I live on). I drove up and parked in front of him, looking disobligingly like I wanted him to finish the conversation so I could address him.

However, I bored of waiting before he got off the phone, and got out of the car to get T. T ran out just in time for us to see the guy get back into his car and drive off. We called the cops and gave a good description of the man and the car, including the license plate. The cops said they’d send someone to take a statement. I secretly wondered if I could put in a request for one of those Longueuil cops Martine mentioned.

Anyway, two days ago, I got a call from my landlord, saying he might be selling the place and asking if I could show the prospective buyers my apartment. Who doesn’t show up to see the place, but - you guessed it - mystery cellphone man himself.

As soon as he was in my living room, I said “Wait a second, I know you! You drive a burgundy Subaru with the license plate 000 XXX! I called the cops on you two weeks ago!”

And they say I’d be good at sales.