Thursday, November 28, 2013

A Simple Plan

Well, today's little surveillance case did not go quite according to plan.

The job was rather straightforward enough; I was subbing for another investigator who needed someone on the ground. His client was claiming ongoing harassment from her neighbour - who allegedly has been throwing stones continually at her roof on a daily basis and has, almost literally by the sounds of it, driven her mad.

There is probably a bit more to this story that has not been disclosed to me though because she had been arrested recently and is about to appear in Court in regards to harassment charges herself in regards to the very neighbour she claimed was making her life a misery.

The plan was that I would sneak onto the property unseen and position myself where I can conveniently overhear any strange noises or movements from over the fence.

While there were a few witnesses who have made statements as to being present on occasion where these noises occurred, there are other witnesses who claim to have heard nothing, or also stated that the Client was not in the room at the time. One concern is that maybe the Client is staging the occurrences so as to support her allegations against her neighbour...

Well, I made it onto the property easily enough. I was told that the Client would leave out a chair for me under a tarpaulin cover as the weather had been a bit wet lately. However, I could not find the chair or the tarp, so upended a plastic crate and made myself comfortable.

Two and a half hours went by uneventfully. I could hear the Client moving around inside the house but no other noises apart from the early morning traffic on the road outside.

Then, I heard the door open and a middle-aged female exited the house. At first she didn't see me but when she finally noticed the stranger sitting quietly on her back lawn, she pretty much jumped right out of her skin.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm working for Barry*," I replied.

She looked confused.

I explained further that Barry had instructed me in regards to her ongoing problem with her neighbour.

"What problem?" she asked. "Who's Barry?"

You see, it turned out I had been given the wrong address. Instead of 52 Road Street, I was told 42. And by co-incidence, both properties had particular features that I was told to look for, so my presumption that I was at the right address was understandable.

Luckily she found the matter amusing and didn't call the police or otherwise run me through with a sharp gardening implement.

* Not his real name  

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