August 1, 2010
One of the pleasures of having children is lying to them to see their reactions. Of course we call it, “pulling your leg,” but really, it’s taking advantage of their naivete, helping them lose it to be exact.
So when our cherub was seven years old, we told him that before we had children, his dad and I were spies. He believed us for awhile, and now it’s a running joke in the family.
I fall down in the middle of the street because I’m digging through my wallet and slip off the curb and Wes says, “Nice spy skills.”
Wes tries to lie to me about exactly what happened at school and I say, “Don’t try it, mister, remember, I’m a trained spy.”
Wes asks for more gas money and Bill tells him, “There is no way you need more gas money. You’re spending it on other stuff and I’ll find out what that stuff is with my spy skills.”
Or, Wes can’t keep a secret and we both tell him, “You’ll never make a good spy!”
So this weekend, our spy skills were put to the test.
Over a month ago, my wedding ring was stolen from my bedroom dresser. Right before my 25 wedding anniversary. I was bummed. Bill was bummed. We tried not to be bummed together because that would have been too much bumming.
There were several suspects. We had had a new bed delivered. There were workers building a new closet in the bedroom. The gardener was over. Our house cleaner and her helper were there that week. And various guests in and out of the house. We were so bummed that now we suspected all of them.
So, yesterday, we decided to hit the pawn shops in town. I figured no one would be stupid enough to sell it at a pawn shop in the same town the ring was stolen from. Bill did not think so highly of our thief. Besides, I thought I might get some new jewelry out of the trip.
The first pawn shop we hit, there it was like the gleaming the sword in the stone and if we could just get it out of the jewelry case, we’d be kings. Bill called a worker over and said, “Can we look at that one, oh,” he ever so slyly added, “and that one there too.”
I tried both rings on and pretended to be deciding on which one I liked best. I played it off so well, that the second ring actually fit me better than my own ring, which has nothing to do with the fact that I am now 30 pounds heavier than when I first received the ring – no, it was part of the decoy plan.
I feigned interest in my ring and Bill discreetly put a deposit on it, telling the worker we would be back with the other $850 for our ring. He was so discreet, he asked questions like, “No one else can get that ring now, right?” and “Where on the receipt does it prove I put a deposit on that ring – could you take a picture of it and attach it please?”
Then we got outside and called anyone we thought would have some good advice for us, ex-cops, current cops, co-workers, friends, and the detective who took the first police report Bill filed.
Having spy nerves, we lasted about three hours before we returned to the pawn shop and asked to see the ring again. I pretended I wasn’t sure if it was the ring I wanted and perused the other rings in the case, but never once asked to try on another ring. Finally, defeated, I handed the ring back to the boy helping me and sat outside on the bench. I didn’t want any other ring, really.
Eventually, the sheriff arrived and announced that the ring in question was stolen and the pawn shop worker apologized and told us that he would be happy to give it back to us, for the price he paid for it.
That’s the law. You would know that if you were a spy!
So now we have to wait for our detective to confirm that it is our ring, then pay $200 for it. We will get to find out who sold it to the pawn shop. We can get our $200 from that person. Good luck!
Bill plans to also sue for pain and suffering. He’s going to claim that having the ring stolen ruined our 25th wedding anniversary party because I was grumpy, grumpier than normal, and he has witnesses. He plans to call them all to testify to the fact that I was a total biotch at the party. He’s sure he will win.
Of course, that was all part of my spy plan. Sometimes you have double cross even your partner, because I got a second ring out of the deal, which brightened my spirits… for awhile.
So, having spy skills in our past has really helped us this weekend. We can’t wait for the trial to come around so we can draw on our skills from our past lives as professional juror tamperers.
This week I am thankful that there is Salt in my blood, even if it’s Veruca Salt.
