thought much of it. As a matter of fact, most of the neighbourhood only found out later, when the bastard had gone completely mental. Weeks later such events became almost daily. Smashed windows, lights, side mirrors, cut tires, construction foam in exhaust and air intakes… all of it. Before I was taken in, he had gotten to eight cars. We started to organize patrols, watch out for each other’s vehicles through the windows, but that didn’t stop him. He waited for his moments, sometimes skipped a few days so we’d let our guard down.”
“So, he must have always been nearby.” I added.
“That’s what we eventually figured out as well. We nearly got him, but the fucker is quick and could outrun everyone. He has managed to dodge the police patrol that’s now constantly nearby, and us – our own civil patrol initiative.”
“Were you participating in the patrols as well?” Since he kept referring to the events as ‘we’ and ‘us,’ I imagined this colossal, limp figure trying to chase down someone five times faster than him, while screaming and waving a stick.
“Erm… I looked through the window, but saw him once. He was gone before I could alert anyone. I’m helping with my mind. Anyway, in one of the last meetings, with the police present as well, we concluded that it can’t be any of the residents because then we would most certainly have spotted someone matching his description coming back home.”
“Good, and you must have realised that it’s not just petty, aimless vandalism, but a systematic, purposeful message.”
“Yes, such version was brought up, true.”
“Then why did you attack a random local?!” I teased him because I felt I know what his version was.
“I thought that, perhaps, it is someone, who doesn’t live far from here and he is just playing games with us.”
“Of course you did.” I said. Spot on!
“The local store owner agreed with me! He too was trying to convince everyone that we must look for a degenerate, who likes to toy with people.”
“The store owner? Tell me about him.”
“A thin, middle-aged man. He owns a small store west of the housing complex, just across the street, which he opened about a year ago. We are his main customers, though he never sees us because he only shows up to collect money. The rest is up to the local girls he has hired to work for him.”
“Who else owns something nearby?” I asked.
“On north, there is a guarded parking lot. As far as I know, it’s been there for around twenty years. I know the owner quite well since he has always been around, he used to be the night guard there himself. He is, however, in his eighties now, and his health has recently declined, so his son is doing most of the administrative work.”
“Okay, who else?”
“We also have a kindergarten on the south. The girls who are working there are very nice. At least that’s what my children are saying. For a while we had a bit of an argument with a man, who wanted to open a kiosk in our yard. But since we already had made plans for the parking spaces, and we have a store, everyone, sort of, ignored him. An aggressive bloke, that was. Very rude and loud, nobody liked him. He is police’s main suspect, but they can’t seem to find him. He is not at his home.”
“That’s it?”
“There are other neighbourhoods close enough, but mostly we are surrounded by trees.”
“I assume other housing complexes are not having this issue?”
“Nope. Just us.” Crutch said.
“You also said you had made your own investigation?” I was curious to know more details.
“I talked to the night guard in the parking lot. He hasn’t seen anything because his cabin has no windows facing our direction.”
“What else?”
“That was all.”
“What?! And that’s your investigation?” I burst out laughing.
“I would have dug up more, but it is not easy to carry all of this around,” he slid his hands on his belly. “And as I said, I was convinced that I had already found the idiot.”
For a few minutes I sat there motionless, thinking. There wasn’t much to grab onto. I realised that I could have just gotten off my chair, apologised to the man for having nothing to tell and leave. As a matter of fact, I would have probably done exactly that if not for my pride and bragging about being able to solve the case with whatever the Crutch had. I wouldn’t have lost anything by giving up, but then I imagined just how cool it would be if I were still able to crack this. That thought lightened me up. The prison guard had just announced that we will have to line up in half an hour, so I figured that that’s how much time I’ll give to my client to provide me with something tangible.
“You said you saw the vandal once, right?” I asked.
He nodded.
“Tell me all about that, with as much detail as possible.”
“Well,” Crutch paused. “It was very late, around three in the morning. That’s when he usually strikes because that is when most of us are asleep. I was on the internet looking at… stuff, when I noticed someone wandering about in our yard. Back then we had no idea what he looked like. I was the first one to see him. He stopped near one of the cars and looked around. That’s when I noticed that he was holding something in his hand. It looked like a metal pipe. It took him less than a second to lift the pipe over his shoulder and smash the rear window, but by the time I managed to get up from my chair, open the window and alert someone, the moron had sprinted at least a hundred meters. When finally someone was ready to chase him, he was well gone.”
“In which hand was he holding the pipe?”
“I… I’m not sure…”
“Think, then. When he lifted the pipe over his shoulder, over which shoulder did he lift it?”
“Right one, definitely the right shoulder.” Crutch said after a brief moment of silence.
“Certain?”
“Yes. That is why I didn’t see the thing immediately. Look, when he smashed the window, he was facing right from my point of view. I only saw his weapon, when he lifted it because he was holding it in his left hand. ”
“Good.”
“You think he was left-handed? It could be a simple coincidence.”
“Yes, but that’s highly unlikely. When you have mere seconds to make a decision and act, what do you do? Do you think about the hand you are using, or instinctively go with what feels more natural? Try to mimic the movement from both sides and tell me which feels that wee bit more awkward.”
He did as I asked, and then let out a sigh of surprised approval. “I am left-handed as well. Now that you mention it, swinging from the right side over my left shoulder does feel a tiny bit unnatural.”
“Precisely,” I said. “And when you have so little time to think, you go with your instincts, especially on things that seem irrelevant.”
“Okay, but what does that give us?”
“How many of the people, who hang around there are left-handed?”
“I don’t know everyone. The ones I do know are I, my oldest daughter and the store owner. I know about him because on the meeting we had, he had brought a leftie notebook. You know, the one with the spiral on the other side, so that it’s easier to take notes when the spiral is not in the way. I asked him about it, he said that it was a present to him, and he has no idea where one could buy it.”
I didn’t say a word for a while and just looked around.
“You think it’s him?” Something clicked in Crutch’s head. “Mr. Apsītis? That’s why he was so eager to side with me on the assumption of a teenage prick! How stupid have I been?! Of course. It removed the potential blame from him! It all fits! He began to come around relatively recently, he’s left-handed, and he was the only one who agreed with me because that was the only option that was presented as an alternative to truth. Oh, that weasel… that…”
He continued to rant and curse for at least ten more minutes without giving me any space for interrupting him. Dāvids went on and on, while I began to observe what other inmates had been doin
g all this time. A few of them were playing cards, with every victory and defeat being supported by bursts of cries and curses. Daumants, a pale, muscular show-off, was exercising, while his little fan club of four other men were asking him for exercise tips. But Harolds, a dumb and disgusting Nazi, and his pals were making fun of the more weak and insecure lot of inmates that the group had gathered and circled for the occasion. Outside the prison those two are considered as serious criminal authorities, which is why they have their own henchmen inside as well. They know they are the rock stars of this concrete stage and they are eager to show it. Once in a while both of them compare their stacks of letters from female (and occasional male) admirers to see who has been more popular this fortnight or month, or so. What they don’t know, however, is that since I’ve been more on the news recently, I receive twice as much correspondence than they combined… Funny.
“I’ll agree with you if you can explain me what could possibly be his motive.” I finally said to Crutch as I noticed that his zest had died down.
“Didn’t you hear a word I said?” He asked.
“I didn’t hear you say anything about the actual reason why he would vandalise the cars.”
“Well… not directly… I…”
“So, you have no motive.” I made a vague smile.
Our conversation was interrupted by the patrol guard, who ordered us to line up as the free time outside was up.
“I’ll stop by your book room later. By then I will have your bloody motive.” Crutch said as we