Police Visit

 It was a pleasant Friday night, yesterday. I sat by the fire and watched the GWS/Essendon game in the knowledge that I had a live $3 seven game bet for round ten on both teams. I stood to win $80 for a GWS win or $169 for an Essendon win. Naturally I was barracking for Essendon, a rare thing for me, but the $89 differential had me rooting for the Bombers. I was peed off when GWS snatched victory in the dying moments after trailing all match. But so it goes.

The game finished I went to the computer to check my balance after the bookie settled. As happens I lingered checking Facebook then deviated to google searching for a piece of music I heard a while back but couldn't quite remember the title. This is a bit of a trap, time slips by.

At about 11.30 pm, I heard a bit of a clunk noise outside. I was rugged up, track suit over my pyjamas, woollen jacket over that, scarf and beanie as it has been very cold and we don't have central heating. At night it's sit by the fire, or rug up or go to bed. The noise seemed close to to the room where I was sitting at the computer. It being a windy night there was noise outside. I'm aware that thieves choose windy nights thinking they won't be heard as they would on a still night. The noise was a little metallic and my immediate thought was, that's not right, so within seconds I was walking to the front door to investigate with the thought that a thief/thieves was/were trying to steal my trailer which was on the back lawn just outside my office.

I was almost at the door when there was knocking on it. I thought straight away, well it's not a thief, it must be someone I know to be at the door at that hour. I turned the porch light on and opened the door to see two police officers standing there, a pair of headlights from their car in the drive shining behind them.

"What can I do for you?" was my words as I stepped out.

"We're calling to see if Jean is OK," one of them said. They were strapping young blokes, wearing face masks, and flouro jackets and all the police attachments.

"There's no Jean here. There's me, Carey, wife Lib, and son Gordon. Why Jean?"

"This is 8 Agnes St, isn't it? It's 10 next door so this must be 8."

"This is 4-8, but we call it 8. (We have no number at the top of our drive)

"We received a call that Jean may be in need of assistance, at 8 Agnes St. How long have you lived here? Do you know a Jean close by?"

"Forty years, Can't think of a Jean around here. Is she sick? Or is this a Covid thing?" 

"No. We had information that Jean Thompson was at 8 Agnes St and in need of assistance. What were you doing when we arrived?"

"No, she's not here, never heard of her, I was listening to music on the computer. I heard a noise and thought someone might be knocking off my trailer so I was on my way out to check when you knocked. It must have been your car door I heard."

They seemed unconvinced but were at a dead end. "Well we better check our information. Thank you."

They turned to walk to their car. "Have a good night," I said, "Take care, the weather is foul."

"You too." One then turned back and said, "What was your name?"

"Carey Williams"

It's most unusual to have police knocking on my door near midnight. Thinking about it, I'm a little annoyed. I could have jumped to all sorts of wrong conclusions thinking a loved one had been injured or killed, which I didn't I might add, that didn't enter my head. They didn't identify themselves or tell me which station they were from. Who is Jean Thompson? Young or old? Who gave them the information? Was there a suggestion of violence? Did the informant give them my address by accident or intention? Were they telling me the truth, or making it all up, casing my place, remote as it would be, that they were crooked cops? It has been known.

I give them the benefit of probability and accept they were just doing their job and trying to look after someone who was vulnerable.