Was it the Handicapped Man?

“Good day sir”, greeted the inspector. I replied to his greeting with a wave. I was too anxious to speak anything because I was left speechless about what was happening for the past week. “I received a call from your house yesterday but was too busy to stop by, had some paperwork to complete. Heard you were getting robbed. Any suspects in mind?” he said as he opened his notepad.

I looked towards my new neighbor, a handicapped person. He had looked shady to me since the day he first arrived which was last week. His irritable accent and ragged face were one of the few things that made him my number one suspect. I was about to go and confront him when my best friend, Joe interrupted me, ‘Looking bothered, mate. Any problems?”

“Other than the robberies that have been taking place since last Monday, life has been treating me well.” Joe looked disturbed at the sound of that. I tried to ignore the unpredictable reaction my friend gave to my sentence. Oh, the inspector! I turned towards him, apologizing for the intervention of Joe. “You should write the name of my newest neighbor in your list of suspects,” I said.

“Well, well, before writing up anything why don’t I go and visit the good ol’man?” the officer bowed and left. “Come inside”, I signal Joe to go inside my house. “So what kinds of robberies have been taking place Sam?” inquired Joe. “Oh the same old things, my friend. One day I was sitting in the gazebo reading my book, completely unaware that my phone was beside me. I got up and went inside my house, so engrossed in the book that I left my phone behind. The next thing I knew my phone was stolen. That’s what Sherlock Holmes does to you man! Then I happened to leave my backpack outside, while I grabbed my suitcase from inside. When I came back, my bag had disappeared. So the day before yesterday, I decided to keep my Rolex watch outside, you know as bait, and waited behind my gazebo for the man to turn up. Luckily just a few seconds later, the man came and to my surprise, he wasn’t able to walk, he had clutches in his hand! VOILA!! I knew it was my new neighbor. Now I can get rid of that folk for good.” I said, rejoicing. Just then, the doorbell rang. It was the inspector. “It wasn’t the handicapped man, whose name is Robert. Now the question that arrives is who was it? Then I very well know.” He said, looking at Joe, who was gulping in nervousness. “How? Now that’s another day’s story.”