So after discovering that m'son had been a bit economical with the truth about the incident with his car in Wellington, I contacted Senior Sergeant Whatsisname at Police HQ.
Well actually I tried to contact Senior Sergeant Whatsisname(SSW) at Police HQ.
The NZ Police website is not terribly well organised, and it took me some time before I found the number I really wanted.
Me: "Is this Senior Sergeant Whatsisname?"
SSW: "Yes" (Succinct to say the least)
Me: "I'm trying to find out why my car, being driven by my son, with my permission (obviously trying to avoid any hint of "Stolen car" suspicions here) was towed away from Wakefield Street on Friday last week."
SSW: "Do you have an incident number Sir?"
Me: "No, SSW, all I have is a pack of lies told by m'son to avoid both my anger and his Mum's disappointment"
SSW: "Ah, I understand Sir" , "We've had many cases like this". "Frightened to tell his Mum was he?"
Me: "Yes, and I can understand his fear, as his Mum's disappointment is more fearful than a Great White Shark with a toothache"
|I don't need Novocaine|
SSW: "I understand completely Sir" "I've been married 30 years myself" *sounds of deep sobbing echoed plaintively down the phone line* "However, I don't have any record of the incident" "I would suggest phoning Senior Sergeant RightBastard at Porirua on *** ******" "If the car was towed there, he'd have the records"
Me: Thanks SSW, for being so understanding, I'll take your advice and phone SSRB"
I then take another deep breath and retire to contemplate life, the Universe and lying aresholes that I still love.
|This is almost as f*cked up as my life at the moment.|
Back to the phone.
Phone SSRB in Porirua.
SSRB: "Hello, Porirua Police, SSRB speaking"
Me: "Sorry to bother you, but I'm trying to find out why my car, being driven by my son, with my permission (obviously trying to avoid any hint of "Stolen car" suspicions here) was towed away from Wakefield Street on Friday last week and is being stored by a towing company in Porirua, who say the car is under Police Impound"
SSRB: "Do you have an incident number Sir?"
Me: "Sorry, no, but the car reg. no. is ****** and the incident took place on Friday last week"
SSRB: " Give me a couple of minutes Sir, and I'll bring up the records"
Me "No worries SSRB" (see, now completely integrated into the laid-back kiwi culture)
SSRB: "I'll just put you on hold for a few minutes Sir" *pleasant sounds of Muzak, based loosely on "Here's a how-de-do!" from The Mikado.*
SSRB: *In a much drier and officious voice* "I'm sorry Sir, I cannot divulge any information at this time." "Give me your contact number and I'll find out what information I can release to you, and call you back tomorrow"
Me: *with emotionally choked voice* "Thank you SSRB, my number is *** ****** ext. 7305"
SSRB: "I'll be in touch Mr TSB"
OH SHIT. I had picked up on the sudden loss of the honorific "Sir" in that last conversation. What on Earth had m'son really done.
I had images of him running a P lab from our garage.
Was I going to return home through a police cordon with suspicious glares being directed at blameless me?
I had images of him running an illegal Marijuana farm in the boot of his car.
Was I going to be a cause-celebre, reported in the national press as a teacher with drug connections? ( bet that would increase my popularity amongst the denizens of Nuova Lazio High School, if not the Senior Management.
I had images of him running an escort agency centre from his/my car.
I wondered if I could get a family discount?
The last scintillating installment will be forthcoming before the end of the week; reporting, health and relief commitments notwithstanding.