‘Fair,’ I replied, not looking up from my work. ‘Sweet, yellow justice.’
‘Should I not even ask?’
‘Probably not. But you’d better get some popcorn for that show that’s about to start.’
The trap was ready. That Saturday, Andrea came to visit, as usual, with the kids.
I watched her, pretending to be engrossed in her phone while she did her usual routine. She hugged the kids, commented on how grown up they were, and unobtrusively walked towards the kitchen.
‘Oh, I’ll get some water,’ she said casually, disappearing into the kitchen while I pretended to help Tomi with her homework.
I immediately pulled out my phone and watched on camera as she quickly stashed the eggs in her bag.
She hurried across the yard and handed the eggs to Mrs Davis. A few minutes later she was back inside, hugging the children as if nothing had happened.
That night I invited Andrea to have tea on the back veranda before she went home. From here there was a clear view of Mrs Davies’s kitchen.
She didn’t have curtains on her kitchen windows and I often sat here in the evenings watching her bake. Tonight, however, I expected to see a more exciting sight.
Mrs Davies walked around the kitchen several times with bowls, flour and other items. Then she picked up an egg. Cracked it, and mustard and hot sauce burst out of the egg, making her shriek.
‘What the…?’ – Andrea sat up straight, her cup of tea clinking against the saucer.
I shrugged and pretended to be concerned.
A few minutes later there was a knock on our door, causing Andrea to jump up.
I walked slowly to the door, trying to hide a smile. Mrs Davis stood on the doorstep, hands in mustard, face red with rage, as if she had just found out that her winning lottery ticket had been tampered with.
‘Those eggs!’ – she blurted out as I invited her in. ‘They were filled with…mustard and gravy!’
‘Eggs?’ – I asked innocently. ‘Oh, you mean the ones you bought at Andrea’s? Is there something wrong with them?’
Andrea walked into the living room. Mrs Davis immediately headed towards her.
‘Andrea? What’s going on? The eggs you sold me…they’re full of mustard and gravy!’
‘What, that’s impossible. Rebecca,’ Andrea hissed. ‘What did you do?’
I folded my arms. ‘What did I do? I think the right question is, what did you do stealing my groceries and selling them to my neighbour?’
Mrs Davis’s mouth dropped open. ‘Wait…you stole those eggs from Rebecca?’
The silence was deafening. Andrea’s face flushed obscenely, contrasting with her floral top. She opened and closed her mouth several times, but no words came out.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Mrs Davies muttered, poking her finger at Andrea, dripping mustard on my floor. ‘I trusted you! All this time telling everyone at my bridge club about your amazing balls!’
She turned and walked out, slamming the door hard so the panes shook. Andrea didn’t stay any longer. She grabbed her bag and almost ran out of the house, leaving her tea unfinished.
I waited until she was gone before I laughed. When James got home and I told him the whole story, he laughed even louder than I did.
‘That’s what you did with the mustard and gravy?’ – He chuckled, wiping tears from his eyes. ‘It’s genius! But a little creepy. Remind me never to steal your groceries.’
Since then, our eggs have stayed exactly where they belong – in the fridge.
Andrea never mentioned the incident again, and Mrs Davies found a new egg supplier. But sometimes, when I put the groceries away, I catch myself smiling. Because there’s nothing sweeter than the satisfaction of catching a thief in the act.