Crime and Intrigue at the Hibachi Grille


There comes a time in everyone’s life when a little crime must fall. Some lucky few even enjoy this privilege of humanity more than once. Clearly born under a sign that attracts bad karma, you spend your whole life burning sage and chanting the Serenity Prayer in hopes that the evil witch of random luck will get the hell off your back and torment some other unsuspecting fool.

Sadly, I have to admit that I fall into this category of crime scene attractor. I’ve decided that either I was once an evil bat girl for the Nashville Sounds who bashed in the windows of patrons cars while the mascot distracted them between innings OR a dental hygienist with an extra sharp pick.

Friday night, during a birthday dinner at a local Japanese restaurant, the third installment of my “touched by bad karma” crime occurred. The evening started out innocently enough. It had been a long and somewhat stressful week (then again, any week I have to work in hell is stressful) and I was really looking forward to spending time with my family and celebrating the birthday of my oldest step-son. We gave him the choice of restaurants and like the good little carnivore he is, chose our favorite Japanese establishment, which will remain nameless for purposes of the tedious Metro Police investigation.

The plan was to meet everyone there after work. Being unorganized as usual, I stopped by the local drugstore to pick up a gift bag and card for his present. While there, I found a few items that I thought momma had to have. I placed the bags on the floorboard in the front on the passenger side. Already there was my brand new leopard skin tote, my new black sling back sandals and this month’s edition of Vogue with Natalie Portman on the cover.

I made it to the restaurant in record time, parked on the side near the front where we always park, and joined my family inside. Even though we had seen the grill catch fire, the onion volcano, the “egg roll” trick and regale over the Tepanakyi Chef’s ability to catch shrimp tales in his hat many times before, tonight being a celebration, the goofy routine seemed extra funny.

My mother-in-law and grandmother were excited about their upcoming trip to Belgium and Holland the next day, while my father-in-law mentioned three times how much he was going to enjoy having the house to himself. My spouse and two step-sons entertained me with their lack of social graces, as usual and I enjoyed watching all the high-school kids having dinner in their prom clothes. I wondered if they realized their David’s Bridal dresses would smell like grill smoke by the time they left for the festivities, but hey….let them have their fun. If you're lucky, you only have to endure the prom once.

After finishing our delicious food, we all made our way outside to the front of the restaurant. Hugs were exchanged, greetings and salutations were said and everyone went to their prospective cars. Our youngest son insisted that he ride home with me so I could listen to his new compilation CD he had made himself.

As I unlock the jeep, I watch the slide on the passenger door unlock and we both pile in. Immediately I realize that my shopping bags are no longer in the front but having made a comment earlier that the front sit would need cleaning out for my son to ride with me, I thought my sweet husband had already moved things around. About that time, my son asked me why the lock on his side “looks weird”. That’s when it hit me……..once again the ding of the bad karma bell rang.

I immediately cell phone my husband who had just pulled out of the parking lot and confirm that NO he had NOT moved things around, and in fact, had not even been to the jeep. I tell him that we need to call the police. He calls his parents and they all return to the parking lot to comfort me in my daze of horror.

As I’m sitting there waiting for all of them to return, I begin doing what those of us who are cursed with the bad karma do. We start reliving all the other episodes scene by scene.

The first time crime came knocking I was in the 8th grade, home alone after school working on a Home Economics sewing project when a member of Fat Albert’s posse broke in on me. Never having been a victim of crime before, I stupidly chased him out of our house with my sewing shears. The only reason I’m still here to write about this is because I was heavier than he was and he knew I meant business when I rushed at him screaming, “I’m going to cut you into meat chunks”.

The second time was in the Piggly Wiggly on Charlotte Avenue, circa 1988. I was grocery shopping on a Tuesday night with my then sister-in-law and she was ahead of me in the grocery isles. My purse was in my cart and I turned around to pick up a jar of something and when I turned back around, my purse was gone. Thinking she played a trick on me, I called ahead to her but quickly realized she had not. I mourned the loss of my purse for weeks and months. It was during the handbag craze of the leather bags with patchwork animals and scenes. Mine was zebras, elephants and palm trees. Oh the injustice!!!

Before I can go too far down memory lane, up pulls a white and gold Ford Explorer. The first thing you see other than the huge rims and butterscotch detailing is a silk lei of many colors hanging from the rear view mirror and a crystal angel the size of a beanie baby hanging from the visor. Out steps the restaurants “rent-a-cop”. Her name is Donna and she looks much like Dawg the Bounty Hunter’s girlfriend. Donna is very buxom, dressed in black, make-up for days, long, dyed blonde permed hair, three inch acrylic nails and a cigarette dangling from her mouth. She proudly sports her rent-a-cop badge on a Puff Daddy-sized silver chain around her neck and a very large glock on her expansive hips. “You got hit tonight?” Uh, yeah….that would be me.

She goes into a long and drawn out dialogue of how this same thing happened last week to another patron, on the same side of the car. This poor woman lost her laptop and case. Okay, you’d have to kill me if someone stole my computer. Life as I know it would not be worth living.

Anyway, she explains that Metro is on their way but to realize they take their time and I might as well take a load off and have a cigarette. I explained that none of us were smokers. Too bad she said, as this would have been a good time to start.

After several minutes, one of Metro’s finest pulls up. We go through the whole story again, and he completes the report for our insurance company. The only neat thing about that experience is that he let me assist in finger printing the “crime scene” aka the passenger door. I immediately waxed into my best CSI/Law and Order mode and made inquiries of the probability they’d catch the “perp” and how long it would take “trace” to run the prints in the bank before we’d have any further “leads”. “Huge fan, are you?” he asked at one point. Uh, yeah….that would be me.

You know it wasn’t the few items from Walgreen’s that bothered me. It was the total feeling of violation and the loss of my new bag and shoes. I feel I must justify my right to bags and shoes all the time. Dog gone it! An addict shouldn’t have to explain themselves to thieves too! I had only tried on the shoes once. The lining of the tote still had that new smell, having just found air earlier in the day.

Dejectedly, I headed home after all the drama was finally over. All I could think about was some thief reading my Vogue, admiring all the pretty handbags and shoes on the beautiful, glossy pages.

There was one thing that struck me as ironic about the whole episode. I had purchased my step-sons some t-shirts that day. One of the shirts I got for our youngest, because it had a slogan he repeats on a daily basis at least half a dozen times. It read, “It Wasn’t Me”.

So if you see a Tepanakyi Chef walking around south Nashville in a pair of black sling backs, carrying a leopard tote and wearing a shirt that says, “It Wasn’t Me”, call Metro immediately. I’m sure they’ve had a great weekend enjoying my things. They may even have some friends that will say, “Hey, great shoes, did you get those recently?”

Uh yeah….that would be me.