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Good Place to Hide a Gun

Earlier this afternoon I braved the laundry room to do a load of towels. On my last trip back upstairs, I ran into Alex, my neighbour from across the hall. We rode up to our floor, asking each other how we were doing. Once I arrived at my apartment door, I assumed that Alex had enough chitchat. I was about to put my key in the lock when he said, “Wait, don’t you want to hear about the gun I found?” I thought he was kidding. He wasn’t.

Alex told me that one day about three weeks ago, he was downstairs in the exercise room. He’d just finished his workout and was bending down to put away his weights, when something near the treadmill caught his eye. A corner of a towel was sticking out. Alex pulled it out and was going to drape it over one of the bars when he discovered that there was a black towel wrapped up inside the white one. And inside the black towel was a small hand gun.

I asked if it was loaded. Alex gave me a funny look that could be loosely translated as “If you think I would know the answer to that or if I checked, you’re crazy.”

He said he freaked. Yeah, I think I would have to. He took the towels and their mysterious cargo to the office where, it just so happened that both the building manager (lives on site) and the apartment building owner (doesn’t live on site) were in. Alex explained what he discovered. The first thing the building manager asked was, “What were you doing looking underneath the treadmill?” (Yeah, I know – if I was in charge of an apartment building in downtown Vancouver, that would not have been my first question.)

Anyway, after more back and forth questions and comments, Alex was assured by both the manager and owner that the police would be contacted and the gun turned over to them. Several days passed by, but the spectre of the hidden gun haunted Alex (since my fingerprints were on it, he explained). Finally, he called the Vancouver Police Department to confirm that it had indeed been turned in. He was assured that it had been, and they wouldn’t be contacting Alex for a followup interview.

It was worth braving our laundry room on a Sunday for a juicy bit of gossip. And there, you see, I always suspected exercise was a hazard to my health.

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