There had been a series of home burglaries in the executive subdivision where the Chinese mom lived. The village was huge, situated over three big local areas—Pasig, Cainta, and Taytay. There had been speculations as to who were involved. People said the police were involved. Some said the burglars were residents.
They’re almost correct. There was a policeman involved, some hired muscle, and yes, a resident—me.
I’m no mastermind. I was no longer sure why I got involved. Okay, I know why.
I did it to be accepted.
I am an information broker. You can’t imagine how much information can be had from different sources that we don’t know can actually make us very vulnerable.
First, there is Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, LinkedIn, Snapchat, and other social media platforms. The amount of information you can get about someone from the internet is actually insane, if you know how to consolidate and use it.
Next, there are the people we usually let into our homes without a second thought. People who can be asked to divulge information without them even knowing it. The maids, the electricians, the plumbers, the construction workers, the guys who deliver the mineral water and gas, the men who deliver and pick up party tables and chairs, the home service masseuses, and even the tutors.
If you have a way to get specific pieces of information from all these sources and know how to weave them together, then you get enough to stage a burglary.
Take the pretty Chinese mother, for example. A construction guy known for being a tsimay killer (or someone who likes getting pretty, young house help as his girlfriends) was in my payroll, to an extent. We would hang out for drinks after he does some work on my house, and I would just let him talk. I would make prodding follow-ups, and on his fourth shot, he would basically tell me anything. Sometimes, I could ask him to date a maid and transmit to me what he finds out. What he knew was that I was a writer, and I needed lots of material. He never questioned my motives for the questions.
From him, I found out (courtesy of a not-so-young-but-still-single nanny) that the beautiful woman’s husband was a prominent businessman who had lots of cash lying around the house toward the end of the month. He also liked his gadgets and toys and has a state-of-the-art entertainment center. The maid bragged that when the family was out, she would watch her favorite noontime show on the big-ass screen with surround sound. From her too came the schedules of his frequent out-of-town trips. She was also too glad to share that she was happy not to have to clean up after any house dogs, and that she usually cleaned the garage on the dot at 5 PM, opening the gate to let the garbage out.
I should have told the beautiful woman to fire her blabbermouth maid.
