Eggs started disappearing from my refrigerator, always after my mother-in-law Andrea came to visit.
I thought maybe she was struggling financially and brought some eggs home, but I needed to be sure.
So I set up a hidden camera, and what I saw Andrea doing with the stolen eggs shocked me deeply.
I never thought I’d become some kind of amateur detective for something as mundane as eggs.
But when a dozen costs almost 70 kroner, you start to notice those kinds of things.
My husband, James, and I barely ate them.
We only bought them for the kids’ breakfast, and even then, we treated them like little treasures.
But still, they disappeared, at an alarming rate.
„James, I swear we ate more eggs yesterday,” I said one morning as I stared into the refrigerator.
The packaging felt strange in my hands.
Too easy.
„Well, Rebecca,” he replied without taking his eyes off his phone. „Maybe the kids cooked their own eggs when they got home from school.”
„No, they ate grilled cheese.”
I took out the box and put it on the table.
„I counted them. Yesterday there were eight. Now there are four.”
„Are you counting eggs now?”
He looked up and raised his eyebrows.
„That’s a whole new level of food anxiety, even for you.”
What if they cost that much? Of course I’ll count them!
I slammed the refrigerator shut, so hard the spices inside rattled.
I’m telling you, something’s not right. This isn’t the first time.
James sighed and hung up the phone.
„Honey, they’re just eggs. Maybe we use more than we think.”
„No, you don’t understand. I’ve been watching you for weeks.”
I started pacing around the kitchen, my slippers squeaking against the tiles.
„I’m going to install a hidden camera to catch the thief.”
James laughed.
„Are you going to keep an eye on our refrigerator?”
„Exactly,” I replied.
But there was one detail I didn’t tell James.
When I started counting eggs, I soon noticed a disturbing pattern: every time my mother-in-law Andrea visited, some would go missing.
At first, like I said, I thought she might be going through a rough patch.
Times were tough, and eggs had become almost a luxury item. But something wasn’t right.
Although James and I had discussed his mother’s boundary issues several times, I didn’t want to accuse her without proof.
„Okay, Sherlock,” James said, getting up from the armchair.
„Do whatever it takes to solve the mystery of the egg.”
I ordered a mini camera the same day with express shipping.
I mounted it on a kitchen shelf across from the refrigerator.
The footage showed more than I expected.
I sat at the kitchen table, mouth agape, as I watched Andrea’s video on my phone.
There she was, cool as copper, carefully transferring the eggs from our carton to her bag.
She wrapped each egg in small pieces of fabric, like jewelry.
But what she did next shocked me.
Instead of taking them home, she walked straight out the back door and across the yard.
Straight to Mrs. Davis’s house, our neighbor.
„That can’t be true,” I muttered, leaning closer to the screen.
Fortunately, the refrigerator was near the back door.
The camera captured exactly what happened.
I watched in horror as Andrea handed the eggs to Mrs. Davis, who gave her something in return.
Money.
My mother-in-law ran a black market for my eggs.
„What shameless behavior!” I whispered.
I rewound three times to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood.
„She stole my eggs to sell to the neighbors!”
That night I decided to gather more information.
I saw Mrs. Davis watering her roses and walking toward the fence.
„Hello, Mrs. Davis,” I called out, leaning on the board.
„I was wondering: where do you buy eggs these days?”
Her face lit up as if I’d offered her free opera tickets.
„Oh! I’ll buy them from your dear mother-in-law! She keeps chickens in the yard and sells them cheap: only 40 kroner a dozen! I’m sure you already know that.”
I froze.
Chickens in the backyard?
Andrea lived in an apartment.
On the third floor.
The only place I could keep chickens would be on the balcony.
Maybe you didn’t know I was already buying from her and was going to offer you a better price. How thoughtful!
Mrs. Davis winked at me.
Who would have thought we’d be talking about cheap eggs as some kind of secret deal?
She laughed, apologized, and continued watering while I stood there, seething with anger.
Later that night, I hatched a plan to teach Andrea a lesson.
It took me an hour to carefully empty each egg, but it was strangely satisfying to watch the yolks dwindle.
Then I mixed a strong mixture of mustard and chili sauce and carefully filled each eggshell before placing them back in the carton.
„What are you doing?” James asked when IHe entered the kitchen at midnight.