Hooked on a feeling

I'm returning to my building on a lovely sunny morning.

There's a police car parked outside - always unnerving.  For the past while, it's been a sadly common occurrence. We've had a "battling Bickersons" couple on the fourth floor - we can't hear them, but their immediate neighbours can, and sometimes get alarmed enough (and ticked off enough) to call the police.  The lady of the couple has actually addressed Strata Council meetings to apologise.

To my surprise and consternation, the front door of our building is off the latch, and refuses to snap shut.  I check the mat and the hinge - nothing.

I report this to the Resident Fan Boy, a current Strata Council member.  He's watching television, and merely shrugs.  I head out again for another look, and this time, I notice a brown hook of some kind, placed over the very top of the door, with an "unlocked" icon imprinted on it.  It's way out of my reach, but not that of the Resident Fan Boy.

Checking back with the RFB, I learn he's emailed other council members.  The husband (?) of the warring couple has been asked to leave, and had come back to collect his stuff, before being escorted off the premises.  Not sure at which point the police got involved, nor whose door-jam hook this is.  As you can see, it's readily available online.

I find it bloody creepy, and I see no reason for the hook to remain, so prevail upon the RFB to fetch it down.  He places it on the shelf in front of the mailboxes.  When I ask why, he says he doesn't want anyone knocking at our door.

"Who would know it was you?" I reply, in some exasperation.  "Besides, you could hand it in to the council president."

It's gone when I leave for Demeter's breakfast call shortly afterwards.  So is the police car.