Help the police solve important crimes in Karakol

In Altyn Arashan, we met an older, intrepid, solo French traveler, Denni, who, every year, takes a civilized, predictable, non-strenuous month long vacation with her husband and also an adventurous, off-the-beaten-track month long vacation by herself where she climbs mountains in Tibet, rides horses in Mongolia and treks into valley’s in Kyrgyzstan. When we arrived back at the homestay in Karakol, Denni was lodging at the same place and I awoke from a nap to mass commotion:
Denni: “I ave lost my maney and credeet cardz! Someone az stolen my holdair of maney!
Us: “Denni, are you sure you have looked everywhere? Maybe it’s in your jacket or in a pocket somewhere?”
Denni: “No, No, No! I ave shake everysing and I am shure zat I drop my holdair of maney out ze car and now zis iz gone!” My huzbaynd sink now I am chiyald.”
Us: “This is horrible Denni. And you are sure that you had your wallet in the car before you arrived here at the house?”
Denni: “Yes, Yes, Yes! I am shure of zis. I am sure zis as fallen from za car and someone take. Oh my huzbaynd! Zis iz big problame!”

This went on for a few hours as me, Rachel and Owen were busy combing the extremely quiet neighborhood street and mediating the story, which was spoken by Denni with a heavy French accent and limited English vocabulary to the Kyrgyz-only speaking House Mama. Soon the head of the tourist office was called and five police officers arrived, seating themselves at the table, listening to the story as they munched on the plate of biscuits and candy that was there. English, French, Kyrgyz and Russian was rapidly flying around the table and the game of charades was in high gear. Denni was in near tears and the police said they would make an announcement on the television, but first they needed to rule out the likely suspects: Me, Rachel and Owen.
As the police were weeding through pockets of dirty socks and underwear in our bags, I was busy putting two and two together. Oh, I had seen this type of behavior before. This post 55 years of age scenario would have certainly happened to my Mother and I was confident that I knew the ending to the story. Not long after I had quietly told Rachel and Owen that Denni’s wallet was going to be found in her room, the police found Denni’s wallet in her room. It was the classic case of looking for the eyeglasses that are on your head.
Everyone was ecstatic and soon there appeared plates of celebratory bread and jam and piping hot tea. The police were quite proud they had solved the crime and I was quite proud that I had solved the crime before them. Denni was not embarrassed in the least and after an excited exclamation of, “Zee, I am not chiyald!” it was back to business as usual. After eating, drinking tea and trying on the officer’s groovy hats, Rachel, Owen and I were like excited five year old children when they offered us a ride into town in the police van, and even though they didn’t turn the sirens on like they promised, we still felt like part of the force.