I could see Vance’s mouth moving, which meant he was working on figuring out the math involved. After a few moments, Vance looked over at me.
“Umm, how much …”
“How much money do we get from each sale?” I finished for him.
Vance slowly nodded.
“Most traditionally published authors get between 8-10%. As for me, well, my publisher likes me, so I get 30%. Since this is a story based on Tory, then I’ll be splitting that with you, fifty-fifty.”
“But … that means …”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what it means,” I said, correctly guessing what was going through my friend’s brain. “The ebook is selling for $9.99. That means we’ll make about $3 per sale. You heard me mention how many preorders there had been, right? Thirty thousand? The math says that you and I just made over $13,000, and that’s in the first two weeks, pal.”
“How?” Vance demanded. “What …? How could you …? I … I … I don’t understand. How do people even know to order it? How do they even know it exists?”
“Because I’ve got a damn good publisher,” I answered. “Let me just say that they earn every penny of their cut. They’re good at marketing and promotions, so let’s just let them keep doing what they’re doing.”
“How many more people will be ordering this?” Vance incredulously asked.
I shrugged. “Who can say? If it was up to the publisher, and, in this case, it is, then they’re going to try and get as many sales as possible.”
“Wow. Tori is gonna freak out. What are we going to do with that much money? I mean, I guess I should let Tori know.”
I reached for my beer and finished it off. I also noticed Vance’s was gone, too. I caught the waitress’ eye and held up my bottle. She promptly nodded, and headed toward the bar.
“Can I make a suggestion?”
“Sure, pal.”
“No, Vance, I mean, may I make a very serious suggestion and let it be something I strongly hope you do?”
“What’s that?”
“Take Tori to Ireland. You will have enough to take her on a First Class trip to the Emerald Isle. Trust me when I say, the country is even more amazing than all the movies and television shows lead you to believe. She’ll love it. You will love it.”
“Ireland,” Vance said, as he nodded. “That would be one mother of a surprise, wouldn’t it?”
“It would. Would you take the girls?”
“What do you think?” Vance asked.
“Let me ask you this,” I countered. “When was the last time just you and Tori did something for yourselves? When was the last time you two had some quality time to be together?”
“Since before Tiffany was born,” Vance scoffed. “Why?”
“I’d say that answers your question. Give yourself two weeks. See if you can get Tori’s parents to watch the girls. If they can’t, then call me. Jillian and I can watch them.”
Vance fell silent as he studied me for a few moments. Then, he held up his fist, which I gave a solid bump with my own.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t want to come with us?”
“Tempting,” I admitted. “However, I’ve already told Jillian that we’ll be honeymooning in Ireland, and that’ll be in September of this year.”
“What if … what if we came with you? I mean, I know it’s your honeymoon, but what would you say to the four of us exploring the country together?”
The waitress arrived with another round of drinks.
“Are you sure you don’t want to explore Ireland on your own?” I asked. “If you’re worried about getting lost, you can join a tour group and let someone else do all the driving and planning.”
“What are you guys going to do? Has Jillian ever been there before?”
“She hasn’t, no. Since I have, I thought it’d be more fun to explore on our own.”
“See? That’s what I want to do.”
“Are you sure? There is something to be said for only being responsible for showing up. That’s what I did the first time I was there. We took a tour of Cork via bus, and then in Dublin, the same thing. I loved Cork, and seeing the colorful row homes running along the waterfront. I loved seeing the countryside, visiting Blarney Castle, and shopping at Blarney Woollen Mills.”
“I want to do that, too.”
“Then, you should take a tour. As for us? Well, I’ve always been fond of the small, quaint Irish villages, and the majority of ’em are on the western side of the island.”
“I get it,” Vance said, growing sober as his excitement faded. “You and Jillian should be alone.”
“No! I’m sorry, man. That’s not what I’m saying. I personally have no problems having you guys with us. Experiencing Ireland is something everyone should be able to do in their lifetime. This is the perfect opportunity for you guys to do just that. Tell you what. Let me talk to Jillian.”
“Just promise me that, should Jillian say no, that you’ll just say so, okay? I don’t want to get in the way of you two.”
“No worries, amigo. No worries.”
A cricket chirped loudly nearby. Being familiar with me and my penchant for insectoid alert tones, Vance pointed at my phone.
“That was you, buddy. Seriously, man, you ought to change that tone to something more friendly.”
“If I change it out now, then I’ll never know when someone is texting me, or the phone is trying to get my attention.”
“Your phone just alerted you to something, and yet you still didn’t know what happened,” Vance pointed out.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s see what we have.”
“Missed text message?” Vance guessed. “I’ll bet Jillian just texted you, didn’t she?”
I stared at the image on my phone and felt the color drain out of my face. I should also point out that both dogs were suddenly wide awake and on their feet. Concerned, Vance scrambled to his feet and rushed up behind me so he could look over my shoulder, at my phone. What he saw had him swearing like a sailor.
It was a notification from my security cameras. Someone had just walked up my front porch and was standing in front of my door. Then, I watched—in real time—as the man wearing dark camouflage produced a black zippered pouch. It was opened, revealing rows of tools on either flap of the pouch.
Anyone who has ever seen a television show, or a movie, knew what had just happened. The person standing at my door had just pulled out a set of lock picks. Just like that, my door opened, and the man slipped inside.
“Can he not see the cameras?” Vance asked, as we hurriedly paid the bill and raced to the restaurant’s parking lot.
“They’re tiny. Plus, I’ve hidden them in obscure locations. Here, hold this, would you?”
I passed my phone to Vance as I scooped up the dogs and placed them in the back seat.
“Didn’t you say you were being followed by someone in a black Mercedes?” my detective friend suddenly asked.
“What about it?”
Vance held the phone out so that I could see the display. Apparently, Vance had found the option on the app that would toggle between the various feeds. The one we were looking at now was showing my driveway. There, parked near the street, was a black Mercedes Benz, complete with tinted windows.
“How certain are you that your guys found every bug?” I asked, as I sped back to my home.
“Positive,” Vance answered, as he kept his eyes glued on my phone. “What system is this? I like how you’re able to look through your cameras using just your phone.”
“Most systems are like that,” I told my friend, as I deftly swerved around cars that were on the street. “I’d really like to catch this jerk in the act of breaking into my house, but that isn’t going to work if he can see us coming, or can listen in to us.”
“They found one other bug on yours,” Vance recalled, “and two on mine. That’s when they checked the rest of the cars, including the patrol cars.”
“Oh? You didn’t tell me that part. What did
they find?”
“Not a thing. Looks like the only two cars that were bugged were ours. Still think this is about that chest?”
“Without a doubt. I think you were bugged because you’re friends with me. Hey, do me a favor, would you? Would you have someone contact Harry and have his car checked out? We already know Julie’s car is clean.”
“I’m on it.”
Ten minutes later, as we neared the winery, I eased my foot off the accelerator. For anyone who lived in the country like this, the approach of a car could be heard from nearly a mile away. Feeling a tap on my shoulder, I saw that Vance was pointing at a turnout on my right, about a hundred feet up the road. That meant Lentari Cellars was less than a quarter of a mile away. In fact, we were now driving along my property, seeing how we were now passing acre after acre of prime farmland, and the only thing that was growing was row after row of vines.
Stashing the Jeep on the side of the road, the dogs and I took off after Vance, who had drawn his sidearm. As soon as we made it to the entrance of my driveway, Vance whipped his own cell out and took several pics of the sleek, black sedan waiting just inside a row of hedges, making it practically invisible from the road. Vance hurried around to the rear of the vehicle and took a picture of the license plate and then, thinking it couldn’t hurt, snapped a pic of the car’s VIN.
“You two need to be quiet,” I whispered to the dogs. “No barking, okay? We want to catch this guy red-handed.”
Both dogs craned their necks to look up at me. As if that was all they needed to hear, both Sherlock and Watson pulled on their leashes, anxious to resume moving. Neither, I might add, made the tiniest bit of sound. How they knew we needed to approach in stealth was beyond me. However, that almost changed as we neared my front porch.
Sherlock looked up the short flight of steps, toward the front door, and started to gently sway from side to side. I recognized the behavior almost immediately. The tri-colored corgi was agitated, presumably by the fact that both Vance and I had halted near the porch steps. Sure, we were trying to figure out if the guy was still in the house, but I could see that Sherlock was about to start arguing with me.
“No, you don’t,” I whispered, as I dropped into a squat next to him. “Quiet, pal, okay? No howling. Is he up there?”
Sherlock only had eyes for the front door. Vance, holding his sidearm in his right hand, signaled for me to stay put. He edged up the stairs, poked his head through the open door, and then looked back at me.
“The door is open, and the place is trashed,” my friend reported. “I can’t hear anything in there.”
“He could be hiding,” I pointed out, and then nodded at the dogs. “They seem to think there’s someone in … guys? What now? You don’t want to look in the house?”
Both Sherlock and Watson were on the move, and were headed away from the house, straight to the winery. But, the closer we got, the more Sherlock became agitated once more. Looking at the corgis, I could see that Watson wanted to go to the winery, but Sherlock acted as though he wanted to keep going. What did that mean? Then, it dawned on me. There wasn’t one intruder, but two! So, what else was that way?
Only a large, freakin’ building where I had happened to stash a silver chest.
Handing Sherlock’s leash to Vance, I pointed at the winery, then at myself and the warehouse. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my keyring and unclipped a smaller set. Handing them to Vance, I pointed at the key with the green plastic ring around the head. My friend nodded, turned on his heel, and hurried over to the door.
I had just taken a few steps toward the newly constructed warehouse when I heard Sherlock bark and sounds of a struggle. While I weighed the desire to help a friend, and make darn certain nothing happened to one of my dogs, Watson suddenly surged forward, intent on getting inside the warehouse as soon as possible.
Trusting Vance to deal with whatever was going on inside the winery, I let Watson lead me over to the warehouse. Dropping down into a crouch, I used the light from my phone to inspect the locks on the door. Well, if it had been picked, then whoever had done the deed was definitely a pro. I didn’t see any of the telltale scratches that are typically found whenever an amateur is the one who is doing the picking.
The warehouse door was unlocked and pushed open. The creaking noise alone could have woken the dead. Scowling, and promising whatever deities existed that I’d purchase a case of WD-40 if all the flippin’ noise would just shut up, Watson and I made our way inside.
I held a finger to my lips, as though my little girl knew what that meant, as the two of us crept through the open warehouse, careful to avoid pallets, empty barrels, and pieces of shelving that were waiting to be assembled. Was there someone hiding in here? If so, it was going to take a while to search, seeing how the light from my phone could only illuminate so much.
That’s when Watson pulled me to the closest wall and promptly sat. Why? Well, the little darling was staring up, at a white rectangular plate with a bank of switches on them. The little booger was no doubt wondering why I wasn’t turning on the lights.
“Nobody saw that,” I whispered to Watson, as I grinned at her. Watson’s long tongue flopped out and she panted contentedly. “There might be someone in here. What do you say we find ’em?”
Watson rose to her feet and lowered her nose to the ground. After a few moments, she moved off, heading toward the far northern wall. Consequently, that was where the completed shelving had been installed. It also meant that was the direction to go in order to find the false barrel with the shamrock chest hidden inside it. No one knew it was here, so how the heck did they know to look in my new storage facility? Was it the logical place to stash something?
There was a commotion on my right. I knew exactly what it was, because I’ve made that same noise on more than one occasion: someone had knocked over one of the wooden barrels. An empty one, yes, but nevertheless, the noise was distinct. Since those barrels were everywhere, it was easy to misjudge where they were.
“I know you’re in here, pal,” I began, raising my voice so I knew it’d be heard. “You might as well give it up. You’re not going to make it out of here.”
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” a sinister voice returned. “Give it up. You may yet get out of this with your life.”
“Give what up?” I asked. “What are you looking for? I don’t know where you got your information, pal, but whatever you’re looking for, you won’t find it here.”
Not true, since I knew exactly what he wanted to get his hands on, but I wasn’t about to tell him that, was I?
“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” the voice sneered. “Give it up, Mr. Anderson. You don’t want to make an enemy of us.”
There was something about the voice that made me think this was nothing more than a bluff. There was a sense of fear behind the voice. Whoever was talking had not been expecting me to return home so soon. They did know that the bugs they had planted on my car had been neutralized, didn’t they?
“Why are you so surprised, pal?” I casually asked. “You did know I was headed home, didn’t you? I mean, I would have thought that you’d have left a lookout after losing contact with my car.”
The intruder said nothing.
“Come on. You guys are supposed to be scary as hell! You’re insinuating you’re my worst nightmare. Right now, the only thing you are is an unpleasant nap. So, here’s what we’ll do. Go ahead and surrender. I can put in a good word for you with the local police. Perhaps we can work out some type of deal?”
“This is your last chance, Mr. Anderson. Give us the chest and we will leave you alone. Fail to do so and there will be consequences.”
Yes, there it was. The voice was quavering. Whoever speaking was truly nervous. And why shouldn’t they be? They were in my house, on my property, in my town. I definitely had the advantage. Perhaps it was time to use it?
“So, what’s it gonna be, pal? You made a mistake coming in here. T
his is my winery’s storage facility. There’s only one way in and out of here, and you’re on the wrong side of the building. There’s no way out for you. The police are on the way, and if they have to search the premises to find you, I’m not gonna lift a finger to help you.”
While that little spiel wasn’t exactly true, since there were no fewer than four large loading doors scattered around the warehouse, the intruder didn’t know that. But, I wasn’t lying, either. Not only were the police on the way, they were already here. I could only hope Vance had apprehended the other guy.
Worry for Sherlock, and my friend, let’s not forget that, had me anxious to wrap things up in here. Mr. Sinister Voice was in here, somewhere, and based on the commotion he had made earlier, I had a pretty good idea where he was hiding: the empty barrel racks. The north side of the facility held the filled barrels, but the northeastern corner held the empties, as Caden called them.
Right then, a notion occurred. I knew exactly how I was going to catch my unwanted friend.
“I don’t want to kill you, Mr. Anderson,” Shady Dude began, “but I … I will if I have to.”
And now he’s hesitating. Yep, as amusing as this whole scenario was, I had more pressing concerns to deal with.
“Last chance, buddy,” I announced, as I quietly snuck over to the empty barrels and clasped the three-foot long wooden lever at the bottom corner of the empties storage racks.
To best explain what I was about to do, I need to describe how my empties were stored. There was a gently sloping tier system of barrels, where if the barrel closest to the ground is used, meaning it’s pulled from the line, then the barrels will roll forward, and the empty space is transferred up the line. I always said the rolling system Caden designed looked a lot like the ramps Jumpman runs up while battling Donkey Kong.
Yes, I play too many video games.
At the bottom of the ramps, there was a release lever which would allow the bottom-most barrel to be lifted from the track. Then, the next would roll forward, to take its place, and if the lever wasn’t reapplied, then that barrel would simply roll off, into open air. Think of a coin-operated soda machine, and the manual release lever.
Case of the Shady Shamrock Page 8
