“We’re trying to clear Vicars’ name.”
The three of us sat forward. This was new. Ernest was finally starting to cooperate! So, the question was, who was Vicars? And why did that name sound familiar?
“What was that?” the captain politely asked.
“Vicars. He was responsible for its security.”
“Where is this Vicars now?” Vance wanted to know, as he began taking notes. “Can we talk to him?”
Ernest threw us a condescending look.
“Sir Arthur Edward Vicars was appointed the Ulster King of Arms in 1893, but was fired from the position in 1908, after the theft of the jewels.”
“The original theft, back in Dublin,” I said, nodding. “Professor Whyte was correct.”
Vance turned to me. “Who?”
“When I first started to research that chest,” I explained, “I found myself in the library at Medford College. A student recommended I talk to one of her professors, and it turned out she specialized in British history.”
“She told you about this theft?” Captain Nelson asked.
“Yes. It’s common knowledge in Great Britain. She’s the one who managed to identify the Celtic shamrock.”
“What Celtic shamrock?” the captain wanted to know.
I pulled out my cell and brought up the pictures I had taken earlier. Zooming in on the uniquely drawn Irish symbol, I passed my phone to Captain Nelson, who reached inside his jacket to retrieve a pair of reading glasses. I watched him study the picture for a few minutes before swiping to the right, and then the left. The captain hesitated after a picture of the entire chest filled the screen.
“Is this it? Is this what all the fuss is over?”
“That chest,” Ernest coldly began, “is a priceless artifact. It belongs in a museum.”
“It belongs with its rightful owner,” I argued, growing angry. “This Vicars person, he was STUPID, too, wasn’t he? Let me venture a guess. You STUPID guys were responsible for pulling off this heist, but somehow lost track of the chest’s location. Now that it has surfaced, for whatever reason, you guys want it back.”
Vance and the captain were both nodding. Ernest, on the other hand, was shaking his head.
“Vicars was not a member of STUPID. Wait! I mean S.T.P.I.D.! He wasn’t a member. Our organization took it upon ourselves to get the jewels away from him.”
“Why?” Captain Nelson asked.
Ernest mumbled something, but it was too low to understand.
“Once more, please,” the captain ordered.
Ernest let out a loud sigh, as though he was trying to earn himself some sympathy. It didn’t work.
“Sir Arthur Vicars admitted, in personal correspondences to his advisor, he was planning on giving the jewels to his daughter, as a wedding present.”
“By what right could this guy give away something that didn’t belong to him?” I protested.
I was given an appraising stare. “And now you know why the decision was made to remove the jewels to a more secure location.”
“Is that how they were stolen?” Captain Nelson asked, as he turned to me. “Were they taken off of Vicars’ daughter?”
“Not according to what I read,” I told the captain. “Vicars didn’t take the jewels’ security too seriously. I guess he was prone to leaving his keys lying around. Heck, they didn’t even know the jewels were missing until later in the day, when someone opened the safe for something completely unrelated.”
Captain Nelson turned back to Ernest. “Who was responsible for the theft?”
Ernest shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“I’m sure it does to Ireland,” Vance muttered, earning a nod of approval from the captain. “Look, Mr. Beckman, perhaps you could tell us what happened after your ST … er, your organization absconded with the Irish Crown Jewels. Were they stashed somewhere in the country? Were they smuggled out?”
“No clue.”
“When did this chest resurface?” Captain Nelson asked.
“Last year,” Ernest admitted. “The only thing I know is that the chest was discovered in a trunk in the attic of an abandoned house.”
“In Wales?” I asked.
“Yes, in a small village. Betws-y-Coed.”
“I have no idea where that’s at,” I confessed.
“That makes two of us,” Vance said.
“Better make that three,” Captain Nelson added. Then, he turned and asked the question that has been bugging me for some time. “How did that chest get from Wales to Oregon?”
“We’d like to know that, too,” Ernest said. “I was asked to not only recover the chest, but to discreetly inquire how you were able to intercept it. I was only told you had it, and that I was to recover it.”
Vance turned to the captain. “It has the makings of a clandestine operation, but it sure doesn’t feel like one.”
Captain Nelson nodded. “Agreed. It’s more like … the Three Stooges meet Spy vs Spy.”
Ernest frowned, but refrained from saying anything. After a few moments, his gaze dropped to his clasped hands and it stayed there.
“How did you know I had it?” I asked.
Vance turned to look at me and grinned. “And Zack has the winning question of the day. How did you know he had the chest?”
“I received a text. It said I was to come here and look for one Zachary Anderson. This is a small town. He wasn’t hard to find.”
“Who sent the text?” Vance wanted to know. He slid the banker’s box that was on the table close to him and started rifling through it. “Let’s see if it’s … ah. There it is.”
Ernest’s cell was produced. Vance unsealed the evidence bag and allowed the phone to drop into his hand. From my position at the table, I watched him browse through the smartphone’s apps, until the Message app was selected. It only took a few moments to find the message which instructed our friend Ernest, here, to make the journey from Sacramento. However, there was no caller identification, meaning, the sender must have used a burner phone.
A smirk formed on Ernest’s face. “See? Told you so.”
Captain Nelson frowned. “I’d wipe that smile off your face. You’re not off the hook yet. We’ve got you for breaking and entering, at the very least. Mr. Anderson? You’re sure you don’t know anyone in Wales?”
“I’ve been to the northern part of Wales,” I admitted, “but I don’t have any friends there. At least, none that I’m aware of.”
“That suggests someone got their hands on this thing and made the conscious decision to get it to you,” Vance said, as he looked at his captain. “We just don’t know why.”
Ernest suddenly leaned forward in his chair. “Hang on a second. You’re suggesting you didn’t intercept the chest? You really don’t have any idea how it found its way into your hands?”
“None whatsoever,” I confirmed. “Found it on my doorstep. Someone sent it to me.”
“Impossible,” Ernest whispered.
“Believe it, don’t believe it, I don’t care,” I said, shrugging. “No matter how you want to look at it, the chest is going to be returned to its rightful owner, and that sure as heck isn’t you, pal.”
Captain Nelson cleared his throat. “Ahem. Do we even know if these jewels are in that chest?”
Vance turned to me with a querulous look on his face. I was forced to hold up my hands in an I don’t know gesture. A thought occurred, which had me turning back to Ernest.
“Captain Nelson brings up a good point. Have you guys confirmed the jewels you so desperately want are even in that chest?”
“I was to open it and confirm their presence as soon as I recovered the chest,” Ernest sadly informed us.
“STUPID has never seen the inside of that chest, have they?” I guessed.
“S.T.P.I.D.,” Ernest crossly corrected. “And I don’t see how that’s pertinent.”
“I’d say that confirms these jewels are in there,” the captain decided. “Am I correct in thinking there’s
something about the chest which prevents it from being opened? You guys don’t have the key?”
“It’s a puzzle box,” I said. “Don’t worry. If there’s a way in there, Jillian and I will figure it out.”
“Do me a favor?” Vance said, as he, the captain, and I all rose to our feet.
I glanced at my friend. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Let the dogs look at it. I think they’ll have a better chance at getting it open.”
“Vance?”
“Yeah?”
“Bite me.”
SEVEN
“It’s very pretty. Do you think it’s solid silver? It sure looks like it’s all silver, doesn’t it?”
“It’s not completely silver,” I told Jillian, as I ran my fingers over a few of the many marks and carvings on the chest’s surface. “It may very well be silver-plated, but it isn’t solid. There’s some lead in there.”
Jillian nodded. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot about that. You tried to get the chest x-rayed, didn’t you?”
“I did, and no, they couldn’t. Nothing but a big, blank square showed up on the monitor.”
“Are you sure we couldn’t do this upstairs? It’s rather gloomy down here. Plus, this is where you were shot. It’s not my favorite place to be.”
All right, I should establish some context. Since I know the sanctity of my house has been compromised, and for all I know, there could be more bugs in my home than a house infested with a termite colony, I wanted to find someplace else. There had to be somewhere else we could go to study the chest, a place the forces of STUPID didn’t know about. Jillian had volunteered her house, but as you can imagine, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in an Arizona summer that I was going to do that. So, where were we?
We were in one of the many secret hideaways found within the mysterious Highland House. No one besides myself, Jillian, Vance, and a few trusted police officers knew this particular room even existed. If you want to know where we presently were, then I’d have to refer you to a previous case, when Jillian first purchased this house.
“Couldn’t we go to the basement?” Jillian asked, as she nervously looked around. “I don’t like it down here. It’s okay, Zachary. I had a very secure lock installed on the basement door. Only Lisa and myself have keys.”
Lisa Martinez, manager of Highland House, might look unintimidating, especially if you didn’t know her, but properly challenged, Lisa wouldn’t back down even if a buzzing rattlesnake was involved. She is intelligent, outspoken, attractive, and fiercely loyal. When Jillian mentioned that only she and Lisa had copies of the key, she was telling me that the key was just as secure as being in a safe.
“Fine. I’m sorry. I should’ve known you aren’t a fan of this room. Sherlock? Watson? Make sure you grab your bones. We’re heading to the basement.”
Both corgis, who had been stretched out on a large pet bed I had brought with me, looked up at me with their rawhide bones half-sticking out of their mouths. Sherlock’s bone already had the knots on either end chewed off, so his looked like a stogie.
“I’m really not too much of a fan of the basement, either,” Jillian said. “The sight of you, with …”
I gently placed a finger on her lips. “It’s okay. We just need a safe, quiet place to work on that.”
Jillian looked at the silver chest I was holding and finally nodded. “You’re right. Let’s see what we can do. Here, give me the chest. Would you set up one of those tables?”
There were four white folding tables leaning up against the wall. Once all four legs had been extended, I dug around a bit and found a few folding chairs. Properly seated, the chest was placed before us and, together, we leaned forward.
“How do you want to start?” Jillian asked.
I shrugged. “Well, we already know there are a lot of moving parts on this thing. I don’t know. Perhaps we should make a list of everything that moves? There might be a pattern in there somewhere. Sherlock? Watson? What do you guys think?”
I was ignored. The bones were clearly more interesting than we were. I waited until each of the dogs looked up at me, and just as quickly, we were dismissed.
“So much for that idea. Fine. We’re back to taking notes.”
Jillian nodded. “Do you still have your notebook with you?”
I pulled a small, bound notebook from my back pocket and unclipped the pen. “Yep. Would you do the honors?”
“Of course. All right. We already know the circle around the English cross rotates. What else?”
“The shamrock. One of the petals moves.”
“Which one?” Jillian wanted to know.
I rotated the chest until I was looking at the shamrock. “It’s the petal on the right.”
I heard the pen scratching against the paper. “Got it. What else?”
“The thistle,” I reported. “The stem of the thistle pushes in, like a button.”
“Like a button,” Jillian softly repeated.
“Also, next to the thistle,” I continued, “there’s a small square. It can also be pushed, like a button.”
“How do you depress the button?” Jillian wanted to know.
Curious, I jabbed a finger at the square next to the thistle. We both heard a soft click as it locked in the down position. After a few moments, I poked it again. There was another soft click, and just like that, the button popped back up to its normal state.
“A second press resets it,” Jillian observed, as she scribbled more notes into the notebook. “Anything else?”
“Probably. Let’s take a look. I can’t see anything else that moves on the front, on the same side as the shamrock,” I reported. The chest was rotated, and I was then looking at the side with the Scottish thistle. “I’m looking at the thistle side. It … hang on! I have some movement here.”
Jillian leaned close. “What do you have?”
I tapped several horses. One was rearing, as if it had been spooked. The other appeared to be grazing.
“There are two horses here. The rearing horse? It moves. Not much, mind you, but it moves.”
“How much, and in what direction?” Jillian wanted to know.
“Let’s say a quarter of an inch, and the horse moves up and down.”
“Quarter inch up. Okay. Is there …”
“The sun!” I exclaimed. “I was going to rotate this thing to the next side, and my fingers brushed by the sun overlooking the two horses. It moved!”
“By how much?”
“Oh, uh, not much. I’d say a quarter of an inch.”
“A quarter of an inch again. Hmmm. What about the circle around the clock? Did I ask you how much it rotated?”
“You didn’t. Let me check.”
“Quarter of an inch?” Jillian asked, a few moments later.
“You called it.”
“I’m sensing a pattern here.”
I nodded. “Me, too. Okay, moving on. Let’s see. We’ve got moving parts on all sides, except the bottom, which appears to be flat.”
“No markings?”
I lifted the chest to inspect the underside. “None that I can see.”
“What about the lid?”
“It doesn’t have a lid,” I argued.
“It does, we just have to figure out how to open it,” Jillian insisted. “Okay, I’ll rephrase. What about the top? I can see all kinds of things on the lid. Er, well, where the lid should be.”
I tipped the chest forward and studied the top. Rolling hills, stone circles, and a snarling lion met my eyes. Was this the lion that Burt had mentioned earlier? Experimentally, I nudged the lion’s tail. Sure enough, it moved slightly lower, as though it was swishing its tail back and forth.
“The lion. The tail moves, like this.”
“Same amount of movement?” Jillian wanted to know.
“Yes. We’re still at a quarter of an inch. For the record, Burt noticed this one first.”
Jillian nodded. “That’s right, I do remember him mentioning some
thing about a lion. Right, what else have you found?”
I poked and prodded the top of the silver box for another minute or so. However, nothing else wanted to move. As I gently let the chest tip backward, so that it was back on the table, I made the mistake of gripping the blasted thing by the top left corner. Before I knew what was happening, the silver box thunked noisily down, on the table. The two corgis glanced up at me, as though they thought I was making too much noise.
“Don’t drop it,” Jillian warned. “I wouldn’t want to hurt anything in there.”
“Sorry. Darn thing felt like it slipped out of my … hey, look at that! The corner moved.”
Jillian nodded and added the information to her list. “Same amount? Quarter of an inch?”
“Oh. Let me see. Yep. Quarter of an inch.”
“Is that it?”
I felt along the sides of the chest and, satisfied there weren’t any other surprises, nodded. “I think so. How many does that give us?”
“Eight, I believe.”
“Well, where’d you want to start?”
Jillian was silent as she considered. “I don’t see any pattern to this. Shamrock, circle, thistle, and square, just to name a few. Perhaps we have to press, or rotate, them in the correct order?”
“It’s worth a shot. Okay, let’s start with the corner.”
“What made you pick that one?” Jillian asked.
I tapped the top of the chest. “For starters, it’s on the lid. Figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”
Jillian shrugged. “Noted. All right, the corner has been rotated. Which one are you trying next?”
“What is closest?”
“From that corner? Let me see. I think it’s the thistle, and then the square.”
“All right, I’ve pressed both of them in. Now what?”
“Hmm. The circle and the shamrock are both about the same distance apart. Let’s try the shamrock first. And … now the circle.”
“Did anything happen?”
I shook my head. “If something did, then I missed it. All right, moving on. We still have a couple left.” The chest was rotated. “I’m trying the rearing horse next.”
“’Kay,” Jillian said, as she took notes.
Case of the Shady Shamrock Page 10
