“And finally, I’m going to rotate the sun. Ready? Here we go.”
Predictably, nothing happened.
“Did you do it?” Jillian asked.
“Yep.”
“Nothing happened.”
“Yep. Noticed that, too.”
“Now what?”
I was silent as I drummed my fingers on the tabletop. “Try them in a different order?”
“Umm, okay.”
“Do you have another suggestion?”
“Zachary, how do we know which position constitutes up or down? On and off. Some might need to be up, and some might need to be down.”
Hoo, boy. I hadn’t thought of that. It was at this time that my confidence took a very noticeable hit. Jillian laid a hand over mine.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things difficult.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” I said, waving off her concern. “You aren’t the one who made that thing, are you? You’re not the one who has a devious sense of humor, are you?”
“Should we try a few more?”
I leaned over the table to look down at Sherlock and Watson. Both, I should point out, were busy chewing on their favorite bones and flat-out ignoring us. I can only hope that, if they wanted to alert us to something, then they would do something to get our attention. Their current behavior all but proved, unfortunately, Jillian and I were on the wrong track. Oh, well. It couldn’t hurt to try!
“Let’s try doing this,” I started, as I quickly reset the chest. Jillian’s statement came to mind, and I had to concede that what I thought of as the starting position was, more than likely, not the actual starting position. Still, I was determined to keep trying. “Let’s start with horses, and then the sun. Next, let’s rotate the circle, hit the thistle, then the shamrock, and the square. Let’s add the lion’s tail and, finally, let’s end with the corner piece. And, what do we have?”
We both stared at the chest in silence.
“Nothing,” Jillian conceded. “Zachary, what would you say we try … Sherlock? Is everything all right?”
Something was up with Sherlock? Since when? I had just looked at him, and he was heavily involved with his bone. And Watson? She just dropped her own bone and rose to her feet.
“What’s going on, guys?” I asked the dogs.
As one, both dogs suddenly looked straight up, at the ceiling. That’s when we heard it. There was a loud commotion coming from upstairs, as though someone was stomping around the floor. Lisa was the only one who knew we were down here. Was she trying to signal us?
“Who do you think is up there?” Jillian quietly whispered.
“I have no clue,” I admitted. “Were we expecting a herd of elephants to walk through Highland House?”
“Do you think it could be someone looking for the chest?” Jillian asked.
“How? They don’t know we’re here.”
“And only a small group of people know this room is even down here,” Jillian added. “Zachary, I think … I think they’re somehow tracking the chest!”
“I’d like to think we would have spotted a tracking device long before now,” I said.
“What about the cars? You said you already found one, didn’t you? Could they have hidden another bug, one where they know you wouldn’t have found it?”
“It’s possible, but Vance and I have been having our cars swept for bugs on a daily basis. They’ve come up clean each time.”
“What about mine?” Jillian asked, nervously.
“Well, I do think we should probably start sweeping yours, too,” I admitted, “but for now? I think we’re good. I picked you up at your place, remember?”
“True. Maybe we’re overreacting? Maybe it is something beside that organization?”
“What, STUPID? Who knows?”
“So, if they’re not tracking the cars, and they’re not tracking us, and they’re certainly not tracking the chest, what does that leave us?”
“Woof!”
The two of us looked down at Sherlock. He had abandoned his bone yet again and was now glancing suspiciously around the room. I mean, I know dogs have much better hearing than we do, so does that mean Sherlock can hear someone trying to sneak up on us? Had the little pipsqueak just confirmed a long-standing suspicion, which was the amount of English he understood?
“Is there something wrong, pal?” I quietly asked the corgi. “What’s going on? Do you smell something?”
Sherlock then turned to Watson and nudged her, as though he wanted her to abandon her bone, too, and join him in the hunt. Watson promptly rose to her feet and was ready to take a step toward me when Sherlock hurried around the table and placed himself directly in her path. He nudged her again and then looked up at me.
“Awwooooo.”
“What kind of howl is that?” I wanted to know.
“It sounded like he was telling you off, didn’t it?” Jillian said, as she smiled at the dogs.
“Awwooooo.”
“Uh, oh,” I chuckled. “He second-syllabled us.”
“Is there something wrong with Watson?” Jillian asked, concerned. “He just nudged her again. That would be the third time. Sherlock? Is everything okay?”
Sherlock sniffed Watson’s collar, looked up at the two of us, then promptly sat. Curiosity had me leaning forward to scratch both of the dogs behind their ears. Watson turned to look at me, as though she wasn’t sure she knew what her packmate was doing, and was begging me to intervene. After a few moments, she began scratching at her neck.
“There’s no way you picked up a flea,” I observed. “What’s the matter, Watson? Can I take a look? I promise you I’ll give this back to you, girl.”
Watson’s collar was unbuckled and, while I studied it up close, Jillian scratched the little female’s neck with both hands. Watson, unsurprisingly, melted into a red and white pile of goo. Sherlock came up beside Jillian and nudged an arm aside, as if to indicate that the free scratches should be divided equally among all parties.
“Is there anything wrong with her collar?” Jillian asked.
I shook my head. “Not that I can see. Want to take a look? Your eyes are better than mine. Maybe you can spot something I can’t.”
“Of course.”
“Aren’t you two the coolest corgis in the whole, wide world?” I praised, knowing full well I sounded like a dopey idiot.
“Oh! Zachary, look at this!”
I turned in time to see Jillian pull a two-inch long something out of Watson’s collar. From my vantage point, it looked like a piece of thread. Then again, if I wasn’t too much mistaken, the tip of the thread had a tiny red light on it, and it was blinking.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” I groaned. “Where did you find that?”
“Right here, tucked in the seam. What is it?”
“That, my dear, is yet another bug. Vance found one earlier in my car, and then found one on his.”
“Well, here, you take it,” Jillian decided, as she hastily dropped the foreign object into my outstretched hand. “I’d just as soon you got rid of it.”
“What I want to know,” I began, as I pointed at Watson, “is how did this thing get on her collar? Wait. There’s no blinking light here. I think … I think this may just be a GPS tracker.”
Jillian nodded. “Oh, so they can’t listen in, but can tell where we are, huh? It doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“You and me both. The question I have is, how could someone have gotten close enough to put this in place?”
“Watson is very friendly,” Jillian observed. “Anyone could have approached her and she would more than likely have allowed them. She’s very trusting. Did you notice her with anyone earlier?”
I sighed with exasperation and sat back in my chair. “That’s a hard question. Those dogs are recognized everywhere we go. People love them, and they love the attention. The corgis always seem to draw a crowd. The Medford college, the PVPD, prepping for the céilí, and even load
ing up the dogs outside Vance’s house.”
“Someone wanted to pet the dogs outside Vance and Tori’s place? Did you get a look at who it was?”
“No, not really. It was kinda dark out. And, if memory serves, I got the impression that neither of the dogs liked the guy.”
“And you let him touch Watson?” Jillian asked, appalled. “I would not have let him anywhere near my animals with a ten-foot pole.”
I held up two fingers. “There were two of them, a man and a woman. The man kept his distance, but the woman was friendly. She’s the one who gave Watson a few scratches.”
“Near her neck?” Jillian asked.
I thought back to the encounter. “Yeah, I believe it was. Son of a gun. I wouldn’t have called that.”
“What did she look like?” Jillian asked.
“Honestly? She looked like a harmless old grandmother to me. I never would have pegged her for being stupid.”
“You mean the acronym, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. Who would’ve thought it? Maybe S.T.P.I.D. isn’t so stupid after all.”
“If they know we’re here and we have the chest, then what do we do?” Jillian worriedly asked.
“I think we should check Sherlock’s collar,” I decided. “Just to be safe. Sherlock? Would you come here for a second?”
Let me pause for a moment here. Have you ever taken a collar off your dog and then seen the look of alarm that passes over their features? Think about it. What’s going through the dog’s head? Well, it’s easy. They think they’re about to be given a bath.
That must’ve been what was going through Sherlock’s head. He took one look at the loose collar I was now holding and immediately hid behind Jillian.
“It’s okay, pal. We just want to check your collar.”
Jillian held out a hand. “Want me to do it?”
“Yes, please. Thanks.”
Several minutes later, I snapped the collar back in place, much to the relief of one tri-colored pooch.
“There. See? No bath. You’re good. So, no bugs on Sherlock, yet we found one on Watson. I say we put it to good use.”
“What do you have in mind?” Jillian wanted to know.
“I need time to be able to stash this thing, only now, thanks to that bug we found on Watson’s collar, I’m getting paranoid. Are they still watching?”
Jillian pointed at the needle-like GPS bug in my hand. “They obviously used that thing to follow us here, so I’d say there’s a better than average chance they’re keeping an eye on it. They’ll probably wait us out. Zachary, how are we going to get these people off our backs?”
“I think I have an idea on how we can lose STUPID.”
“S.T.P.I.D.,” Jillian corrected.
“Whatever. What time is it?”
“Almost five p.m.”
“Good. Here, would you take Sherlock’s leash? I’ll go upstairs to see if the coast is clear.”
It was. Whoever, or whatever, was here earlier had finally left. Lisa was there, manning the counter, along with another employee I didn’t recognize. We emerged from one of the side doors in the main hall and, carrying the duffel which contained the chest, approached the counter.
“Everything go okay?” Lisa cheerily asked.
Jillian nodded. “Yes, actually. We heard a lot of movement up here earlier. Is everything okay?”
Lisa nodded. “The Bad Toupee club? I told them that we didn’t have anything open.”
Both Jillian and I stared at Lisa for a few moments.
“I assumed they were looking for you,” Lisa explained. “They wanted permission to inspect the house, claiming they were members of some architecture club. When I told them no, then the story switched to trying to locate a set of lost keys from when one of their members was here earlier. I asked for dates, so I could verify on the computer, which they couldn’t give me. By this time, I could tell they knew I suspected something was up, so they made some excuse and split.”
“I know they’re still out there, watching,” I reported, frowning as I did so.
“You do?” Lisa asked. “How?”
I held up the bug found in Watson’s collar. “Because of this.”
Lisa’s eyes widened with alarm. “What’s that?”
“It’s a tracking bug,” Jillian reported.
“Oooo! This is right out of the movies! How cool!”
“They’re following us,” I reported. “Not cool.”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Mr. Anderson. I didn’t mean …”
“Lisa?” I smoothly interrupted, “could I get you to do us a favor?”
Highland House’s general manager perked up. “Of course. What can I do for you?”
“You’re just about done for the day, aren’t you?”
Lisa’s eyes flitted over to the large clock on the opposite wall. “In about fifteen minutes. Why?”
Jillian smiled. I could see that she knew what I was going to ask her employee to do and nodded approvingly. I handed the bug to Lisa and gave her a grin.
“Would you care to take the scenic route home? Or, better yet, have Kimmi meet you here and maybe go on a joy ride?”
Lisa stared at the tracking bug a few moments before her face broke out in a grin. She had just taken possession of the tiny device when Jillian suddenly frowned. She placed a hand over mine and shook her head.
“Zachary, that isn’t going to work. They know what you look like, right? They know what you drive. They’re not going to follow Lisa in her car.”
Nodding, I unclipped the key to my Jeep and slid it across the counter.
“She’s got a full tank. Interested?”
Lisa quickly pulled out her cell.
“Kimmi! Whatcha doin’, girl? Hey, what do you say about going on a road trip? Come on down to Highland House. I’ll explain it on the way. Awesome. Love you, K.”
Fifteen minutes later, Jillian and I, along with Sherlock and Watson, watched my Jeep drive away. I’d like to be able to say that I saw a black Mercedes appear from the shadows and start following, but I can’t. Lisa made a left turn and they were gone.
“Think it’ll work?” Jillian asked.
I shrugged. “I’d like to think so, provided they didn’t bug Highland House when they were here.”
Jillian’s smile melted off her face. “Oh. I hadn’t considered that.”
“Don’t worry about it. Come on. We need to arrange for some transportation.”
Jillian held up her phone. “I have a better idea. Let me make a few calls.”
Less than an hour later, the four of us were in Carnation Cottage, one of Pomme Valley’s ten historic houses, which also doubled as Jillian’s home. Also present were our friends Vance and Tori, along with Harry and Julie. The pizza had been dropped off about fifteen minutes ago, and judging by the mostly empty box containing what was left of my Hawaiian pizza, I can only assume I had either polished off an entire large pizza by myself, or someone else had a few slices without me noticing.
I sincerely hoped it was the latter.
“Great idea,” I told Jillian, as we took the loveseat in her living room.
Only when the remaining four had claimed seats, and the dogs were snoozing on the rug in front of us, did I unzip the duffel bag on the coffee table and lift out the chest. Vance nudged his wife and inclined his head toward the table.
“Is that it? Is that what this fuss is about?”
“That’s it, all right,” I confirmed.
“So, it’s a silver box,” Harry observed. “What’s so special about it, man?”
“We had our cars bugged so someone would be able to keep an eye on us,” Vance reported, which drew a gasp of surprise from Julie. “There’s a group of people in town that really want to get their hands on that thing.”
“Do you know who?” Julie asked.
Julie Watt also worked at the police station, only she wasn’t a police officer. Her role was to fill in wherever she was needed. Sometimes, she’d be the one mannin
g the front desk and would, therefore, be the one dealing with the general public. Other times, she’d fill in on the emergency dispatch line.
“The forces of STUPID,” I automatically answered.
Vance snorted with amusement, while the other three simply stared at me with confusion written across their features.
“The people who bugged your cars are stupid?” Julie hesitantly asked.
“In this day and age, they would be,” Harry decided. “Modern electronics can usually be traced back to a manufacturer, bro, so yeah, I can get on board with them being stupid.”
“Not stupid, but STUPID,” I clarified. “They’re Irish descendants, I guess.”
“Irish people are not stupid,” Tori declared, growing angry.
Jillian held her hands up in a time-out gesture.
“Hang on, Tori. I think we have a miscommunication going on here. Zachary keeps saying stupid, but he really means S.T.P.I.D., don’t you, dear? It’s an acronym.”
“Potato, potahto.”
It was Harry’s turn to call a time-out.
“Just a moment, bro. The people after you? They’re Irish?”
I looked at Vance. “Do you remember what that silly acronym stood for?”
Vance pulled out his notebook. “Yeah. Just a moment. Okay, here it is: Strategic Team of Patriotic Irish Descendants.”
“S-T-P-I-D,” Tori observed. She looked at me and laid a hand over mine. “I’m sorry, Zack. I misunderstood.”
“Don’t sweat it. Jillian is right. I’ve been calling them stupid for several days now. Whatever. Anyway, this … group of people bugged my Jeep and Vance’s car. They also managed to slip a bug into Watson’s collar.”
Vance stiffened with surprise. “Seriously?”
“We found it earlier today.”
Sherlock lifted his head from the rug and turned to regard me with a piteous expression.
“All right, fine. He found it. Satisfied, your Royal Canineship?”
Sherlock let out a soft snort and returned to his nap.
“This is getting spooky,” Julie said. “Bugs on your cars are one thing, but trying to bug one of your dogs?”
“How did they pull that one off?” Vance wanted to know.
“I think it happened at your house,” I began. “There was an older couple outside. The man didn’t approach, but the woman stopped to pet Watson.”
Case of the Shady Shamrock Page 11
