Case of the Shady Shamrock

by Jeffrey Poole

  Tori’s eyes widened with shock. “I remember them! I actually said something to Vance about it later that evening. Wasn’t it something about having never seen them before?”

  “We know everyone around us,” Vance explained.

  I pointed at the chest. “Well, now that we know people are after Pandora’s Box here, Jillian and I are hoping you’ll be able to help us figure out how to open this thing up.”

  “Is it locked?” Harry asked. “How hard can it be? Come on, man, didn’t you say you could pick locks now?”

  “I’m an amateur,” I clarified, “and if that had a keyhole, then I’d certainly give it a try.”

  “We think it’s a puzzle box,” Jillian added.

  Tori perked up. “Like those Japanese puzzle boxes? Certain panels slide in specific directions, and once all steps have been taken, the box opens?”

  Jillian nodded. “Yes, exactly.”

  “Have you figured out how to get it open yet?” Vance asked. “If all else fails, I have an acetylene torch you can borrow.”

  “Nuh-uh. We can’t risk harming the contents.”

  “And that would be …?” Harry asked.

  “Some mighty pricey valuables,” I answered.

  “You think there’s jewelry in there?” Vance asked.

  “We think so,” I said. “This might come as a surprise to you guys, but we’re pretty sure that the stolen Irish Crown Jewels might be in there.”

  The room fell silent.

  “How mysterious!” Tori exclaimed.

  “This is exciting!” Julie echoed.

  “That’d be one helluva case to break,” Vance added.

  “The Irish have crown jewels?” Harry wanted to know.

  All of us turned to look at Harry. I’d also like to point out that both dogs roused themselves from their nap to regard Harry with a neutral look.

  “What?” Harry stammered, growing defensive. “I thought the crown jewels were a British thing.”

  “For the record,” I said, coming to Harry’s aid, “I was right there with you, pal. I didn’t know Ireland had crown jewels, either. But, from what I’ve recently learned, I can tell you that the jewels weren’t worn by monarchs. They were more for presentation, I guess.”

  “Do you really think those missing jewels are in there?” Julie quietly asked.

  “That’s the running theory,” I confirmed.

  Harry pointed at the chest. “What made you think that has these missing jewels, bro? What do you know that we don’t?”

  I tapped the side of the chest with the shamrock. “That is the answer. This is a very distinctive shamrock. Thanks to a new friend in Medford, I’ve learned it was last seen in a series of newspaper articles from the 1930s or 1940s.”

  Vance rubbed his hands together. “Well? Let’s get crackin’. I’ve got twenty bucks that says we’ll be able to get this thing open by, what, eight p.m.?”

  “It’s just after six,” I reported, as I checked my cell. “And I say you won’t.”

  Vance tapped the bill he had dropped next to the chest. “Put up or shut up, buddy.”

  Less than ten minutes later, the amount of cash on the table was more than a hundred dollars. Having already tried my luck with the chest, I remained in my seat, with my arm around Jillian. Together, the two of us watched our friends try to find some combination of movements, in order to open the chest. However, their luck resembled mine. After three solid hours of poking, prodding, twisting, and turning, they were no further along than I was, and that was after I had spent an entire night trying to get the blasted thing to open.

  “I think we’re going about this wrong,” Jillian said, as the chime of her grandfather clock announced it was now after nine p.m.

  “What do you mean by that?” I wanted to know.

  Jillian pointed at the chest. “If we’re to go under the assumption that this box is, in fact, a puzzle box, then I think we’re trying to solve this thing incorrectly.”

  “We’re listening,” Vance said.

  “Himitsu-Bako,” Jillian began. “Who among us have ever tried to open a traditional Japanese secret box?”

  A quick check of the table confirmed no one had ever touched one.

  “All right,” Jillian continued, “I thought as much. You have to understand how most of those puzzle boxes worked. First, you find a piece that moves. Not by much, of course, but just enough.”

  “Just enough to what?” Tori asked.

  “Just enough to allow the second piece to move,” Jillian answered.

  As one, we all turned to regard the chest. I leaned forward to tap the shamrock.

  “All right, so, this shamrock, for example. This leaf moves. So, if I was to move it like this, then … I would need to look for another part to move? That’s easy. There are several other pieces that’ll move.”

  “What about pieces that don’t?” Julie asked.

  “Pieces that don’t?” I repeated. “What does that mean?”

  A look of surprise appeared on Tori’s face. A few moments later, that same look moved over to Julie.

  “Oh!” Harry’s wife exclaimed. She looked at Tori, and then Jillian. “I get it. Now, that makes sense.”

  I glanced over at Harry, and then Vance, who shrugged.

  “Care to share? What’d we miss?”

  “Himitsu-Bako will open with steps,” Jillian explained. “You have to find the first step. Once that piece moves, then you have to look for something that previously didn’t move, and then …”

  “… try to move it,” I breathed, amazed. “If it moves, then that’s step two. How many steps will there be?”

  Jillian shrugged. “The box I have, which I still need to bring over here so you can see for yourself what I mean, is eleven steps. This chest could be less, and just as easily, it could be more.”

  “Swell,” I muttered. “How does that help us here? There are, what, seven or eight pieces that already move?”

  “Then, that means there are seven or eight possible first steps,” Jillian reported. “One of them must be the right one.”

  I looked at the other members of our group and smiled. “All those in favor of allowing Jillian to try her luck on the chest?”

  The five of us simultaneously raised our arms. Jillian blew me a kiss and promptly shooed me off the loveseat.

  “While she’s doing that,” Vance said, “I’m gonna go out to the car. I’ve got something for you.”

  “You do? Well, color me intrigued. Any ideas?” I asked Tori, after Vance had walked out the front door.

  “Not a clue.”

  A few moments later, Vance was back, and he was holding what looked like a thick, black wand.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “It’s an RF wireless signal detector wand. It runs off a single AA battery. This baby will detect all radio transmitters, from 50MHz to 6GHz.”

  “And I can borrow it?” I hopefully asked.

  “For a day or so. I’ve got a buddy in Medford who is a serious conspiracy theory fanatic. He thinks the government is out to get him, so he’s a little on the paranoid side.”

  I edged closer, noted the make and manufacturer of the wand, and quickly looked them up online. Sure enough, they were listed on Amazon’s website. Granted, they were pricey, but not nearly as much as I had expected.

  I ordered two.

  “Show me how it works,” I instructed.

  For the next ten minutes, we all watched Vance walk around the room and check for bugs. Thankfully, nothing was found. We went out to our cars and watched as Vance gently waved the wand an inch or two above the surface of each car.

  They were clean, too.

  Once we were certain the forces of STUPID, er S.T.P.I.D., hadn’t bugged any of our cars, or Jillian’s home, we each breathed a sigh of relief.

  “What does this tell us, bro?” Harry asked.

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure. I thought for sure that we’d have found another bug or two by now. Per
haps our STUPID pals are on a limited budget and couldn’t afford more than two or three bugs? Who can say?”

  In less than twelve hours, I would be able to answer that, only the answer I’d give wouldn’t be what anyone would want to hear.

  EIGHT

  “We haven’t done this in a while, have we? Granted, the last time we were in this thing, we kinda found a dead person, so all I ask is that you two keep your noses in the cab, all right?”

  As expected, both corgis ignored me. They were too busy creating what every dog owner on the planet was familiar with, namely, numerous streaks on windows affectionately labeled nose art. In this case, we were in the cab of the winery’s John Deere tractor, and were headed back to the north fields. Yes, that was where the remains of a certain someone had been found, but this time, thankfully, I wasn’t going to use my tractor to break up any rocks. There was a large, dead tree near the northwestern border of the property, and I was determined to get rid of that eyesore once and for all. The problem was, it was about a fifteen minute drive for me to get this beast all the way out there.

  If you haven’t guessed it by now, it was the following day. Jillian still had possession of the chest, and she assured me she had the perfect hiding place for it. In case the Forces of STUPID, as I’ve started calling them in my head, had somehow managed to bug our phones, I forbade Jillian from mentioning its location. The less I knew, the better.

  So, discovering I had some free time on my hands, since my latest book was in the hands of my editor, and I hadn’t decided which of my dozen or so writing projects would be next, I decided to make myself useful. I could claim that I meant to say, something useful for the winery, but let’s face it. Everyone who knows me will know how much I love playing with the biggest toy I own. Therefore, it didn’t take very long for me to snatch the keys off the peg in the winery and head for my tractor. All in all, it took a solid twenty minutes of driving to make it from the storage shed all the way out to the extreme northwestern corner of my property.

  “You two stay here,” I ordered, as I grabbed my gloves and a set of chains I kept under the buddy seat. “We’re going to rip this sucker apart. What do you say?”

  I was ignored again. You’d think I would be used to it by now.

  Two hours later, there was nothing left of Ol’ Nasty—a term of endearment by yours truly—but a jagged, scarred stump. Deciding the tractor probably wasn’t strong enough to rip the blasted thing out of the ground using nothing but the chains, I set to work clearing and breaking as many roots as I could find. Also, since I couldn’t very well dig down to expose the northern roots of the tree without ripping into the road itself, I had to settle on digging as much as I could from the southern side, all without destabilizing the hillside. I’d like to say I was just being cautious, but thanks to the infamous power pole incident from earlier this year, I’ve learned to be a little more observant of the surrounding area.

  I know you’d like me to elaborate on that, but since it’s still a sore subject, and one that cost me a pretty penny to straighten out, all I’ll tell you is never dig too close to a utility pole. If the stupid thing starts to lean in any direction, then the utility company will be right out to fix it and give you the bill. Turns out, the power company really doesn’t like it when people tinker with their sacred poles. It’s been three months since The Incident and I don’t think the power company has forgiven me. Whatever.

  Keeping an eye on the nearby road, I started working the controls. Push that in there, lift that lever there, and push on that pedal down there. It may seem monotonous to you, but I challenge you to get behind the seat of one of these things and not have a huge smile plastered on your face. This piece of machinery radiated power, and I couldn’t be happier to apply that power to something I’ve been eyeing ever since I realized it was on my land.

  The roots were broken, and the stump was now leaning precariously to the right, away from the road. Sensing Ol’ Nasty was about to give up the ghost, I started grinning like an idiot. Securing chains around the stump, and then fastening them to the bucket, I gave the corgis a good-luck scratching.

  “Here we go, guys. Can we all say, dump the stump?”

  There must’ve been a root or two that I missed, because Ol’ Nasty refused to budge. Cursing, I dropped the gear into first and eased the tractor backward. We played tug-of-war for a minute or two before the first crack sounded, which caused the three of us to jump in our seats. Sherlock and Watson both started woofing and checking all directions, as though they both thought we were about to be attacked by a wave of zombies.

  “We’re good guys. It’s just the stump. I think that means we won this round. Hopefully, there won’t be another.”

  My cell rang, proving just how often I’m wrong.

  “Hey, Vance. What’s up?”

  “Zack, where are you?”

  “In the tractor, working on removing …”

  “Forget about that for now,” Vance interrupted. “Where’s the chest?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know, pal. Jillian said …”

  “Not over the phone!” Vance hissed.

  Something was up. Why did it sound like Vance was on edge?

  “What’s the matter, pal? Is something wrong?”

  “The S.T.P… You know what? I’m tired of calling him that. The stupid guy! He’s escaped!”

  All right. That caught my attention. The bucket was lowered, I inched the tractor forward to relieve the tension on the chain, and brought my favorite toy down to an idle.

  “Say that again, please?”

  “The guy escaped!”

  “Are you kidding me?” I demanded. “How is that even possible in this day and age? They don’t have prison breaks, do they? Did you guys lose everyone or just him?”

  “Just him!” Vance all but shouted. “And he didn’t escape from our jail but from the hospital. He has a broken leg, remember? Well, he complained his leg was bothering him, so while he was being checked by the doctor, he somehow managed to make it out of the hospital, unobserved.”

  “With a broken leg?” I sputtered.

  “I know, right?”

  Right about then, I realized why Vance was calling. If these people had the ability to sneak their members away from a guarded hospital room, then that meant they were more of a threat than we had given them credit for, and that meant it was time to track down Jillian.

  “I’m on it, pal. Hold up, I’ll call you back. Sherlock? Watson? Come on. We’re bailing out.”

  The three of us sprinted from the tractor and approached the road. There, coming toward me, was a 2015 Volkswagen Beetle, and it was pink. I knew of only one person who drove a car like that, and she just so happened to spend a lot of time at the winery.

  It was Kim, one of Lentari Cellars’ interns. I watched her eyes widen with surprise as soon as she saw me, and she immediately brought her car to a stop. Rolling down her window, she leaned out.

  “Mr. Anderson? Are you okay?”

  “I’m good, Kim, thanks. Hey, could you give us a lift back to the winery? If I try to drive that beast back, then it’ll be a good twenty to twenty-five minutes before we make it home.”

  “Sure, hop in. Are you sure everything’s all right?”

  “Sherlock? Watson? Back seat. Move. Umm, I’m not sure. I don’t want to take any chances. So, if you would, could you floor it?”

  This particular Beetle only had about 150 horsepower, but it was more than adequate to get us back to the winery in under five minutes. Thanking the girl profusely, I gathered up the dogs and sprinted for my Jeep. Careful not to touch the caked-on mud that was everywhere, I got the door open and the dogs settled in the back seat.

  In case you were wondering, Lisa and Kimmi had an absolute field day with my Jeep yesterday. Having never driven an off-road vehicle, they ended up taking several back roads out of town and then explored much of the countryside, all without the help of any road.

  In fact, they enjoyed the off-r
oading experience so much that, once Lisa returned the keys to me last night, she insisted they were going to trade one of their cars in for a Jeep. Now, however, my Jeep was caked with mud. Lisa offered to pay for it to be cleaned, but I assured her it really wasn’t necessary. Whether or not the Forces of STUPID fell for the bait, and followed Lisa out of town, I didn’t know. I’d like to think we wasted their time, but until we could talk to one of them, I didn’t think we’d ever know. I made a mental note to take it through a car wash at the next opportunity, but for now, there were more pressing matters at hand. Once I finally made it to the road, I decided to call Jillian.

  “Zachary! What a pleasant surprise! What…?”

  “Are you okay?” I interrupted. “Tell me you’re all right.”

  “I’m all right,” Jillian assured me. “What’s the matter? Why would you ask that?”

  “The guy we caught breaking and entering at the winery? He escaped.”

  “From jail? How is that possible?”

  “Not from jail, but from the hospital. Long story short, he’s on the loose, and I think he must have had help. So, the, uh, milkshake. Is it safe? I really don’t want anything to happen to it.”

  “The milkshake,” Jillian slowly repeated.

  Spontaneous code-name designations aren’t really my strong suit. Hopefully, my fiancée knew me well enough to be able to figure out what I was trying not to say.

  “It’s fine, Zachary. It’s …”

  “There’s no need to tell me now,” I hastily interrupted. “As long as it’s secure and you’re safe. That’s all I care about. Where are you now?”

  “I’m at my store.”

  “Perfect. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  I wasn’t even close. Five miles from town, I hit the one thing that Pomme Valley was not known for: traffic. What was going on? Was there an accident ahead? Fire? Plague? Locusts?

  Thirty minutes later, as I finally made it to downtown PV, I discovered the answer. This was the first day of a wine festival, where each of the twenty-four wineries which called PV home could compete among themselves to see who was favored by the townsfolk. Think of it as a People’s Choice Award, given by the good citizens of Pomme Valley to reward their favorite wine. And, not to toot my own horn, but every time Lentari Cellars has entered, we won, hands down. I knew Caden was planning on entering again, but whether or not he had already set up the winery’s booth, I didn’t know.