Case of the Shady Shamrock

by Jeffrey Poole

  NINE

  “This has got to be the stupidest case I’ve ever worked,” Vance said, ten minutes later. After realizing how that sounded, my detective friend gave us a sheepish smile and shrugged. “I guess it fits with their name, doesn’t it?”

  “The Forces of STUPID,” I said, agreeing.

  “I’ve never heard of seniors behaving this way,” Jillian added.

  We were currently in one of the Pomme Valley police station’s two conference rooms. Vance, seated at the head of the rectangular table, stared at the silver chest in front of me and shook his head. I sat back in my own chair, leaned down to ruffle the fur on both Sherlock and Watson’s heads, and looked over at Jillian.

  “You had the chest in the backroom, didn’t you? Where at? And how could they have snuck in there to take it?”

  Jillian nodded. “I wish I knew, Zachary. There’s plenty of stock back there. Cassie had just unboxed a toaster, to replace one that had recently sold, and was preparing to flatten the box. I decided it would make a good hiding place, so after stowing the chest—or milkshake, you silly man—inside the box, I sealed it up and placed it among the ten others that were there.”

  “Yet, someone knew you had it,” Vance observed.

  Jillian shrugged. “That’s the only thing I can think of. It makes me angry. That means someone has placed a bug in my store. I need to purchase one of those bug-wand devices for my own personal use.”

  “You’ll have yours by tonight,” I told her, as I placed my hand over hers. “I ordered two the day Vance brought that thing over and scanned the house. There’s one for me, and one for you.”

  “How sweet! Thank you, Zachary.”

  “Those aren’t cheap, pal,” Vance said.

  “I know. However, there are some things that are worth it. This is one of them.”

  “Senior citizens planting bugs,” Vance scoffed. “The Forces of STUPID were using canes and scooters. What’s next? Hiding the chest in a case of prune juice?”

  “Personally, I think it’s the perfect disguise,” Jillian said. “They can pass themselves off as harmless old folks. No one would ever believe one of our elderly could be capable of such a heinous act.”

  “Heinous?” Vance skeptically repeated.

  “It means atrocious, or monstrous,” I offered.

  “I know what it means, you knucklehead,” Vance grumped. “I simply don’t think this crime could be construed as heinous.”

  “Either way you want to look at it,” Jillian continued, “I’m just very glad we got the chest back. I was sick to my stomach after I saw that it was missing.”

  “How did someone make it into your backroom without you noticing?” I asked.

  “Did you see how many people were in Cookbook Nook earlier today?” Jillian challenged. “That reminds me. The store is still going to be hectic. I really should get back. I haven’t seen that many people in such close proximity since we went to Disneyland last year, at Christmas time. I will never forget it.”

  “Why would you willingly go to Disneyland?” Vance asked, genuinely curious. “You two don’t have any kids.”

  “I’ve always been a Disney fan,” I confessed.

  Jillian raised her hand and nodded. “Me, too. It’s a magical place, Vance. You should take Tori and the girls. I’m sure they’d love it. In fact, why don’t we all plan a trip together? Maybe we can see if Harry and Julie could make it.”

  “What about them?” I asked, as I pointed at Sherlock and Watson’s sleeping forms.

  “We’d have to get someone to watch them,” Jillian admitted.

  “It’s a shame they don’t allow dogs in the park,” I said.

  Jillian nodded. “That’s true, but I’ve heard they do have a boarding facility at the front gate.”

  “Meaning, the dogs would have to be in a kennel the entire time we were there. No, I’d never be able to relax if I knew poor Sherlock and Watson had to spend the day cooped up.”

  “And that’s why I love you so much,” Jillian said, as she batted her eyes over me. She placed her hand on mine, on top of the table. “Don’t ever change.”

  “I have no intentions of it,” I assured her.

  “Would you two knock it off?” Vance grumbled. “You guys are in love. I get it. Do you have to make the rest of us go through it with you?”

  Jillian rose from the table and squatted down next to Vance, so that she could drape an arm across his shoulders.

  “Oh, I get it. You need a hug, don’t you?”

  Vance’s face reddened. “Cut that out.”

  Jillian giggled and returned to my side. “You blush as easily as Zack does.”

  “Do not.”

  “I don’t blush,” I said, at the same time.

  Jillian fixed me with a gaze. “Really? Would you like to amend that statement?”

  Vance’s face softened and he offered us a smile. “You two really are perfect for each other. I’m glad things are working out so well for you guys.”

  “That just earned you a hug whether you like it or not,” Jillian decided, as she rose to her feet once more. She wrapped her arms around Vance and held the embrace for a few moments. “Thank you. We both appreciate it.”

  “We really do,” I confirmed.

  Vance’s face was beet red. “All right, all right. Is everyone good? Now, what are we going to do about that thing?”

  “I personally think it’s time we figured out how to open it,” I decided. “This chest was given to me, after all. Wouldn’t that suggest whoever sent it thinks I should be able to open it?”

  “When are you going to try, Zachary?” Jillian wanted to know.

  “This evening. There’s currently a class being held at Lentari Cellars right now. Caden has a little more than twenty students following him around.”

  “What if one of them disguises themselves as a student?” Vance asked.

  “I think a senior would kinda stick out in a group of young students,” I told my friend. “I’ve already given Caden a heads-up about the possibility of strangers hanging around the winery. He’s going to keep a close eye on everything for me.”

  Vance nodded. “Good.”

  “Would you like some help this evening?” Jillian asked. “I can head over to your place once the foot traffic winds down for the day. Usually, the people this festival draws are gone by six p.m.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Jillian shrugged. “I wish I could explain it. With this particular crowd, after the sun sets, well, so do they. You’d think they were solar-powered.”

  “Hey, that works for me. If it means you get to come over to my place even sooner than that, then who am I to argue?”

  Vance rose to his feet, which woke up the dogs. “Keep me posted, will you?”

  “You got it, pal. Sherlock? Watson? Come on. We’re taking this thing home.”

  “Will it be safe there?” Jillian wanted to know.

  “I have security cameras everywhere,” I explained. “I had originally programmed it to go active once the sun goes down, only I was getting alerted to everything that passed in front of the cameras. So, since I didn’t really want to get an email every time a butterfly fluttered by one of the cameras, I’ve been tinkering with the sensitivity settings. I haven’t quite got all the kinks worked out, but it’s getting better. I just have to tell the cameras what to look for, and what sounds are acceptable. Right now, I’ll take a trigger-happy security system any day of the week.”

  “So, you’ll know when I get there,” Jillian said.

  “Yep. Come on over when you can, okay?”

  We kissed each other goodbye, which had Vance rolling his eyes and heading off to his office. The dogs and I, with the toaster box securely under my arm, headed back to my Jeep. Once we were on the road, I was able to relax.

  “We really need to find out what’s in this thing once and for all,” I told the dogs. “So, if either of you would like to work your magic, feel free, all righ
t?”

  The corgis ignored me. I had rolled the back windows down to the halfway point, and both of the dogs were sitting as close as they could to the blowing air. Shrugging, I returned my attention to the box, and what I could do to open it. Clearly, Jillian was right. It was a puzzle box, and one that required a very specific set of instructions to be followed before it would open. However, no one knew what those instructions were. That meant we were going to have to play it by ear.

  Back home, the dogs and I were in my office upstairs. As promised, I had activated the motion sensors all over the property. No one would be able to get within a thousand yards of the house without tripping one of the cameras. This was proven by the relentless chirps that were being sent to my phone. And yes, I stopped to check each of them. Most of them were just students moving around the winery. Others were pictures of wildlife, and there were a few that had nothing at all. I’m guessing the blowing wind must have caused a tree branch to sway, which earned it a snapshot from the closest camera.

  Oh, well. The added security was worth it.

  I sat back in my chair and studied the silver object sitting on my desk. I already knew which pieces on the chest’s surface moved, so there really wasn’t any point in trying again. It would just be a waste of time. Therefore, it was time to institute Jillian’s plan, where I would move one piece at a time, and then check if anything happened. Would the rest of the movable pieces stop moving? Would something new then be able to be moved?

  The answer was a very resounding no.

  Not to be deterred, since I had only started with the shamrock leaf, I moved to the Scottish thistle. I pressed the stem in, heard it click, and then did my checks. Nothing. I spent the next hour repeating the process for each of the eight moving pieces.

  No luck.

  Frustrated, I pushed away from my desk. Rising to my feet, I glanced down, looking for the dogs. Not finding them, I moved to my house’s second guest bedroom, which had been claimed by the corgis and all their toys. There they were, up on the couch, sound asleep. Squatting down next to them resulted in my knees cracking loudly, which woke up the two of them.

  Sherlock regarded me from his upside-down position, while Watson lifted her head to be able to better watch me. I gave each of the dogs a friendly pat before sighing heavily.

  “I don’t know, guys. Nothing I’m doing is having the slightest bit of effect on this thing. I thought for sure Jillian was on to something, when she suggested the movement of one piece would then allow a completely different piece to move. However, that doesn’t seem to be the case.”

  Sherlock lazily rolled over, until he was laying on the couch with his feet under him. He watched me for a few moments before slowly rising to his feet and giving himself a good shaking, as though there wasn’t enough dog hair on that poor sofa.

  Sherlock jumped down, shook himself a second time, then looked up at Watson. After a few moments of silence had passed, I watched Watson jump down, give herself her own shake, and then, together, the two corgis trotted out of the room. Curious, I followed. What were those two up to?

  We didn’t go far. We literally walked out of the room and down the hall, ending up in the room I had just vacated, namely, my office. Both dogs placed themselves before my desk and promptly sat. Catching sight of me watching curiously from the doorway, Sherlock looked up at the top of my desk and let out a low howl.

  “Awwooooo.”

  “And that’s supposed to mean what?” I wanted to know. “Is there something on my desk you want to look at?”

  For the next fifteen minutes, I presented each and every object on my desk—of which there were many—to the corgis, as if looking for their approval. I know what you’re thinking. Fifteen minutes? How much crap could I possibly have on my desk? Well, the answer to that was … a lot. I have little figurines, statues of dragons holding letter openers, a Bluetooth speaker in the shape of the Millennium Falcon, and a myriad of other knick-knacks, collected from multiple countries. It wasn’t until I hit those aforementioned knick-knacks that I got a hit. Well, a woof, actually.

  Sherlock’s ears perked up as I leaned down with one of three crystal paperweights I owned and placed it in front of his nose.

  “Awwwwoooooowwoooowwwoooowooo!”

  Seriously, I should have known. After all, this particular case was about Ireland, so why shouldn’t Sherlock express interest in my Waterford crystal shamrock? I held it out to Watson, only to have her sneeze into my hand.

  “Thanks for that, girl. That was properly disgusting. So, let’s find out if this is the only thing you’re interested in, all right?”

  I moved to the dogs’ room across the hall. Sure enough, the corgis followed. Placing the crystal shamrock on the small wooden stand that held their 32-inch flat-screen television—hey, don’t judge me, it actually keeps them entertained! —I took a couple of steps back and watched. Sherlock and Watson approached the television, sat down, and gazed at the crystal paperweight as though it was the most fascinating thing they had ever seen. Shaking my head, I snatched up my crystal memento of my trip to Cork, Ireland. Then, shrugging, I pulled out my phone and took a picture of the paperweight while it was still in my hand.

  “Thanks for that. All-righty-then. You guys are interested in my shamrock. Well, that’s not too surprising, is it?”

  Why would it be? There is a better than average chance the missing Irish Crown Jewels were sitting in that chest on my desk, just waiting to be discovered. All I had to do was find the key to opening this blasted silver box. Aside from taking a torch to it. If I knew for a fact that cutting the chest open wouldn’t harm what was inside, then I would seriously consider it.

  My eyes flitted over to my (newly returned) crystal shamrock. The circumstances in which I bought that souvenir suddenly sprang to mind. I had purchased it back in 2009, which was when I first visited Ireland. That particular trip, I remember thinking, was necessary due to a desire to get some hands-on research of Irish castles. Why not make a trip out of it?

  Unsurprisingly, it hadn’t taken much to convince Samantha, my late wife, to tag along, and together, we spent six glorious days on the Emerald Isle. We explored Cork and Dublin, and even took the time to drive up to Belfast, Northern Ireland, so that we could see the Giant’s Causeway. But, I digress. Back to Cork.

  While exploring the city, Samantha and I came across the best gift shop we had ever visited: Blarney Woollen. Shirts, trinkets, jewelry, and yes, Waterford crystal, were tastefully displayed from one end of the store to the other. Samantha, understandably, had veered toward the crystal display the instant we entered the store. She selected several vases, a set of dishes, and an angel decoration. Wanting to get something for myself, I had found the small crystal shamrock, which had been perfect.

  During the time we had explored the city of Cork, we actually encountered the Chairman of the Cork City Council, which was the equivalent of the city’s mayor. Michael O’Connell had invited Sam and me to lunch, and it was there that I revealed to the first person ever, who my alter ego was, and the real reason why we were there, in Cork. Lord Mayor O’Connell then pulled out his cell phone and called his wife, placing the call on speakerphone. He asked Cara to tell him the name of the book she was reading. After revealing she had become captivated with Through The Fog, a novel by none other than Chastity Wadsworth, Mayor O’Connell himself became our personal tour guide for the rest of the time we were in Cork, which floored me. Surely, the mayor of a city the size of Cork would have something better to do?

  Then, on the last day of our visit, the Lord Mayor explained his actions. He was just repaying a favor, he explained, because ever since Through The Fog had been published, tourism in Cork had increased by nearly 300 percent! Now, there was no proof that it was all due to a book I had written, but seeing how I had set the book’s location in Ireland, and the year in question was the same year it had been published, well, it had been an easy assumption to make.

  Coming back to the present,
I looked down at Sherlock, and then back at the crystal shamrock. What did Mayor O’Connell tell me the day we left? That if there was ever anything he could do for me, then all I had to do was ask?

  My eyes jumped over to the chest and the Celtic shamrock on its front. Well, I was pretty certain Michael was no longer the mayor, since he revealed those positions were chosen on an annual basis. But, what could it hurt to try?

  I reached for my cell and, after a few moments of searching, found the number I had long ago saved into my contact book.

  “Office of the Chairman of Cork City Council, this is Clodagh, how can I help you?”

  “Hello, Clodagh. My name is Zachary Anderson. I was looking to reach a man by the name of Michael O’Connell, who used to be the Lord Mayor of Cork. Now, I know he isn’t anymore, but I was wondering if there was a way you could …”

  “Michael O’Connell?” the woman hesitantly repeated. “You’re looking for Mr. O’Connell?”

  “Oh, good. Do you know him?”

  “I should say so, sir. He’s my uncle.”

  “Really? It’s definitely a small world. Listen, I met your uncle in 2009. He told me that, if I ever needed a favor, I was to let him know. Well, I’ve got something to run by him. Is there any way I could get you to give me his number?”

  “The best I could do, sir, is take your number and give it to my uncle. If he so chooses, then he would call you.”

  “That’ll do, Clodagh. Thank you.”

  I gave the girl my name and number. After a moment’s hesitation, I gave her the other name.

  “You also go by a woman’s name?” Clodagh incredulously asked.

  “It’s a nom de plume. Silly, I know. He’ll know who it is.”

  “I will give him the message,” Clodagh promised.

  “Thank you. Hey, out of curiosity, what time is it there? It has to be getting late, right?”

  “Well, it is evening, Mr. Anderson. This office closes at nine p.m. Your accent. Is it American?”