Case of the Shady Shamrock

by Jeffrey Poole

  Two armed figures appeared in the hall, outfitted entirely in black. Sweatshirts, pants, shoes, and even sunglasses were all black. Plus, both assailants had their hoodies pulled up and over their heads. Fabric face masks, like the kind someone would wear if they didn’t want to breathe in someone else’s germs, stretched from nose to chin. Wearing both mask and sunglasses, no part of their faces were exposed. However, one thing I could determine was that we were looking at a male and a female, and I was willing to bet the female was the one who kept changing her appearance through the use of different wigs. In fact, if I looked closely at the person I suspected to be a woman, I could see wisps of long, red hair poking through her hoodie and her mask.

  The woman strode confidently up to me, pointed at the chest on the floor, and motioned with her gun for me to hand it to her. Once it was tucked under her arm, and after hearing the dogs growl once more, the gun was aimed at the corgis. Or, more specifically, at Sherlock.

  “Quiet, boy. We’ll get it back. Don’t forget, we’re dealing with STUPID people here.”

  “We’re holding the guns,” the male sneered. “I’d watch it if I were you. If you try to come after us, we’ll shoot.” The man looked at his companion. “Go. Get that thing in the car and get it started.”

  The woman nodded and disappeared through the door. We heard her hurry down the stairs and then, a few moments later, an engine was fired up. The guy began backstepping out the door. As soon as he was in the hall, he closed the door to my office and hurriedly knocked over a nearby bookcase, thereby blocking us in our room. Then, we heard the guy sprint down the stairs. As the two of us rose to our feet, we heard several gunshots in the distance. What was he shooting at?

  Opening my office door (it swung in not out), I verified they were gone before helping Jillian and dogs out of the room.

  TEN

  “How could this be happening?” I demanded, as I rushed outside. “How did they even know we had the flippin’ thing in there?”

  “I’m more concerned about them getting it opened,” Jillian said, from somewhere behind me. As we bolted down the stairs, we came to a stop at an empty driveway. “Tell me you have an idea where they might have gone?”

  We both slowly turned in place. There was no sign of any other vehicle anywhere. Even if their car was out of sight, it shouldn’t have been out of earshot. Living out in the country as I do, the approach—or departure—of any type of vehicle can be heard for miles. Neither of us heard a thing, I’m sorry to say.

  “Look, Zachary! Look at what they did to our cars!”

  My Jeep had two flats, as did Jillian’s SUV. I paced around the cars as I angrily scolded myself for being so careless. One thing was clear: I hadn’t given these STUPID people enough credit. They were more organized, better prepared, and better informed than I was led to believe. Somehow, they managed to sneak onto my property and make it through my own front door before my so-called security system could indicate something was amiss.

  Sherlock and Watson skirted around the now disabled cars and pulled us toward the garage.

  “What are they doing?” Jillian wanted to know.

  I suddenly grinned. I had forgotten that, thanks to Jillian, I was now the owner of two cars. I should’ve known that they wouldn’t have forgotten that. Punching the code on the keypad, I watched the garage door as it rumbled upward.

  “You’re not suggesting we try to follow them in that, are you?” Jillian asked, using a tone dripping with skepticism. “Zachary, this isn’t the 1940s. The person who stole the chest is going to have something a lot more powerful than this.”

  The garage’s fluorescent lights made the dark, forest green paint sparkle on my 1930 Ruxton Model C sedan. A gift from Jillian, after learning the car had come with a house she had purchased last year, the car had been meticulously restored. However, the caveat to that is that it would probably stay restored only if I could remember where each of the car’s three gears were located.

  The dogs were waiting by the rear passenger door. Lifting Their Royal Canineships up into the classic automobile, I risked a glance at my fiancée and was rewarded with seeing her already in the passenger seat.

  “Remember, reverse is in first position,” Jillian warned, as if she had been reading my mind.

  “I never should have told you about how I dented the bumper,” I chuckled, as I eased the classic piece of automotive history out of the garage.

  The Ruxton Model C sedan is a very rare car that most people, like myself prior to owning one, have probably never heard of. Before picking up the keys to this beauty, I had no idea what it was, only that every picture I had ever seen of it made me think of Al Capone, Bugsy Malone, and other mobsters from that era. The car was gorgeous, had only required a minimal amount of effort to restore, and as a result, I had people asking to buy it on a daily basis.

  In this particular case, we didn’t have the time to stop to allow admirers to take its picture. We had a thief to find, and we had to do so before they could skip town. Jillian was right. I was pretty sure we had been only moments away from opening the chest and determining, once and for all, whether or not the missing Irish Crown Jewels could finally be reported as found. We were on track to do just that, but, before we could, we were given one mother of a reality check.

  Two people had entered my house. Two people made it up the stairs and caught us unprepared, brandishing guns. One of them, I was certain, was the woman with the bright-red hair. I was also certain it was the same woman who had slipped the GPS tracking bug onto Watson’s collar. In fact, it was also the same lady who had donned a frizzy white wig and swiped the chest a few days ago, and ended up being caught, on one of those scooters.

  How? That’s what I wanted to know. How had this person made it onto my property, when I had every square inch of the driveway covered? I had no fewer than three different cameras covering my front door, yet somehow, this woman made it all the way inside my house. What had I missed? Had this lady used some type of high-tech device to defeat my security system?

  “Penny for your thoughts?”

  I glanced over at the passenger seat. “I’m just thinking how disgusted I am with my security system. I was so sure that we’d be fine. After all, cameras are everywhere, and the security stickers on the front door should have been enough of a deterrent to ward off anyone stupid enough to try sneaking up on us.”

  “I’d be talking to the company that installed it,” Jillian said, frowning. “There should be some type of … what’s with that face? Who did you use? Zachary Michael, tell me you didn’t install it yourself.”

  “The instructions said that anyone could do it,” I argued. “I figured, why not save a little money?”

  “You bought a do-it-yourself security system?” Jillian asked, incredulous.

  “When you say it like that, then yeah, it sounds foolish. Trust me, I’ll be rectifying that little problem just as soon as I’m able to.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t get a security system like the one we had installed in Monterey.”

  During a much-needed vacation to Monterey, California, we ended up having a more adventurous time than we had planned and doing a huge favor for a famous, nearby aquarium.

  “I thought about it,” I admitted, as I twisted the Ruxton’s shifting knob and eased the car into second gear. “As I’m sure you remember, that particular system was state-of-the-art: mobile access, remote arm and disarm, and offline data storage. That cost us a pretty penny.”

  “It was worth it,” Jillian reminded me. “And, isn’t this? This is the world you created here, Zachary. I would have thought that a simple price tag wouldn’t have made a difference to you, not when those you love are at stake.”

  I turned to see Jillian batting her eyes at me. Then, I noticed both dogs were watching me in the rearview mirror. Laughing, I threw up my hands.

  “Fine. You guys all win. I’ll make the call tomorrow morning. Satisfied?”

  Sherlock and Wats
on settled down, into the plush seats, just as we merged onto South State Road, heading west.

  “Come on, guys. Don’t get comfy. We’re tracking the bad guys! Aren’t you two supposed to be poking your noses through the window? You know, making doggie nose art all over the glass?”

  Sherlock had the audacity to lower his head until it was resting on his paws. After a few moments, his eyes closed and the little corgi was snoring. Watson snuggled close to her packmate and, before long, she was out like a light, too.

  “What’s with those two?” Jillian asked.

  “I wish I knew. You know, I have no idea where we’re going, or what we’re looking for.

  “If we did,” Jillian began, as she pulled out her phone, “I could have the entire town looking for it. I’ll bet we could find it in less time that it takes to get to the police station.”

  I nodded. “If we knew the make and model, sure. The police station? That’s a good place to start. I wonder if Vance is there?”

  Jillian held up her phone. “He is. I’ve given him a brief recap of what’s happened. He’s not too happy about the theft of the chest, but that’s not too surprising. I think he really wanted to find out what was in it.”

  “I still hope to be able to tell him,” I said, as I noticed the first sign telling me that, in less than three miles, we’d be entering Pomme Valley’s city limits. “I still can’t believe I let them manage to slip inside the house, unnoticed. I didn’t get any alerts or notices. This is all my fault.”

  Jillian placed her soft hand over mine. “It’s not your fault, Zachary. These are extenuating circumstances. Let’s just focus on figuring out where the red-haired woman went.”

  I looked back at the mirror, at the sleeping corgis, and scowled. “Sherlock? Watson? I could really use you guys right about now. They know the first step in getting the chest open. We need to find it before they get it all the way open.”

  “For all we know, they’ll destroy the chest just to get at the jewelry inside,” Jillian said.

  “Not helping,” I grumbled. “Guys? What do you say?”

  Sherlock cracked open an eye and looked at me in the mirror. After a few moments, the feisty little corgi rose to his feet, stretched his back, and then raised himself into a seated position. Good. He was now looking out the window. Was he trying to tell us something?

  Sherlock gave himself a good shaking and then looked at me, as though I needed to discover the next step on my own. When I didn’t say anything, Sherlock let out a low woof. Watson woke, looked over at her packmate, and then noticed he was looking at me. Just like that, I had two corgis staring at me. Sherlock woofed again.

  “What is he woofing at?” Jillian wanted to know.

  “I’m not sure. What’s up, pal? What do you need?”

  Sherlock surprised me by lunging forward so that his front end was on my arm rest. He lowered his snout and then nudged my phone. The tri-colored corgi looked up at me, snorted, and then at Jillian. He nudged my phone a second time, knocking it out of the cup holder. Jillian quickly retrieved it but held it up in front of the corgi.

  “What’s the matter, Sherlock? Is there something on the phone that you want to see?”

  Sherlock stretched forward and nudged the phone again, almost dislodging it from Jillian’s hand.

  “All right, is there something you want me to see?”

  There was another nudge.

  “How about Zack? Is there something you want him to look at?”

  “Awwooooo!”

  Surprised, I took my eyes off the road long enough to stare at my phone. What was on it that my dog wanted me to see? Then, I had to laugh at myself. If only a therapist could hear me say that, then I’d most certainly have a date with a shrink on a weekly basis.

  Exasperated, Sherlock woofed, and nudged the phone a final time. This time, somehow, he had activated the generic app I had downloaded so I could view the footage of the security camera online. Both Jillian and I came to the same conclusion at the exact same time.

  “Your security system!” Jillian exclaimed.

  “I can look at the footage online,” I said, shaking my head. “I should have checked to see if it picked up anything. I just assumed it didn’t.”

  “Can you walk me through how to do it?” Jillian said, as she stared at the unfamiliar app.

  “I wish I could. It has a strange setup. I’d have to …”

  “Zachary!” Jillian cried. “Pull over! Right here. Pull over!”

  I complied, and brought the Ruxton to as rapid a stop as I could. We were currently in PV city limits, and there was a row of houses on either side of the street. Both dogs, I noticed, were standing up on their back legs, looking out the right-side window.

  “What is it?”

  Jillian pointed at a very familiar house on the corner of the closest intersection. Parked in the driveway was one sky-blue Corvette Stingray.

  “Okay, so, it’s Dottie’s house. What about it?”

  Jillian was already on her way out of the car. She pointed at the driveway and it dawned on me what she wanted me to do. Shrugging, I parked my classic car next to Dottie’s, er, classic car. Dottie was already exiting the house as I pulled the dogs out.

  “Hi, guys!” Dottie said, as she emerged from her house. She had a dishtowel in her hands and it looked as though she had been in the middle of cleaning her house. “Can I help you with something?”

  “No time to explain,” Jillian said, as she pointed at the Vette. “Could we borrow that? We need to catch a thief and it’s not going to happen in that!”

  Dottie’s eyebrows shot up. “Another chase? You guys live such exciting lives! Sure, I’ll go get the keys.”

  As soon as our friend was holding out the keys to her sportscar, Jillian surprised me by snatching them out of Dottie’s hand. She placed her hand on my chest and pointed at the driver’s seat.

  “Nuh-uh. I am driving. You do your thing with your phone and tell me what we’re looking for. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Bemused by the entire situation, I could only nod. Ushering the dogs inside the blue Corvette, I slid onto the passenger seat and had just managed to close the door when the Vette roared to life. I remembered something Jillian had told me, and it came slamming back into me at full force. My fiancée may have been born here, in Pomme Valley, but she once said Michael, her late husband, told her she drove like she had lived in Southern California her entire life.

  In the blink of an eye, Jillian had the Vette up to 50 mph, and it felt like she hadn’t even shifted out of second gear yet. Surprised, it was all I could do to hang on. Risking a glance back at the dogs, I could see that they had their tongues out, and if the windows had been open, I’m sure their heads would have been sticking out, regardless of our velocity.

  “Zachary? Your phone. You’re supposed to be looking for our thief.”

  “Right. Sorry. You surprised me, that’s all.”

  “You’re referring to my driving?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sorry.”

  “In this case, it’s better to drive aggressively than like a … a …”

  “… grandpa?” I finished for her, with a grin.

  Jillian giggled. “Your words, not mine. Now, what do you have?”

  I pulled my phone out and started the tedious log-in process to access my online account. As soon as I was at my account page, I followed the necessary steps to enter the Storage Locker, where all uploaded files were kept, and began sorting them into chronological order. I found the correct file on the third attempt. Watching time elapse as I kept an eye on the feed which had my driveway, I had let thirteen minutes go by before the file ended prematurely. Surprised, I played the file again, and jumping it forward to the 12:55 mark, I watched as a car appeared in the frame. However, a split second later, the file ended.

  And that was the last file that was uploaded to my account. My limited technical skills were able to engage long enough to spit out an answer as to why I hadn’t rece
ived any notices: the security system wasn’t connected to the Internet. But, that was exactly when that car appeared? Had it passed my driveway, or had it simply been bad luck that my Internet connection dropped at that exact time?

  A nagging thought occurred. The internet goes down just when I need it most? I’d like to think that, if the driver of that car had done something to my internet connection, then it would have, at least, been able to take his picture. It’s not like he was there earlier, and … wait. Someone had been out to my place before. Someone could have set some type of device at the point where my house connected to my internet service provider. Whether it’s a phone line or a coaxial cable, there’s always one junction point where, if you trace the cable from the pole, you’ll see where it connects to a house.

  If our good buddy Ernest, the shady guy who’d broken into the winery, managed to place some type of device that, when triggered, would have disconnected my ISP with my house, then that would most certainly have prevented the cameras from uploading pictures and video to the internet. That also meant that the cameras must have the photographs and video stored locally, on their internal memory, and were just waiting for the internet connection to be restored. However, that didn’t do me any good at the moment. I needed that video now.

  Going backward, frame by frame, I froze the video at the moment the car appeared at the head of my driveway. I saved the picture and forwarded it to both Jillian and Vance. My detective friend must have been waiting by his phone, because I had a response in less than five seconds.

  THIS IS WHO WE’RE LOOKING FOR?

  Assuring him that the small, blue hatchback was, most certainly, involved in some fashion, Vance told me he was going to send out an APB for the car. Jillian briefly glanced at the picture as we approached downtown PV. She nodded and gave me an encouraging smile.