Case of the Dysfunctional Daredevils

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “Nice to meet you, Ashley.”

  “Call me ‘Ash’,” the stranger insisted. Then, dropping his voice so that we could barely hear it, added, “And it sounds better.”

  Vance grinned, “Will do. So, what can I do for you, Mr. Binson?” Vance politely inquired. “We don’t get many marshals around here. You’re looking for someone, aren’t you?”

  Marshal Binson nodded, “I am. Is there somewhere we could talk? Privately?”

  “This is Zack Anderson,” Vance coolly replied, as he turned to give me a brief look. “He’s one of the PVPD’s police consultants. What you have to say to me can be said to him, too.”

  “As you wish, Detective.”

  “And you can call me ‘Vance’,” my friend told the marshal. “Everyone does. Pull up a seat. Tell us why you’re here.”

  “I’d like to know who told him you would be here,” I quietly muttered.

  Vance grinned as he looked across the table at me.

  “I told Julie that I was going to see about tracking you down. You’re not a hard person to find, Zack. And, if Mr. Binson here happened to stop by the station, then he would have found Julie manning the Help Desk. She knows your routine just as well as I do.”

  “Hardy har har,” I grumbled, as I mentally vowed to change up my routine.

  Marshal Binson noticed Sherlock and Watson, currently lying by my feet who had both locked eyes with him, and drew up short.

  “They let dogs into restaurants around here?”

  I waved my arm around, indicating the current surroundings.

  “We’re not inside the restaurant, are we?” I pointed out. “As such, the animals are allowed up on the terrace, provided they don’t go inside.”

  Marshal Binson shrugged and squatted down next to the dogs, “Suit yourself. Hey there, sport. Do either of you mind if I sit here?”

  Sherlock sniffed the proffered hand once, snorted, and then returned his attention to the passing people out on the street. Watson gave the hand a single lick before she, too, turned back to watch the people passing nearby. Nodding appreciatively, Ash pulled out the chair next to Vance and carefully sat, as though he was in pain.

  “You okay there, pal?” I hesitantly asked.

  “Yeah, thanks. It’s been a long day.”

  “It’s not quite 1pm yet,” I pointed out.

  Ash shrugged, “True. However, I am stationed at the Western District of Texas. I drove straight here from my office. I guess you could say that I was tired of sittin’ on my ass. Done enough of it in the last two days.”

  “You drove all the way here from Texas?” I repeated, amazed. “That’s a long drive.”

  “You have no idea,” Ash muttered. The marshal looked over at Vance. “You probably want to know why I’m here, don’t you?”

  Vance nodded, “The thought had crossed my mind. You specifically came looking for me, which means you checked in with my boss, and he told you how to find me. How am I doing so far?”

  Ash shrugged, “Not bad. You come highly recommended. You don’t disappoint. I’m hoping you can help me.”

  “Help him how?” I asked. “Are you working on a case?”

  “He’s looking for someone,” Vance answered, before the marshal could respond. “U.S. Marshals are essentially the enforcement arm of the federal courts. They serve warrants, capture fugitives, and transport prisoners.”

  “That’s an accurate, text-book answer,” Ash idly commented. He reached for the glass of water the waitress had just sat down and drank nearly half of it. “We also oversee the witness relocation program.”

  “Was Vance right?” I hesitantly asked. “Are you looking for someone?”

  Ash nodded, “He is, and I am. Your Chief Nelson has assigned Detective Samuelson here to me, with the hopes of being able to help me out. He figured you’d be okay working the case while on vacation. And, if you’re a police consultant, then maybe you can help me out, too.”

  I immediately pointed down at the dogs.

  “If you’re looking for something, or in this case, someone, then we’ll definitely need to get these two involved.”

  “I’m not currently tracking him,” Ash pointed out, as he briefly glanced at Sherlock and Watson. “And besides, I’m sure bloodhounds would do a better job tracking a fugitive than cute fluffballs like these.”

  “You’d think so,” Vance said, grinning, “but you’d be wrong. They’ve solved more cases in the last couple of years than anyone on the force.”

  “That’s not something I’d openly admit,” Ash chuckled.

  “Oh, trust me, I usually don’t,” Vance acknowledged. “However, in this case, I also trust their instincts. So, you’re in town, looking for someone. Who?”

  Ash reached inside his jacket and pulled out a folded set of papers. He smoothed them out on the table before he began to read.

  “Jerod Jones, age 23. He’s 5’6”, weighs 140 lbs., has brown hair, brown eyes, and a slim build.”

  “What’s he done?” I curiously asked.

  “Held up a bank,” Ash stated, his tone turning flat. “It went bad. Three hostages were killed. This happened in Texas, by the way.”

  “I figured,” Vance commented. “Go on.”

  Ash flipped the page. “Jerod was sentenced to life in prison, only he escaped during a work detail. Murdered a fellow prisoner.”

  “Sounds like a model citizen,” Vance quipped.

  “How in the world did a mass murderer manage to escape?” I angrily demanded.

  “By killing another inmate,” Vance reminded me. “The specifics aren’t what’s important right now. Catching this guy is, however.”

  “How do you know he’s in Oregon?” I wanted to know.

  Ash shrugged. “He was last spotted in Portland. Apparently, he held up a convenience store. We figure he wanted some snacks, and then couldn’t resist the temptation of picking up some extra cash.

  Shocked, I held up a hand. “You’re telling us there’s a mass murderer loose? In Pomme Valley?”

  Ash shook his head, “What I’m saying is that there’s a chance Jerod is here in Pomme Valley.”

  “So, we’ll keep our eyes and ears open,” Vance promised. “I assume you have a picture of this guy?”

  Marshal Binson slid his sheaf of papers over. Stapled to the front page was a 5”x7” photo of a young kid. Clearly, it was Jerod’s mug shot, as he was seen holding up a small sign stamped with his case number. Vance and I leaned over the table and studied the picture.

  This kid may have been 23, but he looked 16. He had freckles on both cheeks, dark brown hair, and matching eyes. Jerod looked like he could be one of my neighbor’s kids. He looked bright, cheery, and completely harmless. In fact, in my honest opinion, he looked confused, like he wasn’t sure why he was having his photograph taken.

  “That’s our guy?” Vance incredulously asked, as he looked up at the marshal. “Doesn’t look too dangerous, does he?”

  “Don’t let his looks fool you,” Ash warned. “Jerod is a cold-blooded killer. Shows no remorse for any of his actions. Remember that convenience store in Portland? Well, Jerod shot and killed the owner of that Square L. Why? We don’t really know. Security footage shows Jerod gunning down the owner in cold blood.”

  “Perhaps they didn’t have the right kind of snacks?” I joked.

  Marshal Binson turned to regard me as though he was just now realizing I was there.

  “As crazy as that sounds,” Ash admitted, “it could very well be the truth. However, I don’t think we’ll ever know.”

  “Awwwoooo!” Sherlock suddenly howled, only it wasn’t his normal howl but a low, guttural dad-you-need-to-see-this type of noise. I looked up in time to see an older guy wandering by our table on the other side of the restaurant’s terrace. He was wearing a bright red baseball cap, a black t-shirt, and camouflage pants. Noticing the guy was holding several boxes under each arm, and he was angling for a store which specialized in shipping services, I turne
d back to the dogs.

  “What was that for? Stop it. They’re just boxes, and he’s planning on shipping them. Zip it, okay?”

  Sherlock whined and looked over at Watson, as though he expected her to join him. Then, damned if she didn’t do just that. They both looked at me and whined.

  “Fine. Here, is this what you want?”

  I reached for my phone, activated the camera app, and then – left-handed – snapped some pictures in the general direction the guy had gone.

  Confused, Ash turned to Vance with a querulous look on his face.

  “It’s a long story,” Vance admitted. “The dogs are smart. If they see something, then it’s worth noting. Zack takes the pictures, and somehow, the dogs know this, so they’re satisfied.”

  “That makes absolutely no sense at all,” Ash said, as he eyed the dogs.

  “It doesn’t have to,” I added, as I slipped my phone back into my pocket. “Now, as you were saying?”

  “What was I saying?” Ash asked, as he frowned.

  “Portland cops,” Vance answered.

  The marshal nodded. “Right, we were talking about Jerod’s hold-up at the Square L.”

  “I’m surprised the Portland cops didn’t get him,” Vance said, shaking his head. “Those guys are some of the best. They usually have incredibly quick response times.”

  Ash nodded, “You’re right. They do. Jerod was still there when they arrived.”

  Surprised, Vance and I shared a look.

  “How’d he get away?” my detective friend finally asked. “Tell me he didn’t kill someone else.”

  “He didn’t,” Ash confirmed. “What he did do, however, was disappear right from under their noses.”

  “How?” I demanded.

  Ash shook his head, “Unknown.”

  “Do you have a theory?” Vance asked the marshal.

  Ash grunted once. “I do. I think our perp is a master of disguises. I think he somehow managed to change his appearance and slip out with the rest of the bystanders.”

  “That’s an awful narrow window of opportunity,” I pointed out. “Is that even possible?”

  “It’s just a theory that happens to fit the facts,” Ash acknowledged.

  “And this guy is now rumored to be in town,” I grumped. “That’s just spectacular. Vance, do you think the chief will appeal to the public to try and find this guy?”

  “That’d more than likely incite unneeded panic,” Vance answered, as he shook his head.

  I glanced down at the dogs as a thought occurred. Neither one of them have been acting peculiar lately. If this Jerod person was in town, then wouldn’t either of the dogs have noticed?

  “When do you think he could show up?” I asked.

  Ash sighed and sat back in his chair.

  “All right, I’ll admit it. He’s already here.”

  “What?” Vance snapped. “He’s already here? You have proof?”

  “We followed Jerod here just over two months ago,” Ash confirmed. “We learned that Jerod’s former roommate was living here, so we set up a stakeout. It took nearly three weeks, but Jerod was finally spotted, but only briefly.”

  “And you’re sure it was him?” Vance asked. His notebook was out, his head was down, and he was taking notes like crazy.

  “I wasn’t part of that stakeout,” Ash confided. “Wish I was, though. That sumbitch would never have made it by me. I don’t care what he was wearin’. Anyway, a buddy of mine was the one who spotted him, only there’s nothing to back him up. No pics, no video, no nothing.”

  “Why would you think he’s still here?” I asked, confused. “This Jerod person sounds like a smart guy. He must’ve known he was being watched. Why stick around?”

  In answer to my question, Ash reached inside his jacket and retrieved a crumpled, tri-folded piece of paper. From the looks of it, I’d say it was one of those tourist pamphlets one would expect to find at a tourist center.

  “What is that?” I wanted to know, as I slid the folded pamphlet over for a closer look. I looked at what was being advertised and then glanced up at our new friend. “You’re kidding.”

  “It’s proof he’s here,” Ash smugly informed us.

  TWO

  Three days had passed. It was now Friday night, and per our usual custom, our group of friends had gathered at a local restaurant for our weekly get-together. We all took turns picking the restaurant-of-choice that week, and this time around, it was Julie’s turn. Well, her favorite was a pizza joint by the name of Sarah’s Pizza Parlor. I tried it for the first time when Jillian had gathered us all together to investigate her (alleged) ghost-infested investment house earlier this year. Sarah’s had fantastic pizza, so there weren’t any complaints coming from my direction.

  “Do you see what this says? I’m talking about this little white square right here, man. It says that you must sign a ‘Release of Liability’ form before your application will be considered. Umm, can we all say hell no?”

  I grinned at my friend and reached for my beer. Hmm, I guess I should introduce the occupants seated around our large table. There’s myself, my fiancé, Jillian; Vance and his wife, Tori; and Harry and his aforementioned wife, Julie. The six of us were laughing, cracking jokes, and were essentially having a great time. That is, we were. Vance took care of that when he ‘accidentally’ brought up the subject of our meeting with Marshal Ash Binson earlier in the week, and his evidence that a mass murderer was hiding somewhere in PV.

  The brochure Ash had produced turned out to be an advertisement for a group of thrill seekers, calling themselves the Dysfunctional Daredevils. Vance had inquired about the ‘dysfunctional’ part of the name. As for me, well, I zeroed in on the ‘daredevils’ side of it. Thrill seekers? I considered it a thrill if I got down to play with Sherlock and Watson on the floor, and my joints didn’t sound like someone cracking their knuckles when I got back up.

  “As I mentioned earlier,” Marshal Binson had said, “Jerod is an adrenaline junkie. It’s my belief that he’s here, in Pomme Valley, hiding in plain sight.”

  “As a member of this group?” Vance had skeptically asked.

  Ash nodded, “Yep. That’s my theory.”

  “Does anyone else share your theory?” I wanted to know.

  Ash sadly shook his head, “Afraid not. That’s why I’m here. Alone.”

  “No backup,” Vance guessed.

  “No backup,” Ash confirmed.

  Fast forwarding to three days later, Vance had let the cheaply printed paper casually drop out of his pocket while we were at dinner. Sitting closest to him was Harry, who snatched up the flyer the moment he had spotted it. Unsurprisingly, his reaction had rivaled our own.

  Harrison “Harry” Watt, town veterinarian and my best friend from high school, skeptically looked at each of us in turn. After a few moments, he polished off his beer and plunked it noisily back on the table.

  “All I’m gonna say is that something like this is not for me. You two surprise the hell outta me. I never would’ve pegged either of you as thrill seekers. Especially you, bro,” Harry said, as he turned to look at me.

  Both Vance and I held up our hands in the universal ‘time-out’ gesture at the exact same time. Neither of us noticed what the other did, in case you were wondering.

  “I see that further clarification is required,” I intoned, adopting a formal British accent. “Vance and I are in no way, shape, or form, endorsing the idea that any of us join this ridiculous club. Speaking for myself, of course, I do believe I will say… pull your thumbs out of your ears, my good man. That is not what we said.”

  “Far from it, buddy,” Vance agreed, sniggering loudly.

  “I thought you said this guy is here because of this daredevil club,” Harry protested.

  “Who?” I asked. “That marshal dude or the guy he’s chasing?”

  “The guy he’s chasing,” Harry answered.

  “Neither of us said anything of the sort,” Vance contradicted. Catching
sight of the person just now entering the pizza parlor’s front door, my detective friend rose to his feet. He waved the newcomer over. “In fact, we can let him explain it. Marshall Binson, come on over. Let me make the intros. Zack you know. Sitting on his left is Jillian, his fiancé.”

  Jillian rose to her feet, prompting everyone to do the same.

  “It’s nice to meet you, marshal. Zachary has told us a lot about you.”

  Ash had taken off his black cowboy hat the moment he had walked through the door. He hung it and his jacket on a nearby peg and then shook Jillian’s hand. He glanced over at me and nodded.

  “Knowing how I am with first impressions, he probably told you I was a certifiable nutjob.”

  “Well, not in those exact terms,” I said, grinning.

  “On Jillian’s left is my wife, Tori. Then, across the table, we have Harry and Julie Watt.”

  “Pleased to make y’all’s acquaintance,” Ash announced. “I appreciate the invitation. So, Zack, no dogs tonight?”

  I gestured at the surrounding environment. “We’re inside. No dogs inside. If this place had a terrace, then we’d be out on it and yes, the dogs would be there.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met any corgis before your two,” Ash said, as he slid in next to Harry.

  “They’re wickedly smart,” I said. “Way too smart for their own good.”

  “Have they barked at anything else?” Ash wanted to know.

  “How do you know they bark at certain things?” Julie wanted to know.

  “They took an interest in some guy a few days ago,” Ash explained. “Did that ever pan out?”

  I shrugged, “Not yet, it hasn’t. To answer your question, as a matter of fact, they did. Well, Sherlock did. Watson joined in a few seconds later.”

  “What’d he bark at?” Vance asked, interested.

  “The grocery store.”

  “Gary’s Grocery? Why?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  “When was this?” Vance wanted to know.

  “Earlier today,” I answered.

  “Did you take any pictures?” Jillian asked.

  “A few. At least, I think I did. I was driving at the time, and am not sure I hit the camera shortcut properly. If I did, then there’d be a few shots in there. Then there was the gas station two days ago.”