Case of the Dysfunctional Daredevils

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  Picture #1 was of the open sky, with no buildings visible. Picture #2 had a corner of the grocery store visible, but it was super blurry. The third photo managed to get the grocery store’s sign in focus, and the fourth was of the pickup truck I almost rear-ended when I wasn’t paying attention to my driving.

  “Why did you take a picture of this truck?” Vance wanted to know, as he studied my phone’s display.

  “It’s evidence,” I matter-of-factly stated.

  Vance looked up. “Of what?”

  “That I shouldn’t drive and tinker with my phone at the same time.”

  “You told me you were going to cut down on that,” Jillian scolded.

  “It’s only because Sherlock was barking at something in that direction.”

  Vance looked at the other three photos. “Well, the first two are pretty much useless. The third is of Gary’s Grocery’s sign, but I don’t know how that helps us.”

  “Neither do I,” I admitted.

  “What’s next?” Vance eagerly asked.

  I took my phone back from Vance and swiped right. There was a decent shot of Rupert’s Gas & Auto.

  “Gas station,” I reported.

  Vance scribbled some notes in his notebook.

  “Which dog barked this time?” my detective friend asked.

  I stared at Vance as though he had just spoken in Russian. “Which dog? What difference does it make?”

  “Just a theory,” Vance told me. “Do you remember which one?”

  I sat back in my chair and thought about that day. “Let’s see. I was headed east, back into town. The gas station was on my left. Watson likes to sit directly behind me, with Sherlock on the right side. I remember whoever started barking first was doing so right behind me, so the answer would be Watson.”

  “Your dogs have their own seats in your Jeep?” Vance chuckled. “Okey dokey.”

  “We figure it’s because Sherlock likes to keep Zachary in his sight at all times,” Jillian explained.

  Vance shrugged, “All right. That I’ll buy.”

  I flipped through the other four pictures I took. Of the five, four were decent, and one was blurry. All the usable shots showed only one thing, as far as I could tell: they were simply shots of the gas station. I didn’t see any strange cars, or people milling about. In fact, the station was rather quiet. We had been the only customer in the store at that time of the day.

  “This can’t be this difficult,” Vance grumbled.

  “What’s difficult?” Jillian wanted to know.

  Frustrated, Vance pointed at my phone.

  “That. We’re grown adults. We’re educated; intelligent. Yet, why can’t we figure out what the dogs are looking at here?”

  I stifled a chuckle, “Maybe that’s because there’s nothing happening in any of these?”

  “Whenever we’re working a case, how often does that happen?” Vance muttered. “Take that time Sherlock found the syringe full of peanut oil.”

  “The same syringe you ended up jabbing into your finger?” I recalled.

  Vance’s face colored. “Yeah, that’d be the one. Not only did he find the syringe, he also zeroed in on the muffin cups, too.”

  “And they brought our attention to the salal berry bushes,” Jillian added. “That was the same case.”

  Vance snapped his fingers, “That’s right. I forgot about that. My point is, whatever catches their attention is relevant in some fashion. You’ve been taking pictures of everything they bark at, which is brilliant, by the way. However, why can’t we figure out how it’s pertinent to the case?”

  “I don’t see how a gas station could be relevant,” I decided, as I flipped back and forth between the photos.

  As I reviewed the pictures, I inadvertently swiped right, when I meant to swipe left. A new photo appeared, and this was from earlier in the day.

  I was staring at the jump point on the bridge. Wordlessly, I showed the photo to Jillian and Vance. The two of them fell silent as they studied the tiny picture.

  “I remember this one,” Vance stated. “I mean, I should. I was there. Sherlock started it, didn’t he?”

  “Yep,” I nodded.

  “Do you think he knew the harness was going to break?” Jillian softly asked.

  “I have no idea,” I admitted, and tapped the phone’s display. “I kinda got the impression that he was looking at someone beside C2.”

  That got Vance’s attention. “Oh? Who?”

  I zoomed in on the picture as much as I was able. “I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone who stood out.”

  “Can I see that?”

  The phone was passed to Vance.

  “Hmm. Look here. Do you see this guy?”

  Jillian and I leaned close.

  “What about him?” I asked.

  Vance tapped the screen again, “I think this might be the same guy from earlier, Zack. From the restaurant, I mean.”

  I finally noticed what Vance was pointing at and took the phone back. I hate to admit, I had to hold the thing up close, to my face.

  “I’m getting you an eye exam,” Jillian stated.

  “Psssht. It’s nothing to worry about. Vance, is this the guy you’re talking about? Him? Just because he’s wearing camouflage pants? You have no idea if that’s the same person. He’s too far away.”

  “Based on Sherlock’s behavior, it could be,” Vance protested.

  Jillian took my phone and studied the image for herself. She looked over at Vance and waggled the phone.

  “You think this person is the same person in Zachary’s butt shot?”

  “He was walking away from me,” I argued. “Of course I was gonna get a shot of his butt.”

  “All I’m saying is it’s a possibility.”

  “What about this one, Zachary?” Jillian asked, having swiped left to review the previous pictures.

  I leaned over Jillian’s shoulder to see what she was looking at.

  “Oh, that. I wouldn’t worry about that.”

  “What is it?” Vance asked, curious.

  “It’s a picture of A Lazy Afternoon.”

  Vance’s eyebrows shot up. “The bookstore? Zack, isn’t that Clara Hanson’s shop?”

  I felt my face flush red. Man alive, did that woman creep me out. Clara was a woman in her mid-seventies, but acted like she was decades younger. The problem was, she dressed like she was still a teenager. There are some things you simply can’t unsee. The icing on the cake was Clara’s inability to not invade your personal space. She ignored personal boundaries and preferred to get right up in your face.

  So… whenever I see her coming, I usually made sure I was going in the opposite direction.

  “I knew it!” Vance triumphantly exclaimed. “I knew you liked her, buddy! Good for you!”

  A giggle escaped from Jillian’s lips. My eyes narrowed as I studied my fiancé’s lovely face, only she was unable to look at me without laughing. I looked over at Vance and contemplated flipping him the bird, but somehow – and I don’t know how – Jillian chose that moment to take my hand in hers and gently, but firmly, dig her nails in.

  “The dogs barked at her place as soon as I drove by,” I complained. “I didn’t want to take a picture, but felt I didn’t have a choice.”

  “It’s a great shot,” Vance admitted, as he studied the photo. “What, did you pull over and stop?”

  “It was a red light, and you can bite me.”

  Vance chuckled as he looked down at his notes.

  “Man in camouflage pants, grocery store, gas station, trash can in a picnic area, another guy in camouflage, and Clara’s bookstore. I gotta admit, I have no idea how it all fits together.”

  “I think I know what this means,” I said, as I lowered my voice.

  Vance and Jillian automatically inched closer.

  “What?” Vance eagerly asked.

  “It means that dogs are clearly smarter than humans.”

  Vance snorted, while Jillian giggled. I was in th
e process of sliding my phone back into my pocket when it started ringing. I glanced at the display and saw an unknown number.

  “Unknown,” I reported. “Should I take it?”

  Vance shrugged, “It’s up to you. I don’t think it’ll hurt anything. Get many crank calls?”

  I shook my head, “No. At least, not until Abigail Lawson gets ahold of my cell number.”

  Abigail Lawson was a distant relative of my late wife’s. She’s the one who thought I shouldn’t have been awarded ownership of my winery, Lentari Cellars, and was doing her damnedest to wrest control away from me. Seeing how I haven’t heard from her for so long, I could only groan and cross my fingers that this wasn’t her.

  “Hello?”

  “Zack? It’s Ash.”

  “Hey, marshal. What’s up? What number are you calling from?”

  “I’m calling from the place I’m staying. Listen, I need to ask a huge favor.”

  “We’ve already granted you a huge favor, Ash. We joined those damn Daredevils, didn’t we?”

  “Yes, you did, and I have no right to ask another favor. However, I’m forced to.”

  “What do you want?” I hesitantly asked.

  “I need you two to stick with the Dysfunctional Daredevils. We must bring Jerod to justice.”

  “You’re assuming that the Daredevils will still be around. Wait, are they? Do you know something that we don’t?”

  “It was just announced on social media that not only are the Daredevils still together, they’ve agreed on their next excursion.”

  “Isn’t that a little premature?” I asked, dumbfounded.

  “What’s the matter?” Vance whispered.

  “Ash, I’m putting you on speakerphone. Vance is here, and so is Jillian, my fiancé.”

  “Oookkkaayy…” Ash slowly said, as though the addition of more ears was a bad thing.

  “Say that again, would you? What you just told me. Repeat that, please.”

  “I was saying that the group has already organized their next excursion.”

  “How is that even possible?” Vance demanded. “Thor was preparing to disband the group at the hospital. Hell, we’re still at the hospital, and we haven’t heard anything yet.”

  Right about then, we noticed that there was no noise coming from the main lobby. As a matter of fact, none of us had noticed when the heated arguments and conversations had died off. Vance quickly got to his feet and hurried through the open doorway, intent on seeing for himself what the status was.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Vance just left this little side room we’ve been sitting in and is attempting to verify what you’ve just told us. Uh, oh. He’s coming back, and it looks like Thor is with him. You’d better get going.”

  “Roger that. Zack? Please. Stick with the group. I’m asking for your help, as a friend.”

  “We’ll see. That’s the only thing I can give you at the moment.”

  “Then it’ll have to do. Bye.”

  The phone call ended just as Vance returned, followed closely by Thor.

  “There you are,” the chairman of the Daredevils exclaimed. “I thought you had gone home. Listen, good news! Our next trip is planned!”

  “You can’t be serious,” Jillian scoffed. My fiancé was frowning and her arms were folded across her chest.

  “Look, let’s be honest,” Thor began. “Chances are, the ‘Devils are done. You know that. I know that. However, before we’re officially disbanded, or else I’m arrested, we’re going to go on one last trip.”

  I took a deep breath and eyed the group’s chairman. “No disrespect intended, but, umm, there have been two accidents, and fatalities were involved.”

  “C2 will pull through,” Thor proudly stated. “So that’s one fatality.”

  Vance held up a hand, with two fingers extended. “There’s two, buddy. Don’t forget about Hades. And, if it wasn’t for some blind luck, C2 would be number three.”

  Thor’s smile slowly melted off his face. He sighed heavily and sat down on my left.

  “Look, if we don’t do something now, and I mean in the next day or so, then we’ll lose that chance forever. I, for one, would like to think that Hades and Jitter’s deaths weren’t in vain. So, the day after tomorrow, provided we haven’t been shut down, we’re giving the Dysfunctional Daredevils an appropriate send-off. One final thrill, if you will.”

  “And that would be…?” I nervously asked.

  “I don’t want to know what you’ve come up with,” Jillian whispered. She was still frowning at the head of the Daredevils.

  “I can’t speak for you two, but I’m fairly certain I’m not gonna like this, am I?” Vance groaned.

  Thor’s face lit up with a smile. “My friends, if this is our time, then let’s go out with a bang. Hopefully, not literally. We’re going on my favorite type of adventure: skydiving!”

  EIGHT

  “Something just doesn’t add up,” I was saying, on the following day. Jillian and I, along with the dogs, were out for a drive on the open highway. The weather was cooperating, the dogs were happily spraying doggie drool all over the sides of my classic 1930 Ruxton Sedan, and do you know what? I couldn’t be happier.

  For those that may, or may not remember, this was the car that was previously owned by Dame Hilda Highland. Unbeknownst to us, when Jillian purchased the Highland House as an investment last year, the classic roadster came along with it. Seeing how I drooled over the thing every time I saw a picture of it, Jillian very generously gave the car to me.

  Not particularly caring for the standard gray tone paint that had been on the car, and wanting to restore the glory a car like that deserved, we had it repainted. Dark forest green, if you must know. Jillian’s choice.

  The garage that had been tasked with caring for the car over the years had done a remarkable job, which is why I extended the contract and have them service the car on a monthly basis. As it turned out, it had only taken less than 10 grand to make the car road-worthy. Well, if you want to get technical, it was already road-worthy, only I needed to add a few changes to the car. That meant new paint job, new stereo, new tires, and newly upholstered seats.

  Trust me, this thing purrs like a kitten. Every time I brought this lovely old gal out for a drive, people would stop me and offer to purchase the car outright, for sums of money that would make you dizzy. A polite – but firm – thanks, but no thanks always ensued, no matter how much the price was raised. Some things just weren’t for sale. And me, being the sentimental fool that I was, was not about to part with a car that had so much history behind it.

  On this particular occasion, the two of us had decided we needed a break. We needed some quiet time, where we didn’t have to think about work, writing, or the impending doom that was waiting for me just around the corner. Skydiving. Are you kidding me? Isn’t that what poor Hades had been doing when he had lost his life? Something about a parachute not opening properly?

  A soft hand was suddenly placed over mine. I looked over at my fiancé and saw that she was studying me intently.

  “If it makes you feel any better,” Jillian began, “I’m not happy about this, either. I do hope you’re planning on calling this thing off, Zachary. I don’t want you risking your life by jumping out of a plane.”

  “I have absolutely no intentions on it,” I assured her. “I was just recalling how poor Hades lost his life. Sky diving accident, if memory serves. I think Vance said that a couple of hikers found a piece of him.”

  Jillian frowned and shook her head, “That’s an unpleasant picture.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s just that…”

  “What?” Jillian asked, after noticing I had trailed off.

  “I’m starting to have some serious doubts about our friend, the marshal.”

  “Doubts as to his ability to apprehend this fugitive?” Jillian asked.

  “Honestly? I think I have doubts about everything. I’m
even starting to wonder if he might be this Jerod person we’re looking for.”

  “U.S. Marshal Binson is not a killer,” Jillian matter-of-factly stated.

  “How do you know?” I challenged. “Shave off that beard and he could pass for someone in his mid-20s. He has the right build. And besides, he’s the right height.”

  We both fell silent as we mulled over the similarities between what we knew of the suspect, and what we knew of the marshal. Jillian had stopped outright defending him, which to me, spooked me more than anything else she could have done. I suspected she was having second thoughts now, too. How, then, could we prove that the marshal was either a legitimate lawman, or else a serial killer in disguise?

  Sherlock jumped over to right side of the car and thrust his nose out of the window. He woofed. Moments later, Watson joined him. Before I knew it, both of the ‘warning woofs’ morphed into frenzied barking.

  I started reaching for my phone the moment both dogs had arrived at the window. Jillian saw me fumbling for my phone and, instead, pulled her own out. She looked at me and questioningly waggled her phone.

  “If you’ll tell me what you want a picture of, then I’ll be more than happy to take it. That way, you can keep both hands on the wheel.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it. So, tell me, what’s on that side of the car?” Traffic was picking up and I was really glad I didn’t have to take my eyes off the road. I trusted my own driving, sure, but it was the other guy I was concerned about.

  “Well, we’re coming up on 3rd Street,” Jillian informed me. She glanced out the left side of the car and shook her head. “I really don’t see what could be… huh.”

  “Huh?” I repeated, confused. “You see something, don’t you? What is it?”

  In response, Jillian raised her phone up to her face and snapped several pictures.

  “Well, I think you might want to make a left on 3rd.”

  “I do? Why?”

  “Zachary, there’s a certain blue Corvette parked on the side of the street over there that might interest you.”

  Thankful – for once – that the traffic light had turned red, and we were already stopped, I glanced over and felt my eyebrows threaten to jump off my face. Jillian was right. There was the aforementioned sports car. Wasn’t that the one Ash had been driving? What was he doing here, running an errand?