Case of the Chatty Roadrunner

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “For the past year,” I slowly began, “I’ve been receiving phone calls at 3:30 in the morning for practically every single day of the week. There was never anyone there, nor did I ever get any inclination on who it was. That, however, came to a screeching halt a little over three months ago, when a female voice appeared on the line and claimed she was a friend of Samantha’s. She then claimed she and Sam were coworkers.”

  You could have heard a pin drop in the Masters household at that moment.

  “She told me that Sam’s death wasn’t an accident. She told me that was why she had been calling me every morning at 3:30am.”

  “Did she say what her name was?” Denise asked.

  I shook my head, “No.”

  “You learned this over two months ago?” Jason asked, dumbfounded. “Why didn’t you reach out to us, son? We could’ve helped! I’ll dedicate every waking moment to helping you if what you say is true.”

  I held up a finger, “Just wait. There’s more.”

  Jason, who was preparing to fire off another angry outburst, hastily closed his mouth and settled back onto the couch.

  “After that day, I contacted Vance here, and asked him to reopen Sam’s case.”

  Both of Samantha’s parents turned to regard Vance, as if they were seeing him for the first time.

  “I’m sorry, I should have mentioned he is a police detective in Pomme Valley. He agreed to look at the file for me.”

  “You’re lucky,” Randy breathed, drawing everyone’s attention over to where he had been quietly sitting. “How many people can say they’re friends with an actual detective?”

  “We met the day Zack moved to PV,” Vance casually remarked. “It was the day I arrested you for murder, wasn’t that right, Zack?”

  Both Denise and Jason gasped loudly with surprise while Randy’s eyes widened with shock.

  “That’s ancient history, pal,” I grumbled. “And thank you so very much for bringing that up at this moment.”

  “You were convicted of murder?” Denise tremulously asked.

  “Vance said he was ‘accused’, not ‘convicted’,” Jason reminded his wife. “There’s a big difference there.”

  “I was set up,” I clarified. Then I pointed down at Sherlock. “Believe it or not, he’s the main reason why I didn’t land in jail. Sherlock and Watson both have a nose for finding clues that, to the outside observer, would appear pointless. However, every darn time these two stop to look at something, it’s revealed to be relevant to the case.”

  Everyone present in the room studied the two corgis. Sherlock, for his part, gazed back at everyone staring at him, as if to say, yep, you heard that right. I gave both dogs a pat on their heads.

  “If you want the honest truth,” Vance suddenly chimed in, “then you ought to know that those two dogs are responsible for solving, what are they up to now, Zack? Six murders?”

  Jason stared incredulously at the two corgis.

  “They’ve solved six murders? I’ll be damned. Oh. That’s why they’re here, aren’t they? You think they might be able to help you solve Samantha’s death?”

  I nodded encouragingly at Jason, “That’s precisely why they’re here. Once my PI said I needed to…”

  “You hired a PI?” Randy interrupted. “For true?”

  I nodded again, “I hired a local PI to look into the matter after that day with the phone call.”

  “What did he find?” Jason anxiously asked. “He had to have found something, because that’s clearly why you’re here. Please tell us. Let me know what I can do to help.”

  “There is something I think you might be able to do for me,” I told Jason.

  “There is?” Vance asked.

  “There is?” Jason echoed. “Consider it done. What can I do for you?’

  “First,” I said, as I held up a finger, “I’ll tell you that the PI found dashcam footage of the accident. Before you ask, no, I’m not going to show it to you. Vance has seen it, and has steadfastly refused to let me see it. Based on that alone, I will not let you see footage of Samantha’s accident.”

  “Thank you,” Denise whispered.

  I glanced over at Randy and noticed his face had turned ashen. Then I noticed Jason and the firm look of resolve that had come over his features. I waggled my finger at him.

  “No. I can see it in your eyes. You want to see the video. Trust me, you don’t.”

  “He’s not wrong,” Vance added. “You should also know that we talked to the person who recorded the video earlier today.”

  Jason was taken aback, “Oh?”

  “That was someone who definitely needs some counseling,” Jillian added. “Even he admitted he needed to go. He told us that he hasn’t been the same behind a wheel ever since it happened.”

  Jason’s resolve crumbled. I saw his lips tremble and his eyes filled. Before I could offer any words of encouragement, he turned away and disappeared down a hallway. Moments later, we heard the telltale signs of someone blowing their nose. Moments later, he was back. His eyes were clear and his composure was back.

  “Was there anything on the video which caught your PI’s eye?” Sam’s father finally asked.

  “There was something that definitely caught mine,” Vance said. “I-17, northbound. Two years ago. There was construction on the freeway, right?”

  Denise shrugged helplessly, and Randy appeared uncertain, but Jason was nodding.

  “That’s right. I believe that’s when they added another lane, to help relieve congestion.”

  “Well, I believe that’s the key,” Vance admitted.

  “To what?” Jason asked. “Explain yourself.”

  “Please,” Denise added, as she frowned at her husband.

  “Please explain yourself,” Jason amended.

  “Those concrete dividers? The ones that the Department of Transportation use to section off lanes to keep the southbound traffic from entering the northbound lanes?”

  “What of it?” Jason asked Vance.

  “Well, the video shows that the driver followed the VIC’s car for several miles…”

  “You mean Sam’s car, right?” Randy asked.

  Vance nodded, “Correct, but when I’m working a case, I can’t let it get too personal. I’m sorry, I have to refer to her as the VIC.”

  “Perfectly understandable,” Jason was saying. “Do go on. Please.”

  “Right. Anyway, at the exact moment the freeway becomes divided, and those concrete barriers disappear, that is when the VIC’s car suddenly accelerates, goes across the median, and then into oncoming traffic.”

  My late wife’s family sat there in silence as they digested this piece of news.

  “And apparently Sam didn’t hit the brakes once,” I softly added.

  “What?” Jason demanded. “That’s not possible. Samantha was a perfect driver.”

  “And that’s where you come in,” I said, as I looked at Jason. “This is where I’m hoping you can help me out.”

  Jason nodded, “Of course. What can I do?”

  “You still have your insurance investigation firm, right?”

  Jason nodded again, “Yes. I’m starting to wind things down as I prepare to retire, but I still take cases from time to time from all the big name insurance companies. How would that help you?”

  “I’m guessing you have contacts in the automotive industry?”

  Jason nodded.

  “Would you please find out if it’s possible to hack a 2017 Audi Q7 and make it veer off course? I know that particular model has something called ‘Driver Assist’, which was supposed to help the driver parallel park, but I want to know if it’s possible for someone to remotely take control of her car.”

  Jason was silent as he considered the request. I could see his lips moving as he softly started mumbling. He wordlessly rose to his feet, retrieved a spiral notebook from another part of the house, and returned to the couch. In moments, he was busy jotting down some notes.

  “Is there s
omething I can do?” Randy hopefully asked. “I’d like to help, too.”

  I looked over at Vance, who shrugged helplessly.

  “Tell you what, Randy,” I began. “If there’s anything else I need while we’re here in Phoenix, I’ll let you know, okay? Give me your cell number and I’ll give you mine.”

  Once everyone had exchanged numbers, and the overall atmosphere had lightened considerably, I finally felt like I could relax. Somewhat.

  “How’s your writing coming along?” Denise asked, ten minutes later, as she sipped on a bottle of water and passed a bottle to each of us. “Have you published any new novels?”

  I nodded, “A few. And, I’m proud to say, they’re tearing up the charts, so I cannot complain.”

  “Proof positive that there are a lot of romance readers out there,” Vance joked.

  Mortified, I glared at Vance. Samantha’s family knew I was a writer, and that I had written a few science fiction books years ago, but they did not know about my romance titles. Vance offered an apologetic smile and whipped out his notebook, as though it was imperative that he had to immediately check his notes.

  “You can relax, Zachary,” Denise told me. “We know all about Chastity Wadsworth and her many exploits.”

  Vance sniggered, Jillian giggled, and I choked on my water. I stared, flabbergasted, at Denise before I turned to look at Jason. Samantha’s father, to his credit, didn’t smile, but he did wink at me, which as far as I was concerned, made it worse.

  “You knew?” I asked. “You all knew? How? When?? Samantha said she never told you anything.”

  “She didn’t,” Denise confirmed. “But, she did show up here one day with a copy of your very first romance novel. She left it here by mistake…”

  “Mistake, my ass,” I grumbled.

  “…and I couldn’t help but to read it. It was quite good! So, when I noticed other books being released by the same author, I picked them up as well. Do you see the bookcase over there? You’ll find a copy of every book you’ve ever published. We are very proud of you, Zachary. My heavens, what an imagination you have.”

  Once again, I felt my face flame up. In fact, I know it did, ‘cause I heard Jillian giggling uncontrollably.

  “It sounds to me, pal,” Vance began, trying valiantly to keep from laughing, “that you suck at keeping secrets.”

  “Do you remember a relative by the name of Abigail Lawson?” I suddenly asked. I was curious to see which side of the family she hailed from. I was guessing it was Jason’s.

  Both Denise and Jason nodded.

  “Yes. She’s a distant cousin,” Jason told me. “Second or third cousins, I believe. Why do you ask?”

  “Have you ever met her?” I wanted to know.

  Both Jillian and Vance had fallen completely silent.

  Jason shook his head, “No, I haven’t. What about you, honey?”

  Denise also shook her head, “I have only heard the name in passing reference. I’ve never met that branch of my father’s family tree.”

  Mother’s side. Damn. I guessed wrong.

  “Why do you ask?” Jason wanted to know.

  “Well, I had originally thought she was the one who was calling every morning, bright and early at 3:30am. However, I now know it wasn’t her.”

  “She and Zack don’t really get along,” Vance confirmed.

  “Why’s that?” Jason asked. “I take it you’ve met her?”

  “It turns out that side of your father’s family has links to Pomme Valley. Abigail’s mother, one Bonnie Davis, left her house and winery to me. Well, to the two of us, but since Sam was out of the picture, it fell to me.”

  “You inherited a winery?” Denise asked, amazed. “If memory serves, you have never enjoyed wine. How ironic!”

  “It’s true,” I shrugged. “I still don’t. Anyway, Abigail felt cheated out of her inheritance and started pestering me to sign over the house and the winery to her.”

  “I sure as hell hope you told her where she could stick it,” Randy vehemently declared.

  “Randall!” Denise scolded. “You watch your language!”

  “I’m 31, mom. I’m not a kid anymore.”

  “She means, watch your language whenever women are present,” Jason coolly translated.

  Randy looked at Jillian and sheepishly smiled, “Sorry, Jillian.”

  “I was referring to your mother,” Jason said, “but she’ll do, too.”

  I leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees.

  “Did you know that she has tried to force me to sign over the property on more than one occasion? She even claimed she had investors in her pocket and wanted to purchase the winery and move it out of Oregon. You see, the reason I’m telling you this is because I came across some old letters, correspondences between Abigail and her mother, and one thing became perfectly clear: Bonnie had no desire to sell her winery.”

  “I can’t say that I blame her,” Jason agreed. “When you put your heart and soul into something, and make it great, then the last thing you want to see is it sold off to the highest bidder.”

  I nodded, “Exactly. So, in honor of Bonnie’s generosity, and for Samantha’s side of the family, I kept the winery and reopened it.”

  “What’s the winery called?” Denise wanted to know.

  “Lentari Cellars,” Jillian answered. “They make the absolute best Syrah. I believe Caden is up to four different recipes now, isn’t he?”

  “He added that special dessert wine,” I reminded her. “The one that actually doesn’t taste so bad.”

  “It doesn’t taste so bad because it’s a sweet wine,” Jillian recalled. She looked at Samantha’s family and smiled. “As you probably know, Zachary has the biggest sweet tooth I have ever seen on a person.”

  Denise nodded knowingly, “Oh, that’s old news, dear. Do you want to get on his good side? Make him a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies. You can get him to do just about anything for fresh cookies.”

  I shrugged, “Guilty as charged.” I rose to my feet, which prompted the others to follow suit. “We’ve taken up enough of your time. It’s been great seeing you guys again. Thanks for the understanding and support.”

  “We’ll be in touch,” Jason promised. “I’ll get working on that request of yours.”

  “And don’t forget to let me know if there’s something I can do to help,” Randy added.

  “I will,” I assured him.

  “Where are you off to next?” Denise asked.

  I looked down at the dogs, who were now both pulling on their leashes. They knew it was time to go and were ready for their next car ride.

  “I think we’re going to start doing some digging on Semzar Pharmaceuticals. I need to find a way to get Sherlock and Watson to meet the people there. Then, if they zero in on anyone, we’ll have something to work with.”

  I noticed Randy pull his cell phone out and begin tapping the screen. We had just said our goodbyes and had stepped outside when he came rushing out to us.

  “You’re in luck, Zack. Semzar Pharmaceuticals is currently holding some type of retreat at a local Phoenix hotel. It says tomorrow will be the last day.”

  “The last day for what?” I wanted to know. “And how do you know this?”

  Randy held up his phone, “I’m reading it right from their own website. Let’s see. They’re calling this a company-wide team building event. I don’t even know what that means.”

  “Neither do I,” I had to admit. “But, that’ll be perfect. It’s at a hotel? Does it say which one/”

  “It’s at some Hilton that’s fairly close to their office building. According to Semzar’s website, they’ve booked all the conference rooms until 4pm. Looks like that’s when they’re finished.”

  “Perfect,” I said, pleased. I shook Randy’s hand. “See? You wanted to help, well, congrats! You just did.”

  “Sweet. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

  “That goes for me, too,” Denise quietly
added.

  I faced Samantha’s family and smiled at them, “Thanks guys. I definitely will. It means a lot.”

  “The next time we go shopping for wine, we’ll have to look for your label,” Jason announced. “I’d certainly like to give your wine a try.”

  “It’s for sale somewhere around here,” Jillian announced. “The man who recorded the dashcam footage actually had a bottle in his house. We were all floored.”

  “I’ll find it,” Jason vowed. “Good luck!”

  FOUR

  “Do you really expect us to twiddle our thumbs in here for the entire day?” Vance asked, as he frowned at me. “We’ve been sitting here for several hours now, and not one of the dogs has so much as lifted their heads. In fact, they look as bored as I feel.”

  We were sitting in the lobby of the only Hilton property I could find that was large enough to accommodate a retreat for a client the size of Semzar Pharmaceuticals. Plus, there was a sign just inside the lobby, which stated that the Hilton welcomes Semzar employees and hoped that their stay was a pleasant one. Just around the corner from the main entrance, and sitting directly opposite the check-in counter, was a comfortable seating area with four plush chairs. The three of us were relaxing in the chairs and chatting about which new Star Wars movie outshone all the others. Sherlock and Watson were curled up by my feet, and kept trying to snooze away the hours. Every time a person walked by, whether a member of the hotel staff or else someone that had to be from Semzar, I would give each of the dogs a slight nudge and make sure they were awake. So far, as Vance had pointed out, we had been sitting here since just after 9am with nothing to show for it.

  My stomach rumbled then, reminding me that lunchtime was just around the corner. Jillian looked up from her magazine and smiled.

  “Was that your stomach? We should probably get something to eat.”

  Vance perked up, “From where? Is there a restaurant nearby?”

  “Is right around the corner close enough?” I asked with a smile. “This hotel has its own restaurant on the ground floor. That’s why I’m getting hungry. They’re cooking something, and it smells fantastic.”