Case of the Ostentatious Otters

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “Ass,” I grumbled.

  Jillian giggled and swatted my arm.

  “I only ever saw it in use on tree frogs,” Harry admitted. “You can find some shitty things out in the tropics, bro.”

  “Watch your language, Harrison,” Julie scolded.

  “Sorry, Jillian,” Harry apologized.

  Jillian nodded and waved a dismissive hand.

  “Well, what should we do now?” Julie asked.

  “We haven’t been asked to do anything with regards to the murder,” I said, shrugging. “However, I would like to take care of something that’s bothering me, and it requires doing a little research. However, this is your vacation, too, so if you don’t want to tag along, I’ll understand.”

  “What’s on your mind?” Jillian wanted to know.

  “That damn coin,” I answered. “I just don’t buy the odds. Yes, the dogs found it, and they’re amazing. I know it. You guys know it. Hell, I’m pretty sure they know it, too. Only...”

  “...it doesn’t feel right,” Jillian finished for me.

  I grinned, “Exactly.”

  “What do you want to do?” my girlfriend asked.

  “I want to find out more about that coin.”

  “You want to go back to the coin dude’s place?” Harry asked.

  “Not particularly,” I admitted. “There’s gotta be other research options at our disposal.”

  “This is Monterey,” Jillian reminded us. “It’s known for its diving. I’m sure we’re not the only people who have ever found a strange coin. I’ll bet the local library has something to offer.”

  “A library?” Harry whined. “Oh, man. Not my idea of fun, bro.”

  “And what do you want to do that’s so important?” Julie asked, as she turned to her husband.

  “Can’t we hit a bar or something? I could use a...”

  My friend trailed off as he noticed the disapproving frown his wife was giving him. About to scowl, I caught Harry’s eye and then patted my own belly. Harry groaned.

  “You’re on a diet now,” Julie reminded him. “If you’re looking for something to do, well, we could go snorkeling. That’d be fun, wouldn’t it?”

  “That water is too cold for snorkeling, Jules,” Harry said, frowning. “We’d need the proper gear.”

  “If you want, you could swing by the hotel and take the dogs out,” I suggested. “I would appreciate it, and so would they, I’m sure.”

  “We’ll take care of it,” Julie assured us. “Come on, Harrison.”

  “I get Sherlock this time,” I heard Harry’s voice say, as our two friends walked away.

  Thirty minutes later, we had found the Monterey Public Library. Jillian promptly walked to the closest computer terminal and started tapping in commands.

  “All right. I’m logged in, and I’ve got a search engine open. Now, what can you remember about that coin?” Jillian asked.

  “It was Spanish,” I immediately said. “The year stamped on the coin was 1721. Oh, and something about reales. Chet said it was a two reales coin.”

  I heard Jillian tapping on the keyboard as I relayed what I could remember. After a few moments, a list of results appeared on the screen. Jillian scrolled through a few before stopping at a familiar coin.

  “That’s it,” I confirmed. “Do you see the castles in the top left and bottom right?”

  “And the lions in the other two quadrants,” Jillian added, as she clicked on the image of the coin. “It says here it was minted for King Phillip V. It’s not necessarily a rare coin, as people have been buying and selling them at auction for years.”

  “What’s it worth?” I wanted to know.

  “Depends on the quality,” Jillian told me.

  She entered in the search parameters at an auction website and sat back so I could see the results.

  “Here’s one for $100. There’s one for $500, but there aren’t any bids. Yeah, I see what you mean. Some of the coins have sharp details. Others look as though they’ve been attacked by a sander.”

  “Those are probably the coins that have been found underwater,” Jillian theorized.

  “Makes sense.”

  “They’re attributed to a lot of shipwrecks,” Jillian added, several minutes later.

  “Oh? Which ones?”

  “There are too many to name. Spain transported a lot of treasure during the years this particular coin was in circulation. It says here that a typical Spanish galleon could have been loaded with two million of these coins, weighing close to 60 tons. No wonder there were so many pirate ships during that time period. That must have been too tempting of a target to pass up. It must be why Pieces of Eight and doubloons have been found on the beaches of all the Americas.”

  “That coin could have been part of a real-life pirate treasure horde,” I mused. “Incredible.”

  “Zachary, you’re grinning like a schoolboy who has just been let out for the summer. What is it with men and pirate treasure?”

  Before I could answer that, my cell rang. I checked the display and saw that another local Monterey number was calling, only this time, it wasn’t Mary, and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t Chet, the coin guy. Who else did I know in town?

  “Hello?”

  “Hi,” a woman’s voice hesitantly said. “Um, is this Zachary Anderson?”

  “Well, you know me. Do I know you?”

  “Actually, yes, you do. We met the other day. I’m Sherry. Sherry VanZanten. We, uh, met not long after Jack Carlton’s body had been discovered.”

  “The woman hiding in the bushes,” I recalled.

  “I wasn’t hiding!” Sherry protested. “Jeez, would you give a girl a break? You sound just like the police.”

  “How did you get my number, Sherry?” I wanted to know. “We didn’t exchange contact information.”

  “I’m sorry. I looked you up online.”

  “My cell phone isn’t listed online,” I told the girl. “Would you care to try again?”

  “All right! I’m sorry! I asked a friend at the police department to pass me your number.”

  “See? Now that I can believe. Why have you called me, Sherry? Is there something I can do for you?”

  “My friend says that you’re a police consultant in Oregon. Is that correct?”

  “I hold several job titles. Police consultant is one of them. Why do you ask? If you have need of the police, then I would suggest you talk to an actual police officer, and that isn’t me, I’m sorry to say.”

  “I need your help. I want you to find out who did this to Jack.”

  “You said you were one of Jack’s volunteers, right?”

  “What of it?”

  “Well, I need to know something. Did Jack do a lot of diving in Monterey?”

  “He liked looking for wrecks. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I want to know. I want to know where he was diving, and who he was diving with. Did you know his most recent dive log is missing?”

  “Why would you think I had something to do with that?”

  “I didn’t say that you did. You just assumed I did. Man alive, why do you keep throwing questions back at me whenever I ask you one? If I didn’t know any better, then I’d say you’re hiding something, Sherry. What...”

  The line went dead.

  “Is everything okay?” Jillian asked, as she looked over at me. “I heard you say the name ‘Sherry.’ Wasn’t that the name of the woman who was found hiding in the bushes?”

  “The one and the same,” I confirmed. “Sherlock and Watson led us right to her.”

  Jillian nodded, “I remember her. What did she want? Wait. How did she get your number? Did you give it to her?”

  “No. She said a friend of hers from the police department passed it on to her. As for what she wanted, get this. She says she wants me to find out who did this to Jack.”

  “She’s the prime suspect right now, isn’t she?” Jillian asked.

  “Yes. She said that she was told I was a police consult
ant from Pomme Valley, and therefore, wants me to find out who did this to Jack Carlton.”

  “Did she call him by his full name or did she refer to him by his first name?”

  I thought back to Sherry’s request.

  “First name only. Is that important?”

  “She totally had a thing for him,” Jillian deduced. “If it wasn’t intimate, then she wanted it to be.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

  “She had a crush on him.”

  “Do you think she was stalking him?”

  “Well, if she was, then she’d be the perfect person to talk to. Maybe she knew of someone who wanted Jack Carlton out of the picture.”

  “Like a rival,” I guessed.

  “Or enemy,” Jillian added. “Same thing, I guess.”

  “Do you know what else she said?” I asked, as I recalled another part of Sherry’s cryptic conversation. “I asked her if she knew whether or not Jack Carlton liked to dive in Monterey. Sherry informed me that he liked looking for wrecks, and almost immediately afterward, she went on the defensive. Started asking questions every time I did. I think she was moments away from panicking, which was why she hung up on me.”

  Jillian frowned, “She hung up on you? That’s rude. I don’t care who you are, you just don’t do that to people. Hmm. Zachary, why do you suddenly look so excited?”

  I pointed back at the screen, which still showed pictures of the old Spanish coins.

  “Don’t you get it? I think Jack Carlton was looking for sunken treasure ships, and that coin confirms it!”

  SEVEN

  “Does that make any sense to you?” Jillian asked later, after we paid the bill and had exited the restaurant. “Think about it. If what you say is true, and that poor, unfortunate SCUBA diver was searching for sunken treasure, then how did Chet’s stolen coin end up in the water? Are we to believe that a thief broke into Chet’s home, somehow managed to get around his security system, steal only that one coin…”

  “…and pass up others that are more valuable,” I glumly added.

  “Yes. He passed up the more valuable coins, then took the one coin he did steal down to the water and gave it to an otter?”

  “When you say it like that, it might sound a little silly,” I said, chuckling. “All right. Let’s just toss that theory out the window, shall we?”

  Jillian giggled, and then pointed west, toward the water. We could see Harry and Julie, walking hand in hand, along the water, each holding one of the corgi’s leashes. People were coming up to them left and right and – presumably – asking if they could pet the dogs, because both dogs kept rolling onto their backs to get their belly rubs.

  “Those two,” I groaned, as I heard Jillian laugh. “There’s not one shred of dignity between either of them. Look at ‘em. They’re loving the attention.”

  Sherlock caught sight of me as we stepped down from the boardwalk onto the sandy beach. He yipped excitedly at us, as though he was inviting us to tag along with him.

  “Exactly who owns who here?” I quietly asked, as we approached the dogs.

  “They own you, of course,” Jillian answered. “Well hello, pretty boy. Are you and Watson enjoying the day?”

  “Your dogs have a lot of admirers, man,” Harry announced. “Festus doesn’t get near the attention that these two get.”

  Festus was Harry’s Australian Shepherd. I always thought corgis had to be the most energetic dog I have ever encountered. Nope. Harry’s dog wins that contest, hands down. The last time the four of us went over to his place, Festus ran laps around Sherlock and Watson the entire time we were there, which had to have been two or three hours.

  “Where should we go?” Julie companionably asked, as she handed Watson’s leash to Jillian. I took Sherlock’s, and together, the six of us headed back toward town. “What would you guys say about visiting Old Fisherman’s Wharf?”

  “What is it?” I wanted to know. “A restaurant?”

  Julie handed me a pamphlet, simply entitled, ‘Things to do in Old Fisherman’s Wharf.’ First on the list was to enjoy a simple stroll down the historic wharf and check out the authentic seafood restaurants. We could also arrange to go whale watching, judging by the numerous boats lined up on the water’s edge. Continuing on, I read that Old Fisherman’s Wharf was also the place to be if you wanted to purchase fine jewelry, or ocean-themed keepsakes, or… Now, this next entry definitely caught my attention: candy stores.

  Now, you may – or may not – know that I have a sweet tooth. That’s not to say I had to have a piece of candy in my mouth during all hours of the day. However, if a tourist pamphlet recommends stopping by a shop that specializes in salt water taffy, then who am I to go against the local tourism board?

  Right about then, my nose reported in that we were in the vicinity of one of these specialty stores.

  “That smells heavenly,” Jillian announced, as she drew to a stop. “Do you smell that? I swear its molten chocolate.”

  “You had me at ‘molten’,” Julie said, laughing. “Come on, Harrison. We need to find whatever store is making that heavenly smell.”

  “It does smell good,” Harry admitted.

  “It’s over there,” I said, as I shaded my eyes and pointed across the street. “I see the word ‘Carousel’ on the sign. Plus, you can see the steady stream of people going in and out of that store.”

  Harry and Julie hurried ahead, intent on entering the store first. I also noticed that they had been walking while holding hands together.

  “I haven’t seen them do that in a while,” Jillian told me, in a quiet voice.

  “It’s nice to see,” I agreed.

  “What did you end up saying to Harry to get him to behave? I take it you’ve been giving him pointers.”

  “I told him he needs to learn the definition of a word: compromise. Be willing to bend on things she wants to do, and he’d be surprised on how much she’d be willing to return the favor. So far, it seems to be working. You’ve been talking to Julie, too, haven’t you?”

  Jillian nodded, “Guilty as charged.”

  I indicated our two friends, who had just disappeared inside the candy store.

  “Damn, we’re good.”

  Taking my hand, we entered the shop. Harry, stating he didn’t want to be tempted by all the sugary goodies inside the store, especially the melted chocolate, offered to wait outside with the dogs. While yes, I could definitely smell melted chocolate, and I knew that’s what Jillian wanted to find, I was more intent on finding (and purchasing) some fresh taffy. My girlfriend, I had learned a while ago, loved chocolate turtles. What are they? In case you didn’t know, they’re candy made with pecans and caramel, covered in chocolate. Then they’re shaped to loosely resemble a turtle.

  And no, no actual turtles were harmed in the making of this highly sought after candy.

  As for me, as I mentioned earlier, I love salt water taffy. I enjoy more of the fruity candy than the chocolate variety. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ll certainly choke down a piece of chocolate every now and then. But, I can certainly go without it for extended periods of time. As for Jillian? Let’s just say I have around a dozen different candy bars hidden in my fridge, with stashes of various goodies in a few other random spots, too.

  You never know when your significant other will have a chocolate craving. Trust me, late night runs to the convenience store are never fun.

  Arms loaded with goodies, and me munching on a small bag of candy-corn flavored taffy, we exited the candy store and followed the flow of foot traffic north. From what I could see, next up was some type of ocean-inspired gift shop. Jillian and I combined our bags and, with me holding the one large bag in one hand, and holding the door open with the other, entered the store. Since there wasn’t any food offered for sale in this shop, the dogs were allowed in.

  I tried to focus on the various trinkets as I followed Jillian around the store, but my mind kept jumping over to the unfortunate Jack Carlton.
Could he have been searching for treasure? If so, who was his dive partner? Where had he been diving? Couldn’t it have been somewhere close to where I had originally spotted him?

  I felt a tap on my arm. Looking up, I saw Jillian studying my face, with a concerned expression on hers.

  “Are you all right? Are you not having a good time? We can go somewhere else, if you’d like.”

  I shook my head, “It’s not that. My mind keeps drifting over to Jack Carlton and wondering if he really was a treasure hunter. If so, then who was his partner? While possible, experienced divers simply don’t go in the water alone. Plus, where was he diving? That Sherry girl said he frequently dived the area.”

  “We really need that missing dive log,” Jillian said, as she moved to a table filled with folded shirts. “I don’t know if we’ll ever really know what he was up to without them.”

  A thought suddenly occurred.

  “What do you think the chances are that Jack Carlton stole Chet’s coin?”

  Jillian shrugged, “I doubt it. From the sounds of it, he was loaded. If he really wanted one of those coins, he could have just bought one. Or two. Or even a hundred.”

  “True,” I reluctantly agreed. “Do you even think the two events are related?”

  “What, finding the dead diver and discovering the missing coin? They could be. Do you?”

  I nodded, “I do, yes. Think about it. Sherlock and Watson zeroed in on the water the instant we arrived in town. Then, as soon as we were tasked with trying to recover the missing coin, we find it, in the paws of an otter, no less. It’s just too coincidental for me. Of all the cases the dogs and I have worked, this one has to be one of the strangest.”

  Jillian moved away from the shirts and approached a glass display case, filled with various rings, pendants, and earrings. She was silent as she studied the contents.

  “Let’s assume you’re right,” my girlfriend suddenly said, as she straightened and turned to look at me. “Let’s assume that he was looking for sunken…” Jillian trailed off as she looked around the busy store. Not wanting to be overheard, she dropped her voice and continued. “Let’s assume Mr. Carlton was looking for sunken treasure. How is that even possible? We’re on the western coast of the United States. Did Spanish galleons even make it this far west?”