“So, is it going to survive?”
“It lives to fight another day,” I announced. “I really thought I had the gears down, but clearly, I don’t. Vince said that the transmission looked pretty well chewed up. And, as long as he was at it, he’ll pop out the dents on the bumper.”
“What did you hit, again?” Jillian asked.
“The, er, handicapped sign in front of Hidden Relic Antiques was the latest. Burt was laughing at me, for so long, that I had to pull over to make sure he wasn’t going to have a heart attack.”
“Did you apologize for hitting his sign?” Jillian asked, as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a tissue.
My brow furrowed as I noticed my lovely fiancée was enjoying herself at my expense. “I did, as a matter of fact. He said I didn’t need to worry about it. Then, he did the damnedest thing. He walked over to the sign, placed a hand on it, and straightened it back up himself.”
Jillian whistled. “Impressive.”
“He was still laughing as he went back inside,” I continued. “Then, just to satisfy my own curiosity, I tried to move that sign on my own. Flippin’ thing didn’t budge.”
For the record, Burt Johnson was a former Army Ranger. He was in his early sixties, had spiky gray hair cut in a military-style fashion, and had to be at least six and a half feet tall. And ripped. Did I mention that? I still maintain I’ve seen the guy pushing a 747 uphill in those World Strongman contests. He denies it, of course.
“Do you still want to go? I told you before, you don’t need to go with me. I know this type of thing really isn’t your style.”
I looked back at her and grinned. “Going to a florist doesn’t really appeal, but going to one with you? I can get on board with that.”
“Right answer, Mr. Anderson.”
“Why thank you, Ms. Cooper.”
“You two are too cute,” one of Jillian’s employees gushed.
Turning, I could see that it was Cassie, a young black-haired girl who has worked for Jillian for several years now. In fact, I think she might have just been made Assistant Manager. Both of us gave the girl a grin as she moved back behind the counter to help a customer.
Twenty minutes later, we were stepping out of Jillian’s SUV and approaching Pomme Valley’s biggest and best florist, The Apple Blossom. Yes, before you ask, it’s the only florist shop in town. Why not just come out and say it was the only one? Well, when it comes to describing the different businesses which called PV home, I find myself saying that a lot. So, I’m trying to break myself of the habit.
Commotion across the street drew my attention. I could see the Red Barn Tavern, and I immediately thought of my adventures with the misfit thrill-seeker club from a few months ago. I had joined up at the request of Vance, who was helping a visiting U.S. Marshal locate a missing fugitive. Wow, I won’t be forgetting that anytime soon.
“Hey, Bacchus!”
Hand still on the door, about to follow Jillian inside, I turned. It was Yeti, who had taken over leadership of the club.
“Hey, Yeti,” I returned, as I let the door close and turned to my (sad to admit) much younger friend. “What’s new with you guys?”
“Have you changed your mind? We still have some openings on our zip-line excursion, happening at Cottonwood Canyon State Park next week.”
My eyebrows shot up. I had already given Yeti my answer, and it matched Vance’s: no.
“Yeah, not this time. Remove heights from the equation and you’ll have a much better chance of getting me to go.”
“Funny you should say that,” Yeti said, grinning. “We’re thinking about doing a deep-water dive just before Christmas. Some ship has been discovered in Monterey, and it’s finally been cleared for exploration.”
“The San Agustin?” I dryly asked.
“You know it? Right on, Bacchus! Are you with us? You mentioned you had your SCUBA certification, didn’t you?”
“I did, and I do,” I told my friend. “That would be a trip worth going on. Obviously, the aquarium has pulled everything they needed from it. I’m surprised they’ll let people enter it.”
“They won’t,” Yeti admitted. “We can observe, but don’t touch and don’t approach. It’ll still be worth visiting.”
“Let me talk it over with Vance, and we’ll get back to you, okay?”
Pleased, Yeti slapped a friendly hand on my shoulder. “Glad to hear it, Bacchus. Keep me informed! I’ll save a couple of spots for you!”
Thinking back to the fun times we had while vacationing in Monterey earlier this year, I opened the door and led the dogs inside. From the moment we stepped through the door, it felt — and smelled — as if we were in another world. The petrichor wafting up from the recently watered plants had me sighing contentedly. Both dogs immediately stopped, lifted their noses to sample the air a few times, and then looked up at me with hopeful eyes.
I knew that look. They were hoping I’d unhook the leashes and let them have free rein to explore the store. I can only imagine that, in their eyes, there must be a million different things to smell in here, which explained why both dogs were whining and pulling on their leashes.
I caught sight of Jillian inspecting a large purple flower arrangement on my left, and immediately headed that way. She smiled at me as she saw me approaching, and then disappeared from sight. Laughing, I decided to see where the corgis wanted to go, instead.
I was led over to a large helium tank and several filled mylar balloons. Glancing up, I could see ‘Happy Birthday’, ‘Happy Anniversary’, and ‘Congrats’ balloons, all in various colors. I felt a sharp tug on the leash. Looking down at Sherlock, I saw that he had positioned himself in such a way that he was looking up at the clutch of balloons, but from about five feet away, thus allowing him to see the flip-side of the clutch of balloons.
Guiding Watson over, the three of us studied the floating balloons. One balloon, a bright, neon green one which had a flower shape, had Happy 7th Birthday printed on it. Shrugging, I pulled the dogs away, only … you guessed it … the dogs didn’t budge.
“What? It’s just a balloon. It’s not gonna hurt you guys, okay? Let it go.”
Both dogs remained mired to the spot. Sighing, I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture of the balloon, with the intent to humor them. But, much to my surprise, as soon as I slid my phone back into my pocket, they were both up and moving around. In fact, they had just noticed Jillian appear from behind a cluster of long-stemmed white roses and quickly morphed into their Clydesdale personas to get me over to her as quickly as possible.
I briefly wondered what I would look like if I wasn’t wearing shoes, but socks. Would it look like I was waterskiing on the tiled floor? Probably.
Jillian leaned up against the counter and looked for Hannah. We couldn’t see her anywhere, but we could hear her. Her voice was already soft to begin with, but there was something about the way she was talking which made us think she was on the phone, and the call wasn’t going as planned. Jillian pointed at the closed Staff Only door and held a finger to her lips.
“I won’t talk about it here,” Hannah’s voice was saying. “No. You’ve heard my answer. I can’t go anywhere right now. Mom, I’ve given my answer. I will not close up, not even for a day. I can’t afford to. Please, don’t ask me again, okay? Good. Thank you. Love you, too, Mom. We’ll see you for Christmas, don’t worry.”
“I don’t think we should’ve heard that,” I whispered. I pointed at the far wall, where a refrigerated glass case displayed a variety of arrangements. “We’ll be over there.”
Jillian patted my hand. “Thank you, Zachary. I’ll deal with this.”
“Does she get the official invite?”
Jillian nodded, just as the small office door opened. Hannah’s eyes widened appreciatively, and she smiled.
“Jillian! What a wonderful surprise! What can I do for you today?”
Leaving the two women to begin their hushed conversation, the dogs and I wandered over to
inspect the arrangements. And, let me just say, holy moly. A flower arrangement, done professionally, can cost you upwards of $100. And the ones in this case? The lowest I found was $75, and they went all the way up to $169. I was starting to think that Hannah had her flowers waaayyy overpriced, but in the few minutes I was in front of the display case, no fewer than three guys had appeared, made their selections, and took them to the front counter. Not one of them looked at the price tag, by the way. I guess when you were in the dog house, the amount you were willing to pay to get back in your significant other’s good graces ranked fairly low on the totem pole of priorities.
I heard one of the dogs shake their collar. Just like that, we were off again, only this time, we seemed to be headed toward a long work bench. I could see strands of discarded plants (baby’s breath?), the clippings from (I’m guessing) long-stemmed roses, and scraps of various colors of polypropylene. Sitting off to the side of the counter, totally engrossed in some type of game on his tablet computer, was Colin, Hannah’s son.
Colin is a fairly shy kid who doesn’t make friends too easily. He has the slim build of his mother, and the looks (I’m told) of his father: brown hair and blue eyes. I’ve talked to the kid a few times before, and have learned he’s a bright boy who loves school, and is considered one of the smartest. That, however, hasn’t made him too many friends, and as a result, he typically keeps to himself.
However, the one thing I’ve learned about the boy is that he absolutely loves dogs. He’s the only one who can give Sherlock and Watson a run for their money in the high energy department. The last time we dropped the dogs off at Hannah’s house and had the boy watch them for the night, the dogs were so exhausted after we picked them up that I had to ask Hannah if they had stayed up all night.
Sherlock yipped a greeting. Colin’s head jerked up, and he leaned over the counter to see two sets of eyes staring up at him. The boy was all smiles.
“It’s Sherlock and Watson! Hi, guys!”
Both dogs darted around the corner, each intent on making it to one of their known playmates before the other one could. Colin dropped to the ground and started giving them scratches.
“What are you two up to today, you hairy little squirts?”
Both dogs writhed on the floor in apparent ecstasy.
“You’ve got their number,” I observed.
Colin looked up at me. I’m sorry to say that I actually witnessed the boy’s cheery disposition withdraw into himself as he became the quiet, shy boy once more.
“Hello, Mr. Anderson.”
I was determined to put him at ease.
“Hey there, sport. How’s it goin’? Whatcha playin’ there?”
Colin looked over at his tablet computer and shrugged. “It’s a game called WordPiles.” The tablet was pushed along the counter until it was in front of me. “Do you know how to play?”
Oddly enough, I did.
“Yeah, you have to find words in that jumble there. You can look here, above the letters, and see how many words are left to find. See this? There are four missing four-letter words, two five-letter words, and three seven-letter words. Need some help?”
“Only if you think you can find them,” Colin told me. “If I can’t find them, then I don’t see how you can …”
The boy trailed off as I quickly found word after word. After about thirty seconds, I slid the completed puzzle back to him.
“Wow! How’d you do that?”
I spread my hands in a helpless gesture. “Hey, what can I say? I’m a writer. Plus, I grew up playing video games. Pac-Man, Dig Dug, and Donkey Kong, just to name a few.”
“Wow,” Colin softly muttered. “Old school. Those are my favorites, too.”
It was my turn to be surprised. “Really? Since when? The graphics on the games nowadays are so much better than what we had when I was your age.”
“Have you seen what games are popular right now?” Colin returned. “Shoot-em-ups. War games. Alien invasions. Zombies. Those aren’t fun. Gives me anxiety just thinking about it.”
I stared at the boy and had to chuckle. A smile formed on my face as I realized how I could reach this kid.
“So, you think you’re good on old retro games, is that it? What’s your favorite?”
“Probably one you wouldn’t know,” Colin said, sighing. He reached for his tablet. “You’re trying to save the last human family from nasty robots. You use two joysticks, one to move the little man across the screen, and the other to fire his weapon.”
I nodded and pretended to think. “Do the graphics remind you of Defender?”
Colin’s eyes lit up. “Yeah, they do! How do you know? Have you played it before?”
“I’m pretty sure I have. I think you’re talking about one of my all-time favorite games.”
“No way,” Colin decided. “You’re telling me you’ve played Robotron? But … you’re old!”
“There’s no such game,” I told the young boy. “And I am not!”
Colin frowned. “Is so. I’ve played it online, on emulators.”
“Then, you’d be mistaken, young man,” I intoned matter-of-factly, adopting my fake British accent. “Now, if the young Master would care to add ‘2084’ to the end of it, I would be inclined to believe you.”
Colin gasped with surprise.
“Struck a chord, I think I have,” I continued, which made Colin chuckle. “Tell you what, you impetuous boy. I hereby challenge you to a Robotron 2084 throw down. That game, and many others, are currently on my arcade cabinet back in my place. Wouldeth thou careth to undertaketh the challenge?”
Colin was snorting with laughter. “I will wipe the floor with you, old man.”
“Old man, he says,” I drawled, as I slapped a hand over my heart. “As my generation used to say, ‘It’s on like …”
“… Donkey Kong!” Colin finished for me. “Can you really play Robotron at your house?”
I nodded. “Yep. I was about to invite you and your mother to come over to our place for Thanksgiving, since we aren’t going anywhere this year. I just have to get your mom to agree.”
The boy’s expression sobered. “Grandma has been pushing us to come visit for the week. I know Mom wants to, but we can’t.”
“So, you’ll be here in town. Good. You’ll be here for your butt whoopin’. Glad to hear it. I’ll take care of your mom.”
Colin chuckled again and nodded.
“Hey, would you do me a favor? Would you watch the dogs for me? I have to track down Jillian before she buys everything in the store.”
Colin laughed and held out a hand. I passed him the leashes, but not before I noticed Sherlock perking up. He and Watson both stared up at the boy and cocked their heads, something I haven’t seen them do to him before. I was about to ask Colin if he had recently eaten, which means he could’ve spilled something on himself (which could account for the dogs’ sudden fascination with him) when the boy shut off his tablet. He pulled his backpack from somewhere behind the counter and slid his computer inside.
The two corgis only had eyes for the tablet, it would seem. No, correct that. It looked like they were staring at the backpack. Why? What was in it? As I walked away and thanked my corgi-sitter, I quickly pulled out my phone and snapped a shot of Colin’s bag before I lost sight of him.
When I found the girls, they were in the middle of a hushed conversation. Hmm, let’s change that to argument. From the look of things, Jillian was trying to talk Hannah into doing something, and Hannah was flat-out refusing. And, much to her credit, she wasn’t backing down.
“Everything all right over here?” I asked, using the friendliest tone I could muster. “Is there anything I can do?”
“We’re good, Zachary. In fact, Hannah and Colin have agreed to join us for Thanksgiving!”
Hannah smiled fleetingly at me before the tiniest bit of a scowl appeared on her face. And that was only when she glanced at Jillian. There was definitely something amiss, but seeing how I wasn’t the one
the girls were mad at, I decided to leave it alone unless I was asked to give an opinion.
“Cool! We’re going to have fun! I have a new arcade machine that I’ve been itching to show Colin. He just told me he enjoyed playing the old retro arcade games like Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, and Frogger. I promptly challenged him to a game of Robotron, which he seems to think he’ll win. Well, boy howdy, is he gonna get his rump kicked.”
That brought a much-needed smile from Hannah, which was what I had been striving to do.
“I don’t know, Zachary. I’ve seen Colin play those games. He’s pretty good.”
“I don’t think you understand just how big of a nerd Zachary really is,” Jillian said, laughing. “I’ve seen him play those games. There are some he’s really good at.”
The smile melted from my face. “Some? Some? Lady, I’m good at them all.”
“Tetris,” Jillian immediately responded.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Tetris isn’t an arcade game.”
“Sure, it is,” Jillian argued.
“Believe it or not, it is,” Hannah agreed. “It was in the arcades long before the Gameboy ever came around.”
“And you know this how?” I suspiciously asked.
“Because I was the Queen of Tetris,” Hannah proudly stated. “No one could beat me.”
“And Super Mario Brothers 2?” Jillian coyly asked.
“Aww, come on!” I complained. “That one is definitely not an arcade game. I can only play it on my cabinet because I set it up that way.”
“You still lost,” Jillian teased. She winked at Hannah, which caused her to giggle. “It really wasn’t much of a contest.”
“Okay, fine,” I groused. “Statement amended to say, ‘I’m good at most of the games.’ There, better?”
Jillian nodded, pleased. “That’ll do. So, Hannah, this get-together we’re having on Thanksgiving? I need some decorations.”
“First, tell me what I can bring,” Hannah implored.
Jillian was already shaking her head. However, that’s when I saw the frown reappear on Hannah’s face. Suddenly deducing that the source of anxiety between my fiancée and Hannah was financially motivated, I decided to step in.
Case of the Great Cranberry Caper Page 5
