Case of the Pilfered Pooches

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Seeing how the dogs were down for the count, I decided to tip-toe upstairs to my office. I wanted to check my email. I had sent my latest book to my editor and I was anxious to hear what she thought about it.

  Nothing.

  My inbox was empty. Sighing, I headed back downstairs and was quietly lacing on my shoes to head up the hill to the winery when my cell rang. Sherlock rolled onto his stomach and opened both eyes to regard me coolly, as if he was accusing me of sneaking out of the house without him. Watson’s eyes were open, too. Without moving a muscle, both dogs stared at me, unblinking.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Zachary Anderson?”

  “It is. Who is this?”

  “Alan Matthews. I head up the sales department here at John Deere of Medford. How are you today?”

  “I’m just fine, Alan. Jason told me to expect your call if you were able to do something for me. Am I right to understand that you can? Do something for me, that is?”

  “You’re looking for a tractor for Lentari Cellars, am I correct?”

  “You are.”

  “And you just recently added an additional 35 acres of farmland to the winery?”

  “Jason obviously clued you in to our deal, yes. Whatcha got for me?”

  “If you’d like to come down to the showroom, I’ll show you which models I think would be a good match for you.”

  “Can you give me an idea how much these things run?”

  “It really depends. The models with enclosed cabs typically run much higher than those without. Jason said that you were looking for a tractor that wasn’t too fancy, is that right?”

  “Correct.”

  “Do you have any idea what attachments it would need to run?”

  “Attachments?”

  “Yes. Sprayers? Tillers? Will you be doing much digging?”

  “Jason asked me pretty much the same thing. I really don’t know, Alan. I’ve got someone else who handles all of that. I get to handle all the finances. Yay for me, right?”

  Alan let out a hearty laugh.

  “So, how much do these things run?” I asked again.

  “The narrow models start around $35K and they can go up to $65K.”

  “Sixty-five thousand dollars?? Holy shit. I had no idea those damn things were so expensive. Caden has been smoking the good stuff if he thinks I’m paying that much for a friggin’ tractor.”

  “Take it easy, Mr. Anderson. I said they can go up to $65K, but that particular model wouldn’t suit you.”

  “And what would?” I asked, sounding a teensy bit testier than I probably should have.

  “The GV model is the smallest we have. It’d be perfect for a winery your size.”

  “Hey, I don’t want something the size of a riding lawn mower, either.”

  Alan let out another laugh.

  “I hear you, Mr. Anderson. The GV comes equipped with more than enough power to get the job done.”

  “And how much do they run?” I warily asked.

  “The GVs start at $35K.”

  “That’s better, but egad, that’s still a lot of money.”

  “You know something, Mr. Anderson? I think I might have just the thing for you. We sold one of our older narrow tractors late last year to a farmer who, unfortunately, has since passed away. I’m fairly certain it was a 5GV. Anyway, his family asked us to see if we could find a buyer for it. I’m willing to wager they’d be interested in cutting you a deal.”

  “Provided they still have it, of course.”

  “Fair point. Let me give them a call. Good news or bad, I’ll call you back, okay?”

  “Sure thing, Alan.”

  The call ended, leaving a bad taste in my mouth. I hated dealing with car salesmen. Sure, this was a tractor we’re talking about, but I still couldn’t help but feel that I was dealing with a smarmy creep who was trying to hose me for everything I was worth. Thankfully, Alan was a friend of Jason’s, and I’d like to think that Jason wouldn’t deliberately steer me toward someone who was unscrupulous.

  A quick glance at the couch confirmed both corgis had fallen asleep again. I decided to check my email a second time – still nothing – and then proceeded to check out YouTube for some videos of the 5GV. I wanted to see what I would be getting myself into.

  Turns out the 5GV is a fairly robust tractor. I can also see why they’re great for wineries. It’s built narrow enough to squeeze through rows of vines without squishing anything.

  Wanting to make certain that I wouldn’t be hosed by whatever price this other family would be asking for the tractor, I checked some farming equipment want ads. Hey, don’t laugh. It exists. See for yourself.

  That’s when I heard my cell phone ringing. Wouldn’t you know it? I left it downstairs. I managed to take the call on the fourth ring, just before I’m sure my voice mail would’ve taken the call. It was my new friend from Medford.

  “Mr. Anderson? Alan Mathers. We spoke on the phone earlier?”

  As if I would’ve forgotten what transpired only thirty minutes ago.

  “I remember you, Alan. What’s up? Did they still have the tractor for sale?”

  “About that tractor…”

  I sighed. It was no longer for sale. Oh, well. It was worth a shot.

  “It’s sold, I get it. I appreciate the time and…”

  “It’s still for sale,” Alan interrupted. “Only, it isn’t the model I thought it was.”

  “Oh. It isn’t one of those special narrow models? That’s fine. Hey, we tried, right?”

  “You didn’t let me finish. It’s a narrow model, only not the model I thought it was. It’s a 5083EN. This particular model is a few years old.”

  “How old is a ‘few years’?”

  “It’s a 2012 model.”

  “Ah. Well, I suppose that wouldn’t be too bad. How much are they asking?”

  “Fifteen thousand.”

  “Only 15K? Alrighty, what’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing. I’m told it was barely used.”

  “Then why ask so little for it? I mean, if you were going to buy a house, and the owner accepted your lowball offer, wouldn’t that entice you to seek out a home inspector?”

  “I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Anderson. I had no idea their asking price was so low. I could have sold this thing many times over had I but known. I thought it was an older tractor and they wanted way too much for it.”

  “Let me guess. You’re saying that either I buy it or else you will.”

  I was met with silence on the phone.

  “Fine. Tell them I’ll buy it, provided it passes a health inspection from a mechanic.”

  “Done.”

  I made the arrangements and then terminated the call. Well, I certainly hadn’t planned on spending that much today. I had added 35 acres of land to the winery, as well as bought myself a genuine tractor. If this didn’t prove to Caden that I was willing to invest in the winery, then nothing would.

  My cell rang again.

  “Son of a biscuit eater. Come on guys, leave me alone. I’ve got work to do.”

  Caden’s number was on the screen. Someone’s ears must’ve been burning. How should I break this to him?

  “Hey, Caden. What’s up?”

  “Hi, Zack. Got a minute?”

  “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

  “Kimberly and Doug are due back in to the winery tomorrow. I wanted to run by a list of tasks and activities the kids would be allowed to do that could give them more insight into a working winery.”

  “I trust you, Caden. Feel free to have them do whatever you…” I trailed off as I realized I had the perfect opportunity to spring my surprise on my winemaster. “Tell you what. You’re right. Why don’t you swing by the house and we can discuss it?”

  I heard a knocking on my front door. Both corgis were on their feet in a flash. They jumped to the ground amidst a flurry of barks and made a beeline to the front door. A
quick check out the window confirmed my suspicions. I laughed, told Caden to come on in, and disconnected the call. Caden poked his head through the front door.

  “Is this a bad time?”

  “Not at all. Come on in. No. Wait. Let’s go outside.”

  “Are you okay?” Caden asked me. He was giving me a concerned look. “You’re acting weird.”

  “I wanted to show you something.”

  “Oh, yeah? Really?”

  “You don’t have to act so surprised, smartass. I do have ideas from time to time, you know.”

  Caden laughed and clapped a friendly hand on my shoulder.

  “I know you do. Sorry. What is it you want to show me?”

  “Well, it concerns that land you want me to add to the winery.”

  “It’s a helluva investment,” Caden insisted. “You really ought to consider it.”

  “Where’s the land at?” I asked as we walked down the front porch steps.

  Sherlock and Watson were waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs, having gone around the landscaping so they wouldn’t have to tackle the unsurmountable obstacle the steps presented. Caden stooped to give each dog a pat on the head. Then he straightened, turned to the right, and made a sweeping gesture with his arm.

  “Over there. See the Parson farm at the base of that small hill? The land he wants to sell us starts at the road on the eastern side of the property. All of their land which borders us on the north and west are up for grabs. This is really too good to pass up.”

  “Do you have any idea how many acres comprise the Parson farm?” I asked.

  Caden was silent for a moment as he considered.

  “Umm, over a hundred, I think. It’s not too big as farms go, but it’s still pretty significant. Why do you ask?”

  “Because I just bought 35 of those acres to add to Lentari Cellars.”

  “You just… what? What?! You bought how many acres??”

  “35. I told him I only wanted to buy 20, but he gave me such a good offer that I couldn’t refuse. Hell, he sold me the land for far less than I was expecting to pay for the original 20.”

  “Holy shit. How do you get so damn lucky, Zack?”

  I shrugged, “Maybe my charm? My good looks?”

  Caden shook his head, “There’s gotta be something more than that.”

  “Kiss my ass, amigo.”

  Caden laughed. He turned back towards the Parson farm and shook his head in amazement. Then I saw him angle his head toward the winery, as if trying to guess how much of the visible land now belonged to me.

  “You’re not doing this just because I insinuated you’d be a fool not to invest in the winery, are you?”

  I shook my head, “Nope. It wasn’t a good idea, but a great idea. We’ve more than tripled our working acreage. I’ll leave it up to you to fill those acres up.”

  Caden rocked back on the balls of his feet, “Oh, man. I have so many plans on what I’d like to do for this place.”

  I held out an arm and gave it a circular, sweeping motion.

  “Have at it. I’ve trusted you this far, and you’ve proven time and time again that I haven’t misplaced that trust. Go ahead. Let’s see what you can do.”

  Caden chortled and rubbed his hands together gleefully.

  “Okay, the first thing I’d like to do is… is… run for cover. I’m sorry, Zack, but I have to go. Like, now. I’ll be in the house. I don’t think I want to know what I’ll do or say if I stay out here with you.”

  Puzzled, I looked at Caden as though he had lost in mind.

  “What’s the matter with you? Where are you going?”

  By the time I had turned to my winemaster, the front door was already swinging shut. Then I heard it. A car was coming down the driveway. A black 1985 Cadillac Seville, if you want to get technical. In its prime, this particular car would’ve turned heads wherever it went. At the moment, it was turning heads, all right, only not for the right reason.

  The car looked beat up; haggard. The paint was faded and chipped, one wheel was missing its decorative chrome hubcap, and the sounds coming from the engine suggested the car was long overdue for a checkup. The car wheezed up to me and backfired several times after the engine was shut off. I groaned as I saw why Caden had beat a hasty retreat.

  Abigail Lawson extricated herself from her car. She was wearing a dark blue blouse, a matching blue skirt, and once more had her hair pulled up into a severe bun. She slowly pulled her bulbous eyeglasses off her nose and fixed me with a cold stare. I was more than willing to return the gesture.

  “Mr. Anderson.”

  “Ms. Lawson,” I returned, with all the warmth of an Antarctic winter.

  Abigail Lawson is the daughter of the late Bonnie Davies, former owner of Lentari Cellars. To this day, Abigail believes her mother should never have left the winery, or her house, to me and it pisses her off to no end. She’s already tried to force me to sign over the estate several times, claiming her mother hadn’t been in her right frame of mind. As you can imagine, it didn’t go over well.

  “I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here. Well, it’s to… call off your dogs, Mr. Anderson. We have business to discuss.”

  I looked down at the two corgis. Both had the hair on the back of their neck sticking straight up and Sherlock was giving Abigail a full-throated growl. Watson was growling, too, but she was drowned out by her packmate. I gave them each a pat on the head, and looked back up at Abigail.

  “On the contrary, we don’t have a single iota of business to conduct with one another.”

  Abigail held up a thick manila folder.

  “Actually, we do.”

  “If you’re once more trying to get me to sign over the house and winery, then save your breath. It’s not going to happen. Not now, not tomorrow, nor ten years from now. Are we clear on that?”

  “I’m not asking you to give the winery to me,” Abigail contradicted.

  “Well, there’s a first,” I muttered. I saw Abigail’s nostrils flair in anger, which meant she must’ve heard me. I didn’t care. I could say whatever I want on my own property. That wouldn’t be changing any time soon. “What are you doing here? What’s on your mind? You can’t possibly tell me that this is a social call.”

  Abigail’s lips thinned, “It isn’t. Look, I know you don’t know the first thing about running a winery. I do. I will take it off your hands.”

  “I’m not selling, lady,” I reiterated. “I have no desire to move. As a matter of fact, I like it here.”

  “Then don’t move. Keep the house. It doesn’t matter. The winery will be moved to New York.”

  “So, that’s your plan? You’re going to sell Lentari Cellars to one of those huge corporations? I told you before, I’m not giving up the winery.”

  Abigail unfastened the envelope and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers.

  “I already have a group of investors standing by. They’ve agreed to pay double the winery’s current value right here, right now, if you’re willing to sign. However, this offer will only happen once, Mr. Anderson. I do suggest you take it.”

  “You’re trying to buy the winery now? What’s with this sudden change of heart? Does it have anything to do with all the awards Lentari Cellars has been winning? Including the 2017 PiNWO Grand Championship?” At the look of surprise on Abigail’s face, I had to laugh. “Why do you look so surprised? This is my winery. You had better believe I keep track of any and all awards Lentari Cellars has earned.”

  Not true, but she didn’t know that. Instead, I was met with stony silence.

  “Lentari Cellars is not for sale, Ms. Lawson,” I formally announced, drawing up to my full height. “The winery will remain in PV. This place started out local and that’s the way it’s gonna stay. Besides, it’s what your mother would have wanted.”

  Abigail’s face purpled with rage.

  “You have no right to bring up my mother’s…”

  I held up my phone and cleared my throat at the same time I
took a menacing step towards my uninvited guest. Both dogs took notice and immediately abandoned their growling for barking. Abigail, for her part, started to back away from me.

  “You’re about to be forcefully evicted,” I told her, adding enough malice to my voice to make her believe it. “You can leave under your own power or you can leave with a couple of police escorts. It’s your call.”

  “This isn’t over, Mr. Anderson,” Abigail spat, throwing as much venom into her voice as she could muster.

  “On the contrary, it is. Go. Pester someone else for a change.”

  The Cadillac was coaxed back to life and it belched out a cloud of dark exhaust as Abigail stomped down on the accelerator. I could tell that the Caddy’s tires wanted to spin, but the engine lacked enough horses to do it. It was pathetic, if you ask me. I waved the air in front of me as the noxious cloud of black fumes dissipated and looked down at the dogs.

  “She was just as pleasant as the last time we saw her, wasn’t she?”

  The front door banged open.

  “That crazy bitch tried to take control of the winery again, didn’t she?” Caden guessed.

  I nodded, “She came with financial backing this time. She said she had a group of investors who were willing to pay double what the winery is worth. Then she admitted she was going to move the winery to New York.”

  “Words cannot even begin to describe how much I loathe that woman,” Caden began.

  “Don’t let her ruin your day. You just found out you have a lot more land to play with. You were about to tell me what some of those plans were, remember?”

  Caden nodded, “That’s right. So, I was thinking…”