Case of the Holiday Hijinks

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “Promise me, mom.”

  “Fine. I promise.”

  “Good,” I nodded, as we headed back to Jillian and dad. “I’ll consider the matter dropped. Now, tell me. Why’d you guys come a week early? Were you trying to see how dirty my house is before I have a chance to clean it?”

  My father laughed.

  “I tried to tell your mother that we should give you a fair warning we were on the road. She wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “Awwwoooooo!”

  The three of us turned to see Sherlock still holding his ‘sit’. I had yet to release him and he was making it known that he wanted his turn in the introductions. I looked at my mom and smiled. I smelled a little payback.

  “Mom, Sherlock wants to be introduced. He and Watson like to be included when it comes to meeting new people.”

  “Your dogs want to meet us?” my father incredulously asked. “And for the record, I love their names.”

  I pointed at two of the recliners in the reading area in the middle of Jillian’s store.

  “Perhaps you two should be sitting down for this.”

  My mom was wearing the best confused expression I have ever seen on her face as she hesitantly lowered herself into a recliner. My father plunked down in a nearby chair moments later. I walked over to Sherlock, laid an arm across his shoulder, and grinned at my parents.

  “Ready to be introduced in proper corgi fashion?”

  “Umm, sure,” my father slowly said.

  “Mom? You ready?”

  “They’re just dogs, Zachary. What is it you think they’re going to do?”

  I gave Sherlock a gentle nudge, “Are you ready, boy?”

  Sherlock gave another low howl. His front end started bouncing. His butt wiggled and he crouched low, as though he was about ready to take on the 100 meter dash. My father’s eyes narrowed and a smile formed on his face. I could tell he knew what was about to happen.

  “Sherlock, Watson… release!”

  The tri-color corgi made it over to my mother’s chair in 0.3 seconds. He leapt up onto her lap with a single bound and before anyone knew what was happening, he was covering her face with corgi kisses.

  “Aauughh! What is he…? No, don’t lick the insides of my mouth! Ugh!”

  My father laughed as he watched the onslaught of corgi affection. He looked down at little Watson. The red and white corgi had stopped at his feet and was craning her neck to look up at him. My father stretched a hand out to pet her but was surprised when Watson tried to jump in his lap. However, she didn’t get a running start like Sherlock had. All that ended up happening was that she bounced up and down on her back legs.

  “Does she want to be picked up?” my father asked.

  “Zachary!” my mother cried from her recliner. “Call off your dog!”

  Smiling at Sherlock’s antics, I ignored my mother and gently picked up Watson to place her on my father’s lap. Watson stretched her neck out to give the underside of my father’s neck a single lick. Satisfied that proper greetings had been made, Watson laid across my father’s lap and watched her pack mate continue to go after my mother’s face.

  “Seriously, Zachary! Call him off! He’s going to lick off all my makeup!”

  Jillian came to her rescue. She appeared besides me, holding a familiar bag of doggie treats. The simple process of unsealing the bag caught both of their attention. I caught Sherlock before he could execute a Superman leap off my mother’s chair. Watson waited for my father to lower her to the ground before she began to run around Jillian’s legs.

  “How are you doin’, mom?” I casually asked, throwing her a grin.

  “I never imagined such a small dog could be so strong,” my mother told me, pulling open her purse and reapplying her lipstick. “Or quick. Every time I turned away his face was right there.”

  Finished with their treats, the corgis returned to my side and watched my parents with speculative eyes. If I didn’t know any better then I’d say Sherlock liked the taste of my mother’s makeup. I swear he was ready to jump back up on her lap for round 2. Watson, on the other hand, kept staring at me, then at my father, and then back at me.

  “She must think you’re Zachary,” Jillian explained to my father. “Look at the way she keeps looking between you two. She probably can’t figure it out.”

  “I don’t recall ever liking a dog as much as I like that one,” my father admitted. He stooped to hold out a hand. Watson immediately came over to give his hand a lick. “Are all corgis like this?”

  I pointed at Sherlock, “You did see what he just did to mom, right?”

  “You are going to make a dog lover out of me, little girl,” my father affectionately told Watson.

  What did she do in return? Promptly hit the ground to roll onto her back. My father then proceeded to give her a belly rub.

  “You’ve made a friend for life,” I told my dad.

  “So aside from making wine,” my dad said, straightening up, “what else have you been doing around here? What do you like to do for fun?”

  I thought of the recent run of burglaries. I thought back to when I chased a kid dressed as a mummy a few months ago. Then, of course, I couldn’t forget the first time I stepped foot in Pomme Valley. I had been arrested for murder less than 24 hours later.

  “Oh, nothing much. It gets kinda boring around here, but you know what? Most people like it that way.”

  Vance couldn’t have timed it better. My cell began to ring. The icing on the cake was the fact that I had put my money where my mouth was and had purchased a custom ring tone for my detective friend. You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch, began playing on my phone. I groaned and hastily silenced my phone just as fast as I could.

  “Excuse me,” I apologized to my parents and smiled at Jillian. “I need to take this. Hey, Vance, what’s up?”

  “They’re ready for you, buddy. And let me say that I certainly hope Sherlock finds something.”

  How was I going to explain this to my parents?

  “What does Sherlock need to find?” my father asked, confused.

  I groaned again. The store was quiet enough, and the cellular connection was clear enough, so Vance’s voice was easily heard by everyone present. I looked over at Jillian, who shrugged helplessly.

  “Who’s there with you?”

  “My parents drove up – from Phoenix – for Christmas.”

  “That was nice of them. Sorry to pull you away from your family time but the fourth burglary scene has finally been cleared for your arrival.

  “We’ll be right there.”

  I sighed, plastered the biggest, dumbest-looking smile I could come up on my face, and turned to my parents.

  “So, listen. Something’s come up and I need to, uh, that is… I need to…”

  “Go to the scene of a burglary?” my father curiously asked. “Did we all hear that right? Why would your friend want you to go to the scene of a crime?”

  “That was Vance,” Jillian helpfully supplied. “He’s a detective for the PVPD.”

  “Why would he want your help?” my mother suspiciously asked.

  “Believe it or not, he doesn’t,” I cryptically answered. “Jillian, I am truly sorry. I hesitate to do this, but I have to go.”

  Jillian smiled at me, “We’ll be just fine, Zachary. Go help Vance.”

  “He’ll be leaving the dogs, right?” I heard my father hopefully ask Jillian.

  “Actually, the dogs will be going with him,” Jillian answered. “Can I offer the two of you a hot beverage? I know you just came from a coffee shop but if you’d like a refill then we can head upstairs to the café.”

  My mother looked at me with a guarded expression before she turned to Jillian, smiled graciously, and slipped her arm through Jillian’s.

  “Why, that’d be lovely. Come on, William. Let’s get to know this lovely young lady. And perhaps she can tell us what’s been going on with Zachary, since trying to get information out of him is like pulling teeth.”
r />   I gathered up the dogs and headed outside. According to the text message Vance just sent me, the fourth burglary had happened on the eastern side of town. In fact, it was within walking distance of the high school. How did I know that? It’s because I actually ran through the area in hot pursuit of a fake mummy almost two months ago. As I pulled up to the house I could see that there were still a few police cars parked nearby.

  Vance was waiting for us at the front door of the house. As I walked up the steps, I decided to reclassify the house from a simple ‘house’ to a full-fledged manor. This house was huge! I was surprised it didn’t have a perimeter gate encircling the entire property with its own guarded entrance.

  “Wow,” I said as we stepped inside. “Look at this place. It’s huge! Who lives here?”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Jason Hawkins. Mr. Hawkins is one of two practicing attorneys who calls Pomme Valley home. So whatever you do, Zack, don’t screw up. This guy is a high-powered attorney who has offices all across the state.”

  “Swell,” I grumbled. “No pressure there. Come on Sherlock, let’s do your thing. Watson? Keep up, okay?”

  We slowly walked the ground floor of the Tudor-style mansion. We passed a huge study, a library, at least four bedrooms – each with their own bathrooms – a kitchen with acres of granite countertops that would make Martha Stewart green with envy, and a living room that any movie enthusiast would kill for. I hesitated after that last thought. To kill for? That wasn’t right. We’ve already proven that these burglaries are not about the money. One look at this attorney’s beautiful home quelled any notion that this was solely motivated by money.

  As we approached the living room I was once again led straight to the tree by Sherlock. Both corgis looked up at the tree and cocked their heads, as though they had spotted some cryptic message that only a dog could read. The tree, by the way, was gorgeous. It had to be easily nine feet tall. The scent instantly made me think of horse-drawn sleds being pulled through snow covered trees. I inhaled a second time and sighed blissfully. Too bad all trees didn’t smell like this one. The tree was a deep blue-green color with soft half-inch needles and strong branches. The home owner, it would seem, had decorated the tree with various sized bulbs. The larger 4” delicate glass bulbs occupied the lower half of the tree while 3” bulbs were in the middle, and 2” glass bulbs occupied the top portion of the tree.

  “It’s just a tree, guys,” I groaned. “Let it go, okay?”

  “Anything?” Vance hopefully asked as he appeared by my right elbow.

  I shook my head, “He’s focusing on the tree again. It’s always the damn tree. I don’t know why he fixates on some and not on others. I think there’s something we’re missing here. We’re in a different part of town. Maybe we can try doing that experiment again with another tree?”

  “There are two more upstairs,” a friendly voice suddenly informed us.

  Vance and I looked over to see a man younger than I was, and taller, dressed in an impeccable blue suit. He had just put a briefcase down on the couch. He held out a hand.

  “Jason Hawkins. And you are?”

  “Detective Vance Samuelson.”

  “Zack Anderson. Oh, sorry. That’s Sherlock on my right and Watson standing next to Vance.”

  Jason smiled down at the corgis.

  “So these are the detective dogs I’ve heard so much about. Hello, Sherlock. Are you friendly?”

  The lawyer stooped down to hold out a hand. Sherlock approached first. He gave the lawyer’s hand a friendly lick. Watson did the same a few moments later.

  “What are you doing back in here, Mr. Hawkins?” Vance asked.

  “I was notified that the crime scene techs had left, indicating they had learned all they were going to. I asked if my family and I could return home. I was told I could. I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware there was anyone left in the house. Wait until my kids get a load of this. They love dogs, especially those two.”

  “Your kids know about Sherlock and Watson?” I asked, amazed.

  Jason nodded, “They do. As you may have imagined, I have spent quite a bit of time down at the station. I’ve seen you there a few times, Mr. Anderson. I then tell my kids about my day and be sure to mention the dogs.”

  “Did you say something about having more trees elsewhere?” Vance asked.

  Jason nodded and pointed at the nearby staircase.

  “Yes, sir. On the second floor. You’ll actually find two more.”

  “May we see them, please?” Vance asked.

  Jason nodded, “Of course. This way.”

  We followed the friendly home owner over to the staircase. Both corgis hesitated at the foot of the stairs and stared expectantly up at me. With a sigh, I picked up Watson, who happened to be closest to me. Before Vance could pick up Sherlock, Jason was there.

  “May I? My kids will love to hear that I was able to carry the famous little Sherlock in our own house.”

  I nodded my assent. Sherlock noticed I wasn’t the one doing the lifting and turned to see who was carrying him. He studied Jason for a few moments before evidently deciding he was harmless.

  Once on the second floor Jason led us to a second – smaller – living room. There was a tree, just like he had indicated. Then he pointed off down a hallway.

  “My wife loves Christmas,” Jason explained. “There’s a 4 foot tree in the master bedroom, too.”

  I looked at the tree. This one wasn’t the same as the one downstairs. True, it was only about 6 feet tall, but the shape was different. The composition of the branches was different. Even the length of the pine needles was different. Holy crap on a cracker. I really was the stupidest thing on two legs. I turned to Vance and hooked a thumb at the tree.

  “That’s not the same type of tree as the one downstairs.”

  Vance gave the tree a quick, cursory glance. He shrugged.

  “Does it matter? I’m more interested in the fact that there are presents under this tree.”

  Surprised, I turned to see for myself. Sure enough, a dozen smaller presents were scattered under the tree’s canopy. I looked down to see what Sherlock was doing. The corgis were both staring back at the staircase. It would seem they wanted to go back downstairs.

  “I think the type of tree matters,” I carefully explained. “This one is greener while the one downstairs is a mix of blue and green. This one has a conical shape to it and is bushier in appearance. The one downstairs is more pyramidal in shape.”

  Vance looked over at lawyer.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What can you tell me about the trees?”

  “Only that the trees up here were an afterthought,” Jason admitted. “The tree downstairs is our main tree.”

  “Do you know what kind it is?” I asked.

  Jason shrugged, “I think I heard that the two trees up here are noble firs. As for the tree downstairs, I’m not certain. I know I have the receipt somewhere. I always tell my clients that when you pay that much for something, even if it’s a home-delivered tree, then it’s always best to keep the receipt.”

  Vance and I shared a look. The tree downstairs was expensive? And it had been delivered?

  “I’d very much like to see the receipt,” Vance told the home owner, trying very hard to keep the excitement out of his voice.

  “Sure thing,” Jason nodded. “Let me see if I can find it. Would you care to come back downstairs?”

  Vance and I both looked down at the corgis. Neither one of them gave the slightest sign of being interested in anything on the second floor. Sherlock wanted to go back downstairs and Watson wanted to do whatever her pack mate wanted.

  “Sure thing. Vance? Grab Sherlock, would you?”

  Ten minutes later Jason handed us the receipt for his tree. It was essentially a hand-written note detailing his purchase, namely that of a 9 foot Fraser fir, to be delivered to this address. The only mention of the seller was a scrawled Sticky Pines Delivery.

  Vance and I both pulled out our phones. I was doing an In
ternet search while Vance began punching in numbers. He hit the hands-free option and we all listened to the phone line ring.

  “Did you happen to get a number for this guy?” Vance asked.

  Jason shook his head, “No. Sorry.”

  “Thank you for calling the Pomme Valley Police Department, this is Julie. How may I help you today?”

  That’s right. I had forgotten that Harry’s wife was also one of the PVPD dispatchers.

  “Hi, Julie, it’s Vance. I need you to pull a permit for a Christmas tree vendor who goes by Sticky Pine Delivery. And find out if any of our other VICs had their trees delivered by this same company, okay?”

  “I’m on it, Vance.”

  I nudged Vance.

  “I found out about Fraser firs.”

  “What about them?” Vance asked disinterestedly.

  “They’re not native to this area,” I told him. I directed my attention to Jason since he at least appeared interested in what I had to say. “Noble firs are. They’re grown in the Pacific Northwest. Fraser firs are only grown in Virginia, North Carolina, and Tennessee. Vance, I think this is our common link. What do you want to bet that all the other burglaries had a Fraser fir in their house? That’s why Sherlock didn’t care about the tree I bought. I didn’t pay that much for it, so it couldn’t have been a Fraser fir.”

  “Where did you purchase this tree?” Vance asked, becoming more interested by the second. “Where were you specifically? Did he approach you or did you find him?”

  “He was just a guy selling trees in a parking lot,” Jason recalled. “I remember thinking that this was the way I used to pick out Christmas trees when I was a kid. So instead of going to the hardware store like I usually do, I stopped off and bought the tree from him.”

  “Where can we find his lot?” Vance asked as he pulled out his notebook.

  “It’s in the parking lot at Gary’s Grocery.”

  “What about the delivery vehicle?” I asked. “Did you notice what he was driving?”

  The lawyer nodded, “Sure. It was a white van. Why do you ask?”

  TEN

  “Okay, you have made a believer out of me.”