Sherlock panted contentedly. The tri-color corgi stepped up onto the armrest of the window. I heard the telltale ‘click’ of the window opener. Just to humor him, I unlocked the windows. Sherlock’s window promptly rolled down.
“Don’t get used to this. This is only because we’re helping Vance look for a van. You found one of them before, Sherlock. Let’s see if you can find another one, okay?”
We drove around town for close to an hour. Up and down the side streets, like A through E, and even the numbered streets, including 1st through 5th. I didn’t figure Geisel, if he was still in town, would be hiding anywhere near downtown. Maybe I had watched too many movies, but I thought that if Geisel was hiding, then it’d be on a small, less traveled side street.
No luck.
For kicks and giggles, I turned my Jeep onto Main. I slowly cruised past all the shops, stores, and restaurants. There was no way this guy could be hiding in broad daylight. I don’t care how good of a disguise he was wearing, he’d never risk it. No one was that ballsy.
I kept an eye on Sherlock. He had grown bored of the drive and had curled up on the back seat. I could tell he wasn’t sleeping, but if something didn’t happen soon then I was expecting to hear his snores within the next several minutes.
I was approaching Oregon Street and turned right, heading north. Just then Sherlock’s head lifted. He was at the window in a flash. I checked the mirror to make sure no one was behind me and slowed to a crawl. Sherlock sniffed the air a few times before letting out an audible snort. He returned to the seat.
Curious, I waited for the traffic to clear and executed another U-turn. Now we were heading south on Oregon, approaching Main. As I came to a stop at intersection Sherlock perked up again. Once the lights turned green, and I headed through the intersection, Sherlock returned to his seat.
One more U-turn later and we were back at the intersection. Yep, Sherlock had his head back through the window, sniffing the air. Since I had a few minutes to kill while waiting for the light, I looked around. The only thing at this particular intersection was Apple Valley Rentals, the one and only outdoor shop catering to those who wanted to rent scooters, ATVs, kayaks, and so on.
Puzzled, I looked at Sherlock. Why would he be interested in a rental shop? But, just for the hell of it, I pulled off and decided to circle the store with my Jeep.
Keeping an eye on the dogs, I started circling the building. Thankfully the business had a lot of parking, and I could make a complete circuit of the store. Sherlock, on the other hand, hadn’t paid any attention to the store whatsoever. As I was driving around the backside, however, he perked up again and woofed a warning. I brought the Jeep to a stop, put it in park, and turned to look at him.
He was looking west, past Apple Valley Adventures. What was back there? Rupert’s Gas & Auto. It was Pomme Valley’s busiest gas station.
We headed toward the gas station when I noticed Sherlock wasn’t looking at the station, per se, but at the large open stalls on the right. They were stalls where you could wash your own car at your own expense by feeding quarters into the machinery.
More curious than anything, I pulled up in front of the two stalls and parked. Sherlock had started barking. Watson had joined him at the window and was barking, too, only I knew the only reason she was barking was because of Sherlock.
I scanned the area first, making sure there weren’t any vans. I needed to find out what had attracted Sherlock’s attention and to verify it was legit before I called Vance. I know he wanted me to inform him should Sherlock express interest in anything but I wanted confirmation first.
Deciding it was safe, I put their royal highnesses down on the ground. Sherlock guided me to the stall on the right. I gave the corgi a quizzical look.
“Ok, we’re here. What about it?”
Sherlock walked over to the drain and sniffed at it. Curious, I looked down at the grating. I didn’t see anything, although there was some sort of milky residue visible inside the drain.
Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. It was paint! Geisel must have had water-soluble paint on his van. We were looking for a white van when it was now a different color!
Damn, this guy was good.
I whipped out my cell, took a picture of the drain, and sent it to Vance with the following caption:
Sherlock had me stop at the car wash stalls next to Rupert’s Gas. Found this inside the drain. We’re not looking for a white van anymore.
Five seconds. That’s how long it took for Vance to call.
“That son of a bitch changed the color of his van. He knew we’d be on to him! That asshole is smart!”
“That means the van we’re looking for could be any color. Do you have any idea how many vans are in Pomme Valley?”
“No, but give me a few seconds and I can. Hold on.”
I heard my friend shuffle around a bit. He must have held a hand over the phone because I heard bits of a muffled conversation. It sounded like he was relaying the news about the van’s color change to someone else.
“Are you there?”
“Yeah.”
“I let the captain know. He’s pissed. He wants this guy found. It feels like Geisel has duped the whole damn town. Captain Nelson wants to be the one to, and I quote, wipe that smug smile off of Geisel’s face, end quote.”
I heard a whine and automatically looked down. Watson had spotted some kids playing nearby. They looked to be 10 or 11. Three boys and two girls. Leave it to Watson to want to play.
Kids playing.
I figured the kids had been released for Christmas break. How long had they been playing there? Could one of them have seen the van and might possibly know what color it had become?
“Zack? Did you hear me? There are 102 vans registered in PV. Unless we know a few more details then we have nothing to go on.”
“I may have something,” I told Vance as I walked towards the kids. “Hold on. I’m going to put the phone in my pocket. Keep listening.”
“What are you…?”
I didn’t hear the rest. I approached the kids and smiled at them. The girls saw the two dogs and immediately ooh and aahed over them. Both Sherlock and Watson wiggled with anticipation.
“Hi there!” I said. “I was wondering if one of you could help me out.”
The kids were silent as they studied me. Then, with a start, I had to laugh. At the moment I was exactly what all parents warn their children about. A stranger with dogs.
“We’re not supposed to talk to strangers,” a blond girl with her hair in a long braid, primly informed me.
I nodded, “You’re absolutely right. You’re not. I was just wondering if any of you happened to see a white van go into one of those car wash stalls and then come out a different color.”
One of the boys nodded, “I saw one do that.”
“How long ago?” I excitedly asked.
“Why do you want to know?” the same girl asked.
I read somewhere that most kids appreciated being treated like adults and didn’t care for anyone who spoke down to them. I decided to be upfront and honest.
“Have you heard about the Grinch who is stealing presents from under people’s Christmas trees?” I asked.
All five of the kids nodded.
“Well, that’s him. He drives a white van. Now, in an effort to get away before the police can get him, he washed off the white paint on his van. Now, it’d be incredibly helpful if someone could tell me what color it was when it left that stall.”
“It was dark,” the other girl, a brunette, said. “It was hard to see. We were way over there when he pulled away.”
The girl pointed to a section of open grass between the rental store and the gas station.
“Did anyone else get a good look at the van?” I continued. “Any idea what color it was? Did it have anything written on the side of it? Darkened windows?”
“I think it was blue,” one of the boys decided. “Dark blue. I don’t remember seeing any tinted w
indows.”
“You’re right,” the third boy agreed. “No tinted windows. My brother’s car has tinted windows. This one didn’t.”
“And the color?” I pressed.
“Dark blue,” the first boy said.
“Black,” the 2nd boy disagreed.
“Dark gray?” the 3rd boy offered.
“Does anyone have any idea how long ago he washed his van?” I asked.
“About an hour ago,” the blond girl answered. “I know ‘cause I had just received a text from my mom, wanting to know where we were.”
I smiled at the kids, “Thanks, guys. That’s been incredibly helpful. Have fun, okay?”
“Will do, mister,” one boy replied.
The kids moved off as I pulled the cell out of my pocket.
“Did you get all that?”
“Every word. Nice job, Zack. I’ve already sent out word that we’re looking for a dark van. At this point, each and every van that fits the bill will be pulled over and checked out.”
“Good to hear. I want those presents to be returned to their families.”
“All I want for Christmas is to catch this dipshit.”
“If he’s still in town then we’ll get him, pal.”
“I’ll hold you to it, Zack.”
I decided to head back down Main. I had a hunch that somehow not only was this guy still in PV, he was hiding right out in the open. This cocky bastard had figured he had given us the slip by changing the color of his van. He was out there. Somewhere.
The cruise down Main was uneventful. Sherlock and Watson enjoyed sticking their snouts out the windows, don’t get me wrong. But neither of them showed any interest in anything besides the occasional woof at another dog. We were approaching Gary’s Grocery on the east side of town when, on a whim, I decided to pull in to check out the area where Geisel had set up shop selling trees.
I glanced over at the destruction of the Square L store. One over-sized bulldozer had made short work of the building. A loader was now scooping up debris to dump it in one of the two dump trucks idling nearby.
A horn blasted me back to reality. While gazing at the destroyed store I had inadvertently drifted off course and threatened the oncoming traffic. I hastily flipped on the signal and prepared to cut into the grocery store’s parking lot. The driver of the UPS van I almost hit gestured angrily at me before turning west, onto Main.
“That could’ve been bad,” I grumbled to myself, at the exact same time Sherlock went bat-shit crazy.
Sherlock reared up onto his hind legs so that he could look out the window. His barks were so fierce that you’d think he had caught sight of the boogeyman himself. I swear I saw Watson shrug her shoulders and then start barking, too.
“What is wrong with you?” I asked, raising my voice to be heard over his barks. “There’s nothing out there but the…”
The van! I had almost hit a UPS van! It was a dark brown. That certainly could have been the van the kids had seen!
I hurriedly dialed Vance.
“Hey Zack, what’s going…”
“Vance! I think I saw him!”
“What?! Where?”
“He’s in a brown UPS van. He was just leaving the parking lot at the grocery store when I almost hit him.”
“When you what??”
“I’ll explain later. He turned onto Main, heading south!”
“I’m on it! Good work, Zack!”
“It wasn’t me, it was Sherlock. He went crazy as soon as we passed that van. I didn’t even give the van a second look. It’s Christmastime. You’d expect to see delivery vans out and about.”
“It’s Geisel, Zack. I just know it! I gotta go!”
“Go get him, buddy!”
I decided to head back down Main, heading west. I wanted to see if I could perhaps follow the van, in case it tried to duck into an alley somewhere in order to lose any possible tails. However, as I merged onto Main, I saw that wasn’t going to be a problem.
The van had made it about three blocks when cop cars had swooped in from all directions. Guns had been drawn and the driver was now being held at gunpoint. I watched Vance’s sedan turn off of Oregon and tear down Main, heading towards us, with a single cherry light placed directly over the driver’s side of the car. I had to laugh. I hadn’t seen one of those on a car since the 80s.
“What’s going on?” I heard the driver demand. “What’s wrong with you people? You have no reason to pull me over! Are you trying to get me fired?”
“What’s your name?” Vance asked, as soon as he exited his vehicle.
“Rick Burton. Why?”
I watched Vance slowly walk around the van. As he approached the rear driver side wheel well I saw him stoop, run his fingers along the inside of the well, and then straighten. His fingers had a white smudge on them.
“Well, Mr. Burton, I… or should I call you Mr. Geisel? We’ve been looking for you. You’re under arrest for murder, and for…”
The driver took off like a shot. However, the PVPD were waiting. The closest police officer already had his Taser ready. He calmly raised his weapon, drew a bead on his target, and fired a single shot as Geisel ran by. In less than five seconds it was over. The police pulled Geisel to his feet, who was still twitching uncontrollably, and placed him under arrest.
Vance looked through the back windows of the van and pulled both doors wide open. We all looked in. There was a huge tarp covering something in the cargo area of the van. Vance pulled the tarp off and whistled with amazement.
A small mountain of presents met our eyes.
ELEVEN
“Why is everyone staring at me?” I asked as I stared at my eerily quiet living room.
To best explain this I need you to let me backtrack just a bit.
It was Christmas day and things were hopping at the Anderson house. Jillian, Hannah, and my mom were in the kitchen prepping snack trays, and setting out dishes. They were laughing, chatting, and sometimes going so quiet I had to wonder what they were all talking about. I could only hope my name stayed out of it. I tried several times to wander into the kitchen to see about offering some type of help but, as I was quick to learn, my kitchen wasn’t designed for four. Aunt Bonnie’s house may not have been tiny, but by no means could it be considered a manor. I would have been underfoot, and two of the three women were presently armed with knives. I think I’ll wait in the living room, thank you very much.
Speaking of guests, I was also expecting Vance a little later on, along with his family. He and Tori had agreed to have dinner with us provided they can host next year. It was a deal I was more than happy to make. If Vance, Tori, and their two girls do happen to show, and I see no reason why they wouldn’t show, then that would put the occupancy rate at ten. I don’t think I’ve ever had that many people over at my house before in my life. Well, unless you count the time when a dead dude appeared in my winery just up the hill, but that was another story.
Once the trays of snacks had been laid out, and everyone helped themselves to a plate of food, we all sat down to contemplate the mountain of presents that was under the tree. I glanced over at Sherlock and Watson. Both were by the fireplace enjoying the warmth of the fire. Watson was on her back and Sherlock was stretched out next to her. Both were content to watch the activity in the room, although Watson was watching it from an upside down angle. However, that came to a screeching halt the moment Colin bit into a carrot. Both corgis were on their feet in a flash and had presented themselves before the boy, hoping a little morsel of orange goodness might find its way to the floor.
“Do they eat carrots?” Colin asked, giving me a skeptical look.
“Yep,” I confirmed. “They each love them. I don’t give them too much. Bite off tiny little pieces and let them have that.”
Colin nodded. He bit a baby carrot into a few pieces and gingerly handed each to the dogs. Both dogs took the proffered carrots as gently as they could.
“Brown-nosers,” I muttered, eliciting a
laugh from my father.
Presents were passed around. Within moments, everyone had a small stack of gifts, waiting to be opened. I picked up the closest present with my name on the tag and hesitated. The entire room had gone eerily quiet. I looked up and was surprised to see every single person staring at me as though I had just let one rip. And I hadn’t.
There, see? Now we’re caught up.
“Seriously, guys. Feel free to dig in.”
“But this way everyone gets to see what you were given,” Jillian argued.
“Look at how many presents there are,” I reminded her. “If we do this only one at a time then poor Colin there will have graduated high school before we’re done.”
I heard Colin snicker.
Jillian looked at my parents.
“Well, what do you think, Dana?”
Certain I had won this particular argument, my hand was poised to rip the paper clean off the gift sitting in my lap. I groaned and looked over at my mom. She was watching me with a smile on her face.
“I think we can probably all open a present, but as soon as each gift is revealed then I think that person should announce what they were given and thank the giver.”
Jillian nodded, “I like that. That seems fair.”
“That seems pointless,” I muttered. Jillian swatted me on the arm.
The ripping of paper commenced. Bows, ribbon, and wadded paper went flying everywhere. I had the foresight to bring in a large trash can, so thankfully most of the discarded wrappings went into the waste can. My father and I soon began a contest to see who could land the most shots in the can, all without either of us breaking our seated positions.
“What do you have there, Colin?” I asked as I watched the boy unwrap a present I had personally wrapped myself.
“I’m not sure,” Colin admitted. “It’s heavy, whatever it is.”
“If its heavy then it’s expensive,” Hannah told her son. “Be careful with it.”
Colin ripped the first strip of paper from the package and froze. His eyes widened with surprise. He quickly finished unwrapping the gift and nudged his mother’s shoulder.
Case of the Holiday Hijinks Page 17
