Three police cars were visible, and three officers were slowly walking back and forth in front of the nursing facility. A fourth had stopped to talk with one of the residents after they had walked out, blinking in the bright sunshine, like a bear emerging from hibernation. Where had the other officers come from? And, more importantly, why?
Officer Jones approached and nodded his head. Vance promptly took the lead of our procession and nodded back.
“Jones? What’s going on? Why’d you call for backup?”
“Standard procedure,” Officer Jones explained, “when you take more than one person into custody.”
“You took someone else into custody?” I asked, surprised. “Who?”
Jones pointed at the closest squad car. I could see someone was sitting in the backseat. However, the person was turned away from me and I couldn’t tell who it was. That was when the prisoner suddenly whipped their head around, and I saw a flash of red.
“Well, well,” I grinned, as I gave a thumbs-up to Officer Jones, “if it isn’t Ms. Julie Moore. Hey there! We were wondering about you!”
From the look of disgust and hatred that appeared on Ms. Moore’s face, I can only imagine that, if she hadn’t been handcuffed, she would have given us the one-finger salute. Sitting in the next car over? One weepy Nurse Hutchens. She took one look at us and immediately turned away. Once the incarcerated nurse was looking away from me, I finally was able to get a good look at her. Same high cheekbones, same nose, and the same hair color, although, to be fair, Nurse Hutchens’ was significantly grayer. I found that odd, seeing how the two of them looked to be about the same age.
“Are they related?” Jillian asked, correctly guessing what I had been thinking.
I shrugged. “I kinda think they could be. However, what are the odds of that happening? We were told the person who rented this car did so from Sacramento.”
“Ernest was from Sacramento,” Jillian recalled, “but I don’t think we ever heard where Julie Moore was from. Could she have been here in Pomme Valley?”
“Proof positive that the Forces of STUPID are everywhere,” I grinned.
Jillian swatted my arm. “That’s not what I meant, but I understand the inference. Vance? Do you need us for anything more?”
Vance shook his head. “I don’t believe so. You guys taking off?”
I looked down at the chest and nodded. “Yeah, I think so. We need to figure out if this thing contains what we think it contains.”
“Keep me posted, pal,” Vance called, as we headed to our borrowed Corvette.
“Will do.”
Thirty minutes later, after we returned Dottie’s car to her and reclaimed the Ruxton, the two of us were sitting comfortably on the couch in my living room. With our chaperones present, namely, the two ever-observant corgis, Jillian and I turned our attention to the chest.
“You ready for this?” I inquired.
Jillian nodded. “I’m so excited! Do you really think we’re about to find the missing Irish Crown Jewels?”
“I sure hope so. My friend in Cork would owe me big if they were. All right. Do you remember what the first step is?”
Jillian gazed at the box. “The corner and the thistle. Those were the two areas Sherlock touched with his nose.”
I scooted closer to the shamrock chest. “All right. Here goes the corner.” I gave the aforementioned corner a slight twist. “And … now the thistle.” I pressed the stem. “Now what?”
“Let’s see what else moves,” Jillian said, as she began touching various areas. “See? I was right. The circle around the cross? It no longer moves!”
“What about the sun or the horses?” I asked, as I recalled several of the other pieces that had previously been moveable. “Let me give them a try. Well, the sun is out. Let me try the horses. No, they’re out, too.”
“How does this help us?”
“We need to figure out what the second step is,” Jillian answered, as her delicate hands started poking and prodding the chest in several places at once. “Something, somewhere on this chest, should now be able to be moved. We have to find out what it is.”
After about ten minutes of exploring, and at the point when I was ready to lower the chest down so that Sherlock could take a look, Jillian found the answer: the fish. There was a tiny pond, on the back of the chest and there, leaping out of the water, was the fish. It hadn’t budged before. Now? It was pushable, er, pressable, like a button. You’d never know I was a full-time writer, huh?
“That’s step two!” Jillian exclaimed with excitement. “Where’s your notebook, Zachary? I want to write this down.”
In this manner, the two of us uncovered a series of fourteen—yes, you read that right—steps, using just about every decoration there was on the chest. There were even a few steps that had us using previously used pieces. After the fourteenth step had been completed, which, appropriately enough, was the same movable shamrock petal, we heard a loud click. The top portion of the chest trembled, and just like that, a lid appeared, and it was loose!
“I’m so nervous!” Jillian cried, as we both leaned forward to stare at the chest.
“Would you allow me?” I offered, as I positioned my hands on either side of the lid, to better open the blasted thing.
“Please do.”
My guess was that the chest hadn’t been opened since it had originally been stolen, which would have been over 110 years ago. Would it open? Would I need to whip out a can of WD-40? However, the lid noiselessly lifted, revealing a plush, black velvet-lined interior. There was a cinched bag, made up of the same velvet material as the inside of the chest, nestled in the center. Carefully, with hands that were starting to tremble, I opened the pouch and slowly let the contents slide into my hand. Two objects, which I later learned were created in 1831 for the Sovereign and Grand Master of the Order of Saint Patrick, and hadn’t seen the light of day since at least 1907, appeared: a heavily jeweled star and diamond-encrusted badge regalia.
The long lost Irish Crown Jewels had been found at last!
EPILOGUE
“Do you have any idea what this means? To think, after all these years, Ireland’s greatest mystery has been solved! And it’s all thanks to you, my friend.”
“Oh, no you don’t, Michael. I really didn’t have much to do with it, so I can’t claim the credit.”
“Oh? Who, then? Your lovely fiancée?”
“Uh, er, no. Well, I mean, she helped.”
“If not you, or your fiancée, then who was directly involved? Your local constabulary?”
“I have a good friend, Vance Samuelson, who is a detective with the, um, constabulary, and he did help, but believe it or not, he wasn’t directly responsible, either.”
“Then who? Do enlighten me.”
“Oh, you’re gonna laugh. All right. You can thank Sherlock and Watson. Their help was invaluable, not only in being able to open the silver shamrock chest, but also with tracking it down after it had been stolen.”
“The chest had been stolen?” Michael O’Connell, former Lord Mayor of Cork, exclaimed.
“Twice, actually,” I confirmed. “Sherlock and Watson tracked it down, both times.”
“Are they available to speak on the phone?” Michael formally asked. “I’d like to personally thank them for their actions.”
“Hmm. Tell you what. I can put the call on speakerphone. They’re both here with me right now.”
“That would be most welcome, Zachary. Are they listening?”
I looked down at the dogs and grinned. Yes, both Sherlock and Watson were in the room with me, so I hadn’t been lying, but no, they most certainly were not listening. Why? They were too busy chewing on their latest treats, given to them by Vance. And what might those treats be? Just their most favorite ingredient in the whole wide world, which—coincidentally—I found utterly disgusting: pizzle sticks. If you have to ask what those are, then I encourage you to look them up on Google. There’s a reason why they are a favorite
among dogs.
Blech.
“They’re here, Michael, but I am sorry to say they really aren’t paying too much attention. In fact, they’re both ignoring me at the moment. They’re more interested in their pizzle sticks my detective friend gave them.”
There was a very noticeable silence as Michael, no doubt, digested this bit of information. Finally, after a few moments had passed, I heard him clear his throat.
“Are Sherlock and Watson canines?”
“They are,” I confirmed. “Two Pembroke Welsh Corgis.”
“You’re telling me,” Michael slowly began, using that wonderful Irish lilt I admired so much, “that the return of the Irish Crown Jewels can be attributed to two corgis? Oh, Her Majesty the Queen is going to love this!”
It was my turn to go speechless.
“You’re, um, not going to tell that to the actual queen, are you? Forgive my ignorance, but Ireland is no longer under the queen’s rule, right?”
“Ireland is a constitutional republic,” Michael explained. “We have a president, just like you. But, that doesn’t mean our president is not on good speaking terms with the Queen of England. In fact, I do believe he’s on the phone with her right now.”
“About …?”
“You, of course. I’m notifying my friend, who is a current member of the House of Parliament, about your two corgis via text message. He’ll pass that information along, just as he passed the news of the recovery to the President just a few moments ago.”
“You broke the news via text?” I incredulously asked.
“Modern technology, Zachary. As you Americans would say, ‘you gotta love it’! Oh, look at that. He’s responding.”
“Uh, er, your friend from Parliament? What did he say?”
“It’s just as I thought. The President wishes to thank you personally. And, I have to say, word has been sent to the Queen.”
I looked down at my dogs, just as Sherlock looked up. We locked eyes on each other and seemingly entered a staring contest. Naturally, I lost. Sherlock cocked his head, as if he had noticed something amiss, and then returned to his revolting treat. They were both going to get a number of dog bones tonight, only I wish it hadn’t been a bag full of those. The smell of those chews was making me sick to my stomach. Then again, it might also have something to do with the Queen of England, the world’s most famous lover of corgis, learning about Sherlock and Watson. Holy crap on a cracker! I have no idea what to say about that.
“How should I get these things back to you?” I asked. “I mean, I really don’t trust dropping the jewels off at the nearest shipping facility and hope they make it there. I wouldn’t trust a private courier either. I’d like to suggest a personal visit, to escort them home, so to speak, but that’s an awful long way to go.”
“I asked that question a few moments ago, too,” Michael informed me. “It has been decided that we will send someone to you, if that is acceptable.”
“You’re sending someone all the way from Ireland, to Pomme Valley? That’s an awful long trip. I wouldn’t want to be the one responsible for having to cover all those miles.”
“We’ve had no fewer than three dozen applicants volunteer to have the honor of escorting the Irish Crown Jewels home.”
“But … I just broke the news to you about their recovery ten minutes ago! How could there be so many people who know about it?”
“News travels fast in the digital age,” Michael patiently explained. “Plus, I’ve been bragging that I’m currently negotiating to have the jewels returned to us. Whoever we select should be at your doorstep in less than three days. I am sorry I have to ask you to hold on to the jewels a few days longer. It must be uncomfortable for you.”
“What is?” I wanted to know.
“To have something that valuable in your possession.”
“Believe it or not, it hasn’t been the priciest.”
“Oh?”
“Ever hear of the Czarina’s Tear?”
“The famous Russian garnet? Of course.”
“I’ve held it in my hands. I’m currently engaged to its owner.”
“That’s why Pomme Valley is so familiar to me. I’ve seen it on the telly!”
“The telly. I love it. Anyway, I can keep it safe. Been doing that all week.”
Jillian chose that time to walk into my study. Not realizing I was in the middle of a phone call, she companionably rested a hip on the corner of my desk and was ready to ask me something when I was given some rather startling news.
“I just got word,” Michael reported, drawing an embarrassed look from Jillian. She tried to leave, but I snatched her hand and pulled her to my side. “Her Majesty has been informed of your involvement, and that of your two dogs, and has requested a meeting.”
Jillian’s eyebrows shot up. “The Queen of England?”
“Who’s there?” Michael asked, having overheard Jillian’s question.
“Michael O’Connell, meet Jillian Cooper, my fiancée. She just walked into the room. Jillian, this is a friend of mine who helped with some research for one of my books a while back. At the time, he was Lord Mayor of Cork. I do believe he’s considering running for office again.”
“This is the friend you were talking about, isn’t it?” Jillian asked. She leaned over my desk. “Michael, you live in Ireland? Oh, how wonderful!”
“Jillian has never been,” I explained to my friend. “She and I are planning on spending our honeymoon there.
“A finer country you will never see,” Michael announced, deepening his voice and deliberately thickening his accent. “You’ll love it here, Ms. Cooper.”
“I can’t wait to see it,” Jillian returned. “Now, what about the queen?”
“Her Majesty has learned of your two corgis’ involvement in the return of the stolen Irish Crown Jewels,” Michael explained. “She has requested a meeting. Both she and our illustrious president are devising a way to thank you both.”
“The queen and the president are what?” I slowly repeated.
“Didn’t I mention it before? Dear me, I do believe it must have slipped my mind. At any rate, once your reward has been determined, then I’ll be reaching out to you, I’m sure.”
“No reward is …” I began, but was flat-out ignored.
“We’ll be in touch, Zachary. It was good to meet you, Ms. Cooper.”
“Likewise, Michael,” Jillian returned.
My cell darkened once the call had been terminated. Jillian and I looked at each other, and then we both burst out in nervous laughter. However, before either of us could say anything, Jillian’s phone chimed once, signaling an incoming text message. Still smiling, she pulled her phone from her pocket and glanced at the display. Before I knew what was happening, Jillian’s lovely face was frowning and her head tilted, as if she had just received a bit of puzzling news.
“What is it?” I asked. “Did your mother contact you again with some silly story about your dad?”
Jillian slowly handed me her phone. There, on the display, was the message, and it consisted of just a couple of sentences:
JUST HEARD THE NEWS, WELL DONE. KNEW SENDING IT TO Z WAS RIGHT DECISION. WILL TALK LATER, HAVE TO GO.
“What am I looking at?” I wanted to know. “Are they talking about the chest? And whoever that is, they sent me the flippin’ thing?”
Jillian nodded, still at a loss for words.
“Who sent that message?” I asked.
“Zachary, this message is from Joshua. My brother sent you that chest!”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thank you for reading the latest novel in my growing Corgi Case Files cozy mystery series. I have a great time writing these adventures, and I can only hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing ’em. I have a few disclaimers to throw out there, so please, bear with me for a few moments.
Like me, before I started this book, I’ll bet most of you have never heard of the Irish Crown Jewels. When I went searching for something I c
ould use for the contents of the shamrock chest, I stumbled upon Ireland’s greatest mystery, and voila! The story started to write itself.
If you couldn’t tell, both my wife and I loved visiting Ireland. We’ve been wanting to travel to the Emerald Isle for a number of years now, so when our 20th anniversary arrived last year, we treated ourselves to a cruise around the British Isles. If you’ve never been, then please trust me. It’s worth a trip. The Blarney Woollen shop in Cork is worth the trip alone just for their selection of Waterford crystal.
Up next for Zack and the gang will be the Case of the Ragin’ Cajun, as Zack is finally talked into attending a book signing at a massive book fair in New Orleans. Since his recent book about Ireland, with Tori as the inspiration for the protagonist, is garnering all kinds of publicity, Vance and Tori have been invited, too. Well, when they get there, it’s not hard to believe things go awry.
Looking for something else to read while you wait for Zack and the dogs to return? Look no further! I heartily recommend:
The Samantha Sweet mysteries, by Connie Shelton
The Ben Pecos mysteries, by Susan Slater
A little more intense, I know, but I do enjoy the Agent Pendergast series, by Preston & Child
Finally, if you enjoyed the story, please consider leaving a review wherever you purchased the book. Authors love reviews, and the more reviews they can get, the easier they can be found at the large online retailers.
Case of the Shady Shamrock Page 19