Vance nodded and, surprisingly, held out a hand. Not too certain what he was expecting, I hesitated.
“Give me one of the dogs. That tunnel is narrow. The last thing I want to have to write up is a civilian hurt themselves on my watch.”
“Hardy ha ha.”
“I’m serious. Give me Sherlock.”
Bemused, and curious, I handed his leash to Vance. Sherlock, noticing the change of ownership of his leash, shook himself, snorted once, and promptly headed for the tunnel.
“There are times I’m convinced that they’ll follow anyone,” I said, as we carefully picked our way back to the first basement.
“I’m pretty sure he’s hoping for another biscuit,” Vance remarked, from up ahead. “Don’t worry, boy. I’ve got you covered.”
Just as we made it back inside the primary basement, Vance’s cell rang. I watched Vance look at the display, cringe, give the two of us an apologetic look, and then hand Sherlock’s leash to Jillian. He then hurried outside and, moments later, his car pulled away.
“I wonder what that was all about,” Jillian said.
“I don’t know. Hopefully, everything is okay.”
“Zachary, I don’t like knowing someone has been using this house without my knowledge or my permission.”
“I know you don’t,” I soothed, as I wrapped my arms around her. I caught sight of Sherlock eyeing Jillian and waggled a finger at him. “We’ll catch this guy. I promise.”
Sherlock woofed just then, as if to say he promised, too. Or else as a warning: get your hands off my daddy! I’m not sure which.
Jillian smiled, but then frowned as Sherlock let out a second woof. Moments later, the hackles on Watson’s back stood up. Both dogs, I might add, were craning their necks to look up above our heads.
I took Jillian’s hand as she wrapped Sherlock’s leash tightly around her wrist.
“Sorry, boy. You’re not getting away from me. I’ve seen what you’ve pulled on your daddy.”
“True story,” I muttered, as the four of us hurried up the stairs.
We emerged back in the servants’ room. Both corgis were pulling on their leash, eager to head towards the foyer. Uncertain of what to expect, I managed to snag a small crowbar along the way. Hefting it like a caveman holding his club, we rounded the corner and approached the front door. What did we find?
Nothing.
“What’s the deal, guys?” I asked, as I looked down at the dogs. However, my irritation rapidly dissipated as I saw them looking at the front door. “You want to go outside? Oh, I get it. You want to follow Vance, is that it?”
Allowing the dogs to lead the way, we headed outside, but were still rewarded with absolutely nothing. Nada. Zip.
I heard Watson whine. That’s when I noticed both dogs were staring suspiciously at the surrounding vegetation, as though our perp was hiding nearby. I swallowed nervously. Could it be possible? That rare garnet had a huge price tag associated with it. It might be too tempting to give up altogether.
I grasped Jillian’s hand tightly in my own.
“Come on. We’re calling it a day.”
“It’s not even noon,” Jillian pointed out.
“True, but it’ll give me time to call the locksmith. I want this place secured.”
Jillian gave me a peck on my cheek.
“Thank you, Zachary.”
****
Eureka! It had taken just under two days for the PVPD’s lab to be able to pull some DNA off either the toothbrush or the razor and identify it. And, luck was on our side. We had a name!
Curtis Stiller.
And, as Vance informed me, our friend Mr. Stiller had a rap sheet that was longer than my arm. Let’s see, where should I start? Well, he has a history of petty theft, which fits in with what this jerk has been doing. There was also four counts of grand theft auto. Now that I think about it, I really should have asked Jillian what happened to Dame Highland’s car. We were told it was her pride and joy. Why the Czarina’s Tear didn’t hold that distinction, I will never know. But, there was no mention of the car anywhere. For all I knew, the two perps who killed Dame Highland probably made off in it and then sold it.
As I read through the report on this Stiller guy, I came across a ‘possession of stolen goods’ entry. I snorted. Well, that wouldn’t be a surprise. Amused, I made it through another dozen entries when a thought occurred.
Possession of stolen goods?
I quickly returned to the ‘theft’ entry again and read the particulars. It said here that Curtis Stiller was busted for possession of stolen goods last year, in Portland. Apparently, he had been fencing stolen antiques. If Mr. Stiller was otherwise occupied with stripping Highland House of its valuables, then wouldn’t those pawned antiques belong to Jillian?
I texted Vance and asked him about the possession of stolen goods charge on Curtis’ rap sheet. I wanted to know should any of the stolen antiques be recovered, seeing how they probably came from Highland House, would they be returned to Jillian? Vance promptly texted back and said he’d begin the process of trying to recover any stolen items.
By the time I had sent the second text, complete with two full paragraphs of questions and observations, my fingers were tired. How kids nowadays could continuously tap out conversations by the hour eluded me. Wouldn’t it be simpler to just call the person? I mean, you are holding a phone, right?
“What’s the matter, Zack? Are your fingers tired?”
“Bite me, pal. I can only text for so long. I figured it’d be easier this way.”
“Did you notice a pattern to Stiller’s crimes?” Vance suddenly asked.
“A pattern? No. What kind of pattern are you talking about?”
“Everything he had been busted for, during the last five years or so, more than likely involved that house. I mean, look at his rap sheet. Breaking and entering. Aggravated assault. Petty theft. Possession of stolen goods. Zack, it looks like our friend Curtis has been at it now for years.”
“I can believe it,” I decided. “You saw the condition of the second basement. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he dug that tunnel and excavated that space below the real basement himself.”
“That’s an interesting theory, buddy.”
“It just came to me,” I admitted.
“I’m glad you called,” my detective friend said. “I was planning on calling you today. I wanted to let you know that I have a feeling Curtis is still in the area.”
“I believe that, too. I think he has too much riding in that house to give up now.”
“Exactly. For that reason, I’ve stationed a car outside Jillian’s new house until this guy is caught, and…”
“You think he’s still in PV,” I interrupted.
“I do. As I was saying, there’ll be a car outside the house, and an APB has already been issued. This is a small town. He’ll turn up eventually.”
“Do we have a picture of the guy?”
“We do. I’m sending it to your phone.”
Right on cue, my phone chirped. Yeah, I know. Phones don’t chirp. Well, long story short, mine does. Someone changed my text alert a while back, and even though I have long since figured out how to revert it back, I kind of like it. Now that I know what to listen for, the strange alert can stay.
“Well,” I said, as I gazed at the picture looking up at me from my phone’s display, “I can honestly say I’ve never seen him before.”
The picture showed a gaunt, dark-haired man who could have been anywhere from his mid-twenties up into his early forties. The face staring back at me had seen some hard times, no doubt about it. And, unfortunately, there was also a look of determination in his haggard appearance. This was someone who has gone through hell, and was fully prepared to ride out the storm if it meant he’d get what he wanted. I thought of Jillian and immediately frowned. There was no way I was going to let this joker anywhere near that house again. Somehow, we had to find a way to catch this guy.
“Show J
illian.”
“And how do you know we’re together?”
“Please. The two of you are always together. I’m willing to bet this Friday’s choice of restaurants that you’re presently in Cookbook Nook.”
Dammit. I wasn’t that predictable, was I? As much as I didn’t want Vance to be able to choose the restaurant for this week’s Friday Night Get Together, I wasn’t about to take him up on that bet.
“Lucky guess, pal. And it’s no deal.”
Vance laughed.
“Hi, Vance!” Jillian smoothly cut in.
“Hey, Jillian. We were just talking about you.”
“Oh? Nice things, I hope.”
“With Zack? Of course. He always has something nice to say about you. That is, unless it’s about your choice of movies at…”
“Hey, Jillian!” I smoothly interrupted. “Did you see that Vance’s video is about to break four million views? Would you like to help it hit that record?”
“Okay, okay. Anyway, would you look at the picture I just sent Zack? I’d like to know if he looks familiar to you.”
“Certainly. Zachary, give me your phone. Let’s see. Hmm, I’m sorry. I don’t know any Stillers, nor have I ever seen this man before.”
“And you’re supposed to know everyone in town,” I teased.
“I do,” Jillian insisted. She held my phone up in a questioning manner. “And what does that suggest to you/”
“That our guy is not from around here,” Vance answered for me.
“Exactly,” Jillian agreed.
“He may not be from around here,” I argued, “but he clearly has been here a while. If you don’t recognize him, Jillian, then that could only mean this guy keeps a low profile. He doesn’t want anyone to know he’s in town.”
“I’m going to share this guy’s picture with the guys here at the precinct,” Vance was saying. “That way, if Curtis slips up, we might be able to spot him.”
Jillian was nodding, “That’s not a bad idea. I’ll do the same.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Vance began. “Leave this to us, Jillian.”
“You have your people look for him, and I’ll do the same,” Jillian was saying. “Besides, my network of friends is way more extensive than your small handful of police officers in your address book.”
“She’s got you there,” I chuckled.
“Fine. Just promise me something: if you get word that our perp has been spotted, do not confront him, okay? Observe only. The only thing we want to know is if he’s still in the area.”
“Which we figure he is,” I added.
“Exactly.”
“Well, if this person is still in Pomme Valley,” Jillian said, “then the whole town will be our eyes and ears.”
“I’ll bet your people find him before his will,” I idly commented.
“Not a chance, pal. We’re the professionals here.”
“Would you like to place a wager on that, detective?” Jillian sweetly asked.
Vance fell silent. I had to lean forward and tap the screen on my phone to make certain the call hadn’t been dropped.
“Still there, pal? Want to make this interesting?”
“Umm… what’d you have in mind?”
“Well…” I began.
“Not you. Jillian.”
“Oh, you’re going to regret that,” Jillian slyly said. “I guarantee you I can come up with a more, let’s say, meaningful wager than Zack.”
“I strongly doubt that, but you’re on. Let’s hear the stakes.”
“If I, or any of my contacts, spots Mr. Stiller first, then I win. If your officers locates him first, then you win.”
“And the stakes?”
“If I win, then you will accompany me and Zack to Chateau Restaurant & Wine Bar...”
“Huh? That’s no penalty for me. I agree. And if I win…”
“You didn’t let me finish,” Jillian interrupted. “You will accompany us to my favorite restaurant, where I will pick up the tab. No, Zachary, don’t argue. I will pick up the tab, and you, Mr. Samuelson, will order the frog legs.”
The biggest grin I was capable of giving anyone appeared on my face. I mouthed ‘Awesome!’ to my girlfriend and waited to hear what dear Vance had to say about the matter.
“Ummm…”
Jillian pulled out her phone and began texting like a pro.
“I’m impressed, Vance,” Jillian exclaimed. “I thought for certain you would have had a more adverse reaction to learning you’d be eating frog legs. Good for you.”
“Ummm…”
“Look at that! I just heard from Tori. She’s on board. She can’t wait to see you try frog legs, either, especially after giving Zachary such a hard time after he mistakenly ordered them.”
“But…”
“Good. It’s settled. Now, what happens if you win the wager?”
“Wait. What the hell just happened here?”
“You just agreed to eat frog legs should a civilian locate our perp before your people do,” I smoothly explained. “And, just so we understand one another, I plan on making a follow-up viral hit with you: Detective forced to choke down frog legs. I should be able to hit a million plus hits with that, easy.”
“Dammit, Zack, you stay out of this. All right. I have faith in my people. I’m going to win this wager, so what do I have to lose, right?”
Jillian smiled, leaned forward, and set her elbows on the table next to the phone.
“I’m waiting.”
“All right. If you lose, then you should have to eat something you wouldn’t want to, as well.”
“Like what?”
“Zack? What doesn’t she like to eat?”
“Oh, hell no. Leave me out of this.”
“It’s okay, Zachary,” Jillian assured me. “You can help him out.”
“No repercussions?” I suspiciously asked.
“None. I enjoy most food.”
Jillian’s phone beeped and she typed out another message. Presumably to Tori.
I muted the call and looked at my girlfriend.
“How certain are you that your team will find him first?”
“Unquestionably.”
“All right. I know what to suggest which will get him to agree to this. I personally can’t wait to see him frog legs.”
“What do you have in mind?”
I unmuted the call.
“Vance, still with me?”
“Yes. What did you do? Did you mute the call? What were you saying to Jillian?”
“She doesn’t like spicy food. The steak house we like to go to has spicy hot wings. I could smell them as someone near our table ordered them. Trust me, they’re hot. Have her eat some of those.”
“Jillian? Is he telling the truth?”
“He is,” Jillian sadly confirmed. Her face set as she stared at me. “All right. I agree to those terms, but with one addendum. Should I lose, Zack will be eating those wings with me.”
I groaned. Should’ve seen that one coming.
“Fine,” I sighed. “I accept.”
Jillian smiled, “Good. Then it’s all settled.”
“You will be eating those spicy hot wings,” Vance chortled. “And I will be there to document the whole thing. Let’s see how you enjoy being a ‘viral sensation’.”
“Except, it’ll be you eating the frog legs,” Jillian suddenly announced. “Mr. Stiller was seen at the Hardware store two weeks ago, and four days ago, he paid a visit to Bella’s Baubles.”
“What?!”
Jillian held her phone out to me so I could verify the news.
“It’s true,” I confirmed, as I read the text message from one of her friends. “It says here he purchased duct tape, rope, and heavy duty bolt cutters. That doesn’t sound very good.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Vance agreed. “What about the jewelry store? What was he doing there?”
“I was about to call Isabella and find out.”
“Don’t you think that
’s something I should do?”
“Have you received official word Curtis Stiller has been spotted?” Jillian asked.
“Er, no.”
“I’ll find out what he was doing there and then I’ll call you back.”
“Umm, okay. Thanks, Jillian.”
“I suggest a bottle of ketchup,” I added.
“Huh?”
“For your frog legs. It might hide the flavor.”
“Bite me, Zack.”
Isabella MacKenzie, Jillian later told me, was the owner of Bella’s Baubles. I could say that it’s the only jewelry store in Pomme Valley, but you probably know that by now. This town isn’t big enough to have more than one type of store in competition with another. So, that’s why you’ve heard me say there’s only one jewelry store in town, or one pet store in town, or the only locksmith in town, and so on. With the exception of our meager selection of restaurants, that’s how the townsfolk preferred it: small and quaint. Seeing how the town council agreed, I don’t think it likely that any changes will be coming our way any time soon.
As I was saying, Isabella MacKenzie owned Bella’s Baubles. Well, she and Richard, her husband. She was a cheerful woman in her late fifties who treated her customers as though she was running a Mom and Pop grocery store. If a customer didn’t have the funds to make a purchase, then the honor system kicked in and the MacKenzies would trust the customer to pay whenever they could.
I found it hard to believe that a business which placed so much trust with their patrons would thrive, but strangely enough, it did. People loved the store. It was always busy, and Isabella always had a smile for you, regardless of the mood you happened to be in.
“Thank you for calling Bella’s Baubles. This is Isabella. How can I help you today?”
“Hi, Bella, it’s Jillian.”
“Jillian! I can’t say I’m surprised. Once I received your text, and saw the picture of the person you were looking for, I knew that man was up to no good. Richard, didn’t I say he was up to no good?”
Both Jillian and I could hear a male voice grunt in the background.
“Richard agrees,” Bella translated.
“Can you tell us what he was doing there?” Jillian asked.
“He wanted Richard to give an appraisal.”
Case of the Highland House Haunting Page 13