Case of the Chatty Roadrunner

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “We definitely need to track down Vance,” I decided, as we both pushed away from the computer. “He needs to know about this.”

  Jillian pulled out her cell and tapped a few commands onto the screen. After a few moments, the cell phone chirped back, which caused her to smile. She pointed outside and urged me to hurry.

  “I just texted Vance. He says he was about to leave the hotel, on his way here, when I told him to stay put. We’re going to meet for lunch.”

  “Has he found anything?” I asked, as we both piled into the white van we had rented.

  “He didn’t say, but it did sound like he wanted to compare notes.”

  Back at the Phoenician, we decided to order to room service, at my suggestion. I had left both Sherlock and Watson alone for several hours now, and I wanted to spend some time with them. Both dogs enthusiastically greeted us at the door to our casita. Sherlock, the little booger, managed to slip by me and made it outside. He stopped around a dozen feet from the door, spun around to look at me from a crouched position, and gave several high-pitched barks. Unfortunately for me, I knew the nature of that particular bark, having heard it on more than one occasion.

  Sherlock wanted to play, and he was openly inviting me to join him. In this case, I think the little snot was daring me to try and catch him. Watson appeared in the doorway and cocked her head at her packmate, as if to ask whether or not Sherlock knew what he was doing.

  Before I could take a step, or before Sherlock could bolt, we all heard a loud, repetitive chattering. Whatever was making the noise chattered four times, fell silent for five seconds, then repeated the noise. Already knowing what was responsible for the interruption, I immediately scanned the area, looking for the roadrunner that I knew had to be in the area.

  There he was, and I do believe it was the same fellow from yesterday. He had a mix of brown and white streaked feathers and had a bright red spiky crest on top of his head. He stared directly at Sherlock, ruffled the feathers of his wings, and then made the chattering noise again.

  Sherlock finally reacted. He woofed at the strange bird. However, the only thing that happened was that the curious roadrunner took a few steps toward my corgi. Surprised, I glanced back at Sherlock, who now had both of his ears sticking straight up, and was watching the bird like, well, like a hawk.

  The roadrunner turned tail and fled, but since I have seen those birds move, I know he really wasn’t fleeing. In fact, yep. The bird just stopped to see if he was being followed. Sherlock turned to look at me, as if to say, ‘Well? What should I do?’

  Jillian tossed me Sherlock’s leash. She emerged from the casita, holding Watson’s. I clipped on the leash just as Vance emerged from his own casita. My detective friend had a WTF look on his face as our little procession passed by, led by the roadrunner, of course. I shrugged as I passed him, and increased my pace.

  Thankfully, our impromptu power-walking session only lasted until we arrived at the parking lot. Strangely enough, the roadrunner ran straight to our van, cooed invitingly, and then disappeared under another car. I was about ready to drop to all fours, so I could see under the vehicle, when I caught sight of Sherlock. Both he and Watson had stopped by the van and had lost all interest in their feathered friend.

  Sherlock approached the van, sniffed the rear wheel on the driver’s side, and then turned to look up at me. Moments later, his rump hit the ground and he was panting contentedly. Both of them were, for that matter.

  “What’s up?” Vance asked, as he hurried to catch up to us. “What’s going on? Were you guys really following a roadrunner?”

  “Yep,” I confirmed, and pointed at the van. “The crazy thing led us to our van, waited until we arrived, and then scurried off.”

  Vance appeared to be at a loss for words, “I’m not sure what to make of that.”

  I then pointed at the dogs, “Look at them. They sniffed the wheel there and then promptly sat down.”

  Vance’s curiosity had been piqued.

  “Isn’t that what they do when they discover something?” he wanted to know.

  I nodded. I handed Sherlock’s leash to Jillian and then promptly squatted next to the wheel. I ran my hands over the surface, just to see if anything felt out of the ordinary. The only thing I discovered is that, if you are foolish enough to run your hands along the surface of a car’s tire, then you deserve to have your hands turn black.

  Scowling, and resisting the urge to wipe my hands on my pants, I decided to drop a little lower and look under the van’s carriage. Perhaps the roadrunner had doubled back and was hiding under there? Getting down into a push-up position, I looked under the van. Nope, no birds.

  However, before I straightened back up, a flash of red caught my eye. Grunting with surprise, I reached under the van, up into the wheel well, and pulled away a tiny one inch black cube. It had a single thin antenna on it, along with the flashing red LED I noticed earlier. Turning, I held the device up to Vance.

  “Dude, I think someone bugged our car!”

  SIX

  “Destroy that thing,” I ordered, growing angry. “Someone has been spying on us? Watching everywhere we go? Oh, hell no. That’s not happening.”

  “I’m with Zachary,” Jillian added. “I don’t like knowing that someone, somewhere, is watching us. I say either we turn it over to the police or we destroy it.”

  About ready to drop the device onto the ground so he could step on it, Vance hesitated. He held the device up to his eyes for a few moments before he looked back at me. Then he pointed at the car.

  “Show me where you found it.”

  The two of us squatted next to the rear tire well on the driver side of the van. I tapped an area near the bottom, which was almost concealed by the brake assembly. Then, much to my astonishment, Vance reached in to replace the device. After making sure it was securely connected, he straightened.

  “Vance, what the hell are you doing? I said we need to destroy that thing!”

  Vance held up his hands in mock surrender, “Hear me out, Zack. Someone put that thing on our van. Clearly, they are worried about what we’re doing. What do you think will happen if, all of a sudden, they discover they can no longer track our car?”

  “They’ll find another way to follow us,” Jillian breathed.

  I slowly nodded, “I get it. If they’re gonna watch us, then it’s best to be able to control where we go, and what we do, right?”

  Vance grinned, “Exactly.”

  “But I don’t want them to know what we’re up to,” I complained.

  “And they won’t,” Vance assured me.

  “How?” Jillian asked, puzzled. “If they’re watching the van, and this is the only means of transportation we have, then we’ll have to… oh. Oh! I get it. Very clever!”

  “What?” I demanded, as I turned to my girlfriend. “What’s clever?”

  “Think about it, Zachary,” Jillian said, as she took my hands. “If they want to follow that car, then let them follow that car. I’m willing to bet Vance is planning on procuring another vehicle, am I right?”

  Vance was already on the phone and eagerly nodded. While he arranged to have another car delivered to us here at the hotel, a thought occurred. Suddenly, I was grinning like a dopey idiot. Jillian noticed my goofy expression and couldn’t help smiling.

  “What do you have planned?” Jillian asked. “You’ve got something up your sleeve, don’t you?”

  I nodded and pulled out my own cell.

  “If someone wants to follow this van, then I say we lead them on a nice, long, wild good chase. There should be… Randy? It’s Zack. Hey, I’m… what’s that? Oh, I’m doing well, thanks. Listen, you wanted to know if you could do anything to help us out. Well, I have a job for you, pal.”

  Once Samantha’s brother had assured us he had all kinds of places he could take the van, and he and the van had disappeared from sight, Jillian and I turned to Vance.

  “You’re up, amigo,” I told the detective. “The va
n is off, going who-knows-where. We need another car. What do you have for us?”

  Just then, we heard the roar of an engine. A white 2019 Dodge Challenger, with blue racing stripes, suddenly rocketed around the corner. The driver noticed the three of us and immediately veered over. A young guy, in his early twenties, hopped out of the car, leaned back into the interior to retrieve a metal clipboard, and then approached Vance.

  “Are you the Oregon detective?” the kid asked. He consulted his clipboard. “Mr. Samuelson?”

  Vance pulled his official police ID and flipped it open in response. A set of keys were tossed over, followed by the clipboard.

  “Sign here, please. And here. This final page says you’re accepting full insurance with a policy provided by the agency. All right, we’re done. Please drop it off at the dealership once you’ve concluded your stay here.”

  “Where’s the dealership?” Vance asked. “Sorry, kid. I’m not from around here.”

  “Do you know where Camelback is?” the kid hopefully asked.

  Vance shook his head, but I held up a hand.

  “I know where it’s at. Which direction? East or West?”

  “West,” the kid answered. “We’re right next to the I-17.”

  I nodded, “Not a problem. I know exactly where you guys are. Hey, do you need a ride back?”

  The kid shook his head and pulled out his phone, “No thanks. I’ve got an Uber on the way.”

  Once the car deliveryman had left, we all turned incredulously to Vance.

  “This?” I sputtered. “This is your idea of subtle? Come on, pal. That thing’s a sports car!”

  Vance chuckled and gleefully rubbed his hands together, “I know, right? I’ve always wanted to drive one of these babies.”

  “You just called the dealership and they agreed to deliver one of their cars to you?” Jillian asked, amazed. “How did you manage to pull that off?”

  “I’ve got a friend who runs a car dealership,” Vance started to explain. “He...”

  “Here?” I interrupted, incredulous. “In Phoenix?”

  Vance shook his head, “No, back in Medford. Anyway, he knows a guy who runs the sales floor in a dealership here in Phoenix. He’s the one who arranged the use of the car.”

  “With full insurance,” I added. “That’ll cost a fortune.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jillian assured me. “I can cover the cost.”

  “Oh, like hell you will,” I vowed. “I‘ll be the one covering the price, okay? It’s no biggie.”

  “And that’s how that is done,” I heard Jillian say to Vance.

  It would seem I just got played. Oh, well. I’ve always wanted to drive one of these things, too. I held out my hand to Vance.

  “Keys, please.”

  “Oh, hell no,” Vance exclaimed, hurrying over to the car and sliding behind the wheel. “This is my idea. I’m driving.”

  “Shotgun!” Jillian called, as she hurried over to the passenger side of the car.

  That left the teeny tiny back seat for me and the dogs.

  “This thing isn’t the most practical,” I observed, as I looked into the interior at the back seat. “I don’t think I’ll fit back there.”

  “I’ll move my seat forward,” Jillian told me. “You’ll fit.”

  Ten minutes later, we were cruising west, on Camelback Rd, headed back towards Phoenix from Scottsdale. The high today was supposed to be around 95°F, and it wasn’t quite there yet. Vance wanted to roll the windows down, but I shot down that suggestion even before he could finish the sentence. Besides, I pointed at the dogs, and told him it was way too hot to be cooped up like this for an extended period of time. There was a reason why the locals referred to the State of Arizona as the Land of Eternal AC.

  “So, where to first?” Vance wanted to know.

  “Stay on this road,” I ordered. “There’s a car dealership for practically every make and model on Camelback. I know there’s an Audi dealership in there somewhere, I just don’t know where. I think it’s time we talk to an Audi tech and find out if it’s even possible to remotely take over a car.”

  Vance nodded, “Sounds like a plan. Hey, where did you tell that Randy fellow to go?”

  “Oh, he’s heading to a few places throughout the city, then he said he’d take the van for a drive up to Prescott, which is about 90 minutes north of us.”

  Vance grinned, “Nice. How much room do you have back there?”

  “Bite me, dude. My knees are in my face. The dogs are enjoying it, though.” And why wouldn’t they? They were in a car, going for a ride, while sitting next to me. This was their idea of a perfect day. “Just don’t drool on the seats, guys. And Watson? Clench it up, girl. No dropping any bombs in here.”

  Watson was prone, from time to time, to getting a case of the farts. As per Harry’s instructions, after all, he is PV’s local veterinarian, I’ve been trying to get Watson to slow down when she’s eating. However, old habits are hard to break, which means Watson usually scarfs her food down before I can even scoop Sherlock’s food into his bowl. And, one of the drawbacks of eating that fast is sometimes air is swallowed along with the food.

  Well, the air has gotta go somewhere.

  Fifteen minutes later, we started seeing the dealerships. There, on the right, was a Cadillac dealership, complete with a selection of cars on the roof of their showroom. How the hell did they even get them up there? Next was the Toyota dealership on the left, followed by Volkswagen and Nissan. A Hyundai dealership appeared on the right, followed by a huge Chevrolet dealership. I whistled as we passed lot after lot of brand new cars.

  Suddenly, both dogs perked up, as though they had scented something interesting. I gazed curiously at the corgis, wondering what was up. Outside, we were passing dealership after dealership, with no other discernible stores in the vicinity. Before I could say anything to Jillian or Vance, I felt the Challenger’s throaty engine rev a few times and then start slowing.

  “There’s an Audi dealership on the right up ahead,” Vance reported, as he took his foot off the gas. “It’s not as big as the others, but it looks like it has a decent sized service center. Think that’ll do?”

  I looked down at Sherlock, who was now leveraging himself up and out of the seat so he could look through the windows. His little stump of a tail waggled with anticipation. Watson only had eyes for Sherlock, so I’m guessing whatever Sherlock wanted to do was fine with her. Had Sherlock been alerted to the dealership or was it something else?

  “That must be the one,” I decided. “Follow those ‘Service’ signs.”

  The Challenger coasted to a stop just outside a gleaming brick building with five different service bays. Three of the bays were closed, but two were open. As soon as we all exited the car, and I had both leashes wrapped securely around my hand, we made for the Customer Service Office.

  “What can I help you with today?” an elderly gentleman, wearing a bright blue Polo shirt emblazoned with the name of the car dealership on the pocket, asked. He glanced outside and saw the Challenger. “If you’re looking for the Dodge dealership, you passed it. It’s about four blocks east. There’s a bright purple Viper parked street side. It’s hard to miss.”

  Vance looked over at me and inclined his head. I was the one who wanted to come here, so I was the one who would be asking the questions. Besides, Samantha was the one who had the Audi. Yes, I’ve driven it a few times, but I didn’t really care for it. I think it had too many bells and whistles for my tastes. Thinking fast, I sauntered over to the counter, handing the leashes to Jillian as I passed by her. It was about then that the technician noticed we had two dogs with us.

  “Now those are some cute looking puppies. What kind are they? How old?”

  “They’re corgis,” I said. “And, believe it or not, they’re both adults. Hey, listen, I have a question for you. Could you tell me if my wife used this dealership for service? She had a 2017 Audi Q7. Granted, you probably haven’t seen this car in a couple
of years, but I’m hoping your records go back that far.”

  “The records here go back as far as the first day we opened,” the technician confidently told us. He started tapping instructions on the screen. “What’s your wife’s name?”

  “Samantha Anderson.”

  “And the make of the car again?”

  “A 2017 Audi Q7. Blue.”

  A few seconds later, the technician, Carl by his nametag, was nodding.

  “Yep, I see it right here. We last saw the vehicle November 16th, 2016.”

  I paled and swallowed uneasily. November 16th? That meant Samantha had her car serviced a week before her fatal accident. Could someone here have done something to her car?

  “Are you okay, sir?” Carl politely inquired. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  I had both Vance and Jillian next to me in a flash. Jillian took my hand in hers.

  “Zachary? Are you okay?”

  “November 16th, 2016,” I repeated, as I turned to Jillian. “That was one week before it happened.”

  “Before what happened?” Carl asked, growing suspicious.

  “Before his wife’s car left the freeway and drove headfirst into a semi, pal,” Vance curtly answered. “Can we have the name of the technician who worked on that car, please?”

  “What is this, some type of murder investigation?” Carl asked, growing nervous. “We had nothing to do with any accidents.”

  “What’s going on here?” a polite, but firm female voice suddenly asked.

  We turned to see a middle-aged woman several inches shorter than Jillian, but with pale blonde hair, approach us. Right off the bat, I noticed her name tag. She was Emily Varden, and she happened to be the Service Desk Supervisor. Emily patted Carl on the shoulder and indicated she would be taking over.

  “What seems to be the problem?” Emily politely inquired. Her face was guarded, but not aggressive. Her posture indicated she was concerned, but more curious than anything.

  Vance held out a hand, “Vance Samuelson, Pomme Valley, Oregon. These are my friends, Zack Anderson and Jillian Cooper. They…”