Case of the Chatty Roadrunner

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “Okay, I’ll admit it. I was uncomfortable, the vehicle we were sitting in smelled like a gym locker, and my ass had long fallen asleep. However, I was having the time of my life. Why? Because I was part of an honest-to-goodness police stakeout! How cool is that?

  Vance, myself, and our two new Phoenix friends were sitting inside a dusty, dirty, smelly cargo van parked just outside the museum. Thanks to a discreetly placed webcam, we were able to keep an eye on the locker with the laptop, all without fear of being discovered.

  I should also point out that yes, there was a laptop sitting inside the locker, but was it Samantha’s? Nope. It had been replaced by another. Neither Vance nor myself wanted to risk something happening to that particular computer, so Officer Gutierrez had volunteered the use of her own patrol laptop.

  “So, tell me more about this arrangement,” Officer Brad Harding was saying. “You aren’t a cop, but you are a consultant. You own two dogs, but not a gun. And you’re some type of writer?”

  I nodded, “That’s right. Sounds weird, I know, but it works out fairly well for us.”

  “And these two dogs have solved a murder before?” Officer Elizabeth Gutierrez doubtfully asked.

  Vance wordlessly held up six fingers.

  “Six?” Elizabeth repeated, amazed. She looked down at Sherlock, who was stretched out by her feet, and gave him a scratch behind his ears. “Well, aren’t you a smart boy!”

  Watson lifted her head and turned her woeful eyes on the female cop.

  “Oh, I know you’re special, too. For every man, there’s always a good woman nearby, to make all the important decisions.”

  I turned to regard Elizabeth with a grin on my face. Vance and Brad also turned to look, although neither of them were smiling.

  “If only Jillian could’ve heard that comment,” I chuckled.

  “Who’s Jillian?” Elizabeth wanted to know.

  “My girlfriend. She’s back at the hotel. I had her give Randy the keys to the van so that he could go gallivanting around the city again today.”

  “I’m sorry, Randy is…?”

  “My late wife’s brother,” I explained. “He’s been helping us by leading Semzar on a wild goose chase through the city.”

  “How?” Brad asked, as he focused his attention on me.

  “We found a tracker on our rental van,” Vance explained, as he sat up in his chair and stretched his back.

  I pointed at the two dogs, “You mean, they found the tracker, don’t you?”

  Vance shrugged and returned his attention to the monitor.

  “How are they able to do it?” Elizabeth genuinely asked. “How do they know where to look?”

  I held my hands up in an ‘I haven’t the foggiest’ gesture.

  “So, Mr. Anderson, do you split your time between your writing and consulting for the local police?”

  I looked over at Officer Elizabeth Gutierrez and politely shook my head no.

  “I wear a couple of different hats. When I’m not a consultant, I’m usually looking after my winery.”

  “You own a winery, too?” Elizabeth asked. “What’s it like to make your own wine? Do you ever become bored?”

  There was something about the way she asked the question that had me raising my red flags. Was she openly flirting with me? I quickly glanced down at her hand and saw that her left hand was ringless. Swell. She did hear me refer to Jillian as my girlfriend, didn’t she? And, I had to have at probably 20 years on her, easy.

  “There’s way too much to do around the winery to allow me to become bored,” I answered. “Besides, being a winery owner isn’t my first profession. Writing is.”

  “He writes romance novels,” Vance snorted with amusement.

  “A romance writer,” I confirmed, holding my head high. I used to shy away from telling people what I do for a living, but lately, thanks to Jillian’s encouragement, I’ve been proud to announce I’m a self-employed writer.

  Elizabeth perked up at this.

  “Really? Would I have read anything you have written?”

  “Only if you’re into those sappy love stories,” Vance snickered.

  “I also write under a pseudonym,” I added. “You won’t find my personal name on any romance novels, but you will see my nomme de plume.”

  “And what’s that name?” Elizabeth wanted to know.

  “It’s Woolworth something,” Vance answered, still grinning merrily away.

  “It’s Chastity Wadsworth,” I answered, giving the young cop a grin. “It’s a name I’ve used for years.”

  “Chastity Wadsworth? Are you telling me you’re the author who wrote Misty Moors? That’s my favorite book of all time!”

  Once again, Vance’s smug smile melted off his face. I gave him a victorious grin, which caused him to scowl harder. I stretched back in my chair, interlocked my fingers together, and cupped them behind my head. Vance made sure he wasn’t being watched and then flipped me the bird.

  “What can I say? It’s a living, and one I enjoy making. But, to be honest, I do enjoy keeping the winery running, in my late wife’s honor. And, much to my surprise, Lentari Cellars has almost matched my book sales, and if my winemaster has anything to do with…”

  I trailed off as I saw that this time, I had Brad’s attention.

  “Your winery? It’s called Lentari Cellars?”

  I nodded, “Yep. It was already named when I took over, and I liked the name so much I left it as it was. Why? You couldn’t possibly have heard of it, could you?”

  “My parents are wine drinkers. They’ve been harping on me to try their new favorite dessert wine, something called…”

  “Holiday Hearth?” I asked, knowing full well the officer was talking about my winery’s newest flavor. In fact, it had only been released less than a month ago. How someone in Arizona could possibly know that was beyond me.

  Brad snapped his fingers and offered me a grin, “Yeah, that’s it. That’s your wine?”

  “One of the flavors we have, yes,” I admitted. “It’s actually our newest flavor, and I’ll be honest and say that I’m surprised as hell that it’s for sale down here.”

  “It’s not. My parents had a small glass of it at some party they attended last month.”

  “Was it in Oregon?”

  Brad nodded, “Portland.”

  “I still didn’t realize it was for sale anywhere other than Pomme Valley, but I can’t say I’m too surprised. Caden is a whiz at the day-to-day operations of the winery. It makes sense he’s already selected which retailers will carry the new flavor. Tell you what. If you give me your parents’ address, I’ll have Caden send them a bottle of it. On me.”

  Brad’s cool exterior evaporated in a flash and suddenly he couldn’t shake my hand fast enough.

  “Thanks! Thanks so much! Actually, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to give you my address instead. That way, I can… uh, that is to say, I could…”

  “Pawn off the bottle as a present from you?” I asked, smiling.

  Brad gave me a sheepish smile and slowly nodded.

  “That’s fine. I’m okay with that.”

  Brad suddenly sat forward and snapped his fingers.

  “Heads up, people. I think we have our guy!”

  We all eagerly leaned forward to watch the monitor. What I saw was an ordinary looking guy, wearing a suit and tie, walking steadily, but assuredly, towards the corner of the lobby set aside for the public access lockers. I also couldn’t help but notice that not once did he check over his shoulder to see if he was being followed. Significant?

  “So, who do we have here?” Brad eagerly asked as he studied the screen. After a few moments, he turned to look over at the two of us. “Do either of you recognize this guy?”

  I studied the screen. The figure appeared to be young, perhaps early twenties. I couldn’t tell from the video how tall he was, but based on the chairs he walked by, and the counters, I’d say he was much shorter than me. Maybe 5’7”? And, I’d say I
had a good 100 lbs. on the guy.

  I watched as the suspect finally stopped to stare straight at the camera. I watched his features. Not once did I see a look of concern pass over his face. In fact, the guy strode fearlessly up to the locker, punched in a code on the small keypad, and then opened the locker door. I saw him shift his weight from leg to leg as he remained, mired in place, in front of the locker. Then, the locker door was closed, the guy turned on his heel, and he hurried away.

  “How long are we gonna give him before we haul him in?” Vance wanted to know.

  Brad continued to watch the screen.

  “Right about there will do. Okay, all units, move in! Move in!”

  The lobby erupted with police personnel. In a matter of moments, the unknown man was surrounded, had a pair of cuffs slapped on him, and was forcibly shoved into a chair. The bag was slipped off his shoulder and set before the table next to the chair. Brad looked at us and nodded.

  “Care to tag along? This is your collar, after all.”

  Vance nodded, “Absolutely. Thanks. Zack? Do you want to come?”

  I eagerly nodded and practically leapt out of my chair. The corgis, who were dozing next to me on the ground, leapt to their feet as well. Gathering up their leashes, I led them out of the van and out into the fresh air.

  “I’m gonna have to take a shower when we get back to the hotel,” I remarked. “I don’t know how often they use that van for stakeouts, but it could clearly benefit from a thorough cleaning.”

  Vance shrugged, “Was it smelly? I didn’t notice.”

  We entered the lobby and angled towards the lockers. I noticed uniformed guards were stationed every few feet, as though they were afraid the perp would try to make a break for it. But no, there he was, protesting his innocence. He looked younger than even I had guessed, probably no more than a teenager. And, I should note, he was sweating profusely and kept fidgeting in his seat. He looked imploringly at us as we approached.

  “Look, man, you gotta tell them to let me go. I haven’t done anything wrong!”

  Vance grabbed the closest folding chair, spun it around, and then straddled it as he sat down.

  “I’ve got a news flash for you, kid,” he slowly began. “That laptop? It was stolen from me early this morning. What do you say to that?”

  “I don’t know anything about a laptop.”

  “Well, what do you know?” Brad demanded. “How did you know a laptop was stashed in that locker?”

  “I didn’t!” the kid insisted. “Look, mister. I’m an intern. I go where I’m told. I also do what I’m told. I don’t want any trouble, okay?”

  “You do what you’re told,” I slowly repeated. “All right. Who told you to pick that thing up? Who told you where to find it?”

  Beads of sweat were seen trickling down the kid’s forehead.

  “Look, you can’t ask me that. I don’t want to get anyone into trouble. I’m just an intern, okay?”

  “Yes, you can,” Vance argued. “Granted, you may not want to, and I get that. I really do. However, this is a police investigation. Unless you’d like to be charged with aiding and abetting, you will tell us what we want to know. Did you get that?

  I swear, the kid looked like he was close to turning on the waterworks.

  “Come on, have a heart,” the kid whined. “I just graduated from high school a few months ago. I was lucky to get an internship. If I say anything, I could get reprimanded. Or, worse yet, I could be let go. You wouldn’t want that to happen to me, would you?”

  The intern looked helplessly from one unfriendly face to the other. He landed on mine, saw that I was holding two leashes, and then dropped his gaze to find two dogs staring up at him. The kid smiled briefly at them before returning his gaze to mine.

  “You believe me, don’t you, mister? I had nothing to do with the theft of that laptop! I was nowhere near the Phoenician, okay?”

  I stiffened with surprise. I hadn’t mentioned the name of our hotel. I was also sure Vance hadn’t, either. I glanced over at my friend and saw that his eyes had narrowed. He, too, had noticed the intern’s gaffe.

  “What’s your name, kid?” Vance casually inquired.

  “Max.”

  “Uh huh. Got any ID on you, Max?”

  “Yeah. In my wallet.”

  Vance nodded at the closest cop, who happened to be Brad. Officer Harding pulled the intern to his feet, spun him around, and retrieved his wallet. He opened it, eyed Max’s driver’s license, and then handed it to Vance.

  “All right, Max. Let’s see what we’ve got here. Maximillian Rush. Interesting name, kid.”

  “My parents had a sick sense of humor, all right?”

  “Mm-hmm. And what’s this? A Semzar Pharmaceuticals employee badge.”

  “I told you I was an intern, didn’t I?”

  “Okay, well, here’s the problem, Max. No one here has said what hotel this laptop was stolen from, yet you knew it. Plus, you haven’t really had a chance to look at the laptop, have you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Officer Harding passed Vance the laptop bag. Vance unzipped the bag, reached inside, and when his hand didn’t encounter anything, he thrust his other hand in. After a few moments of fishing around, Vance pulled both hands out of the bag. They were empty. It was right about then that I noticed a cocky grin appear on Max’s face. I also noticed the smirk wasn’t lost on Vance.

  “Go ahead, then,” Max sneered. “What’s the matter? Didn’t find a laptop? That’s my mail bag. I do a lot of running for various VPs. I use that bag to hold all their mail.”

  “Check the locker,” Vance ordered, as he turned to the local police. “See if that laptop is still there.”

  The locker was unlocked with the master key and the door was opened. Sure enough, the laptop was there, right where we left it. A knowing smile passed over Vance’s face. He started nodding.

  “Very clever, kid.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Max whined. “Go ahead. Dust it for fingerprints. You’ll see that I never touched that laptop.”

  “True,” Vance agreed. “I already know you didn’t touch it, but then again, you and I both know that isn’t the laptop you stole from my room. Why else did you turn tail and haul ass outta here? You knew you had been compromised. Fess up, kid. Who hired you to steal that laptop?”

  “But I didn’t touch that laptop!” Max whined.

  Vance reached behind the desk and gently placed the decoy laptop on the desk. After a few moments of silence, Vance handed the laptop to Officer Gutierrez.

  “Thank you for the use of your laptop, Officer.”

  Elizabeth nodded, “My pleasure, Detective.”

  Max eyed the retreating officer and closed his mouth. He defiantly returned Vance’s glare, made sure he was being watched, and then closed his mouth with an audible snap. Vance, however, was having none of it.

  “Think you’re being clever? We already know you’re the one who swiped it in the first place. What’s the matter, kid? Semzar doesn’t want us to see what’s on it? You should have destroyed it when you had the chance. Now, it’s going to be used to take down that company.”

  With a cry of alarm, Max shrugged off Brad’s restraining hands, pushed by Vance, and threw himself at the front door, as if he thought he’d be able to escape. On foot. While handcuffed, even. However, he only made it a few steps before Sherlock leapt forward, timing it so that he had jumped between Max’s legs, and then slid to a stop. Max landed hard on his knees, eliciting cries of pain as he slammed to a stop a mere two feet from the door.

  Before the young intern could move, Brad and two other officers physically yanked Max to his feet and hauled him back to his chair. Clucking his tongue like a disapproving mother, Vance slowly sank back down into his chair opposite Max.

  “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” the detective began. “I’ll tell you right now that we’re really not too interested in the small fish. We
want the big ones, namely who was responsible for telling you to steal that laptop. How did you even know I had it?”

  Max glared angrily at me and refused to say anything.

  “Let me guess. You were watching when our pizza was delivered last night, weren’t you? Somehow, you knew that laptop was going to be delivered to us, isn’t that right?”

  “You still have no proof it was me,” Max sneered.

  “Sure I do,” Vance countered. “I have you. You already told me that you were nowhere near the Phoenician. Since I haven’t yet told anyone where we were staying, it wasn’t too hard to figure out you were the one who broke into my room.”

  “I heard the name of the hotel from one of you,” Max insisted.

  “Too bad that’s not true,” Vance idly commented. “No one knew, except for Zack here. Oh, and of course, Sherlock and Watson.”

  Upon hearing their names, both corgis looked up at Vance and gazed expectantly at him. The detective dropped to a crouch, pulled out two doggie biscuits, and fed them to the corgis. Then, grinning, he looked up at Max.

  “Now… are you going to tell me who ordered you to steal that laptop from me, or are you going to go down for murder? It’s your choice, kid.”

  For the first time, Max’s resolve seemed to falter. A look of disbelief swept over his features.

  “Murder? I haven’t murdered anyone! You can’t hold me for murder!”

  “On the contrary,” Vance argued, “the charges we’ll be leveling against Semzar Pharmaceuticals will be First Degree Murder, and Conspiracy to Commit Murder.”

  “No one’s been murdered!” Max cried.

  Vance turned to point at me, “Wrong. His wife was murdered, nearly two years ago. She discovered that Semzar had released another dud and, when she reported her findings, your company had her silenced. Permanently.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with glucosoquin!” Max insisted. “You’re wrong!”

  “Am I?” Vance snapped. He leaned forward and tapped Samantha’s laptop. “Do you have any idea what’s on this thing? We do. I went through it last night. It was very, uh, enlightening.”

  “Impossible,” Max breathed. “All company laptops are secured.”

  “We have her password,” Vance smugly countered. He yawned, as though he had become bored of this interrogation. “So, are you ready to come clean? Who sent you to my hotel room?”