Case of the
Ostentatious Otters
By
J.M. Poole
www.AuthorJMPoole.com
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.
This book is a work of fiction. All characters and locations appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or real locations, is purely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America
1st Printing: December, 2019
1st Electronic Edition: December, 2019
A CORGI SPLOOT IS HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS.
For a complete list of titles available by Jeffrey M. Poole, including the best-selling series Bakkian Chronicles, Tales of Lentari, Pirates of Perz, and Corgi Case Files, please click here!
Case of the
Ostentatious Otters
By
J.M. Poole
Table of Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
AUTHOR’S NOTE
CONNECT WITH THE AUTHOR
Acknowledgments
This book was written in a (for me) amazingly short amount of time. As such, there are always a list of people to thank for bringing everything together. Of course, there’s Giliane, my wife. How she puts up with me on a day to day basis is a mystery, no doubt about it. Maybe it’s because she knows she’s stuck with me? :)
Then there are the members of my Posse, who willingly accepted my preposterous demands and – grudgingly – stepped up to the plate to help me polish up the story. You guys and gals mean the world to me and I’m thankful you’re on my team: Jason, Louise, Aria, Diane, Caryl, Carol, and Elizabeth. I appreciate everything you do for me.
Handling the fantastic cover illustration was none other than, you guessed it, Felipe de Barros. As always, he’s proven he’s one talented artist and very thankful he knows what he’s doing. Fantastic work as always, my friend!
Once more, I find myself needing to thank the one person who keeps me inspired and writing more adventures for Zack and the dogs: you! Thank you so much for purchasing this book and helping to support an indie author!
I should also mention that the otter chapter graphic I used was created by Papapishu, and found at https://www.1001freedownloads.com/free-clipart/otter. Now, I don’t really know who this person is, but I feel obligated to throw a shoutout in their direction, seeing how this person was responsible for creating a wonderful drawing and allowing others to use it.
With all that said, it’s time to see what everyone has been up to! Happy reading!
To Giliane –
We celebrated one helluva milestone this year, namely our 20th anniversary! How did we celebrate? By going to Europe! May the next 20 be just as fun!
ONE
“Okay, you win. I’ll admit it. It’s really beautiful here. I’ve always heard about Monterey, but have never stopped to look around. Had I known that it looked like this, then it wouldn’t have taken me quite as long to visit.”
“I’m glad you think so, Zachary. I’ve always enjoyed coming down here to unwind. And, for the two of us, this was the perfect time to do it.”
“Very true,” I admitted.
I looked over at my companion, Ms. Jillian Cooper, and smiled at her. My girlfriend. I never thought that anyone would ever hold that particular title again, nor would I be so willing to jump back into a relationship. But, much to my surprise, not only was I willing, I felt incredibly happy to do so.
I guess I should explain.
My name is Zack Anderson. I was born and raised in Phoenix, Arizona, and lived there for the vast majority of my life. I married my high school sweetheart less than a month after graduating, and the two of us couldn’t have been happier. However, I received a brutal reality check one fateful day a few years ago when my darling wife, Samantha, was taken from me much too early. You see, her car had collided head on with an oncoming semi-truck. Death was instantaneous.
I had originally believed her death to be an accident, only I later learned – thanks to some investigative snooping on my part – that her death was premeditated. Samantha had discovered her employer had some bad laundry, and the aforementioned employer was extremely adamant about not airing it out in front of anyone. Desperate to contain the secrets Samantha had learned, her company’s bigwigs had hired someone to force her car off the road and into approaching traffic. I won’t go into details here, seeing how that’s a story I’ve told before and have no intention of telling again. It still is painful to talk about.
The one thing I will say, though, is I really do appreciate my circle of friends. High on that list is Vance Samuelson, a detective living in the same small town as I do, namely Pomme Valley, Oregon. He ended up accompanying me to Phoenix to help solve Samantha’s murder. Vance is married to a highly intelligent woman by the name of Tori. She’s tall, lithe, has red-hair, and teaches at the local high school. Also on that list was my best friend from high school, Harry Watt. I never would have imagined we’d both end up in the same small town, especially in the Pacific Northwest of all places. However, Harry had put his partying days behind him, married a woman named Julie, had two kids, and became the town veterinarian. Harry was also the reason I was the owner of two dogs.
Sherlock and Watson. What can I say about those two? Well, let’s start with the fact that they are corgis. Now, if you’re familiar with the breed, you’ll know there are two types of corgis. The easiest way to describe the differences is that, typically, the Pembrokes don’t have any tails, where the Cardigans do. My two were both Pembrokes, and quite frankly, two of the smartest dogs I had ever seen. Sherlock and Watson were quite adept at catching criminals.
I kid you not.
Those two corgis have solved a number of crimes, including more murder cases than anyone in the entire Pomme Valley police department. It’s a sore subject with the PV cops, but thankfully, they don’t let it show. In fact, Chief Nelson hired me and the dogs as genuine police consultants a while back. This, coming from the one person who was convinced I was guilty of murder back when I first moved here.
But, that’s another story, and its one I’ve already told. As you can see, I’ve got quite a long and colorful past in PV. In that particular murder case, Sherlock was the main reason I was exonerated. He somehow managed to find the clues which proved my innocence. And… the two of them have been doing the same ever since.
Fast forward to the present day. I was holding down three job titles, while Jillian… I’m sorry. I guess I should explain the other two roles I held in Pomme Valley. First and foremost, I am a romance author. I started writing while I was living in Phoenix, but not under my name, no. Behind the computer, I’m Chastity Wadsworth, risqué writer extraordinaire. Don’t laugh. That name sells lots of books.
I’m also the owner of a highly profitable winery: Lentari Cellars. It is a local PV favorite, and after I inherited the winery and decided to reopen, I made a lot of friends. Who would’ve known disgusting, fermented grape juice could be so popular and worth so much? And yes, if you couldn’t tell, I don’t touch the stuff. Ever. It’s no
t for any moral objections, I can assure you. Quite frankly, I wish I liked the stuff. My problem is my taste buds. I can’t stand the taste of alcohol. If Caden, my winemaster, had his way, then he’d have me drinking a bottle of wine every night until I started to enjoy it. Thus far, however, his attempts at turning me into a sommelier have failed. Miserably. But, I really can’t complain. The entire town loves my wine, er, Caden’s wine, so much that there’s around a three-month-long waiting list just to procure a bottle. And, since Caden is always looking to the future, he’s talked me into expanding the winery’s offerings. How? We’re going to make some wine from fruit other than grapes. We now have apple trees, cherry trees, berry bushes, and so on. But, do you know what that means? I’m back to being Guinea Pig #1. I’ve had to sample all kinds of crap. That’s why I have mini fridges stashed everywhere, crammed full of soda. I never know when Caden will come strolling up to me with his latest poison. Er, concoction. That also explains why I can look out my bedroom window and see the framework being erected on our new warehouse. Apparently, fruit wine takes a while to age. We’ll need a place to store it.
All right. I think we have the bases covered. Romance writer? Check. Winery owner? Check. Police consultant with my two dogs? Check.
As for my girlfriend, Jillian is the owner of a local specialty kitchen store. Cookbook Nook focuses on cookbooks, kitchen gadgets, and has a small café on the second floor which serves a variety of local goodies. Jillian keeps the place organized, clean, and running efficiently, which means her store turns a tidy profit, too.
She’s also part owner of quite a number of other local businesses, only she keeps that to herself. Jillian, like myself, is widowed. Her late husband, Michael, was quite the shrewd businessman, and made certain that, should anything ever happen to him, Jillian wouldn’t have to work again. Well, unfortunately for him, Michael contracted cancer and passed away. Jillian, after confiding to me that she was essentially the richest woman on the west coast, helped her friends realize their dreams by opening multiple businesses as their silent partner.
In fact, Jillian recently purchased one of PV’s historic properties, Highland House. The house has quite a history behind it, including rumors of it being haunted. Well, we never found a ghost hiding within its walls. However, we did find all kinds of things there: hidden rooms, passageways, missing jewelry, and so on. Putting all that aside, though, I can tell you that house is going to make a fantastic bed and breakfast. I even met the lady Jillian had hired to run it: Lisa Martinez. Together, the two of them have the house looking spectacular and on track for its fall opening.
That explains why we’re here. You can see what the two of us have been dealing with. We needed a break, and it was Jillian who came up with the winning plan: a road trip vacation. With the dogs, of course.
But, where to? Well, as you now know, we chose Monterey, California. I’ve never been here, but Jillian has on a number of occasions. Beautiful weather, gorgeous scenery, abundant wildlife, and a world-class aquarium, all within a town of less than 30,000 people. It was a perfect choice for the two of us to relax.
As was usual whenever it came to me, I was wrong. You’ll see just how wrong I was this particular time in a little bit.
Now, let’s get back to the two of us, well, make that the four of us. Jillian and I were strolling, hand in hand, along sandy McAbee Beach. I had always thought beaches like this weren’t to be found in California. I mean, come on. I’ve seen the coastline in the northern part of the state. It’s usually littered with huge, inhospitable rocks with not a grain of sand to be found anywhere. This, however, was a pleasant surprise. As for the dogs? Well, they were loving it.
Right on cue, I heard an excited yip. Sherlock, it would seem, was barking at the lapping waves. Every time the feisty corgi thought the water was venturing too close, he’d bark at it. And, as if the water had heard and was shying away, the waves would retreat. I also noticed the tri-colored corgi didn’t mind getting his paws wet. Jillian and I would laugh so hard at his antics that Sherlock had even looked our way a few times to make sure we were okay. I mean, what else were we supposed to do when, as the waves retreated and Sherlock gave chase, the waves would come back and we’d have one corgi hauling ass to get back to the safety of dry land? Watson, on the other hand, was perfectly content to stay dry, and avoided coming close to the water’s edge. Oh, don’t get me wrong, she’d add her two cents whenever Sherlock would, but she’d do it by the safety of her daddy’s side, thank you very much.
Dogs.
As for me, I was on a quest. Kinda. Jillian had mentioned that a friend of hers had started making jewelry from bits of something called ‘sea glass.’ I later learned it was just pieces of broken glass that had been tossed and tumbled by the water long enough to sand it smooth. Of the dozen or so pieces that I had found, nearly three-quarters had been rejected. They just weren’t the right size and shape.
A piece of dark red glass caught my eye. I stooped to retrieve the glass and then held it up to my eyes for inspection. I have no idea what shape the glass originally held, as I don’t see many pieces of red glass anything, but this was too good of a color to pass up. I triumphantly turned to Jillian and presented my find.
“Ooo, its maroon! Where did you find this one?”
I pointed at the ground, “Right there. I’d love to know what this used to be a part of, but that’s something we’ll never know.”
“This will work beautifully. Thank you.”
“Did you find another one?” a male voice asked. Actually, it came off as more of a whine, if you ask me. “I don’t know how you keep finding ‘em, man.”
I guess I should mention that we weren’t alone on this trip. After learning the two of us were headed south for some much needed R & R, with our dogs, our good friends, Harry and Julie, asked if they could tag along. Ordinarily, I would have objected, seeing how this could really mess up the plans that I had, but after Jillian confided to me that the two of them were hoping to rekindle the romance in their marriage, I relented. From what I’ve been told, and what I’ve observed over the last year or so, Harry and Julie have been at each other’s throats more often than not. Thankfully, neither one of them enjoyed acting like that, especially to each other, so they thought a vacation away from their kids, which focused on only them, was just what the doctor ordered.
“I did,” I confirmed, as I looked back at my friend. Harrison Watt was a smidge taller than me, had a neatly trimmed full beard, and, I’m sorry to say, nearly fifty pounds on me. “Jillian doesn’t have this color. I don’t know what she plans on doing with it yet, but I can’t wait to see.”
“I don’t get it. I haven’t found anything yet,” my friend complained.
I pointed off to the side of where I was standing, “Would you like to know why?”
Harry jammed his hands into his pockets and frowned, “Hit me with your best shot.”
“You’re following behind me.”
“So?”
“Harry, think about it. If you’re following behind me, and I’ve already checked the area for any bits of sea glass, what are the odds you’re going to find some?”
“Are you telling me you’re hogging all the glass? Not cool, bro.”
“That’s why I’m telling you now,” I said, swallowing my anger. “I’ll check here, you check over there. In fact, look by your left foot. That’s a nice piece of green glass.”
“Hmm? What glass? I don’t see any.”
I squatted next to Harry’s leg and gingerly picked up the piece of glass. I could tell from the rough shape that it probably came from one of the old Perrier mineral water bottles. This one had been in the water for so long that its edges were worn smooth and it bore a clouded ‘film’ of scratches on it, which lightened the color considerably.
“You do know what you’re looking for, don’t you? Here. Hold this. Do you see the glass? It’s a piece of a broken bottle, but the water has sanded it completely smooth and then buffed the
front of it.”
“I’ll be damned,” Harry muttered, as he studied the glass. “I was looking for clear glass, or something that looked like broken glass. So, that means this right here… is this a piece?”
Harry held out a small dime-sized piece of sea glass. I nodded my head.
“Nice job. You found yourself a piece of sea glass.”
“Jules, look! I found some!”
“Nice job!” Julie returned. “We’ve been at it for over thirty minutes now and you just now found one piece?”
“He didn’t know what he was looking for,” I heard Jillian quietly explain. “You can’t fault him for not finding anything just yet.”
“Well, at least someone… oof! Dude, what the hell?” Harry complained, as he rubbed his stomach. I had delivered a swift blow to his midsection.
“I think I see some more up ahead,” I told Harry. I turned to Jillian. “We won’t wander too far.”
Sensing I wanted to talk to Harry, Jillian nodded.
“We’ll be right here.”
As the two women began to talk in whispered tones, I pulled a very reluctant Harry along with me as I put some distance between us and the girls.
“What’d you sucker punch me for, man? That wasn’t nice.”
“The last thing a woman wants to hear is a derogatory comment made to her in the presence of friends,” I carefully, and quietly, explained. “Sure, you can have your arguments with her, but don’t ridicule her. It’ll never end well.”
Case of the Ostentatious Otters Page 1