Case of the Great Cranberry Caper

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  Sherlock looked at me, stretched, and then wiggled with excitement. Watson whined and pulled on her leash, too. Both dogs, it would seem, wanted to meet the boy. Upon seeing the dogs, the boy set his game on the step next to him, and stood up.

  “Do you like dogs?” I asked the boy.

  The kid emphatically nodded his head. I looked over at Jillian, for permission to allow an introduction. She was in the midst of a conversation with whom I’m guessing was the owner of the landscaping company, when she saw me looking her way. Just like that, both were staring at me. Jillian pointed at me, then the dogs, and finally, back to the boy.

  The man nodded, but not before reaching for his own phone. Jillian, it would seem, must have warned him what was going to happen, and suggested he record the encounter. You want your son to experience a full, corgi introduction? Hey, I can make that happen.

  “Would you like to meet them?”

  The boy nodded again. I then pointed at the freshly mowed grass.

  “Perhaps you should sit on the grass there.”

  The youngster turned to look at the lawn. He shrugged, walked over to the grass, and dropped into a cross-legged sitting position.

  “Are you ready?”

  The boy nodded a third time, and then looked at me as though he thought I was just another crazy adult. I squatted next to the dogs, draped an arm around each of them, and decided to up the ante. Any dog owner will know how to rile up their dogs. I was certainly no different.

  “Do you want to meet him? Are you ready?”

  Both dogs were wriggling so bad that you would have thought they knew the boy and hadn’t seen him for months.

  “All right. Release!”

  Both corgis took off like a shot. The kid’s eyes widened with surprise, but before he could say anything, two horizontal tornados reached their destination. Sherlock and Watson collided with the boy and knocked him onto his back. Then, in true corgi fashion, they plastered wet doggie kisses all over his face. I didn’t know who was enjoying himself more, the giggling boy or the laughing father. I think we clearly made someone’s day.

  A blue 1967 Corvette Stingray pulled up and parked alongside the curb, behind the landscaper’s truck. A woman in her late twenties appeared, wearing a thick green sweater and ripped blue jeans. She noticed the frolicking dogs and immediately veered toward them.

  Watson, barking excitedly next to her packmate as Sherlock continued to lick the boy’s exposed face, noticed the approaching woman first. My red and white corgi yipped once and tore off after her. Moments later, Sherlock zipped by me, eager to reach the woman first.

  “Sherlock! Watson! Hi, guys! How are you doing today, you cute-as-a-button doggies?”

  “Hi, Dottie!” Jillian said, as she arrived at my side. She checked her watch. “You’re right on time.”

  Dottie Hanson, daughter of the late Clara Hanson, had become a new permanent fixture in our lives, it would seem. Having no other friends in PV, and no family she could turn to, Dottie latched on to us and seemed to view Jillian and myself as her surrogate parents.

  I looked at my fiancée with confusion on my face. “On time? For what? Did I forget something?”

  “Always,” Jillian laughed. “In this case, Dottie is here to give us her opinion on the flatware and china we selected.”

  “Wedding stuff,” I sighed. “Of course.”

  “Men,” Jillian giggled. “Well, come on, Dottie. I can’t wait to show you what we’ve picked out so far. We’ve narrowed the china down to four different possibilities. It’ll be interesting to see if you can pick out which of us selected which patterns.”

  “I can’t wait to be of help,” Dottie gushed. “And the flatware?”

  “There are two choices,” I told the girl. “Truth be told, I think the two of us are okay with either choice. However, it’d be nice if you picked the right one, of course.”

  “Oh, great, no pressure there, Zack.”

  I started up the front steps, intent on following the dogs and the girls inside. There, on the second step from the top, was the boy’s video game. Turning, I could see father and son having an animated discussion, with the kid doing most of the talking. Plus, he was rambling on so fast that you’d think he was practicing to become an auctioneer.

  Glancing down at the game as I covered the distance to the duo, I saw that I had been right. The boy had been playing a video game, and an old one at that. There were no fancy graphics, and no high-def displays. This particular game used vector graphics, and depicted a space game where you were trying to blow up enemy ships. Bad guys zipped around the screen so fast that it’s a wonder someone that young could play it. There’s no way I’d survive ten seconds playing that game.

  That was about the time I remembered where I had seen that game before. As a matter of fact, I had played it before, and since I know you’re going to ask, I’ll admit it: I sucked at it. I must’ve lost stacks of quarters playing that game at the local arcade. I will also say that it was nice to see the younger generation interested in playing those older, 8-bit games. Remembering the dogs had stared at the device for a few moments, I decided to snap a few pictures.

  Making it inside, I immediately heard the girls laughing at one of the china designs, claiming that the pattern was ‘too busy’ and ‘wouldn’t go with anything’. Yes, they could have been talking about one of Jillian’s choices, but let’s face it, I already knew they were talking about one of mine. The pattern in question was bold, bright, and full of colors. Personally, I thought it was a good choice. Then again, that must explain why Jillian refrained from voicing her opinion, citing her decision to wait for Dottie, instead.

  Now, I could see why. Like minds think alike, I suppose. The pattern they ended up selecting was a basic white, with a gently scalloped edge and some type of metal trim around the edge of the plate. Or bowl, I guess.

  “Do you see?” Jillian was saying. “This set, while basic in your eyes, is perfect.”

  “Exactly,” Dottie agreed.

  “Why?” I inquired. “It looks boring.”

  “Think how many different colors it can go with,” Jillian insisted.

  “What colors are you talking about?” I asked, trying hard to keep my exasperation out of my voice. “Am I missing something? Are you planning on mixing this set with another?”

  “Show him the Christmas plates,” Jillian instructed, as she looked over at Dottie. “Then, he’ll see what we mean.”

  “Christmas plates?” I lamely repeated. “You’re going to mix this set with Christmas plates? I don’t see … oh. Oh, I get it.”

  Yes, I finally did. Jillian was thinking long term. The Christmas plate Dottie was showing me was sitting directly on top of one of Jillian’s newly selected white plates. That was why she wanted white. It was generic enough to be used with any other colored plate, be it Christmas, or Halloween, or essentially any other holiday.

  “It looks great,” I admitted. “Objections withdrawn. Great choice, you two.”

  Both girls beamed at me.

  For the next four hours, the girls … yeah, you read that right. Four hours! As I was saying, for the next four hours Jillian and Dottie perused thick, glossy magazines, consulted numerous websites, and made extensive notes in a huge, white three-ring binder. What was I doing? Well, I managed to entertain myself by playing with the dogs and, between the frenetic random activity periods, or FRAP sessions for you fellow dog owners, I went over notes for the completed draft of the special novel I had written as an homage for Vance and Tori’s anniversary. By the time I looked up, the sun had long since retired, and it was pitch black outside.

  “Would either of you like anything to drink?” I asked, as I stood up to stretch my legs.

  “Thank you, Zachary. Dottie? Would you care for something to drink?”

  “Holy cow. Is that the time? Is it really 9:30 at night?”

  “It is,” I confirmed, as I stretched my back.

  “I had no idea it was so late.
I should really be getting home.”

  “Same time tomorrow?” Jillian hopefully asked.

  Askance, Dottie glanced over at me.

  “Pretty please?” I added. I made a point of looking at all the materials laid out on the table before the two of them. “You wouldn’t want to subject me to any of that, would you?”

  Dottie laughed and eventually nodded. “If you’re okay putting up with me, then I’d love to help.”

  “You’re on,” I said, nodding. “Just let me …”

  “Oh my! We can fly! You can fly! We can fly! Come on, everybody, here we go!”

  I sheepishly reached for my phone. “Sorry ’bout that. I really need to rethink that ringtone.”

  “That’s from Disney’s Peter Pan, isn’t it?” Dottie asked.

  I nodded. “That’s right. I use it for Vance, who’s a detective on the force.”

  “Why would you use the song from Peter Pan?” Dottie asked.

  “Check YouTube,” I chuckled. “Hey, Vance. What’s up?”

  “Zack? Good. You’re still awake. Um, you are, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, Jillian and Dottie were going over some wedding stuff and lost track of time. Seeing as how I don’t have to do it, I wasn’t about to interrupt them.”

  “Smart man, buddy. Listen, I know it’s late, but I was wondering if I could get you and the dogs to do me a favor?”

  “You want us to do you a favor? Right now? Okay, sure, I guess. What do you need, pal?”

  “Get over to Gary’s Grocery on the double. They received their shipment of supplies tonight, and …”

  “… they finally have cranberries? Awesome. We’re on it.”

  “They’ve closed for the night, you doofus. I’m trying to tell you that, sometime after they closed, they received their shipment. Wouldn’t you know it, they were hit. Do you get it? PV has been hit!”

  SIX

  “We were just here, earlier today,” I stated, as the dogs and I strolled into the darkened store that was Gary’s Grocery. I looked over at Vance and then pointed down at the dogs. “Do they have permission to come in here?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Vance scoffed. “Gary was asking for you guys, personally. He’s on his way in, by the way.”

  “If he’s not here,” I slowly began, hooking a thumb back at the front door, “then how did we get in? How did you get in, for that matter? Who unlocked the door?”

  Vance pointed toward the back of the store. “His night manager is currently here, as are the two clerks who helped receive the shipment from their distributor.”

  I led the dogs farther into the store and automatically glanced over at the closed-off pharmacy. The security gate was in place, and didn’t appear to have been tampered with. A few dozen steps took me by the liquor section, and I could clearly see that it hadn’t been touched, either. Confused, I looked over at Vance and pointed at the booze.

  “Pharmacy is untouched. Alcohol is still on the shelves. If this was the same criminal then that would suggest something else was meant to be the diversion. So, was there? A diversion, I mean?”

  Vance nodded, and pointed back toward the front of the store and customer service counter, where cigarettes and movies were sold in a variety of formats.

  “This time, it looks like it’s baby formula. You’d be surprised just how much that crap costs. It’s usually kept in a locked display case at the front of the store.”

  “Baby formula?” I scoffed. “Seriously? I don’t get it. If these burglaries are being done by the same person, then they would have to be … well …”

  “… the stupidest thing walking around on two legs?” Vance finished. “Agreed. I don’t know who they’re fooling, but it sure as hell isn’t us. This makes me think we’re dealing with a complete noob here.”

  “How’d he get in?” I asked. “Picked the lock on another door?”

  “I haven’t found any evidence to support that,” Vance informed me, with a sigh. Then, he handed me his flashlight. “Do me a favor and do a perimeter check outside, okay? This is one piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit with the rest.”

  I nodded. “Will do. If this is our same guy, then he had to have picked something to get in here.”

  “His nose, his butt, I don’t really care,” Vance grumbled. “Call me if you find something. I have to wait here, since Gary is bound to show up sooner or later.”

  “Roger that. Sherlock? Watson? Come on, guys. Let’s head outside.”

  We walked outdoors and I steered the dogs to the right. Gary’s Grocery might not have been as big as a regular, full-sized grocery store, but it was definitely bigger than Vicki’s Grab-n-Go and Medford’s El Gato. Maybe there was a side door, or maybe even a back door, somewhere on the building that Vance missed? If so, then I was confident the dogs could find it.

  As carefully as we could, we made our way around the building, navigating abandoned carts, stacks of pallets, and several large bales of compressed cardboard. The dogs sniffed a few things here and there, and hesitated only briefly at one of the cardboard bales, but had moved off by the time I got my phone out. If it had been something they truly wanted me to take a picture of, then they wouldn’t have budged until I had done so.

  I was about to think that there was nothing outside worth mentioning, but then the three of us rounded the northwestern corner of the building and came upon the dual loading docks. This was where the large semi-trucks would back their trailers down a short ramp so that the trailers would be at ground level and could be easily off-loaded. Running parallel to the ramp was a large, enclosed machine, complete with a metal rectangular chute connecting it to the same wall as the loading doors. Maybe it was a garbage chute?

  “Cardboard,” I decided, as I noticed more of the huge bales nearby.

  The dogs were staring up at the chute, as though they could hear someone moving around in it. It got me thinking. That chute? It looked big enough to admit a man. Could someone have crawled up that chute to gain entry to the store? If so, then they’d have to hop inside the compactor and climb up to the top of the machine, where the chute terminated. Was there anything to prevent someone from entering that chute?

  “Don’t move, guys,” I ordered the dogs. “I want to see something.”

  Being careful not to touch the side, or the interior, of the compactor, I leaned over and shone my flashlight up at the chute’s entrance. Sure enough, there was a large, metal flap covering the mouth of the chute. However, I didn’t see any latches, or any type of device which would prevent a person from simply prying the flap up and heading up the short chute and gaining access to the building. Now, don’t get me wrong, it’d take one nimble-as-hell person to be able to do it. The mouth of the chute had to be four or five feet above my head inside the compactor. Granted, there were little indentations here and there, which would afford places one could grip, or perch, as they climbed up. So, the question was, had Vance noticed this?

  “I most certainly have not,” Vance replied, after I posed the question. “Good work, Zack. Have you touched anything?”

  “Nope. I was careful not to touch a freakin’ thing.”

  “Awesome. I’ll send a tech over there to see about dusting for prints. Give the dogs a pat for me.”

  “Hey, I discovered this, not them.”

  “You did? Zachary, you’re such a good boy! Are you a good boy? Good job, buddy!”

  “Jerk,” I grumbled, but not before I cracked a smile. “You owe me a beer for that.”

  “Deal. Keep looking around. I really want to see if the dogs notice anything else.”

  “You got it.”

  We made it around the rest of the store without any more incidents. That is, until we hit aisle nine. What was on that particular aisle? Greeting cards. Sherlock and Watson pulled me over to the cards, and they stared up at them, as if they were fascinated by their existence. Wondering whether or not they chose this particular spot for a reason, or else they picked a spot at random, I tried to
lead the dogs away from the racks of cards.

  Nope. Neither dog allowed themselves to be moved. Glancing up at the cards, I shrugged, and snapped a few pictures. Once done, the corgis rose to their feet and followed me around the store. I made sure to pause at the three exterior doors we encountered, just to see if either Sherlock or Watson picked up a scent or thought there was something worth investigating, but there wasn’t. Neither of the dogs bothered to so much as look up.

  “Anything?” Vance hopefully asked, when we met up nearly fifteen minutes later.

  I shook my head. “Kinda. As of about ten minutes ago, the only thing that caught their eye was the chute at the compactor, and that’s only after I pointed it out to them. I think that’s our perp’s point-of-entry.”

  “I walked back to take a look at it myself,” Vance informed me. “I think you’re right. I don’t know if we’ll be able to get any prints, but the tech is trying. Hey, I should tell you that Gary is finally here. He’s in the back, looking through his shipment to see what’s been stolen. Did you find something else?”

  I presented my phone and showed Vance the pictures of the greeting cards. “Don’t ask me why, but they stopped to stare at these cards. I can only assume the reason why will become clear later on.”

  We met up with the store owner less than ten minutes later. He might be a slender, timid man in his late sixties, but don’t let that fool you. This was someone who usually avoided confrontation, but that was only when his business wasn’t concerned. If you try to tell him how to run his store, then you were more than likely going to be told to go fly a kite. Gary had been working in the grocery industry since his teenage years, and knew pretty much everything there was to know about running a successful, profitable grocery store.

  Together, Vance, the dogs, and I headed inside the store and angled for the employee-only doors leading into the back storeroom.