Shirley Link & The Party Poopers

by Ben Zackheim

  We stew in our thoughts for a moment when something occurs to me. Something really unlikely, yes, but we're at the point in the case where I need to rule out the impossible.

  "Wait," I say. Ugh. Now that Wylie and Marie are looking at me I feel cold feet coming on. Do I really want to go down this path? "What if..."

  I dig out a roll of red yarn from my supplies drawer. Elvis jumps up from his deep sleep and waits for me to dangle it for him. Cats.

  "Tell me the first house to report a stolen item."

  "Let's see," Marie says, running her finger down the list. "Mrs. Harold." I tie the yarn to her pin on the map.

  "Next?" I ask.

  "Are we making a sweater?" Wylie asks.

  "No, Wylie," Marie says. "We're mapping the crime scenes to see if we can spot a pattern. Right?"

  Marie rocks. She reads out the order of the crime reports. It's all we have going for us, so why not check it out?

  By the time we've woven the yarn around all of the houses we have a mess of red so extreme that it's hard to see the map underneath. We study it for awhile. There's something there. I think all that string may make a pattern. I just can't see it.

  We need context. If the crooks wanted to give us a clue they would have applied some kind of logic. We need a starting point. Let's start with the basics.

  "Try by last name," I say. I unravel the string. "Start with the A's," I tell Marie.

  Three minutes into reweaving the yarn, all three of us notice a pattern. We share wide-eyed glances, but we're silent as the word begins to emerge. I think we're all in a mild state of shock.

  The crooks did a great job of spelling out a clue in three-dimensional space.

  When looked at from the southeast corner of the map, the red yarn clearly spells out, in low, fat letters...

  Link

  This is what Jacob would do. This is just like the case of the missing comic book where he strung me along by taunting me with personal clues.

  My heart is breaking. Wylie and Marie are thinking the same thing. How can I tell? They're looking at me like I just lost a friend. I'm afraid I may have.

  The phone rings, startling us out of our daze.

  I look at the caller ID. "It's him," I say.

  "Answer it, Shirley," Marie pleads.

  "Hi Jacob," I say into the phone.

  "I need a place to stay," Jacob says, barely audible. "My dad kicked me out of the house."

  Chapter 10

  The walk to the falls is the longest of my life. I asked Marie and Wiley to sit this one out. They didn't like it, but I have to focus here. My brain goes over the clues. None of it makes much sense until I recall just how mischievous Jacob can be. He's not a normal friend. We met because he kidnapped me, after all. But I thought we trusted each other. Yes, I know how that sounds.

  I don't want to believe that he's behind this crime, but I do know he's capable of it. I've always known there would be a day of reckoning for outsmarting him on that stolen comic book case. He'd need to get his revenge eventually. And I've lived with that expectation. But I've been trying to guide him toward getting back at me without, well, breaking the law.

  If he is a part of this mess then what's his role? Would he really get Eric involved? His brother seems to be the last person he'd trust with a web this complex. But they shared some weird moments in that hallway. When Eric accused him of being the crook, Jacob just stared at him. He didn't say a thing. And Eric? Well, he was just running through a memorized script. I have zero doubt about that.

  We turn the corner on Deerfield Avenue and spot Jacob sitting on a bench that looks out on the waterfall. It's a peaceful place where people go to surround themselves with the sound of running water. He looks so sad.

  "Did you figure it out yet?" Jacob asks me as I sit down next to him.

  "I think so."

  "I'm sorry," he says, looking down at the ground. "My family has a lot of money and power. I don't know how to handle them. I guess I'll never figure it out."

  "I understand. I don't know how you deal with it, Jacob. You should feel safe at home, not like you're always on your guard."

  "That's what I told Dad. He and I..." He stops. This is hard for him to talk about. Jacob isn't exactly known for being an emotional guy. In fact, he prides himself on being calculating, as if his feelings are something to be avoided. But maybe that's because his feelings are so hurt all the time.

  I hand him a baggie of cookies. He takes them and smiles, looking at me like I'm nuts. "Cookies make everything a little better, right?" I say.

  "I guess," he answers, allowing himself a moment with his guard down. He fishes one out and takes a bite. "Dad and I really went at it today. I told him I didn't need him or his money. He didn't like that, let me tell you."

  "You're right, though. You don't need his money."

  "Maybe. Also told him he's good at his job, and awful at being a dad."

  "Ouch," I say.

  "Yeah, I wish I hadn't said that. But..." He shrugs. "Ever since Mom died, he's made us into a project. Like we need to toughen up for a world that wants to take everything away from us. He's strict for a reason. I mean granddad was a good lesson in how the world will mess you up if you let it. He spent more time in jail than out of it. But I just miss the Dad I knew before Mom died. I think she helped him be... I don't know, optimistic or something. Less angry all the time. She was his anchor."

  "I'm sure he'd take you back in if you just give him some time to cool off."

  "I don't want to go back! Not now. What am I going back to? You said you figured out the case, so everything is messed up now."

  I cut to the chase. "Why did you do it, Jacob?"

  "Do what?" he asks.

  He must realize that he can't put on an act here. He can't weasel his way out of trouble this time. But that expression on his face is... I don't know. He's confused.

  Uh-oh.

  I'm good at reading people. His face is showing all the signs of hurt feelings. He's realizing that I think he's the thief.

  He didn't do it.

  My heart starts racing 1000 miles per hour. I need for my brain to move that fast, too.

  I review everything about the case.

  The wild night of police reports flooding in.

  Eric.

  The party.

  The treasure hunt.

  Names in alphabetical order...

  Alphabetical!

  "Link," I say out loud.

  "What?" Jacob says.

  "Your dad kept calling me Link at the party. He was so polite to everyone else but he called me Link."

  "Yeah," Jacob mutters. "He loves your name. He thinks it's some mystical thing. Like you find links between clues and your name is Link. Ooooo, must mean something. That's just the way he sees the world. Everything is a game and everything means something."

  J.L. Graham is the crook. The message on the map, "Link", was from him, not Jacob. I let the revelation settle for a moment. I need to catch my breath and slow my heart down. I'm relieved that my friend is innocent. But there are still so many unanswered questions.

  Like how did J.L. do it? And why? I'm not going to get a confession out of the richest, most powerful man in town. So I'd better find some evidence.

  "Jacob, I think your father is behind all of this."

  "Of course he is."

  "You knew? Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Well, I didn't know for sure! But who else could pull this off?"

  I want to say that he could, but I'm not going to push his buttons right now.

  "I only knew for sure when I saw how my brother was taunting you after we cornered him in the hall. He winked at me and right then I knew that he was playing dad's game. He always winks at me when he's doing something for dad that makes him uncomfortable."

  That explains Jacob's weird moment with Eric that made me so suspicious of him.

  "How did he do it?" I ask. "How did he steal from 72 houses and not get caught?"


  "You don't know?" Jacob asks, surprised. "I mean, I don't know either so that's a bummer. I've been trying to figure it out."

  "Maybe if you told me why he did it, that would help."

  "It's obvious, Shirley. Come on."

  "It's not obvious to me," I say.

  "Wow, I finally get the upper hand with the famous Shirley Link! Why do you think my dad would go to so much trouble to pull off a bunch of petty crimes?"

  "Jacob, will you please get to the point?"

  "He did it to test you!"

  I probably look as confused as I feel. I had no idea J.L. Graham even knew I existed. I mean when we met at the party he was pretty focused on me, but I thought that was just one of those mind games of the rich and famous.

  But there has to be more to it. A man isn't going to throw his reputation away to beat a teenager in a game of wits. He's jeopardizing everything he's accomplished. It makes no sense.

  Unless...

  Unless he doesn't care about his business. Or his family. If that's the case then we're dealing with a lost man, a desperate man -- maybe even dangerous.

  So the clues are:

  It's all alphabetical.

  That was J.L.'s awkward way of telling me to trace the crime scenes in alphabetical order, by resident.

  What else did he say? What other clues did he toss out during that weird party?

  I gather you have a real talent for seeing the big picture, Link.

  He must have been referring to the picture he drew on the map with his victims' houses. Right? But why did he look up at the ceiling when he said it?

  Hey, maybe...

  It's a long shot but I need to check it out. It occurs to me that Mr. Graham has been scattering clues all over the place for me to find. I need to identify every single one. I think that's part of the game he's playing here. Just like his treasure hunt. But this part of the game is apparently made just for me.

  "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost, Shirley?" Jacob asks.

  "Come on."

  "Where are we going?"

  "I'm taking you home."

  Chapter 11

  I know that J.L. is guilty but he doesn't seem to be trying very hard to cover his tracks. Sure, it took me a while to peg him as the crook, but once I did everything started falling into place way too easily. I feel like he wants me to find every single clue he laid out. If I do, will he come clean and confess?

  I think I'm almost ready to confront him. But one incident needs more analysis. When I was at the party, people were standing so awkwardly. Almost as if they were being staged. I want to see if that was a clue, too.

  But before we can make our grand entrance and crash the party again we need to check on one last thing.

  "I need to get back into the security room," I tell Jacob.

  "Why?" Jacob asks, trying to keep up with me as we walk up the street to his home.

  "I need to check the video archives for the party."

  "You don't need to see the live feeds?"

  "No, I'm hoping the party was covered from a high-angle camera."

  "If you don't need to see the live camera feed then we can just find it on my phone," he says.

  We sit on the side of the road and cover his small screen from the sun with our hands as he scrolls through the archive.

  "This isn't supposed to be possible, right?" I ask, pointing at his phone.

  "What? Accessing security footage backups over a network? Not without hacking the root router firmware and DMZ'ing one of the access points." He smiles back at me and shrugs. I have no idea what he just said, but it sounded like the Jacob I've missed so much.

  "The party was at about 6 pm right?" I ask.

  "Yeah. About. It was just getting dark."

  We look for that time period on the security footage. When we find it I scroll for the correct camera angle.

  Yup.

  I was right.

  The massive chandelier that was directly above our heads at the party has a security camera in it and a 360-degree view of the entry hall. Jacob and I watch the party-goers from the chandelier cam for a couple of minutes. There's not much to see.

  But wait.

  Suddenly, J.L. is waving his arms in the air and people are running to specific spots on the floor. When they all settle in their places, the Grahams form the shapes of three letters...

  ICU

  "What's it mean?" Jacob asks. "ICU? Doesn't that stand for 'Intensive Care Unit' in hospitals? That doesn't make any sense."

  I shake my head. "It's the last clue. ICU. Like I See You. He's telling me exactly how he pulled off 72 robberies without being seen. But really, it's just proof that you're right. This is all some silly test. Let's go."

  "Where to?"

  "We're going to see if I passed the test."

  ***

  Jacob and I enter the mansion, unchallenged. We step through the front door to find the entry hall empty. Its vast space echoes with the sound of chatter and scraping silverware. Jacob guides me to a double door underneath one of the stairwells and we enter the dining hall. The Graham family is dining on a fancy lunch at a long table. Another chandelier hangs over everyone. I'm sure that one is rigged with a camera too.

  "Come. Eat," J.L. says to us. He stands and gestures to two seats that are right next to him. It's like he knew we were coming. All eyes follow us as we walk the long journey to the other side of the room.

  "Have you figured it out yet?" J.L. asks me.

  "You have ears everywhere, don't you, Mr. Graham?"

  "I do indeed, Link."

  "And you have eyes in all of the laptops that you donated to the citizens of Shelburne Falls."

  He smiles. But it isn't a goading smile. It's the kind of smile a proud dad would give his kid.

  "A spying laptop in every house is a great way to track people's schedules and possessions," I say, standing behind my chair.

  "And how did you come to this conclusion, Link?"

  "Our conversation at the party made me... uncomfortable. The whole thing felt like a test. So I made sure to commit everything to memory. Every word. Every movement. You packed a lot of information into two minutes, Mr. Graham. You kept calling me Link, while you were more polite with everyone else's name. You told me, with a little too much energy, that everything is alphabetical. So imagine my surprise when I took a map, ran some yarn from one burgled house to another, in alphabetical order by last name, and found the word Link written in three dimensions."

  A wave of whispers passes over the table.

  "I have no idea what you're talking about, but that is impressive," J.L. says.

  "I'm sure you also have no idea what I mean when I remind you about this comment. I think you said, "I gather you have a real talent for seeing the big picture, Link." Your quick glance up at the chandelier told me to investigate why everyone was standing around stiffly in place. From above, it was clear that you used your own family to spell out the letters ICU."

  Some gasps roll from the crowd. That tells me they weren't all aware of the game. They didn't know they'd been used as props in a crime.

  J.L. smiles, silent.

  "So you installed software on every laptop that you donated," I continue. "What do the laptops do? Use the webcam to spy on people? The keyboard?"

  "If I did that then, first of all, I'm a genius. Secondly, I'd probably use the microphone, too." He winks at me.

  "That's not even the genius of it," I say. "You also pulled off the crimes during the Iron Bridge dinner to minimize the chance for eyewitnesses. That worked out perfectly for you. So I'd guess around five of your staff was all you needed to confidently walk from home to home to fish out 72 targeted items from empty houses." He's enjoying my summary a little bit too much. It's time to throw him off his game, if that's even possible. "And you did all of this just to test me, Mr. Graham?" I ask.

  The sudden silence in the room is a little unsettling. It's like everyone is holding their breath. But J.L. isn't going to gi
ve me an answer. He probably thinks I'm recording him. Maybe another sleuth would do that. But I have a better way to get a confession.

  "Excellent job, Ms. Link. You outwitted my son in that comic book adventure a few months ago and now you've done an excellent job on this case. Even though I have no idea who is behind these crimes, I'll make sure all of the stolen items are replaced, and provide cold hard cash to buy brand new laptops to replace the infected ones that you've just revealed. No doubt, a rogue at the manufacturer planted the infected software on the computers." He says all of this as if it were a speech for the family. His body language screams, Let's wrap up this little adventure.

  "As for you, Ms. Link, I'd like to hire you to be a part of my security team. You'll find the pay is good."

  "You're going to jail," I tell him.

  Why did I say it? Not because I actually believe it. He'll get off with a slap on the wrist, and most of Shelburne Falls will forgive him and probably write him off as eccentric. No, I said it because I want to see how he acts when he's treated like a normal person. Not a billionaire who gets his way all the time. J.L. is not used to being interrupted. He's certainly not used to being interrupted by someone telling him that he's going to jail. Jacob once told me that his dad has a talent for bending the rules to his will. An article in Forbes magazine says the same thing. Let's just say that I'm getting a pretty clear picture of J.L. Graham for the first time and I don't like what I see. I think he's a sad man who also sees himself as above the law. That's a dangerous combination. It leads to bad decisions. It ruins lives.

  But he's forgotten that underneath our customs and laws, and way underneath his lofty sense of himself, is one thing he can't hide from. One thing that I specialize in. Truth. The truth can always come out, but only if someone insists on it.

  "Jacob is my friend," I say, filling the silence. "He's smart, he's funny, he's kind when he remembers to be. He's your son, so I know that you've helped him become who he is. You've given a lot to this community and you've asked for nothing in return. But you're also the man who donated hundreds of laptops with spyware on them that tracked people's lives and then robbed them when they weren't home. For what?"