Case of the One-Eyed Tiger

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “Ever since I learned my grandmother left her entire estate to you,” Taylor spat as she continued to pace.

  “How long have you known that your mother wasn’t going to inherit Lentari Cellars?” Jillian asked.

  “From the first moment I found my grandmother’s will,” Taylor flatly stated.

  “You searched the house,” I guessed.

  “From top to bottom,” Taylor confirmed. “I found a copy of her will in her desk. It wasn’t hard to find.”

  “I imagine that’s when you found her gun?” I asked.

  Taylor shook her head, “No. I swiped it months ago. Grandma never knew it was missing.”

  “What about the fingerprint?” I asked, growing angrier by the second. “How did you get a copy of my fingerprint on your notebook?”

  “It was easy,” Taylor said. She held her phone up and wiggled it in the air. “I looked it up. Transferring a print from one surface to another is far easier than you might think.”

  “Tell me how you got my fingerprint,” I demanded. “I never set eyes on you until the day we met in Jillian’s shop.”

  Taylor smiled sweetly at me.

  “Is that so? Try again, hot shot.”

  Confused, I glanced at Jillian, who shrugged.

  “You’re telling me we met before? Where? When?”

  “You don’t remember? You sure know how to flatter a girl, Zack. We were in Phoenix,” Taylor said as she resumed her pacing. She held her arm up to her head and said in a falsetto, “Zachary Anderson! How could you not remember our first meeting?”

  “I swear to you I’ve never seen her before in my life,” I assured Jillian. “I have no idea what this mixed bag of nuts is talking about.”

  “I waited on you at Zenburger. Several times. I took that job there just so I could wait on your table.”

  “To get the glass he was drinking from,” Jillian breathed. “That’s how you got his fingerprints. That’s dedication for you. How long did you have to wait?”

  “I spent nearly six weeks in Phoenix,” Taylor stated as she continued to pace. “It took nearly two weeks before they’d allow me to wait on a table by myself and then another four before I was finally able to get my hands on your water glass.”

  “How did you even know I’ve been to Zenburger?” I asked. “I only learned about that place earlier this year. I haven’t been there that many times.”

  “I followed you there several times,” Taylor sneered. “Have you always dined by yourself? Loser.”

  “He was recently widowed,” Jillian angrily told her. “Sometimes it’s preferable to be by yourself. Trust me, I’ve done the same thing myself.”

  “You were following me around in Phoenix?” I asked, doing my best to quell a growing feeling a rage. “For how long?”

  “I found you the day after I arrived in Phoenix,” Taylor snapped. “I had to know more about the person that stole my inheritance.”

  “I didn’t steal a damn thing from you!” I shouted. Sherlock added his barks to my outburst. “Your grandmother left her estate to me and my wife. I had nothing to do with it!”

  “Yet you wouldn’t sign the winery over to its rightful owner, would you?” Taylor screamed back. The Glock began to waver again.

  “Of course not,” I said, trying valiantly to infuse as much calm back into my voice as possible. “I’ve decided to reopen the winery in Samantha’s honor.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Taylor contradicted. “There has been a change in plans.”

  Her voice had become eerily calm. I decided it wasn’t a good sign. I had to stall for time while I tried to figure out a way out of this mess.

  “What’s your plan, Taylor?” I asked, pointing at her gun. “Do you really plan on using that thing? I don’t think you want two murders on your conscience, do you?”

  “I’ve already committed two murders,” Taylor coolly replied. “Do you think two more will make any difference to me?”

  “You won’t get away with this,” Jillian vowed. I could hear the fear in her voice. “There’s no way you can cover this up.”

  Taylor scoffed and looked around the room. “Don’t you get it? I already have! I’m the one that found a buyer for the tiger. I’m the one who took down the town bitch, Debra Jacobs. Not one person has ever thought to point a finger in my direction. Why? Because I’m not a threat. Well, let the morons in this city continue to think so.”

  “What about the guy that helped you steal the tiger?” I asked, eager to keep Taylor talking. I still hadn’t a clue how the three of us were going to get out of this, but I knew I had to do something. The only thing I could think of, at the moment, was to stall for time. Where the hell was Vance when I needed him? How could I get a message to him? I casually felt the front pocket of my jeans. I could have sworn I had slid my phone into my pocket but it wasn’t there. Did I leave it on the table? Or the kitchen counter? I had to find some way to call for help. “That Russian dude. What did he ever do to you?”

  “Gregor?” Taylor scoffed. “Please. Do you know how easy it was to find someone willing to buy the tiger, no questions asked? That’s the power of the internet, baby. Who couldn’t use an extra five million? So, I needed help to steal the tiger. I needed an actual thief. The tiger was my backup plan in case for some reason we were unable to get our hands on the winery. I had a theft to plan and I needed someone that could pull it off. Gregor did a remarkable job, didn’t he? He got in to Aunt Zora’s gallery and disabled the entire security system in less than two minutes. I just wish he would have deactivated the motion sensors on the paintings. Damn fool.”

  “Is that why you killed him?” Jillian nervously asked. “Because he didn’t completely deactivate all of the security systems in the gallery??”

  “He got greedy,” Taylor answered, with a shrug. “I can’t have someone trying to renegotiate their terms every thirty minutes. He threatened to take the tiger as payment so I got him to take a nap. A permanent one.”

  “By poisoning him with strychnine?”

  “Are you writing a book?” Taylor demanded, growing angry. “Look, I don’t know what I gave him, okay? It was clear, it was odorless, and it got the job done. My mother’s gardener, back when she could afford one, kept a locked cabinet out in the shed. Only the pesticides and the poisons were secured in that cabinet. I don’t remember which one I used. Gregor always carried his own bottle of water with him wherever he went, so I needed to use something that was colorless. I picked one at random. One tablespoon of that liquid, mixed into his water, did the job. The rest, as they say, is history.”

  “Am I the only one concerned that she’s revealing everything?” Jillian whispered in my ear the moment Taylor turned away. “This can’t be a good thing for us.”

  “It isn’t,” I whispered back. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

  “Fine?” Taylor repeated, turning back around and pointing her Glock back at me. “You’re going to be anything but fine here in just a few moments. Now give me your phone.”

  “What do you want my phone for?” I hesitantly asked as I reached into my pocket.

  “What do you think, idiot? I installed a top-of-the-line tracker app without your consent. I’ve been tracking you all across town. I’ve listened in on your calls, read your texts, and have even listened as you putzed around here. I know you and Nancy Drew here found the app.” Taylor groaned aloud and her grip on the gun faltered. “I hate you, Zack. I hate everything you stand for. Why did my grandmother leave everything to you and your wife? Why did you have to move to town?”

  Was I mistaken or did Taylor’s voice suddenly sound a lot like a whine?

  “This winery was part of my inheritance. My mother promised me that Lentari Cellars would be mine!”

  “What about Gerald?” I asked. I saw a look of sheer rage pass over Taylor’s face and instantly regretted mentioning her brother’s name.

  “My brother? My brother?? What the hell does Gerry have to do with anything? He d
oesn’t deserve a damn penny! That lazy, good for nothing moron hasn’t worked a day in his life! Why the hell should he get anything? I’m the one busting my ass at that newspaper. I’m the one who is actually making a living. Not my mother, and certainly not my brother. He lives to do her bidding. Well, this winery is mine. Mine, do you hear me? And with you out of the picture I’ll finally get what rightfully belongs to me.”

  “With me out of the picture, wouldn’t the estate revert to your mother?” I pointed out, inexplicably eager to continue pissing this nutbag off. “Or do you plan on eliminating your mother, too?”

  “I can handle my mother, now give me your cell phone.”

  Resigned, I glanced back toward the kitchen counter.

  “What?” Taylor asked, holding the gun disturbingly steady in her hand. “Where is it?”

  “Back there somewhere,” I told her. “It’s either on the counter or the table.”

  Taylor brandished her gun.

  “Alright. Move. And don’t try anything stupid.”

  I heard a siren in the distance. I didn’t have that many neighbors living around me. Could it be Vance? Had he somehow deduced we were in trouble? I eagerly looked back through the living room toward the front entry. Taylor cocked her head. She had heard the sirens, too.

  “Hurry!” she snapped, as she ushered us back to the kitchen. “Find your damn phone and give it to me!”

  We reached the kitchen and I paled. My cell wasn’t there. Where had I put it?

  “Where is it?” Taylor demanded. “Where have you hidden it?”

  “I didn’t hide it anywhere,” I protested, trying to hide the fear that was rising in my belly. It was strange. I knew there was a chance Jillian and I could get hurt, and it scared me. I’ll be honest. But as soon as Sherlock was thrown into the mix I became downright petrified. I couldn’t let anything happen to him. I was becoming frantic. “Just take it easy, Taylor. It’s gotta be here somewhere.” I moved over to the sink and tapped the counter. “This is where I had it last. It’s gotta be somewhere close.”

  What was the saying? Always in the last place you looked? The best hiding place was often out in the open and more than likely being overlooked. I frantically glanced around the room.

  “You’re stalling for time!” Taylor shouted. She pointed the gun down at Sherlock. “What do I have to do? Shoot your dog? You know I will. If I’m not holding your cell in five seconds then that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

  The sirens were growing progressively louder. Jillian tapped my shoulder and, surprisingly, pointed at my butt. Preoccupied with my own search, I didn’t notice. I had started patting down my pockets. Jillian tapped my shoulder again.

  “What?” I snapped. I would later apologize for how rudely that had come out but thankfully Jillian, bless her heart, had blamed my attitude on the less than desirable circumstances we had found ourselves in.

  “You’ve got something in your back pocket,” Jillian informed me. “It looks like either a flat narrow wallet or else a cell phone.”

  I quickly reached into my back pocket and pulled out a cell. I shook my head. I didn’t even remember putting it there. Whatever. A sense of relief washed over me. Hopefully Taylor would take the phone and run. Those sirens were close. They had to be less than half a mile away and were closing rapidly.

  A flash of color caught my eye. I looked down at the phone I was holding. The smart phone was encased in a blinged-out purple case. It was Jillian’s phone. What the hell had I done with mine?

  Then it came to me. I had set it down on the coffee table as I walked by on my way to the kitchen. I flicked my eyes over to the coffee table and sucked in a breath. It wasn’t there!

  Confused, I looked over at Jillian. Her scared eyes met mine. I could tell she didn’t have it nor did she have any clue where it was. If Taylor didn’t have it, then that could only mean…

  I glanced down at Sherlock, who was already staring up at me. Just then he ran his tongue over his chops. I stared at the dog. You’ve got to be kidding. There was no way I could tell Taylor that the dog ate it and keep a straight face. What had Sherlock done with it? Had the corgi somehow known the phone needed to be hidden? How in the world was that even possible?

  “Who have you called?” Jillian quietly asked. Unfortunately, Taylor overheard.

  “He’s called someone?” Taylor asked. She snatched the phone from my hands and looked at the display. The screen had been dimmed, but it wasn’t off. The screen brightened the instant Taylor touched the display. She glanced at the screen and let out a string of profanities that would have made a sailor blush.

  “I haven’t called anyone!” I protested. “I swear! I don’t even know how that phone got in my pocket.”

  The display confirmed that the phone had been connected to a call for the last twenty minutes. I should also mention that it’s about the same time it would take to get from the city hall to here.

  “Who did you call?” Taylor shouted. The gun began to shake once more. “Whose number is this?”

  “Mine,” a new voice flatly declared.

  Everyone whirled around to stare at the front entry. The door was wide open and a steady stream of cops were pouring through. Vance had drawn his gun and had Taylor lined up in his sights.

  “Drop it, Ms. Rossen. It’s over.”

  “Like hell it is,” Taylor snarled. The Glock never wavered and, dammit, it was still pointed at me. “There’s no way I’m going down and not taking him with me. Zack has ruined my life so the least I can do is repay the favor. I’ll see you in h-”

  Sherlock darted forward and sank his teeth into the first part of Taylor that he could reach, namely her left ankle. She screamed in pain and instantly switched targets, taking aim on little Sherlock. To this day I don’t know what came over me. I rushed forward, knocked the gun out of Taylor’s hand, and, for the first time ever, struck a woman.

  Taylor’s head snapped back as my fist smashed into her face. She flew backwards, slamming into Vance and going down in a jumble of arms and legs. Several of the cops that had come in with Vance quickly pulled Taylor to her feet and slapped cuffs on her.

  “Citizen’s arrest!” Taylor screeched as a trickle of blood flowed out her nose. “I’m placing Zack Anderson under citizen’s arrest! You are all witnesses! He physically assaulted me!”

  “I didn’t see a damn thing,” Vance contradicted as he rolled to his feet. He turned to his fellow officers. “Any of you see anything?”

  “Nope.”

  “Nada.”

  “Nuh-uh.”

  “Take Ms. Rossen into custody,” Vance ordered.

  “Charged with what?” Taylor sneered.

  “For the murders of Ms. Debra Jacobs and Mr. Gregor Stefans. For the theft of Bengál. And probably for a whole slew of other charges, but I think those should do for now, dontcha think?”

  “You have no proof,” Taylor fired back.

  “We have his phone,” Vance said as he pointed at me. “Our tech boys are dying to get their hands on it to see what else you might’ve done.”

  “You’d better pick up the locksmith, too,” Jillian quietly added.

  “Mick?” Vance asked, puzzled. “I know that kid. Seems to be a decent guy. What’s he got to do with anything?”

  “Taylor said he gives her copies of all the keys he makes,” Jillian explained.

  I pointed at Taylor.

  “Check her pockets. You’re going to find a key ring with all sorts of keys on it. She not only had a key to this place but also a key to the new set of locks I just had replaced. Yesterday.”

  A female officer appeared and gave Taylor an obligatory pat down. The ring of keys was produced. Taylor’s nose lifted high in the air.

  “So you’ll catch a two-bit cat burglar. Big deal. You still don’t have any proof against me.”

  “I need your phone, buddy,” Vance told me, stretching out a hand.

  “It vanished,” I returned, earning a smug smile fr
om Taylor. “It’s in the house somewhere, I just don’t know where. Do you want to know where it is? Ask him.” I pointed at Sherlock.

  “Your dog took your phone?” Vance asked, unable to hide the skepticism from his voice. “Seriously?”

  At that moment Sherlock trotted over to the far corner of the couch. He lowered his head so he could shove his snout under the couch and woofed. He pawed at the carpet a few times, as though he was trying to dig his way under the sofa. Then he pulled his head out, turned to look back at us, and barked again.

  “What is it, boy?” I asked. I dropped down to my knees so that I could peer under the couch. I should have known. There was my cell. Sherlock must have pushed it under there. I don’t know how he did it, or when he did it, only that I was damn glad that he did. I ruffled the fur behind his ears as I sat back on my haunches to look at my phone. I wiped the display across my chest to clear off several drops of doggie drool. I held it up for Vance to take.

  “That is one smart dog,” Vance said as he dropped to one knee to take my cell and give Sherlock another friendly pat. “We should make you an honorary police dog, fella.”

  Sherlock panted contentedly.

  “What about the tiger?” Jillian asked.

  “What about it?” Vance wanted to know.

  “Have you found it yet?” she asked. “Has it turned up anywhere?”

  “No,” Vance admitted. “Who knows what she’s done with the thing. I don’t know if we’ll ever recover it.”

  “You won’t,” Taylor vowed as she was led out the door. “You’ll never find it and I’ll never tell! Do you hear me? I still won, Zack. I still won!”

  “What a nut case,” Vance murmured as Taylor was led from the house. He looked around the living room. “Is everyone alright in here?”

  I nodded, “Yeah. We’re all good. I’m confused, though.”

  “About what?” Vance asked.

  “You. I didn’t call you. I swear I didn’t.”

  “I know you didn’t,” Vance told me. ‘I called Jillian.”

  “You did?” I asked.

  “You did?” Jillian echoed.

  “Yeah. I was gonna warn you about Taylor. A quick records check on her confirmed she had been arrested before. Several times.”