Case of the Holiday Hijinks

by Jeffrey M. Poole

“Oh, every so often.”

  “How long?”

  “You know how it goes. Probably not nearly enough as I should.”

  “When was the last time you spoke with them?” Jillian asked, refusing to let the matter drop.

  Hoo, boy. She wasn’t going to like my answer. I was pretty sure I hadn’t talked to either of my parents since I moved out here. We communicated via emails and texts, sure, but an actual conversation? Yesterday’s video chat was the first time I’ve seen my mother in over six months.

  Yeah, maybe I did deserve the title of World’s Worst Kid.

  “Let me try to put this another way. Does your family even know that you were arrested for murder?”

  “If I say no then are you going to think less of me?”

  “Zachary Anderson! That’s no way to treat your family. Were you serious when you insinuated that you and your parents don’t get along? Is that why you didn’t tell them that you had been arrested?”

  “We’ve had our differences,” I slowly began as the waitress appeared and set down our orders. I immediately started digging into my carne asada enchilada. “I think the reason I cringe whenever my mother calls is that it’s because she still thinks of me as a teenager incapable of making my own decisions. I mean, I can appreciate her concern but she really needs to let me make my own choices.”

  “Have you told her that?” Jillian asked.

  “On numerous occasions. I just don’t think it has ever sunk in.”

  “Then this would be the perfect opportunity to do just that,” Jillian told me.

  The waitress stopped by to refill our drinks. She caught sight of the two dogs and immediately put her tray down on our table. She squatted down and held out a hand. Recognizing a friendly gesture, both corgis rose to their feet and sniffed her hand.

  “These have got to be the cutest dogs I’ve ever seen in my life!” the young waitress exclaimed.

  Her name tag identified her as “Kim”. She looked to be fresh out of high school, wore her long brunette hair in a tight braid, and had several visible tattoos. I’m not sure how long she’s worked at Casa de Joe’s but I do know she’s waited on us before.

  Both dogs were gazing up at the young girl with adoring eyes as she first scratched Sherlock behind his ears and then gave Watson the same treatment. I was actually surprised Watson didn’t flop over onto her back. I watched our waitress give her apron pockets a few pats, as if she was looking for something. She looked up at the two of us and smiled.

  “I’ll be right back. Is it okay if I give your dogs a treat?”

  “As long as it isn’t people food,” I told her.

  “They’re these bits of bagel dough,” Kim explained. “They’re from…”

  “I know exactly where you’re going with this,” I interrupted, giving her a smile. “And I can tell you that they both love those bagel bit things from Farmhouse Bakery.”

  “Awesome! I’ll be right back!”

  “You’ve made a friend,” Jillian giggled.

  I shook my head and pointed at the dogs.

  “You mean they have. Everywhere I go people ooh and aah over the dogs. As for me? I’m ignored.”

  “Unless you identify yourself,” Jillian added with a smile. “You’re quite the celebrity around here, Zachary.”

  I shrugged, “Not for the right reasons.”

  My cell started to ring. I glanced at the display and groaned. I showed Jillian the phone. It was Vance.

  “Do you know what I’m going to do?” I asked her. “I’m going to see about changing his ring tone to ‘You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch.’ That’d fit him quite well right about now.”

  Jillian shook her head, “No you’re not. He’s your friend. Just answer it and see what he wants. Hopefully everything is okay.”

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

  “Zack. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  Kim appeared just then, fed each of the corgis a couple treats, and presented me with the check. I signaled her to wait and slid a credit card into the small black binder, all without looking at the bill. She smiled, nodded, and hurried off.

  “We’re just finishing up lunch. What’s going on? You don’t sound like you’re having a good day.”

  “I’m not. There’s been another burglary.”

  I sighed and looked over at Jillian. She was already watching me and knew instantly that something was wrong.

  “Another burglary,” I quietly whispered to her.

  “Same as before. All the presents are gone and there are no signs of forced entry. There’s definitely something going on here since this house is much nicer and there are all kinds of things that would tempt a burglar.”

  “Only nothing else was taken,” I quietly guessed.

  “Right. I don’t suppose you have the dogs with you, do you?”

  “As a matter of fact they’re right here.”

  “Oh, good. Come on down here. The address is…”

  “So is Jillian,” I added, perhaps a wee bit more forcefully than I should have.

  “Oh. My bad. I’m sorry, Zack. I should’ve asked. I can just…”

  Jillian took the phone from me, “Don’t worry, Vance. I’m sending him your way.”

  I stared at Jillian with a bemused smile on my face. Yes, she could have guessed at how the conversation was playing out, but to grab the phone at the right time? Could she have heard him? Damn women and their Vulcan hearing.

  Jillian pulled out a piece of paper and pen and jotted down an address. She finished the call and handed me the phone. Then she slid the paper over to me.

  “Better get going. He’s expecting you.”

  “I’m not sure how much help we’ll be able to be,” I confided as we both pushed our chairs back. “Sherlock didn’t find anything at the first place.”

  “Maybe he will with this one,” Jillian suggested. “You never know. It’s worth a shot, right?”

  I dropped Jillian off at Cookbook Nook and headed over to the second crime scene. This one was located in a nicer, newer part of town. I parked my Jeep just off of Blackstone Alley and set both Sherlock and Watson on the ground. Together we headed towards all the flashing lights and bustle of activity. This time I could see an elderly couple being interviewed by the police. I looked up at the house. Vance was right. This was definitely a nicer part of town.

  The house was a contemporary two story home that had an attached two car garage. The grounds were professionally landscaped, as were the rest of the houses on this street. A quick glance down the street confirmed that each and every single house had been decorated for Christmas. Maybe it was part of some HOA agreement. Whatever. I will say that it looked really nice. I headed towards the open front door. I could see Vance standing inside, talking with the same crime scene tech I had seen him with yesterday. As before, we were waved over.

  “This is a nice house,” I commented, as the dogs and I stepped foot inside. I could smell the telltale scent of freshly cut pine trees coming from within. I could also smell cleaning supplies. This house had been recently cleaned. A quick glance at the carpet showed that it had been recently vacuumed, too.

  “Zack. Thanks for coming. Well, here we are again.”

  “This place is a lot nicer than the last,” I observed. “It’s nice in here. Makes me realize I haven’t decorated for Christmas at my house. Yet.”

  Vance nodded, “Better get with it. Christmas is three weeks away. Yep, this place is nicer than the last. That’s what makes this even more baffling. This house has a top notch home theater system. The homeowners have a jewelry box inside their walk-in closet. They even have a floor safe. Nothing was touched, only the presents. Hell, it doesn’t even look like they were looking for anything besides the presents.”

  “What kinds of presents were there?” I asked. “Anything worth a lot of bucks?”

  “Just presents for their grandkids. Various toys, a few electronic games, tablets, etc. Don’t get me wrong, they’re worth more than wha
t the Murphy family had, but still, look at this room! That’s gotta be a what, 55-60” flat screen TV, with a top of the line home theater system. The speakers alone are probably worth just as much as the television yet they were ignored. What kind of a dumbass burglar would do that?”

  “Somebody who’s looking for a very specific item,” I decided. “What that could be escapes me at the moment.”

  “That makes two of us,” Vance confessed.

  “So who lives here?” I asked.

  “Dr. and Mrs. David Morris.”

  “Doctor, huh?”

  Vance nodded, “He’s retired.”

  “Maybe we’re dealing with a disgruntled former patient?”

  “He was a dentist,” Vance pointed out. “What, did someone not like their cleaning?”

  “I take it they didn’t see or hear anything?”

  Vance shook his head, “Nope. Not a damn thing. They stepped out for lunch and when they came back they were shocked to see everything was missing from under their tree.”

  “No open windows or unlocked back doors?” I asked.

  “None. We’ve been over every square inch of this house. It was locked up tighter than a drum.”

  “So how in the hell is this guy finding a way in?” I demanded. “Look, I’m no expert but I’d say we’re definitely missing something. No broken windows, unlocked doors, or… what about hidden keys?”

  Vance turned to look at me.

  “What was that?”

  “Did the good doctor have a house key hidden somewhere around here? Maybe under a planter or a rock?”

  Surprised, Vance motioned one of the officers over and relayed the question. The officer hurried over to the retired doctor and asked. We both saw the doctor turn our way and shake his head no.

  “Damn,” I swore. “So much for that.”

  “It was a good idea,” Vance told me. “I’m surprised I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “I should’ve known it wouldn’t have panned out. I mean, the first burglary was an apartment. There’s not many places to hide a key there.”

  “A valid point,” Vance admitted.

  “If I didn’t know any better then I’d say a pissed off Santa Clause was reclaiming gifts.”

  An officer approached. He was an officer I was familiar with but, sadly, his name escaped me. He held a notebook out to Vance.

  “What’s this?” he asked the officer.

  “A more detailed list of what was under the tree.”

  Vance turned to look at me.

  “Alright. You’re here. So are Sherlock and Watson. Care to lead them around to see if they spot anything while I go through this?”

  “You got it. Sherlock, let’s go. Let’s see if there’s anything to find in here, okay?”

  Sherlock was waiting. As soon as he felt slack appear in his leash he was on his feet and headed further into the house. He sniffed along the perimeter of the living room – again hesitating at the tree – and promptly moved toward the kitchen.

  We checked out the bathrooms. We checked the bedrooms, the den, and the laundry room. I walked both dogs through the garage just to see if anything attracted Sherlock’s attention.

  Nothing.

  Every time I asked the little fellow if there was anything here he always returned to the tree to stare up at it, as though he had never laid eyes on a tree before in his life. Determined to figure out what he was so fascinated with, I squatted down next to Sherlock and together we stared at the tree. Watson joined us a few moments later, only after a second or two, she was staring at me as though I had finally lost my marbles.

  “Whatcha got?” Vance asked as he squatted down next to me.

  “This is the second tree that Sherlock has expressed interest in,” I told Vance. “Coincidence? And before you ask, yes, he has seen a tree before.”

  “Weren’t you the one who said that Sherlock’s fascination with the tree could be attributed to the simple fact that he’s never seen one indoors before?”

  “Yeah, I did. However, here we are, at two crime scenes in a row, and Sherlock has got his nose in the tree again. Isn’t it worth checking out?”

  Vance slowly stood. It was nice to see that his knees cracked just as loudly going up as mine did going down. We both eyed each other and decided to refrain from cracking a joke at the other’s expense.

  “I’d be more interested in knowing whether it’s all indoor Christmas trees Sherlock is interested in or just these two. Then I’d be willing to check out the tree. But until that happens, I think we can leave the tree alone.”

  I gathered up the leashes and headed outside.

  “That’s easy enough to test out,” I told my friend as we made it to the sidewalk.

  “Oh, yeah?” Vance countered. “How?”

  “Look at all the bystanders out here,” I said, indicating the growing crowd of curious onlookers. “Do you think we could persuade one of them to let us in to check out their tree?”

  “Honey, you can come in my house any time you want.”

  I groaned. Unfortunately, the voice was one that I knew. It belonged to Ms. Clara Hanson, owner of PV’s only bookstore, A Lazy Afternoon. I had met her a few months ago when I went looking for books about Egyptian mummies. This was the lady who, I was certain, was smack in the middle of a mid-life crisis. She was doing her damnedest to try and reclaim her youth by dressing in skin-tight clothes and showing way more skin than anyone wanted to see. She acted like she was a teenager, only the problem was, she had to be in her sixties. The last time I saw her – which was the day we met – her hair was a bright platinum blond skyscraper that was perching precariously on her head. I thought it had to be a wig but never had enough guts to ask about it. Today, though, she was a brunette and her jet black locks were straight as an arrow and extended halfway down her back.

  I groaned.

  Ever since the day I met her I have been actively avoiding her. I’m not afraid of little old ladies, don’t get me wrong. However, I’m not a fan of people who don’t respect my private space. I don’t like carrying out conversations with anyone who was determined to hold them less than two inches from my face.

  Both dogs had already turned at the sound of the voice and were watching the stranger closely. Vance turned and looked, having heard me groan. He nudged my shoulder.

  “A fan of yours?”

  “Unfortunately. Man, I gotta tell you, she scares the shit out of me.”

  “Her? Why?”

  “Let’s just say that she’s a little on the ‘too friendly’ side.”

  “Ah. Still want to try this experiment of yours?”

  “Not now I don’t.”

  Much to my dismay, Vance turned to Ms. Hanson and waved her over. Clara couldn’t duck under the yellow tape and hurry over to us fast enough. I threw Vance a dirty look.

  “Well, hello there, boys! I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. You’re looking for a house with a Christmas tree in it? Well, mine’s right next door. You’re more than welcome to come inside and look around. Hello again, Zack! It’s so nice to see you, sweetie.”

  “Umm…”

  Vance held out a hand.

  “Vance Samuelson, PVPD. And who might you be, ma’am?”

  Clara took the hand and gave it a firm shake.

  “Clara Hanson. I own A Lazy Afternoon, off of Oregon Street.”

  Vance nodded, “The bookstore. I’ve been to your store a few times, ma’am. Listen, is your offer open? Zack and I are curious and want to see if his dogs react strangely to all indoor trees.”

  “Sure thing, honey. Come this way. I’d enjoy the company of such handsome men.”

  Thankfully, since I was standing several feet behind my friend, Clara slipped her arm through Vance’s and pulled him towards her house first. I followed from a discreet distance. I glanced down at the dogs to see what their reaction to this pushy woman was. From what I could see, neither one appeared to care.

  We walked up the steps to
Clara’s home, pausing only long enough for the homeowner to open her front door. A waft of incense, oils, and a myriad of other nauseating scents wafted out, nearly making me gag. This was almost as bad as walking into a smoker’s home. I could only hope my clothes weren’t going to smell like this for the rest of the day.

  “Zack, see if Sherlock is interested in this tree. It’s right over there.”

  I narrowed my eyes. I could see that Vance’s eyes were watering. Clearly he was enjoying his time inside Clara’s house just as much as I was.

  I led Sherlock over to the living room, gave him some slack, and silently watched to see what he’d do. Watson promptly sat by my right ankle and watched her packmate. Sure enough, as soon as Sherlock neared the tree his ears perked up and he gazed up at it with the same amount of fascination as he exhibited with the other two.

  So much for that theory. My crackpot dog was apparently fascinated with indoor trees. There was nothing more to learn here, so it was time to beat a hasty retreat. I gathered up his leash and led him back to the front door.

  “He’s acting the same way,” I confirmed. “You were right, Vance. It’s just a passing fancy. We should get going.”

  “Give us a kiss, give us a kiss.”

  Both Vance and I turned at the sound of a second voice. I smiled at Vance’s confusion. He thought there was someone else in the house.

  “It’s her parrot,” I told him. “Ruby, if memory serves.”

  I heard a flapping of wings and then, all of a sudden, I felt something perch on my right shoulder. A soft, feathered head nuzzled up against my cheek.

  “Do you know this bird, Zack?” Vance asked.

  I nodded, “Kinda. I’ve only seen her once before, in Clara’s store.”

  Ruby cooed softly, trilling quietly every few seconds.

  “I have never seen her do that,” Clara admitted. “Hell, she doesn’t even do that with me. What’s she doing? The bird equivalent of a purr?”

  I looked at Clara and shrugged, “I’m no ornithologist. I haven’t a clue.”

  “Ornithologist?” Vance repeated.

  “A bird expert,” I translated.

  We all heard a few warning woofs. Sherlock, with his neck craned all the way up to look at me, was eyeing the gray parrot. He woofed again. I saw Ruby stop her nuzzling, look down at the two dogs who were staring up at her, and then bob her head a few times.