Jim nodded, “Right. In the hands of someone who knows how to use it, a thief could open any lock that he had a bumping key for, and disguise it as a simple knock on the door. When the person doesn’t answer then the thief will know there’s no one home and in he goes.”
“And what if there is someone home?” I asked.
Vance pointed at the potted plant. “Then we end up with a DB. That’s why the casing was found in the plant. The thief knocked on the door to unlock it. If the girlfriend was asleep upstairs then I’d say the VIC was also taking a nap, probably here on the couch. The VIC is awakened by the knock, starts walking to the door, but is surprised by the thief who must’ve thought the house was vacant. The VIC retreats into the living room and the perp shot him from the entry.”
“A DB?” Jim repeated, growing alarmed. “Someone died in here?”
Vance nodded, “The VIC was a relative of the homeowner.”
“I’m truly sorry to hear that,” Jim said as he reassembled the lock and installed it back inside the door.
“So how does someone get one of these bumping keys?” I asked, still hung up on the simple fact that there was a ‘master’ key that could theoretically open any lock that it’d fit. “Have you made any before?”
Jim shook his head, “While familiar with the process, I could in theory make one, but I won’t. It’s all about having a strong code of ethics. I know full well that I could gain access to about 90% of all tumbler locks by simply carrying around 9 or 10 bumping keys, but I won’t. It’s the wrong thing to do.”
“And if there’s someone who doesn’t have your same code of ethics?” Vance asked, frowning. “That would mean that they could get into any house they wanted.”
“Then why did Taylor have that huge set of keys in her possession when you arrested her for murder?” I asked. “I remembered her gloating she had both the old key to my house and the new key, even after I had re-keyed it.”
I was referring, of course, to the time I had moved to PV and ended up on everyone’s shit list, including Vance’s. At the time I had thought he was a pompous prick. Then again, I’m sure he thought I was guilty. Of murder.
“It would have been so much easier,” I continued, “for the two of them to have a set of these bumping keys and not have to worry about having to carry around so many keys. Why wouldn’t she have just done that?”
Vance shrugged, “I don’t know. Maybe it was a secret known only to locksmiths?”
“The process of bumping locks has been around for many years,” Jim companionably told us as he slid both door knobs into the door and tightened the mounting screws. Satisfied that everything was working properly, he began returning his tools to his toolbox.
“How does bumping work?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“You take a bumping key and insert it in the lock, leaving it one pin shy of being fully inserted. Apply a little pressure. Take some solid object and rap it against the key. The key will then be pushed all the way into the lock while knocking the tumblers up into position. Granted, the pins are all spring loaded, but all it takes is a split second for the sheer line to become clear. Once it does, and provided you’re still applying a little pressure, the key turns and the lock opens.”
I pulled out my own keys and held up the key that opens my house.
“Is this susceptible to being bumped?” I asked, certain I wouldn’t like the answer.
Jim took my key and studied it.
“This will unlock a five tumbler lock. A bumping key would unquestionably open your door.”
Vance pulled his own keys out and stared at his house key.
“I suppose mine is, too?”
Jim smiled at the both of us, “90% of tumbler locks, gentlemen. Yes, Detective, your house is susceptible, too.”
“How do you stop something like this?” I demanded. “What about the 10% that the bumping keys don’t work on? Are there locks that are bump-proof?”
“If you’re that worried then I’d recommend a security system,” Jim told us. He had finished packing his tools up and was preparing to leave.
“You’re telling me that there’s no lock out there that is immune to this bumping technique?” Vance asked.
“If it’s a basic tumbler lock, and if you see a keyhole, it can be bumped,” Jim told us. We had followed him outside and were now watching him load up his truck. “Look, fellas. There are locks that you can get that are bump proof. You’ve probably seen the locks with a digital keypad next to them?”
Both Vance and I nodded.
“If a lock doesn’t need keys to open then that means they’re bump-proof. But, if you’re that determined to keep a key-lock on your door, I do know of one from Master Lock that was specifically created to be bump-proof. I wish I could tell you how it works but I haven’t had a chance to install any yet. They’re rather pricey.”
“Consider me your first,” I told the locksmith. “Sign me up. I’d like those locks on my house and my winery, please.”
“You own a winery?” Jim asked, impressed. “Very nice. Which one?”
“Lentari Cellars.”
“Get out of town. You own Lentari Cellars? My wife loves your Syrah!”
“Put a rush on this and I’ll throw in a case of Syrah for your wife from our next harvest,” I told the friendly locksmith.
Jim’s eyes opened wide. He held out a hand.
“Deal.”
“Sign me up, too,” Vance told him.
Jim nodded, “You got it.”
Just then, Vance’s cell phone rang. He stepped aside to take the call. In the meantime, I pointed at Vance.
“The tab to change out his locks will be on me. It’s going to be my Christmas present to him. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
Jim smiled, “You got it. It’ll probably take me a few days to get the locks shipped out. Can I swing by the winery to see how many locks I’m going to need?”
“Sure. You know what? Let’s add one more house to that list. Are you familiar with the historic cottages here in town?”
Jim nodded, “A few. I haven’t been in any, I’m sorry to say.”
“One of them, Carnation Cottage, is off of Oregon Street. I’d like to change out the locks on that one, too.”
“Who lives there?” Jim asked.
“Another friend. I’ll tell her to expect you sometime in the next day or so if that’s okay with you. You know what? Why don’t you call me when you have everything ready?”
“What, are you this town’s secret Santa or something?” Jim good-naturedly asked.
“It sure does feel like it lately,” I told him. “That’s okay. It’s the right time of year for this type of thing. You’ll let me know when you’re ready?”
Jim nodded and held out a hand, “I will. You know, I never caught your name.”
“Sorry. Zack Anderson.”
Jim’s eyebrows shot up.
“You’re the guy who…”
“…was accused of murder,” I finished for the locksmith after he had trailed off. “Yep, that’s me. It was just one big misunderstanding.”
We shook hands and I watched Jim stash his toolbox in the back of his truck. Then I heard a dog collar jingle. Sherlock and Watson had risen from where they had been lying and were ready to go. I had just loaded both dogs into my Jeep when Vance finished his call. He hurried over.
“Well, it’s official, sports fans. Captain Nelson has called for an official meeting. It sounds like he’s invited the whole damn town.”
“I would imagine he wants to allay everyone’s fears,” I told my friend. “Are you against this?”
“Do you have any idea how this town will react once they find out that there’s some guy running around with a key that can open their house?”
Jim had just slid behind the wheel of his truck. He rolled the window down and leaned out. I noticed and nudged Vance on the shoulder.
“I don’t know how you feel about full disclosure,” Jim started, “b
ut if I were you, I’d leave the part about bumping locks out of your report. At least until you can find the guy responsible for this.”
Vance nodded, “In the meantime, I’d suggest you order as many of those bump-proof locks that you can get your hands on. Sooner or later this news will break and you’re going to be inundated with requests for people to change out their locks.”
Jim’s friendly smile vanished.
“You have a point. I think I will. Good day to you both, gentlemen.”
I felt a tug on my leash. Sherlock had wandered over to a section of the sidewalk that had a few tire marks on it, like someone had tried to pull a U-turn in the middle of the road and had driven up on the curb. He sniffed the marks a few times and turned to look at me. As soon as he saw that I was looking he turned back to the marks and woofed.
I wandered over and squatted down next to the corgi to drape an arm around him.
“What did you find, buddy? Some tire marks? Do you think these belong to our suspect?”
Sherlock kept his nose glued to the ground. I looked up and down the sidewalk. There were tire marks everywhere. What were the chances that these were made by the perp’s car?
“What’s going on?” Vance asked, coming up behind me. “What are you looking at?”
“Tire marks.”
“I can see that, Einstein. What about them?”
“Sherlock led me over here.”
Vance glanced down at the tri-color corgi. He squatted down to give the marks a closer inspection. He looked both left and right.
“There are marks everywhere,” Vance told me. “It’s almost as if the people around here are lousy drivers. There are tire marks up and down the curbs.”
“Yet he’s only interested in these,” I pointed out.
Vance pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures.
“A valid point. All right, I’ll see what I can find out about them.”
“Were there any tire tracks around any of the other burglaries?” I asked.
Vance thought about it for a moment.
“None around the apartment complex. I mean, there were, but nothing we could use.”
“And the doctor’s house?” I asked.
Vance started sliding his finger along the phone’s display. Then he tapped a message and then traced a few gestures on the screen. Then he tapped his phone a few times more and held it up to his ear.
“Jerry, this is Vance. Hey, you processed the scene from the burglary yesterday, right? Yes, the doctor’s house. Look, did you find any tire tracks outside? You did? Hmm. What’s that? No, there’s nothing wrong. It’s just that there are some tire tracks out here. I’d like you to… what? Sure. I’ll hold.”
“What’s going on?” I asked in a hushed tone.
Vance tapped the phone’s display, muting the call.
“He put me on hold. He had another call.”
“This Jerry person isn’t presently on scene?” I asked, confused.
“They’re both processing the scene, only I saw Jerry leave a little bit ago to start logging the evidence,” Vance explained. “The presence of a DB has the unfortunate side effect of canceling PTO. If we would have had more than… Jerry? Yes. I’m still here. Right. I was asking about tire tracks. Did you find any yesterday? You did? I’d like you to compare them to a couple of pictures I just sent you. I’ve got reason to believe they might be involved. I… sure, I’ll hold again.” Vance looked at me and gave me a thumbs up. “He got the pics and is checking them now.”
At that moment my own cell phone began to ring.
“Zachary? It’s Jillian. I’m sorry to bother you but I was just checking to make sure you’re okay.”
“Hi, Jillian. We’re all good here,” I assured her. “Hey, now that I have you on the phone, I’ve got something to run by you.”
“Of course. What can I help you with?”
“The new locksmith was out here. Vance wanted to see if the locks had been tampered with so he had the locks taken apart.”
“And were they?”
“Sadly, no. However…” I trailed off as I thought about the best way to let her know that practically every house in PV was vulnerable to this thief. I took a deep breath. “However, the locksmith did point something out that could help a thief break in to your home. As a result I’m having all the locks on the house and the winery switched over.”
“Oh, no! Is it that bad?”
“Vance put in an order, too.”
“Do you think I should get my locks replaced, too?”
I smiled. That was exactly what I was hoping to hear.
“I already ordered them for your house, too. My treat. Consider it an early Christmas present.”
“Zachary Anderson, you don’t have to buy new locks for my house. I’m perfectly capable of buying my own.”
“I figured you could,” I told her. “However, this is something I’d like to do for you. Now smile and thank me for looking out for your well-being.”
A few seconds of silence passed. I fidgeted nervously. Had I crossed the line by taking Jillian’s safety into my own hands?
“Thank you, Zachary. That means a lot.”
I let out the breath I had been holding.
“You’re welcome.”
“May I make a request?”
“Sure. What can I do for you?”
“Would you please have that locksmith take care of Hannah’s house, too? And Taylor’s. I’ll pay for it, of course.”
“I’ll be sure to let the locksmith know.”
Both Vance and I ended our calls at the same time. Vance looked at me with a victorious expression on his face. Curious, I cocked my head at him.
“What is it?”
Vance clapped my back.
“Jerry confirmed the tracks are a match to those he found at the doctor’s place. We have our first viable lead!”
SEVEN
“Why are there four forks on the table?” I asked the following day.
The following Saturday, Vance, Harry, and I had decided to meet for lunch at a new – for me – restaurant. At my suggestion. I wanted to be able to show Jillian that I was at least trying to step out of my comfort zone. A little bird had told me that this was one of Jillian’s favorite places to eat, so I thought I’d give them a try. While I knew almost immediately that there wasn’t going to be anything on the menu that I’d like, I did want to give it a trial run first to see if I’d be able to bring Jillian here and find something that I’d be willing to try. I eyed the menu in front of me and sighed inwardly. This wasn’t gonna be easy.
We were sitting at Chateau Restaurant & Wine Bar, less than two blocks from Jillian’s store. This place was far and away the nicest, ritziest restaurant here in town. Waiters were decked out in tuxedos; menus were printed on thick parchment and adhered to thin wooden backing. And… there were way too many pieces of silverware on the table to know what to do with.
I had eyed my friends when I first sat down. Harry, surprisingly enough, seemed to be at ease as he placed his thick cloth napkin on his lap. A check on Vance confirmed he looked as out of place as I must have felt.
“They probably provide spares in case you drop one,” Vance guessed.
Harry shook his head. He leaned forward and tapped each of the pieces of silverware in front of him. He started with the fork on the far left.
“This is the fish fork,” Harry began. “It’s provided in case you order a fish dish.”
I had to stifle a laugh. A fish fork? Seriously?
“And if we don’t?” Vance asked under his breath. “I don’t like fish.”
“Then after you place your order they’ll take it away,” Harry casually explained. He caught sight of the approaching waiter. “Who’s up for a bottle of wine? My treat, guys.”
Vance looked at his watch and shrugged, “It’s late enough. Why not? Zack, what do you say?”
“I say I’d rather have a Coke Zero,” I muttered as the waiter arrived at our ta
ble to take our drink orders.
Harry grinned and nudged Vance, “That’s more for us, right pal?”
Vance nodded and gave Harry a fist bump.
“Would you like to order a bottle of wine?” the waiter eagerly asked, having overheard part of our conversation.
Harry nodded, “You bet. What would you recommend, man?”
The waiter thought for a moment.
“We were finally able to restock our supply of a local favorite, namely the Syrah produced by none other than Lentari Cellars. It is top rated and presently in high demand. It’s only $149 per bottle. Shall I open one for you?”
I had been taking a sip from my water glass when I nearly choked.
“$149?” I sputtered, wiping the flecks of water from my mouth with my napkin. “You’re selling a bottle of wine from Lentari Cellars for $149? Wow. I’m going to need to talk to Caden about our prices. That’s too damn high.”
The waiter gave me an appraising stare.
“You want to lower the prices? Of the wine obtained from Lentari Cellars? How could you possibly do that? We can barely get them on the phone to replenish our stock.”
“What’s your name?” Harry jovially asked the waiter.
“Ferdinand.”
“Ferdinand, meet Zack Anderson, owner of Lentari Cellars.”
Ferdinand’s eyes shot open. He looked at me and then at Vance, as if waiting for him to confirm or rebuke what Harry had just said. Vance shrugged and picked up his own glass of water.
“Please wait here,” Ferdinand instructed before rushing off.
“Where exactly are we going to go?” Harry called after him. He looked back at the two of us and shrugged. “Okay, picking up from where we left off. As I was saying, this is the fish fork. Then we have the dinner fork and salad fork.”
I stared at the multitude of flatware on either side of my plate. I pointed at the lone fork on the right of the plate, lying to the right of two knives and a spoon. I squinted at it. It was much smaller than the others.
“What about this one?” I asked, tapping the tiny fork.
“That’s probably the shellfish fork,” Harry said as he picked his own up. “See the tines? There’s only two. It’s used to crack into the shells of oysters and such.”
Case of the Holiday Hijinks Page 10