Case of the Holiday Hijinks

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “Like what?” Caden wanted to know.

  “I don’t know. Give it something simple, like a one word name.”

  “You got it. Thanks, Zack. That’s all I needed today.”

  Caden turned around to head back to the front door when I stopped him.

  “Listen, do you know if we have any extra cases of the Syrah lying around? I kinda promised the owner of the restaurant yesterday that I’d do what I can to replenish his stock. He claims he’s been calling and that he hasn’t been able to get ahold of anyone.”

  Caden held up the winery’s only registered cell phone.

  “This is the only number listed on our invoices. I keep this thing with me at all times. I know I haven’t missed any calls. Hmm. I only have one person going straight to voice mail, and that’s Chateau Restaurant & Wine Bar. I don’t suppose it was them, was it?”

  I laughed, “Yep. Mr. Dubois. He’s the owner. Why do you have him going to voice mail?”

  Caden sighed, “Because he won’t shut the hell up. When that man gets a burr up his ass he won’t let it go. Contrary to what he might think, the rest of us are not on this planet to jump whenever he snaps his fingers.”

  “Can you spare a case or two for him? Just this once?”

  Caden nodded, “Sure. For you and you alone. I’m not doing this for him. I’ll take care of it.”

  My cell rang. A quick glance at the display confirmed it was Vance. I made sure the leashes were clipped on the dogs and then followed Caden outside.

  “Hey, Vance. How’s it…”

  “We found it!” Vance interrupted. “And it’s all thanks to Sherlock!”

  “Remind me again what Sherlock found?” I asked as I locked the winery’s door. I stopped for a second to admire the heavy duty, bump-proof dead bolt now securing Lentari Cellars from unwanted intruders.

  “We found the van!”

  My eyebrows shot up.

  “Seriously? That’s awesome! Who was driving? Was it someone from PV?”

  “They haven’t pulled him over yet. They’ve been discreetly following him for the better part of three hours now.”

  “What? Why?”

  “We’re trying to catch him red-handed, Zack.”

  “Ah. And I take it you haven’t had much luck yet?”

  “Nope. Not yet. All he’s doing is driving around, delivering packages.”

  “Did you get a license plate number? Who’s it registered to?”

  “The van is registered to a Charlie Sumner. He’s an employee of a shipping company based out of Portland. Sumner is stationed in a satellite office in Medford.”

  “A shipping company,” I repeated. “Do you believe them?”

  “Actually? Yes. I think the company is legit. However, I think the driver is dirty as hell.”

  “Have you guys been able to check out his tire tracks yet?” I asked.

  “No. He hasn’t driven through any mud, or water, or anything else that’ll leave a track. So we have several cars keeping an eye on him, waiting to jump in should he do something stupid. Or leave tracks. Whatever.”

  “So how long are you going to give him?”

  “Probably not too much longer,” Vance admitted with a sigh. “All we need him to do is… Zack? Let me call you back. Jones is calling me. He’s one of the officers that’s tailing him.”

  Vance signed off just as I made it back to the house. I was considering going for a drive when my cell rang ten minutes later.

  “Hey Vance, that was quick.”

  “We got him.”

  “Sorry? What was that?”

  “Jones tailed the suspect to a quiet residential neighborhood, watched him get out of his van, and approach a house. Zack, they arrested him after he was spotted peering through the windows. They’ve just brought him to the station and they’ve also impounded the van. I thought you might like to watch the interview.”

  I glanced over at the dogs. Both had jumped up on the couch and were stretching out in preparation for an afternoon nap. I turned on the television and set it to the Animal Planet station.

  Don’t laugh. My dogs enjoyed watching television. I don’t know what that says about me, but if I could use modern technology as an impromptu dogsitter, then so be it. I left the dogs on the couch and made my way to the police station. The cop at the front desk was one of the policemen who had admitted they were fans of Sherlock. I was promptly waved through. I saw Vance talking with several other cops. He looked up, waved me over, and together we stepped inside the observational part of the interrogation room.

  “Is that the Grinch?” I asked, looking at the young teenager sitting by himself in the room. He was probably 18 or 19, had the unhealthy look of someone who didn’t eat too well, and was fidgeting on his seat. He looked more annoyed than scared. “He doesn’t look like much of a thief. Or a murderer, for that matter. Are you sure that’s our guy?”

  “Look at him,” Vance said, turning to look at the kid. “He’s not afraid, or concerned. This is someone that has been in an interrogation room before.”

  “I will definitely say that it’s much more fun to be on this side of the mirror,” I said. “I don’t know how that kid is staying so calm. I certainly didn’t enjoy sitting by myself in there. Wait. Is that what you were doing to me back when I had been arrested? You were all in here waiting for me to crack?”

  Vance managed to keep his face comfortably parked in neutral.

  “Okay, that’s long enough. It’s time to find out what this guy knows.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I called out as Vance left the room. Before the door could swing all the way shut it I watched a hand insert itself inside the room and pull the door back open. Captain Nelson appeared. He nodded at me and sank down into the closest chair.

  “Have I missed anything?” the captain asked me.

  “No. Vance just left to go talk to him.”

  “Think he did it?” the captain casually asked.

  I turned to look at the man who once thought I was guilty of murder and had no qualms about holding me in jail until a better culprit could be found. Since when had he been this chatty? I found his demeanor strangely disquieting.

  “I wish I knew,” I said.

  “Guess,” the captain instructed.

  “Well, speaking from experience back when I was sitting in that seat, I could tell you that I was uncomfortable as hell. I didn’t want to be there. I didn’t know how to convince you people that I was innocent. It was frustrating.”

  “Go on,” Captain Nelson said as a smile formed on his face.

  “This kid is looking around the room as though he thinks it could use a fresh coat of paint. He doesn’t appear to be nervous. Oh, don’t get me wrong, he doesn’t want to be there. I don’t know if I can say that he knows why he’s been brought in. My first reaction is that, no, he didn’t do it. Then again, this could all be an act.”

  “So you think he’s innocent,” the captain casually asked.

  “You asked,” I reminded him. “I answered.”

  “Not bad, Anderson. You’d make a fair detective.”

  We watched Vance enter the room, drop the file on the table, and pull out a chair.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Sumner. How are you doing today?”

  “Not so good,” I heard the teenager say. “Why am I in here? I’m going to be fired if I don’t get my deliveries done.”

  “On a Sunday?” Vance skeptically asked. “Not even the Post Office delivers on a Sunday. What’s the matter, Charlie? Falling behind on your deliveries because you found something else to do?”

  The teenager hung his head and fell silent.

  Vance nodded, “That’s what I thought. So, why don’t you tell me what happened. From the beginning.”

  “I shouldn’t have done it, okay? It was wrong and I was stupid.”

  Vance pulled out a pen and a pad of paper. He slid them over to the kid. When Charlie refused to look up, Vance rapped his knuckles on the table. Cha
rlie flinched, as though he had been struck on the arm.

  “Go ahead and write everything down,” Vance instructed, pointing at the notepad. “Use your own words. We need to have it on record.”

  “I was set up,” Charlie all but whispered.

  “What was that?” Vance asked, looking up. “What did you say?”

  “Those sons of bitches set me up,” Charlie muttered again, raising his voice. “They told me it’d be the perfect way to score some extra cash.”

  “By breaking into people’s houses and stealing their Christmas presents?” Vance asked. “What kind of a lame-brain lowlife dumbass would do that to someone else? Especially at this time of year?”

  “What are you talking about?” Charlie demanded. “I didn’t break into any houses.”

  “Of course you didn’t,” Vance sighed. “You’re telling me that it’s just a coincidence that your van is spotted outside two crime scenes?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Charlie insisted. “I was never at any crime scene, just a demolition zone.”

  “What was that?” Vance repeated, confused.

  “What was that?” I asked, turning to the captain for confirmation. Captain Nelson looked just as puzzled as I did.

  “I said, I was only at a demolition zone. They said the stuff was just going to be thrown away. It’d be a great way to sell it cheaply and make a few bucks. What’s the harm in that?”

  “What demolition zone are you referring to?” Vance asked. “I know of only one in PV. Are you talking about the Square L?”

  Charlie’s head fell again.

  “Interesting,” Captain Nelson mused. “Sounds like the kid was helping himself to whatever had been left inside that convenience store. I’m not sure I buy it.”

  “Neither do I,” I told the captain.

  “You’re telling me,” Vance was saying, “that you’re admitting to robbing the Square L? When it had already been closed?”

  Charlie nodded and sulked.

  “I wonder how he got in,” I mused aloud. “It’s not like they’d leave the door unlocked.”

  Captain Nelson rose from his feet, grabbed the old-fashioned microphone that was sitting on the table in front of us, and punched a button.

  “Ask him how he got inside the store.”

  “So how did you get inside the store?” Vance asked, almost immediately after the captain had set the mic back down.

  “Umm, I found an unlocked door?”

  Vance had the kid’s file open in front of him. He had been busy scribbling notes. He looked up and fixed the kid with a stare.

  “Really? That’s the story you’re sticking with?”

  Much to my surprise, Charlie grew angry.

  “Listen, I don’t know who you are or what you want, but the longer I stay in here the more likely I am to get fired. You may not care about that but I sure as hell do. I can’t afford to lose my job. So do what you need to do. Ask away. The sooner you do the sooner you’ll see that you’ve got the wrong guy.”

  Surprised, I turned to see what the captain thought of that. Unsurprisingly, Captain Nelson was frowning. Could he think that they have the wrong guy, too?

  “He sure sounds confident,” I observed.

  “Too confident,” the captain agreed. He picked up the mic again. “Ask him about his tires.”

  I saw Vance glance up at the mirror. He nodded. He made a few more notes in the file before he looked back at Charlie.

  “Tell me about your tires.”

  “My tires?” Charlie repeated, confused. “What about them?”

  “We need to know the make, manufacturer, and size.”

  “I honestly have no idea,” Charlie admitted. “I bought whatever was on sale.”

  “What’s the make and model of your van?” Vance asked.

  “It’s a 2004 Ford Econoline,” Charlie answered.

  “Do you do much off-roading in your van?” Vance asked.

  “Nice question,” I heard the captain say.

  “Off-roading? No. Why do you ask?”

  “You have all-terrain tires on your van. It’s a legitimate question, Mr. Sumner.”

  Charlie shrugged, “I sometimes have to drive in the snow. I told the salesman at the tire store that I needed something that could handle all types of weather. That’s what he recommended. Sure, there were tires that could perform better but it was all I could afford.”

  The door opened to the observation room. Both the captain and I turned at the intrusion.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, captain,” an officer was saying. His name tag identified him as ‘Stidwell’. “I thought you’d like to know. We just received the report on the tires.”

  “And?” Captain Nelson asked as he reached out to take the proffered report.

  Stidwell grinned, “It’s a match, captain.”

  “Excellent. Thank you, Stidwell. That’ll be all.”

  Captain Nelson picked up the mic.

  “The report is in. The tires are a match.”

  I watched a smile reminiscent of the Cheshire cat spread across Vance’s face. He looked at Charlie and cocked his head. The kid immediately became nervous.

  “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Care to tell me…”

  “I’m coming in,” Captain Nelson said into the microphone, interrupting Vance in mid-sentence.

  “Your day is about to become a lot worse,” Vance told the kid.

  “What?” Charlie stammered. “How could it possibly get worse?”

  The door opened, admitting Captain Nelson. He tossed the report up onto the table. Vance opened the folder and skimmed through the single sheet of paper found within.

  “What is that?” Charlie nervously asked.

  “It’s a lab report. We asked our lab boys to compare the photos from the crime scenes to the tires on your van. They’re a match, kid. We can now place your van at two of the three burglaries that have happened in our city.”

  “My van was nowhere near your burglaries!” Charlie cried. “You have the wrong guy!”

  “You’re going to be charged with breaking and entering, which is typically a misdemeanor…” Captain Nelson was saying.

  “Usually results in jail time of less than a year,” Vance idly mentioned as he twirled a pen in his fingers.

  “And three cases of breaking and entering with the intent to commit a felony…” the captain continued.

  “That’d be a felony,” Vance added, “which will usually mean you get prison time of more than a year.”

  “And one count of voluntary manslaughter,” Captain Nelson finished. He hadn’t broken eye contact with the suspect, even though Charlie was now refusing to look anyone in the eye, as though he had lost attention. However, as soon as the captain brought up the manslaughter charge, Charlie’s attention rapidly came back to him.

  “Manslaughter? What the f… I didn’t kill anyone! You’ve gotta believe me!”

  “Then convince us otherwise,” Vance said. His voice had dropped and had become completely emotionless. “Evidence suggests you are the killer. You say you’re not? Prove it. Where were you last Tuesday?”

  “Last Tuesday?” Charlie repeated. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

  “You were obviously in town,” Vance remarked. He yawned, as though this interrogation was boring him to tears. He tapped the police report in front of him. “I’ve got proof right here that you were. Would you care to explain that?”

  “I work out of Medford,” Charlie hastily explained. “My father gave me his old van. RMS Shipping was hiring, and the one stipulation they had was that you had your own vehicle. So, I applied. I’ve made hundreds of deliveries in both Medford and Pomme Valley. You know what? You said you wanted to know where I was on Tuesday. Check my logs.. RMS makes me keep a detailed log of everywhere I go. I have to note the address, my odometer readings, everything. That’ll prove to you that I was nowhere near your burglaries.”

&
nbsp; “Do you even know where those burglaries occurred?” Vance asked.

  “Well, no,” Charlie admitted.

  “We’ve sent for your delivery logs,” Captain Nelson told the kid. “One way or the other, we’ll know where you’ve been.”

  Charlie nodded, “Good. Then you’ll see this is all one big mistake.”

  The door opened inside my viewing room. A cop poked his head in. It was Stidwell.

  “Where’s the captain?” he asked me.

  I wordlessly pointed at the occupants inside the interrogation room.

  Officer Stidwell grabbed the mic from the counter and pressed the button.

  “We have the delivery logs. They do show that the kid was making deliveries Tuesday at the time of the break-in. We’re checking with the residences where he claims to have been.”

  I watched Captain Nelson briefly flick his eyes over to the window. He nodded. Then he tapped his watch.

  “Yes, sir,” Stidwell said. “We’ll let you know what we find out and we’ll hurry.”

  Captain Nelson nodded again.

  Thirty minutes later found me still sitting in my chair, watching the antics of interrogation room. Vance was still asking the same questions, over and over, although he was rephrasing each question just a little bit differently from the previous one. Maybe it was a police tactic? Perhaps it was a technique to extract information from a suspect? Keep asking the same thing over and over and perhaps eventually you’ll catch the suspect in a slip of the tongue.

  I didn’t know how much longer I was going to wait inside that stuffy room. As far as I could tell, Vance and the captain were no closer to getting a confession out of the kid than they were when they first started. Charlie was maintaining his innocence and no matter how many times Vance asked the question, the suspect insisted he had nothing to do with any robberies and most especially the murder.

  The door opened again. Stidwell was back. This time, unfortunately, his face was grim. He sat down at the table with a sigh and punched a finger down on the button.

  “Captain? Stidwell here. We’ve verified all the kid’s deliveries. They check out. Every single one of them. We even checked on Monday and again on last Friday. Every recipient confirmed the delivery driver was polite and cordial. Service with a smile, they said.”