Case of the Holiday Hijinks

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “What is…? Colin, is that what I think it is?”

  Colin held the brand new microscope aloft. Now, don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not trying to spoil the boy. Microscopes come in all shapes and sizes. I didn’t buy him one of the super fancy ones, but more of a nicer “amateur” scope. I had a similar one when I was a kid and I loved it. Hannah had mentioned a few times that her son absolutely loves math and science. I saw a little of myself in the boy so I thought I’d get him something that I knew he’d really enjoy.

  “Who’s it from?” Hannah asked.

  Colin’s eyes dropped to the shreds of paper lying at his feet.

  “Umm, I’m not sure?”

  “You mean you opened that gift without checking to see who it was from? You’d better find that tag, young man.”

  Colin began inspecting the remnants of his microscope’s wrapping. He finally found the piece with what was left of the tag. He showed it to his mother.

  “It says, ‘To Colin from Santa’. That’s it.”

  “Give me that,” Hannah demanded.

  She inspected the tag and narrowed her eyes. I knew exactly what she was doing. She was trying to identify ‘Santa’ by the writing. Well, good luck. The only writing of mine she was familiar with was the Victorian cursive style of handwriting I used whenever I was signing books as my alter ego. This time I signed that tag using my own natural handwriting.

  “Who gave him this?” Hannah asked the room. “One of you must have done it.”

  “Didn’t the tag say it was from Santa?” Jillian innocently asked.

  Hannah quickly pulled the torn strip of paper up before her eyes. My guess is that she’s trying to see if it could’ve been written by Jillian. It’s not. I’ve seen Jillian write before. Her penmanship could easily be mistaken for calligraphy. It most certainly wasn’t her.

  “Well, I’d like to speak to Santa to thank him personally for this.”

  “Well, the next time I see him I’ll let him know you’re looking for him,” Jillian quipped, eliciting a frown from Hannah.

  “Who’s next?” my mother asked the room. “Hannah, what do you have there?”

  Colin pulled the torn strip of wrapping paper from her hands and tossed it into the trash. He picked up the present sitting next to his mother on the couch and placed it into her hands.

  “Here, mom. Open this.”

  “This is from you, isn’t it?” Hannah asked as she caught sight of the tag.

  “Yep. Go ahead. Open it.”

  Hannah opened her small cardboard box to reveal… a DVD case. On it was a customized label that had a picture of Colin and his mother, both smiling for the camera. Hannah slowly opened the case and looked at the DVD.

  “Do you remember,” Colin started explaining, “how you were telling me that you had all these videos that you wanted to burn onto a DVD so that we could watch them on the TV? Well, there you go.”

  “How did you do this?” Hannah asked with a shocked expression on her face. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to do this all summer!”

  “All it takes is someone who’s done it before,” I quietly quipped. “And the right computer setup.”

  Hannah clutched the video to her chest and mouthed thank you to me when Colin looked away. I nodded. It had been an easy request to fulfill. Colin had actually approached me to see if I knew how to do it.

  I watched Jillian pick up the small package that I knew was from me. She caught sight of the name on the tag and looked over at me. I grinned, gave her hand a squeeze, and encouraged her to open it.

  “Let’s see what we have here,” Jillian murmured as she worked to remove the wrappings and ribbon I had used. The problem was, I remembered that I had probably used half a container of tape to make sure the paper stayed in place. “I don’t think I’ve seen this much tape on one package before, Zachary.”

  I grinned, “Hey, better safe than sorry.”

  “What do you have there?” my mother asked.

  “It’s something small, almost like a…” Jillian gasped as the cover of the small box came off.

  Inside the box was a simple gold pocket watch. It had large numerals depicting the hours and an additional dial near the bottom which depicted the seconds. The watch showed some signs of wear, but that wasn’t surprising, since it was over 70 years old. This one, I knew, dated from 1941.

  Hannah had told me, back in the coffee shop nearly two weeks ago, that Jillian had been looking for a very specific type of pocket watch for a long time now. Apparently her grandfather had served in WW2 and his squadron had all been given this model of pocket watch. Her grandfather had given this watch to her years ago, when she was a little girl, and as luck would have it, she had lost it.

  She has regretted it ever since. Hannah told me that Jillian had been searching for a replacement but hadn’t had any luck since she didn’t know which model of watch her grandfather’s squadron had been given.

  Well, behold the power of the internet. I had tracked down the squadron that her grandfather had belonged to, looked up the names of its members, and started making phone calls. I finally contacted a living survivor who was nice enough to send me a dozen or so pictures – with the help of his great-great-granddaughter – and after another hour or so, I had come up with the model.

  It was an Elgin 657 Shockmaster pocket watch, with 17 jewels, only I didn’t see any jewels on it. Whatever. It had a rolled 10k gold plate and an Elgin Star Dial sunk with 1-60 on the outer chapter ring.

  I never knew watches could be so precise.

  Armed with that information I quickly found several people selling one on eBay. I found one that was working, paid for expedited shipping, and the rest was history.

  “Is this…” Jillian began. Her voice broke.

  My mother got up from her seat on the couch and moved closer so she could see what Jillian was holding.

  “What do you have there, Jillian?” my father curiously asked.

  Jillian reverently picked the watch up and held it by its chain so that we could all see it.

  “This is a replica of the watch that my grandfather gave me when I was a little girl that I had lost. I’ve been looking to find a replacement for years. Zachary Anderson, how did you find it?”

  I grinned at Hannah before looking Jillian’s way.

  “Well, let’s just say that I’m good on a computer.”

  “This means the world to me. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Open mine now,” Jillian instructed.

  I found Jillian’s delicately wrapped present and studied it. It was about the size of a normal hardcover book, only this package wasn’t heavy like a book. What could it be? I gave the present an obligatory shake – no sound – and tore off the wrapping. I stared, dumbfounded, at the item nestled within.

  Okay, in order to explain this, I have to put on my Nerd Hat. We nerds like to collect things. Action figures, swords, collectibles, and anything that most normal people would roll their eyes at would typically find their way to a shelf or a closet somewhere in a nerd’s house. As for me, I had a room upstairs that was dedicated to my collectibles. My main passions are collecting swords – crazy, I know – and collecting all things Star Wars. One of the most sought-after items I had been looking for was a Luke Skywalker figurine with what was referred to as a ‘double-telescoping’ light saber. The ‘double-telescoping’ just referred to the early mechanics used to give Luke’s lightsaber some length. Three figures were released with the ‘DT’ stamp. Luke, Ben, and Darth Vader. I had Ben and Vader, but I still needed Luke.

  Not anymore.

  How Jillian found this, or even knew that I was looking, was beyond me. Trying to buy me something that I didn’t already have in my Star Wars collection was akin to trying to find the one penny that a serious numismatist didn’t already own. No one knew about Luke. No one, except for…

  I glanced at my father. He had the biggest grin on his face that I have ever seen. My eyes
narrowed. I looked over at Jillian. I then thought back to what she had said the moment she had first met my parents.

  It is good to finally meet you…

  So, that explains why Jillian hadn’t been rattled when I told her that my parents were in town a week early. She had been in contact with them! Wow. I never saw that coming.

  Jillian leaned close, “I hope you like it.”

  “I love it. You sneak. Thank you.”

  A quick 30 minutes later it looked like a tornado had hit the living room. Yes, most of the trash had made it into the trash can. However, I’m talking about two mischievous canines who thought it was great fun stealing wads of wrapping paper and playing tug with it. Then, of course, Sherlock’s favorite game came next, which was ‘keepaway’. I tasked Colin with making sure Sherlock stayed away from the trash.

  Sherlock was up for the challenge. He and Watson kept Hannah’s son chasing after them for close to 20 minutes. I’m not sure who pooped out first, the dogs or the boy. One minute they were running through the living room as though the devil himself was hot on their tails and the next Colin had collapsed on the couch and both dogs were out cold right next to him. It was such a cute picture that Hannah actually pulled out her cell and snapped a few pics.

  “They’ve finally run out of energy,” I quietly said.

  Hannah smiled fondly at her son.

  “I really should consider getting him a dog. It’s just that I know Dylan hates dogs.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said. “Colin is very good with dogs. Look at him. He’s gentle, he’s firm, but he won’t tolerate them getting too aggressive. He’d be perfect.”

  “I know,” Hannah agreed. “Hopefully someday.”

  “Well, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to add Colin to my list of dogsitters. I’ve used Woody’s daughter a few times, but she’s not always available.”

  Hannah visibly brightened, “Why yes! I’m sure he’d love that. Thank you, Zachary.”

  The doorbell rang. The dogs, who were snoozing up on the couch with Colin, who had just drifted off, started barking. In fact, I think they woke up without realizing what they should be barking at. Sherlock jumped down and continued to bark. He looked at me, at Jillian, and finally at my father as he tried to figure out who woke him up.

  Jillian made it to the door first.

  “Merry Christmas!” Vance announced as he and Tori came through the door. Two young girls I hadn’t met before timidly followed them inside.

  We were introduced to Tiffany, age 9, and Victoria, age 11. They took up residence on the end of the couch, talking quietly with one another. I glanced over at Sherlock. He was watching the girls like a mother bear would watch her young.

  “Awwoooo!”

  Both girls looked up, saw Sherlock watching them, and began an animated discussion. I signaled Sherlock to wait and walked over to the girls. I noticed Vance was watching me, so I gave him a wink and looked at Sherlock. Vance glanced over, saw that Sherlock was eagerly waiting to be released, and then nudged Tori. Together they surreptitiously moved closer so they wouldn’t miss the ‘introduction’.

  “Would you girls like to meet the dogs?”

  “Are they friendly?” Victoria asked. “Dad talks about the one called Sherlock all the time.”

  “Which one is he?” Tiffany asked.

  I pointed at Sherlock.

  “Sherlock is the one sitting closest to the fire. He’s the one that has some black on him. Watson is there in front of the fire. She doesn’t have any black anywhere. Do you two like dogs?”

  Both girls nodded.

  “Would you like to meet them?”

  The girls nodded again.

  “May I recommend that you both scoot back on the couch?”

  Victoria gave me a puzzled look.

  “Why?”

  “It’s so your back has some support when they come up to say hello.”

  Tiffany turned to look at the back of the couch. Being as small as they were, both of the girls were sitting on the end of the couch. They had about two feet of empty space directly behind them.

  “We’re okay,” Victoria assured me.

  I grinned. It was exactly what I wanted to hear. I looked over at their parents. Tori was holding her phone up, no doubt recording what was about to happen.

  I walked over to Sherlock and laid my arm across his back. Watson had rolled onto her feet and was watching me, too. I looked back at the girls.

  “Ready?”

  The look I received from the older girl suggested she thought I was the stupidest thing on two legs. As you may recall, it wasn’t the first time that particular thought had come up in the last week or so. I ruffled the fur behind Sherlock’s ears.

  “Okay, boy. Are you ready?”

  Sherlock barked excitedly.

  “All right. Here we go. And… release!”

  Sherlock bounded towards Victoria, who shrieked with surprise. The tri-color corgi cleared the distance from the ground to the couch in a single leap, knocking Victoria onto her back and covering her face with corgi kisses. Watson had also rushed over, but stopped just short of jumping up on Tiffany. She reared up on her hind legs and yipped excitedly. Tiffany smiled and patted Watson on her head.

  An excited squeal came from Tiffany’s left. Victoria was on her back, arms flailing, as she tried to dodge Sherlock’s tongue. The corgi, unfortunately for her, was much quicker. I casually stood, walked calmly over to the couch, and picked Sherlock up off the girl. I shifted Sherlock so that I was supporting his weight with my right arm and pulled Victoria back to an upright positing with my left.

  “Are you okay? I tried to warn you.”

  “Omigod! That dog… that dog… is so cute!”

  “You’ve been officially inducted into his pack,” I explained to Vance’s oldest daughter. I glanced over at Tiffany, who was staring at Sherlock with wide, unblinking eyes. As if noticing her for the first time, Sherlock had now locked eyes on Tiffany and was whining to be let down.

  “Awww! He wants to say hello to me, too!”

  “Are you okay with that?”

  Tiffany nodded, “I love dogs!”

  I glanced over at Vance. He gave a nod of approval. Tori was still filming.

  “Okay. Sherlock, meet young Tiffany!”

  I set Sherlock on the ground and let go. Less than two seconds later Tiffany was experiencing her own invitation to join Sherlock’s pack. She laughed hysterically while the corgi lunged forward to lick her cheeks, face, forehead, and anything else his long tongue could reach.

  Afterwards, after we had all finished dinner and were trying to resist the urge to slip into food induced comas, Vance let out an exclamation of surprise. He clinked his wine glass a few times to make sure he had everyone’s attention. I set down my glass of sparkling apple juice and waited to see what he had to say.

  “Sorry guys, but I forgot to tell you. Remember the Grinch? Bob Geisel?”

  “He’s rather hard to forget,” I chuckled.

  “Well, he was arraigned today. In New York. Turns out that’s where his spree of burglaries started. They were first to lay claim on our Grinch. Turns out he was born there.”

  “Was Geisel his real name?” I asked.

  Vance nodded, “Yes. I’ve read the reports. The guy had a rough childhood. Been in and out of juvenile hall so many times that the state lost count. Busted for stealing, breaking and entering, and list of other offenses so long that it’d take too long to read them all. He’s been doing this for so long that he’s a wanted man in 14 different states, most of which are on the east coast. The only states that want him out west are us and Idaho.”

  I whistled with amazement.

  “I wonder why he moved out west,” Jillian said. “Maybe things became too difficult for him on the east coast?”

  Vance shrugged, “Probably. The most recent report, before he headed west, came from Raleigh, North Carolina. That’s the case where the locals were closing in on him and were o
nly moments away from apprehending him when he up and disappeared right from under their noses.”

  “He quick changed his appearance,” I guessed.

  “Right. He must’ve figured things were getting too hot and that the local cops were on to his methods so he headed as far away as he could without getting on a boat or a plane. He came to the Pacific Northwest.”

  “What a piece of work,” I said. “I’m damn glad he’s locked up. I hated to think that a guy like that could pretty much waltz right into any house he wanted and take whatever suited him.”

  “Speaking of which,” Vance said as he snapped his fingers, “guess what was found in a hidden compartment of his van?”

  “More presents?” I guessed.

  Vance shook his head, “Nope. A ring of keys. Bumping keys. He could get past any tumbler lock in a matter of a few seconds, all without leaving any trace of his presence behind. It was spooky. Still is, if you ask me.”

  “Well, our new locks certainly help me sleep better at night,” Tori added.

  Jillian held up her glass and clinked it with Tori’s, “Hear, hear.”

  “I heard from Jim the other day,” Vance continued. “Our new locksmith has been so busy that he’s hired two additional guys to help him out. Apparently his business is booming.”

  “No arguments there,” I said. “Once it became known how Geisel was getting in and out of the houses then practically the whole damn town ordered new sets of locks. I don’t blame them. That’s the first thing we all did.”

  “Did those families get back their presents?” my mother asked.

  Vance nodded, “For the most part. Geisel wasn’t gentle on any of the packages. Some were damaged. Some had the tags torn off. We had the families come down to try and identify what was theirs.”

  “There’s something I want to know,” Harry said as he took Julie’s hand. “How did the Murphy family manage to afford that fancy tree? Didn’t you say they didn’t have any extra money? I just can’t see them going out of their way to spend that much dough on a tree. If money was that tight, then I sure as hell would be spending it on my kids and not on some damn tree.”