TWO

 

The distance from PV to Grants Pass could be covered in half an hour, provided you opened up the throttle once you were out on the freeway. And, don’t get me wrong, there was a time when I would have done just that. However, those reckless, carefree days were long behind me, especially when I had my two dogs with me.

Obeying the rules of the road might be considered lame, and you were going to open yourself up to some serious ridiculing by your friends, but it was something I was unwilling to compromise. So, long story short, the dogs and I arrived in Grants Pass in just under an hour. The entire time I was driving, I kept asking myself, why this store? I’ve already passed nearly half a dozen different stores which could pass for grocery stores. Plus, I even passed a full-sized Safeway, something even PV doesn’t have. So, what was so special about this one?

Spotting Vance’s Oldsmobile sedan parked near the front of Vicki’s Grab & Go, I took the empty spot next to his and, making sure the leashes were wrapped tightly around my hand, we approached the front entrance. However, I could see a long strip of yellow crime scene tape stretched across the glass double-doors. A uniformed officer stepped up to intercept us, but before he could say anything, the glass doors whooshed open and Vance stuck out his head.

“Zack! There you are. I was starting to worry you got lost, pal.”

I waggled my cell phone. “Not likely. My phone walked me through all the way here. It gave perfect directions.”

“Nice. You should be doing that all the time. Your sense of direction is so lousy that I’m sure you’ve probably misplaced your house a few times.”

“Oh, hardy har har. I have not.”

Well, okay, it might’ve happened once or twice, but I was never going to admit that to my police detective friend. Thankfully, I’m getting better with directions in the greater PV area, which might have something to do with me mastering the navigation system on my phone. I haven’t been lost in a long while, which was a record for me, and I certainly didn’t want to jinx myself now. When Vance wasn’t looking, I quickly knocked on the side of my head, which had Sherlock head-tilting me.

“Welcome to Vicki’s Grab & Go,” my friend announced, as we all stepped into the store. “We need to …”

“Wait,” I interrupted. I then pointed at a display rack of fresh French bread. “This is a grocery store. There’s food in there. I don’t think we’re supposed to be here. I mean, they aren’t.”

Vance turned to point at an older, middle-aged brunette, who was chatting with several police officers.

“That’s Vicki. She’s the owner of this place. She’s already given me permission to… scratch that. Hey, Vicki? Er, Ms. Doyle? Could I borrow you for just a moment?”

The woman in question turned at the sound of her name and smiled at Vance. Just then, Sherlock decided to give himself a good shaking, and I watched a frown immediately appear on Ms. Doyle’s face. Then again, I also watched her drop her gaze to the ground and, after locating the source of the jingling collar, instead of ordering us out of her store, her eyes lit up. She hurried over to us.

“Oooo, tell me this is the famous Sherlock and Watson I’ve heard so much about!”

I pointed each of them out. “This is Sherlock. He’s the one with black on his coat. Watson is over there, with the red and white fur. Sounds like you already know my dogs, huh?”

Even though Ms. Doyle was wearing a very tight, knee-length skirt, she managed to squat down next to the dogs to give each of them a friendly scratching behind the ears. Both corgis, I might add, immediately rolled onto their backs. I swear, neither of them had a shred of dignity between them.

“Are you going to help me find out who did this? I’ll bet you could figure this out with your eyes closed, couldn’t you, my handsome little boys?”

“Uh, Watson is a girl,” I quietly corrected.

“Oh, you are? What kind of name is that for such a pretty little girl like you?” Vicki all but cooed.

I noticed the smirk forming on Vance’s face, who had long maintained that I had picked a lousy name for my female corgi. Scowling, I cocked my arm back, as if I was ready to throw a punch. And, let’s face it. I was.

Vance took a few steps away from me. “Ms. Doyle, may I present Zack Anderson, and his two dogs, Sherlock and Watson. They are official police consultants, and they are …”

“I know why they’re here,” Vicki smoothly interrupted. “Mr. Anderson? I don’t normally allow animals in my store, but you and your dogs have my full blessing to check wherever you’d like. Find the bastards who did this.”

“We’ll do our best,” I promised.

Vance tapped me on the shoulder and pointed at the opposite end of the store, where the tiny pharmacy was situated. We could see a metal gate had been lowered, to securely prevent anyone from gaining access after hours. However, we could both see that the gate had been ripped from the wall, as though someone had hooked a chain to the gate and then sped off. In a semi.

I whistled as we examined the destruction. “Someone really wanted in there, didn’t they?”

Vance leaned over the counter to see for himself what had happened to the pharmacy. What he saw had him cringing. Me, too, for that matter.

Racks were destroyed. Shelves were broken. Several cabinet doors were open. One was even hanging off of its one good hinge. But the most alarming thing we discovered? A severe lack of pills. Practically all the pill bottles had been taken. I couldn’t even begin to fathom what that might have been worth. Sure, the pharmacy was small, as pharmacies go, but come on. You know as well I do how much those pills are generally worth.

“I’m hoping everything is insured,” I quietly murmured.

Vance eyed me with an unreadable expression. “Right? Okay, let’s get to work. Why don’t you walk the dogs around and see if they can pick up anything.”

“You got it.”

Gathering up the leashes, I walked around the small area behind the pharmacy counter, but neither dog, I could tell, was interested in the slightest. Sherlock sniffed once at a discarded pill bottle, but that was the only reaction I could get out of them. Growing frustrated, I decided to walk around the perimeter of the store and see if there might be something, anything, that was worth investigating.

We started on the eastern side of the store, which was where you’d find produce. Now, I realize I have never worked in the produce department at a grocery store, and therefore didn’t really know what I was looking for, but everything appeared normal to me. Displays of avocados, tomatoes, and bananas were stacked neatly on tables. Oranges and kiwis shared a corner display, and several varieties of apples were layered in makeshift pyramids here and there.

Catching sight of a swinging double door just to my left, I poked my head in to see what must be the area where the produce clerk would unbox the fruit and veggies and dispose of the packaging. Both Sherlock and Watson jammed their heads through the flap, too, and studied the scene before them, and then—disinterested—moved on.

We swung around the back of the store, where the deli and butcher block were located. The dogs only stopped at the deli after detecting I had stopped first. Whatever they were cooking smelled fantastic. Roast chicken, maybe? Barbecue sausage? Whatever it was, it had the effect of reminding me it was close to dinnertime.

We hit the dairy, walked up and down the fourteen aisles that comprised the store, but all without a hit. That is, until we hit the far back corner, which revealed another set of double doors, this time leading to the grocery store’s back storeroom. I took a quick look back there, too, only I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Sherlock wanted to look, and after allowing him and Watson a few moments to peruse the scene, I pulled them back out and headed toward the front of the store.

Sherlock, the little booger, resisted.

“Stop stopping, Sherlock. There’s nothing to see back there. We’re going this way, okay? Now, stop resisting and …”

Just like that, the two corgis dropped their objections and, suddenly, I was the one being pulled along. Curious as to where we were going, I tried to see around the dogs, but didn’t have much luck, since they were first pulling to the left, then to the right, and finally, back to the left.

“Are you looking for the door?” I finally asked. I pointed out the one we had come in. “Look, there’s one over there. Now, would you please pick a direction? Left or right, I don’t care.”

Watson chose right. Sherlock chose left. My arms were yanked in both directions, effectively turning me into a human-shaped T.

“Ouch,” I complained to the dogs. “Thanks for that. You want to go outside? Fine. Watson, come with me. We’re going to follow Sherlock.”

Once outside, both corgis shook themselves, looked up at the bright, blue sky, and headed off. At least it was in the same direction this time.

“Are you guys heading somewhere?” I heard Vance inquire.

He clearly had followed us outside and was now slowly walking behind us.

“Beats me. I have no idea where they’re planning on going. They may not have found anything inside, but it looks like we’re on the trail of something out here.”

I watched Vance have an internal argument with himself as he debated whether or not he should follow us. Looking at the two corgis staring up at him, expectantly, turned the tide in their favor.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

I gave the dogs some slack in their leashes and decided to see where they’d lead us. The dogs promptly took us over to the sidewalk and, as though they were out for a walk in the park, strutted along the street like AKC champions who had just won Best in Show. We watched quite a few people slow their cars and watch the dogs go by. Not one of them, I’d like to add, bothered to look our way, namely myself and Vance.

“They love the attention, don’t they?” Vance quietly observed.

“That they do. Where are we headed? What’s down this way?”

“More storefronts,” Vance said, as he looked off in the distance. “We’re just about to hit downtown. Goes to show you how small this town really is.”

“PV is way smaller,” I argued.

“True. Maybe they caught the scent of the burglar and are following him to his hideout? Maybe Vicki has a few enemies who might … Zack? Where are they going now?”

Sherlock and Watson had veered the moment the road forked. It looked as though we were headed for an alley that ran between two of the busiest streets in downtown Grants Pass. Skeptical, I glanced at my dogs, who were pulling at their leashes, anxiously awaiting permission to resume walking. Shrugging, I gave them slack and followed them into the alley.

Barely wide enough to fit a garbage truck, this alley was one-way, had small green dumpsters on either side for each of the merchants, and didn’t smell that great. Then again, what would you expect if you had that many dumpsters in such close proximity? Exasperated, I looked over at Vance, who was moments away from pulling up his shirt to cover his nose.

“Well, that’s an attractive smell,” my detective friend decided. “Sherlock? Watson? What’s in here you want us to see? Or smell? The sooner we find what you want, the sooner we can get out of here.”

“Agreed. Come on, guys. What do you…”

I trailed off as Sherlock suddenly angled for the closest dumpster and then sniffed along the bottom of it once we neared. The little corgi turned to look up at me, glanced once at the dirty, crud-covered asphalt, and whined. Thankful he wasn’t trying to sit, which is what he usually did when he found something worth checking out, I handed the leashes to Vance and hurried over to the dumpster.

“Be careful,” Vance warned. “We don’t know what’s in there. For all we know, it could be some high-as-a-kite junkie.”

I carefully lifted the lid and peered inside. Surprised, I pushed the lid off the dumpster, allowing it to smack noisily against the cinderblock wall behind it. I held a hand out to Vance.

“Gloves.”

Vance reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pair of latex gloves. Snapping them on, I gingerly started to reach inside when I thought better of it. Cursing to myself, I pulled out my phone and clumsily activated the camera app. Holding it up and over the rim of the dumpster, I took a few photos.

“Whatcha got?” Vance asked. “What’s in there?”

Putting my phone away, I reached inside the dumpster and pulled out a dark green duffel bag. This had to be what the dogs wanted. After all, there was nothing else in the dumpster but bags of garbage.

“What do you have there?” Vance wanted to know.

I let the duffel bag plop to the ground, but not before each of us noticed the telltale rattle from what sounded like hundreds of small objects striking one another. Like … pills?

“No way,” Vance breathed. He snapped on his own pair of gloves and hurriedly unzipped the bag. Sure enough, it was filled to the brim with various bottles of pills. They had to be the ones stolen from Vicki’s pharmacy. But, why dispose of them here? I mean, didn’t these things have some type of street value to them?

It didn’t make any sense.

“I told you something was off here,” Vance muttered.

He zipped the bag up and pointed back the way we had come.

“Let’s get out of here. I need some fresh air.”

“What do you think it means?” I asked my friend, as we returned to Vicki’s store. “Why go through all the trouble of stealing the pills in the first place, only to throw them away in some dumpster nearly half a mile away? Does that make sense to you?”

Vance shook his head. “No, it doesn’t.”

“You said something felt ‘off’ about this whole mess. Care to share?”

“I don’t know, buddy,” Vance said, as we approached the bustling activity in front of the store. “There’s something we’re missing here. Check it out. The smashed glass of the front window here? See for yourself. There’s more chunks of broken glass on the outside of the store than the inside. What does that tell you?”

“That whoever broke it did so from the inside the store,” I decided. “But, that doesn’t make any sense either, does it? I mean, you’re trying to get in, not out.”

“It makes sense if you’re trying to cover something up,” Vance argued. “If I didn’t know any better, then I’d say the hit on the pharmacy was to draw our attention away, but away from what? That’s what I want to know.”

The store owner came hurrying out the front door of her store.

“There you are. Detective Samuelson, what is the meaning of wandering away for a leisurely walk? Why aren’t you looking for this burglar? I was told your police department had a high success rate of closed cases, yet I haven’t seen anything that could closely resemble a … what’s that?”

Vance pulled the duffel bag from his shoulder, unzipped it, and nonchalantly tossed it onto the ground. The bag immediately split open, revealing hundreds of bottles inside.

“Those are the pills that were stolen from your store. We found them in a dumpster nearly half a mile away. You’re welcome.”

The three police officers representing the GPPD gawked at the bag before turning to look back at us. As one, all three officers then dropped their gaze to Sherlock and Watson, who were panting contentedly on the sidewalk. Sherlock’s jaws opened and his long tongue flopped out.

“How in the world …” one officer began.

“Don’t ask,” I interrupted, giving the friendly officer a smile. “I’ve yet to figure out how they do it.”

“Man, we need to petition the captain for our own K-9 unit,” I heard one officer say, as we walked away.

I felt the leashes go taut and automatically looked down. Both dogs were back on their feet and both, I might add, were straining to pull me through the front door of the grocery store. Was there something in there they wanted me to see?

“Now what?” Vance asked, from somewhere behind me.

“Who the hell knows?” I grumbled. “You’d think I’d be familiar enough with these types of practices to not be surprised, but nooo. Come on, guys. Show me what’s gotten you riled up, okay?”

We carefully made our way back through the store. Sensing movement from behind me, I could see that not only was Vance following us, but so were the three GP cops, as well as several of their crime scene techs and Ms. Doyle herself. Noticing we were angling for the far corner of the store once more, I suddenly knew where we were headed.

“Why do I get a feeling I should have paid attention to you the first time?” I muttered.

“What’s that?” Vance wanted to know.

I pointed at the doors leading to the back storeroom. “The dogs wanted to go in there before. We all poked our heads in, and when it became apparent that the burglar must’ve avoided that area, I ignored it. Sherlock, if memory serves, wasn’t happy about it.”

“Let’s see where he wants to go this time around,” Vance suggested.

“You got it. All right, Mr. Know-it-all. Let’s see what you can find back here, okay?”

I heard Sherlock snort, as if to say, challenge accepted.

We pushed our way through the swinging doors and gathered just inside the stock room. I could see a small counter on the right, which had several shipping invoices lying about. I assumed (correctly) that this was where they handled all the store’s deliveries. Further exploration revealed the presence of a machine that was present in quite a few grocery stores, seeing how the vast majority of deliveries into the store came in boxes.

It was a cardboard baler. Throw the boxes in there, press that button there and then keep your arms and fingers way the hell out of harm’s way. In fact, there was a bale of cardboard, already smooshed and trussed up, sitting on a palette by one of two loading doors.

“Where do you want to go, guys?” I asked the dogs, as the crowd of people behind us continued to grow.

Sherlock sniffed along the ground, looked up briefly to study the baler, and then turned left. Glancing that way, I could see a large walk-in freezer, with a heavy winter coat hanging on a peg beside it. This time, both dogs sat by the freezer’s door, as if they were waiting for me to open it and allow them in.

“Nuh-uh,” I said, frowning. “That’s not gonna happen, your Royal Canineships.” I heard several snickers from behind me. “That’s the freezer. Inside there, you’ll find some seriously inhospitable conditions, and for a little dog like you, you wouldn’t last very long. I’d rather not turn you two into corgi-sicles, so … no. Not happening.”

Watson whined.

I shook my head. “Not happening, Watson.”

“Awwwwoooooowwoooowwwoooowooo.”

Practically everyone behind me burst out laughing. Sherlock had let out one of his argumentative howls, as if he was telling me how things were going to play out. Squatting beside the feisty corgi, I draped an arm over his back and tousled his fur.

“Sherlock, it’s cold in there. Really freakin’ cold. You don’t want to go in there.”

Sherlock was adamant. He apparently believed the freezer needed to earn his corgi Stamp of Approval and wasn’t prepared to let the matter drop. I sighed, glanced back at the group of people behind us, and then hooked a thumb at the door.

“Tell me I’m wrong. It’s just a freezer, right?”

Vicki nodded. “That’s right. What’s the matter? Is Sherlock saying there’s something wrong with my freezer?”

“Well, he’s sitting, and he typically does that after a search, whenever he finds what he’s searching for. He truly believes something is in there and it needs our attention.”

Vicki turned and motioned to a tall, heavyset guy I hadn’t noticed before.

“This is my assistant manager, Brian. He’s been with me for several years now. Brian, would you do the honors?”

“What am I looking for, ma’am?”

Vicki looked back at me and gave me a questioning look. I ended up shrugging and looking down at the dogs, as though I expected them to field the question. After a few moments, I shrugged again.

“I really don’t know how to answer that. You obviously have been in there before, right?”

Brian nodded. “Many times, sir.”

“Perfect. You’re just the one to do this. Since you’ve been in there so many times, then I would suggest you look for something out of the ordinary. Is there something there that doesn’t belong? Maybe check the freezer itself? I’d check to make sure someone hasn’t tampered with the controls, so that it would fail at a future date. Just make sure everything is working okay, I guess. That’s where I’d start.”

Vicki was nodding. “Yes, I like that. Do that, please.”

Brian nodded. “Yes ma’am. If you’d all like to wait here, then I’ll take care of this.”

The assistant manager took the coat off the peg, slipped it on, and zipped it up. Looking like he should now be handling a team of sled dogs in the midst of a race through Alaska, Brian slipped inside the freezer. Within moments, we heard boxes being slid along the floor.

“Think he’ll find anything in there?” I quietly asked.

“You know your dogs better than anyone,” Vance replied. “If there’s something there that needs to be seen, then something tells me our new pal Brian will be the one to find it.”

“Do you have any idea what that could be?” the store owner asked us, as she looked over at Vance, and then me.

Vance shrugged. “You don’t keep anything of value in there, do you?”

“In our freezer? Heavens no.”

“You weren’t storing anything in there that shouldn’t be there, were you?” I asked, already knowing what the answer was going to be.

“Of course not. What are you suggesting?”

Vance scratched the side of his head. “Well, we may …”

At that point, the freezer door opened and Brian hurried out. Sealing off the door, and pulling the jacket off, the assistant manager took Vicki by the arm and pulled her away. Once they were safely out of earshot, I could hear some type of hushed conversation between the two of them, but they were too far away to make it out.

“He did find something,” I breathed, as I lowered my voice to a whisper. I squatted next to Sherlock and motioned Watson over. “Good job, you two. What do you guys think? Some type of smuggling operation? Or, more likely, you’ve tracked down that elusive steak you think you two deserve?”

I heard someone snicker behind me.

Sherlock gave me such a look of derision that I suddenly became worried. Not for retaliation, mind you, but for what had been found. Keeping an eye on the hushed conversation happening between store owner and assistant manager, I strained my hearing in an attempt to hear what the two were talking about.

“Can you make anything out?” Vance wanted to know.

I shook my head no. “The only word I’ve caught is ‘box.’ Maybe Brian found an extra box or two in there?”

“Someone broke in here,” Vance reminded me. “I doubt very much someone broke in to stash something in there. No, I’d put my money on something being stolen.”

Vance was right. It turned out that not one, nor two, but three boxes were missing. Even though it’s possible to misplace a box or two, especially in a freezer of that size, I was assured that Brian personally signed for the delivery last night. He had placed the three boxes in the freezer, along with the rest of the shipment, and promptly locked everything up for the night.

Now, however, the boxes were missing, and as far as anyone could tell, no one had even known those boxes existed. But, Brian showed us where he had left the boxes (inside that frigid freezer), and now, that particular corner of the huge icebox was empty.

“What was in the boxes?” Vance wanted to know.

“Let’s see. Those were boxes MDC2146, MDC2147, and MDC2148.”

“MDC?” I curiously repeated. “Does that mean something?”

“Medford Distribution Center,” Brian translated. “It’s where we get all of our shipments. Those three boxes? Well, it stinks to have to admit this, especially at this time of the year, but those boxes contained something we were desperately needing. Ms. Doyle, I’m sorry to announce this, but those missing boxes will mean we will continue to be short of cranberries.”

Vicki Doyle sighed and uttered a very unladylike curse.