Calamity Jayne and the Sisterhood of the Traveling Lawn Gnome (18 page)

"Dogged determination and tried and true investigative techniques," I responded.

"Oh, brother. The gnome was spotted at a number of locations which were subsequently hit by the vandals," Shelby spilled the beans quicker than Gram spread dirt around she heard at the Kut 'n' Kurl, going on to tell Taylor the locations where Cedric had been spotted.

"So under your theory, the next place hit should be Home & Farm Hardware," Taylor concluded. "And you think what? That the vandals are incorporating an element of game play to their crimes?"

I blinked. When she put it that way…

"Exactly!" I proclaimed. "And a gaming angle fits perfectly with our working theory that the acts are being perpetrated by teens," I added.

"But why a lawn gnome?" Shelby Lynn asked.

"Well, it
is
a conversation piece," I pointed out.

If the topic happened to be demon gnomes from hell, that is.

"A fifty-pounds-of-cast iron conversation piece," Shelby Lynn said. "So what's going on with the Reliant?" Shelby looked at me via the rearview mirror.

"I don't know. It's never conked before without going through a series of sputters, coughs, belches, backfires, and spurts and stops," I said.

The description sounded a lot like my gammy after a trip to the all-you-can-eat taco bar.

"Tressa thinks this may be a case of alien automobile-interference," Taylor said.

"She does? You do?" Shelby eyeballed me from the mirror again.

I made a raspberry sound.

"I was just joking around. You know. Keeping it light. Keeping it loose. Finding the humor in any given situation as is my wont."

"Right," Shelby said. "Your
wont
."

We rode in silence for several minutes.

"Is anyone hungry?" I asked. "Because I could go for a burger and fries."

"I'm surprised you're still hungry after all those energy bars you stuffed in your face," Shelby remarked.

"What—"

"There's a wrapper stuck in your backpack zipper," Taylor responded.

I looked over at my backpack. Sure enough, the corner of a foil energy bar wrapper was sticking out from a zippered compartment.

I gave the backpack a punch and then remembered I still had a bag of candy-coated chocolate peanuts. I unzipped the bag, shoved the incriminating foil wrap down inside, and put my hand down into the bag. I pulled the scanner out.

I shrugged and turned it on, foraging around in my bag again until I found the ear bud. I stuck one end in the scanner and one in my ear and went back to the candy search.

I remembered that I'd eaten the candy the day before, so I put the bag aside, laid my head back on the headrest, propped my foot on the console between the front seats, and closed my eyes. It had been a long day. The motion of the car lulled me to sleep. In my dream state, I walked through a greenhouse of colorful flowers, stopping to bend over and admire the lovely petals. I was leaning down to admire the particularly brilliant blooms of daffodils, peach day lilies, and the whimsical blooms of purple coneflowers when I became aware I was being watched. I turned. On the path near my feet there he was.

Abigail's gnome.

His eyes glowed red and a guttural growl—one like you would associate with a movie about demons—came from the mouth of the gnome.

I ran to the corner and turned. There he was again. This time he snarled. I pivoted, moving back the way I'd come only to be cut off by the knee-high menace. I tried to scream but nothing came out. I changed tactics, sprinting cross-country through the plots of plants, punishing petals, grounding out greenery, and beating up blossoms.

Seeing the parking lot ahead, I kicked it up a notch, digging in for that final burst of energy when a hand reached out from the foliage at my feet and clamped onto my ankle.

"Aaaaahhh!" I screamed and sat bolt up.

"Do you mind?" Shelby Lynn's Shaq hand had hold of my ankle. "I'd rather my upholstery not look like a kennel on wheels," she said. "And stop trying to scare us with your alien antics."

I retrieved the ear bud that had popped out of ear and stuck it back in.

"Sixty-three twenty-five. Report of a possible 10-14 and 10-31 H&F, Home & Farm. Be advised sixty-three seventeen is in route from patrol."

I sat up in my seat.

"Did you hear that?" I yelled.

"For crying out loud, Tressa, give it a rest," Taylor said. "We're not going to buy into your space bogeyman drama."

"No! No!" I pulled the earphone plug out of the scanner. "The scanner! The county just dispatched a car to a possible 10-14 and 10-31!"

"What are you talking about?" Shelby asked.

I blinked.
What was I talking about? What
were
a 10-14 and a 10-31?

I pawed through my bag for my phone.

"Forget it. I've got it." Taylor said, looking at her phone's display. "A 10-14 is a report of a prowler, and a 10-31 is crime in progress."

"I knew it!" I said, clenching my fist in an "I still got it!" move.

"Knew what?"

I leaned forward and stuck my head and shoulders in the space between the front seats.

"Would either of you skeptics care to take a wild guess as to the location the officers have been dispatched to?" I asked. "Go on! Take a guess. And your first two don't count."

Taylor and Shelby Lynn exchanged disbelieving looks.

"No way!" Shelby Lynn said.

"Is this another one of your attempts to freak us out?" Taylor said.

I shook my head. "I swear on our gammy's blue head," I said, making a jumbo
X
on my chest with a hand. "This is the real thing! So shift this Jeep into hyperdrive, my young apprentice, and make like
The Fast and the Furious
—only without the car crashes and near death experiences."

Shelby shook her head and put the pedal to the metal, slamming me back against the seat. I had to give her credit. She got us there fast and furiously.

Unfortunately, I felt like I was gonna hurl energy bars by the time we came to a stop.

Top lights pierced the night sky with both county and city officers on the scene. I pulled my backpack on, grabbed my phone and flashlight, and jumped out of the car, jogging up to the first officer I came to.

"Tressa Turner,
Grandville Gazette
. Can you tell me what's going on? Was there a break-in?

What was taken? Was anything spray-painted? Any pink tornadoes? Do you have anyone in custody?"

The officer turned.

"No comment," Deputy Dawg said, his standard greeting whenever our paths crossed.

"We predicted this, Sheriff," I told him.

He frowned.

"We?"

"My associates and myself."

"So you have associates now," he said.

"That's right." Shelby Lynn and Taylor flanked me. "The three of us predicted H&F would be hit next, didn't we, ladies?"

"She's right, officer," Shelby Lynn said. "That's exactly what we did."

"Oh? And how did you ladies do that? Look into a crystal ball? Use a psychic hotline? Consult your Ouija board?"

"We interviewed witnesses, examined crime scenes, detected certain patterns, and then made an informed prediction regarding where the next incident would take place. In other words, we did your job," I said.

Sheriff Sitsalot shook his head.

"You expect me to believe you knew this establishment would be hit next? What patterns are you talking about that led you to this conclusion?"

"Well, you see. There was this gnome—"

"Gnome?"

"You know. A lawn gnome."

"Again with the lawn gnome? And this lawn gnome told you that this store would be hit next?"

"Actually yes—in a manner of speaking," I told the deputy. "You see, Abigail Winegardner had this lawn gnome—a real ogre of a gnome, let me tell you. Anyway, someone nicked her gnome a month or so back. She thinks my gammy's the nicker, but she's not, but that's another story. Anyway, since that time, witnesses—including me—reported seeing Cedric at a number of locations that were the target of vandals prior to the incidents of vandalism."

"Cedric? Who is Cedric?"

"The gnome. That's his name."

"Cedric's the gnome."

"That's right."

"A gnome named Cedric is your informant."

"Well, in a manner of speaking. You see, as I indicated before, we—my associate and I— discovered—through exhaustive interviews and investigation—that a number of witnesses, including this reporter, identified Cedric, er, the gnome in question as being on or near each of the properties a day or two before that property was hit. The last reported sighting of Cedric was here at H&F. And, what do you know? H&F is the next target."

"It's the truth, Sheriff Samuels," Shelby Lynn said, stepping into the breach. "I know it sounds a bit strange and bizarre but—"

"Bizarre? A gnome snitch? What's so strange about that?" Samuels said. "And considering the source—no pun intended," he added with a why-am-I-not-surprised shrug, "it sounds perfectly consistent."

It was Taylor's turn to step up.

"Hello, Sheriff. Taylor Turner. I'm Tressa's sister. I know it sounds crazy. When Shelby and Tressa first told me about the gnome and its proximity to the vandalism incidents, I was skeptical, too. But when we heard you'd been tripped to H&F on this call, I was shocked because not more than an hour ago, Tressa and Shelby both said that if the pattern held H&F would be hit next, and they told me
before
this call went out. So I know they're on to something here."

Samuels looked like he'd just been told little green men had crash-landed on the courthouse lawn.

"It gets better," I said.

Now he looked green.

"There's more?"

"You remember Dusty Cadwallader. He was in your office earlier today to file a report regarding suspicious activity at his place."

"I know. More strange lights, odd noises, and unusual signs. I understand you and he left together."

The female deputy
had
blabbed.

"That's right. I felt Mr. Cadwallader had information relevant to our investigation," I said. "And he did. And those 'signs' he referred to?" I flipped my phone open, pulled up my gallery, and held out the display for him to see. "Tornadoes. Pink tornadoes to be exact."

Samuels blinked. I'd gotten his attention.

"You found these on Cadwallader's property?" he said, taking the phone and flipping through the pictures.

"Along with other evidence that your little gang of vandals hung out in his woods at various times," I said. "Then Dusty called me earlier tonight to report that
they
were back, and we headed out."

"I told Dusty that it's likely a bunch of teens partying and drinking," Samuels said.

"It appears we were too late to catch anyone in the act, Sheriff Samuels," Shelby told him. "However, we did discover that someone had, in fact, been there and had gone to certain lengths to cover up evidence that they had been there."

"Oh? How'd they do that?"

"We're thinking a wire brush and some kind of poultice made of mud and water," I said.

"What?'

"She's talking about the measures they used to cover up the pink tornadoes spray-painted on the trees that you see in the photos there," Taylor supplied.

"Sounds like teenaged drinking and partying," he said. Sheriff Samuels went through the photos again.

He stopped. Flinched.

"Oh, God. What the hell is this?"

I winced, hoping he wasn't referring to selfies taken during TribRide.

"This…thing."

He pointed the phone display in my direction.

I let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, that's Cedric."

"Cedric the soothsayer gnome?"

I nodded. "I told you he was a real appetite killer," I said. "I'm thinking that's one 'have you seen this gnome' mug shot that the public can't help but recognize if they see it."

"What do you mean a mug shot the public will recognize?" Samuel asked, giving the image a final frown before handing the phone back to me.

"When you put this information out there so people will be on the lookout."

"On the lookout for a gnome. You want the Knox County Sheriff's Office to put out a BOLO on a lawn ornament?"

When he put it like that…

"Say, for the moment, I believe you about the gnome—which, by the way, I don't. If we put the information out to the public, wouldn't the perps also see it and figure out we were on to them? And wouldn't those individuals quit using the gnome as a landmark in their series of criminal acts, not only making the whole exercise pointless, but putting the perpetrators on notice that we're on to them?"

I hesitated, backtracking over the lawman's logic.

Holy disappearing dwarves!

He was right! If we outed Cedric, we'd tip off the vandals that we'd made the connection between them and him.

"Hey, Doug." A Grandville officer joined us. "Looks like they took off before we got the call," the officer told Samuels. "We've got property damage and the owner's on his way in to see what was taken, if anything."

"Any pink tornadoes, Officer?" I asked.

"How'd you know?"

"I knew it!" I said. "Fist bump, ladies!" I put out a fist. Once again, Taylor and Shelby stared at it.

"Thanks, Pete," Samuels said. "Give me a second to finish up."

"So, Deputy…Sheriff, have we convinced you that we're on to something here?" I asked. "What do you think?"

He shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. "What I think, Miss Turner, is that you need to leave the crime investigation to the criminal investigators and stick to reporting the results of law enforcement's investigation. Now if you have information—witness statements, photos, physical evidence—anything you feel is pertinent to this case and helpful to law enforcement, we'd welcome that. But I have to caution you against striking out blindly on your own in a shortsighted attempt to nail that next big story," he said. "As I recall, it didn't work out too well for you the last time you flew solo."

"We came here to share information with you, Sheriff," Shelby pointed out. "But you clearly aren't taking us seriously."