Heinz Noonan, the ‘Bearded Holmes’ of the Sandersonville, North Carolina, Police Department, was suffering through another tough day on the Outer Banks of North Carolina.

In December.

It was 72.

And raining.

Tough day.

What made it even tougher was a call from a policeman in Fairbanks, Alaska, where it was six.

Above zero.

And had been three below the previous night.

But then again, Noonan had been in Minus 55 in Fort Yukon.

When you have in-laws in Alaska, you will go to amazing places — summer and winter.

Alas, unfortunately, and perforce, the call had come in on his electronic Beelzebub, the iPhone his wife required him to take everywhere.

Except the shower.

Which, in this case, was acceptable because it was from a connection to an in-law. Alaska was a long way from Sandersonville but, when it came to law-and-order difficulties, mileage had no meaning. As expected, it was a loo-loo call. Someone, or someones, in Fairbanks had been stealing snow.

* * *

“I don’t think I caught that, officer. Someone has been stealing snow? In Alaska? During the winter?”

Daryl Garcia had been almost apologetic. “Yes, sir. Snow. I know you know snow because you have close relatives up here. I won’t tell which one suggested I call you.”

“In-laws are always a joy. And until there’s a crime, I’m just Heinz. The ‘sir,’ is not needed now or later.”

“Works for me. I’m Vato. My nickname.”

“Vato?”

“Translates from Mexican as ‘dude.’ My in-laws call me Vato.”

“What does your family call you?”

“Depends how angry they are.”

“Good answer,” Noonan chuckled as he reached for a notebook in the pile of debris on his desktop. Then he pulled a pen from his short sleeve pocket. “Now, how can you steal snow in Alaska in December. I hear there’s a lot of free snow up there this time of year.”

Vato laughed. “You got that right. We are chockablock with snow. We had a particularly deep snowfall over the past month and the snowplows have been working overtime. Good for them, I suppose. Anyway, the plows go into a neighborhood and scoop snow from both sides of the street and leave a berm in the center of the roadway. Then a snow blower rumbles down the center berm and blasts it into SRV, Snow Removal Vehicles. Then the snow gets trucked away.”

“OK, sounds familiar. Not that I have seen that being done any time recently here.”

Vato had laughed. Then he continued. “Where the snow goes depends on a lot of factors. In most cases, it goes to a landfill or, at this time of year, a snowfill lot. If there is a dog race planned, it might go downtown to cover the street. If there is a winter fair, it goes there. It depends. All the snow from off the street does not go to the same place.”

“I’m with you. So, how does some snow get stolen?”

“Even though all the snow does not go to the same place, all of the transportation for snow is paid for by the City of Fairbanks. Even if the snow is for an individual, then there is a recorded cost.”

“Why would someone want delivery of snow in Alaska during the winter?”

“In one case, I know because I was part of the delivery, there is a man who makes a giant snowman. We are talking 20 feet high. He needs a lot of snow and the City provides the snow at no cost. The City gets a lot of publicity for providing the snow.”

Noonan had shaken his head. “Yeah, but come spring…” He let the sentence hang.

Vato had laughed. “City gets a lot of good publicity by keeping the gutter drains in that neighborhood clear in the spring. A lot of us like to be out on the street keeping the drains open rather than dealing with the politics uptown.”

“I understand,” Noonan chuckled as he wrote in his notebook.

Vato continued. “As to your question, when we checked the books for the deliveries, there was three which had no destination. Two this year. When we went back over the books, there was one last year. That is, the SRVs had picked up snow but not delivered it. That is, on paper. We don’t know what happened to the snow.”

“Why do you care?”

“Because every load of snow has a value. Someone is billed for snow removal. None of the drivers are concerned about the cost but the City accountants are. Three loads of snow vanished, not that is any big deal in Fairbanks in the winter. To me, that is. But to the bean counters, the accountants, there are bills that cannot be sent because there is no way to know to whom to send the bill.”

“How much snow are we talking about?”

“Each SRV has 14 cubic yards capacity. In a snowfill lot, that’s not much. But if it gets dumped in a neighborhood, well, it can be an eye opener.”

Noonan thought for a moment and then said, “Let me think about this and I’ll give you a call back. Say in two days.”

Vato laughed. “I’ll be waiting. By then, I might have some more snow missing.”

* * *

Whenever Noonan had a loo-loo call, he went to his two tried-and-true sources of information: local newspapers and history. Fairbanks did have a newspaper along with grocery story handouts and tabloids in the borough but none had any stories about anything out of the ordinary. That being said, all the newspapers and tabloids had miles of articles on the winter snow. It had been a winter of records.

And it was still December.

But then again, it was Alaska.

The snow crews had been working around the clock and the snowfill lots were overflowing. The only people pleased were the dog racing enthusiasts and the ski resort owners. All other articles quoted people with snow shovels talking about how high the berms were on both sides of their driveways. Businesses complained about the cost of clearing their parking lots and ‘just when we get the lot cleared from one storm, another one hits us.’

The history of Fairbanks did not give Noonan a single clue as to why snow would be ‘stolen.’ ‘Stolen,’ however, was an odd verb to use for something that was ‘free.’ Rather, something that was a nuisance. If there was anything Fairbanks had in abundance in December it was snow.

The city had started as one of the many boomtowns during the Alaska Gold Rush and survived because it was on a river. Then the gold ran out. On land, that is. But the dredges were still pulling nuggets from off the bottom of the Chena River. As other boomtowns in the area survived, railroads extended from the docks of Fairbanks into the Interior communities. The founders of Fairbanks had no concept of urban planning, so structures went up where they went up. As a result, the streets near the river were established for the buildings that had been there since the Gold Rush. It wasn’t until the start of the Second World War that the city streets beyond the dock area were laid out in traditional blocks. When the Trans-Alaska Pipeline boom came in the 1970s, neighborhoods erupted from the wetlands well away from downtown. With them came schools, malls, shopping centers and boutique rows.

And not a clue as to why anyone would steal snow, a non sequitur in Alaska.

Clearly, he needed more information.

“Vato! Lose any snow lately?”

“Heinz, right?”

“Same guy.”

“Find my snow?”

“I’m working on it. I’ve got some questions for you.”

“Shoot, Luke.” He laughed, “I’m a Western fan.”

Noonan chuckled. “OK, here goes. You know the snow is missing because it has no destination listed. Can you identify the trucks that did not make the snow deliveries?”

“Not really. Some of the snow hauling is done by city workers. Then there are private contractors and a lot of one-man-one-trucks. At the delivery end, we just know how many truckloads arrived. Don’t forget, the SRVs do not all go to the same destination, so it takes a while for the paperwork to show up at City Hall. So, we have no real way of checking where the missing loads went or who was driving the trucks. You have to understand, particularly when it comes to the private trucks, the money is per load picked up. So, it is in the interest of a trucker to dump a load and soon as possible to go back and get another one. That’s where the money is. They are paid by load picked up and delivered. All we know for sure is we are three loads short.”

“But can’t you link each delivery by each truck and driver?”

“Not really. It’s a paperwork jungle. A lot of paper and some gets lost, some is duplicated. All we know, paperwork-wise, is three loads from the snowblower never made it to their destination, one last year and two so far this year. We don’t know why. But the accountants want to know why. You never mess with accountants. They are like the IRS, they never quit asking.”

“But you do know which trucks did not make the snow fill.”

“Yes and no. Yes, we know the company that billed the city for the truck deliveries but, no, we do not know which driver was in which truck that did not make any one specific delivery. Neither do most companies. A company may have 15 or 16 drivers; some are regular, and others are gypsies. They also don’t care. They claimed the mistake was ours, not theirs. They want to be paid for the deliveries even though the deliveries were never made. On paper.”

“Were they paid?”

“Sure. The amount was small compared to the total budget for snow removal and, besides, there is no way to state for certain the mistake wasn’t ours. We are talking 20 trucks an hour sometimes, so mistakes will be made. Again, last year, too long ago for any correction to be made.”

“Were the two missing truckloads of snow this year on the same day?”

“A week apart. Same day of the week if that means anything.”

Noonan found that interesting and underlined the tidbit in his notebook. “OK, now, are there places in Fairbanks that are not plowed?”

“Well, yes. Private property for instance. Parking lots, driveways, some alleys.”

A distant gong reverberated deep in the convolutions of Noonan’s brain.

“Alleys?”

“Right, alleys. Alleys are not streets. They are private property so clearing the alleys of snow is up to the owners of the buildings on both sides. They keep the alleys clear so garbage trucks can use the alleyways.”

“How many alleys are we talking about?”

“Maybe 30, depending on what you mean by an alleyway. Some are less than a block long, others extend for five or six blocks.”

“Are most of these alleys like canyons with businesses on both sides?”

“For the most part, yes. Some of them have recessed areas, like for deliveries.”

“Are any of those recessed areas used for garbage containers, like dumpsters.”

“No. The garbage trucks come down the alley and empty the dumpsters one at a time alongside the backs of the building. If a business had a dumpster in a recessed area, the dumpster would have to be pushed out to the alleyway to get emptied. I don’t see that happening. Those dumpsters are heavy even when they are empty.”

“How many recessed areas are there in Fairbanks?”

“Not sure. Maybe a dozen.”

“What kinds of businesses have those recessed areas?”

“All kinds. Furriers, novelty shops, jewelry boutiques, art stores, some tourist shops. Some share so there is not one business using one recessed area.”

“How many of those recesses are bordered by two-story buildings?”

“Oh, in the downtown area, I’d say three or four.”

“What kind of business are on the second floor?”

“Not sure. Usually, the second floor is an area for offices. A few lawyers, one doctor’s office I know of, some storage spaces and a few jewelry shops have a second floor.”

Clang!

“Those jewelry stores,” Noonan said cautiously. “Any of them have a track record of burgled property?”

“Odd you should ask. Yeah, one. Harrison Smith Jewelry. Has had a rash of break-ins. I did the Police Report on one of them last year.”

“How many break-ins total, this year and last year.”

“Three.”

CLANG!

* * *

It was a chilly 55 degrees on the Outer Banks two weeks later when Harriet, the office manager and common-sense il Duce came into Noonan’s office with a snow globe. She gave it a shake and set it down on Noonan’s desk. Then she sat down as the snowflakes began to settle. “Must be tough Alaska. They’re sending us their snow.”

Noonan looked up from a cold case file and shrugged. “Got plenty go around up there.”

“So, it seems,” she said as she opened the letter in her left hand. She shook it and read, “Thanks for the help. You are right. Caught red-handed.”

Noonan grunted.

Harriet pulled the cold case down from in front of Noonan’s eyes with the index finger of her right hand. “I expect better than that.”

“Better than what?” Noonan gave her the I-have-no-idea-what-you-are-talking-about look.

She tapped the snow globe with the letter. “One of your loo-loo calls. Tell momma all about it.”

“Not much to tell. Just a guess.”

“Well, guess me.”

“Well, the background, the reason I got the loo-loo call in the first place, was because some snow deliveries were missing.”

“Snow deliveries?!” Harriet pointed to the snow globe and then the letter. “They deliver snow in Alaska?”

“Sort of. Snow gets plowed up off the street and trucked to a snowfill lot. It keeps the street clear.”

“OK, sounds reasonable.”

“Well, last year, one of the snow deliveries, about 14 cubic yards, didn’t make it to the snowfill lot. This year there were two such missing deliveries.”

“What happened to the snow?”

“Nobody knew. All the Fairbanks City bean counters knew was the loads were paid for but had not been delivered to the snow fill lot. They wanted to know why.”

Harriet grimaced. “It’s not likely someone paid for the snow. Not a lot of street value for snow in Alaska.”

“Actually, someone did. That was part of my guess.”

“Someone stole snow in Alaska?! They must be smoking some strong weed up there.” Harriet made a motion like someone sucking on a marijuana joint.

“It happened again this year. Twice.”

Harriet shook her head like a cartoon character clearing its head. “Must be really strong stuff.”

“Not at all. I was working with a patrolman in Fairbanks and suggested he match the date of three Police Reports of burglary with the missing deliveries of snow. They matched.”

“Someone was stealing snow and filing a Police Report?!”

“No. Again my guess, a jeweler paid for the delivery. Truck driver just delivered snow where he was paid to deliver the load. It wasn’t illegal, just odd.”

“Odd is right. How about the Police Report?”

“My guess, mind you, was someone was using the snow as part of a robbery scheme. As it turns out, there was a jeweler who was pulling a nefarious scheme.”

“Nefarious, I like the word. Tell me more.”

“Do you know what a GemPrint is?”

“Kind of a fingerprint for a diamond.”

“Correct. But heirloom jewelry does not have Gemprints. If someone pawns their grandmother’s wedding ring, the diamonds in the ring have not been Gemprinted. I guessed the jeweler was buying heirloom jewelry and stockpiling it. When he had a large enough collection, he photographed the lot to prove he owned it. Then he made arrangements for a delivery of snow outside his back window. In-kind of an alcove off the alley.”

“He paid for snow to be delivered to him?! In an alley?! Why?”

“Because he was going to drop the heirloom jewelry out his back window. The snow would cushion the fall and cover the jewelry. Then he would file a Police Report of a burglary. He’d get insurance money for the heirloom jewelry and still have the jewelry. After the police left, he’d dig the jewelry out of the snow in the alley.”

“Couldn’t someone else find the jewelry first?”

“Could have. But the jeweler timed the snow deliveries carefully. Right after the garbage truck came down the alley and emptied all of the dumpsters. That way the jeweler had six days to get the gems out of the snow drift.”

“But wouldn’t opening the window set off a burglar alarm?”

“Yup. That was the proof of the burglary. The jeweler did not have a security camera on the back window. Or a burglar alarm. No need to. The window was up a wall on the second floor. He just opened the window, tossed out the jewelry and called the cops the next morning. Then he’d wait a day or two before getting the jewelry. He didn’t want any of the other security cameras in the alley to catch him digging in the snow behind his business too soon.”

“How’d you catch him?”

“I didn’t. I suggested the police wait until he filed another burglary report. Then all they had to do was wait for him to go into the alley to retrieve the heirloom jewelry. Caught him red-handed,” Noonan said as he pointed at the snow globe.

Harriet chuckled.

“By the way, did you know Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer has a plaque over his front door? You know what it says.”

“Oh, no! A joke.”

“There’s snow place like home.”