Boo Who

by Rene Gutteridge

  The woman blinked and then took a deep breath, her hardened features melting by the second. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “So let me just fill out the rest of the paperwork for you, ma’am, and we’ll have you on your way in a brand-new car that you’re going to thoroughly enjoy.”

  Wolfe held out his hand to shake, and the woman took it, smiled, and then yelled, “Ollie! We’re done in here!”

  “Excuse me?”

  The woman looked at him. “I just want to tell you, I am a big fan of yours. I’ve read all your books, have all of them neatly lined up on my bookshelf. I don’t know what you’re doing selling cars, but I sure wish you’d get back to writing.”

  Oliver walked in. “Well, did you sell the car?”

  “He did. Talked me up to five hundred dollars over invoice.”

  “Really? Pretty smooth, considering you botched the entire Road to the Sale.”

  Wolfe stood up. “What’s going on here?”

  Oliver smiled. “Wolfe, meet my second cousin Lois Stepaphanolopolis, a.k.a. Barbara.”

  “What?”

  “Listen, you don’t think I’d send you out to the wolves without a test run first, do you? Lois took drama lessons in high school, so I thought she’d be great at pretending to be a Folder.”

  Wolfe sat back down in his chair, stunned. “This was just a setup?”

  “Just a test run, my friend, just a test run. Now, I have to say, the first half was very shaky on your part. But boy, how in the world did you get her to up her price?”

  “Emotions,” Lois grinned. “He basically gave me this song and dance about principle and food on your table.” She shrugged. “If I were a real customer, I would’ve bought it.”

  Oliver eyed Wolfe. “So you were listening. Tapped into her emotions. Very good.”

  Wolfe wasn’t sure if he was angry or relieved. “Why’d you start me off with a Folder?”

  “Why not? From now on, every other customer is going to seem easy.”

  “Can I get your autograph?” Lois asked, an eager grin replacing the stout expression he had stared into for more than an hour.

  He swallowed. “I don’t know. Maybe I should be getting yours. That was quite an Oscar-worthy performance you gave.”

  Giggling, she waved a hand. “Oh, it was nothing. You should’ve seen me playing Sandra Dee in Grease in high school. You’ve never seen a death scene like that!”

  He glanced at Oliver. “Um … Sandra Dee doesn’t die in Grease.”

  “I know. But she did when I played her. I thought that would be a much more authentic and dramatic ending. Believe me, nobody ever forgot that performance, including my drama teacher, who I didn’t tell before I did it. Let me tell you, there wasn’t a person in that auditorium, including the cast, who wasn’t shocked out of their socks. Not one of them forgot my name again.”

  “The meaning of Drama Queen isn’t lost on you, is it?” Wolfe managed a smile.

  “Well, Ollie, if we’re done here, I’ve got to go grocery shopping.”

  Oliver gave her a hug. “See you soon, cousin.”

  When Sandra Demon left, Wolfe stepped in front of Oliver as he was about to leave the office. “Oliver, I can’t say that I respect what you did back there. I was about to have a heart attack thinking how upset you were!”

  Oliver shrugged. “I’m sorry, Wolfe. But I had to find out how you were going to do. At first, you had me worried. But you showed some ingenuity there at the end, and that has built my confidence in you. In fact, I feel so good about it that I’m leaving you here by yourself today.”

  Oliver walked past him, and Wolfe followed him to his office. “You’re leaving me here?”

  “Virginia will be here in about thirty minutes.” Oliver was packing up his briefcase.

  “Where are you going?”

  Oliver glanced up at him. “You’ll laugh at me if I tell you.”

  “I will?”

  “You’ll say I’ve been reading too many of your books.”

  “Oh.”

  “Well, aren’t you curious about where I’m going?”

  “Uh … sure.”

  Oliver lowered his voice. “Have you noticed a couple of strange people wandering around town lately?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Well, I have. They look real weird too. Wide eyes. Pale skin. Screams from the bushes.”

  “No kidding.”

  “I’m just going to take some time off, go investigate what’s going on.”

  “Shouldn’t you just talk to Sheriff Parker about it?”

  “The sheriff is about as useful these days as that cat of his. All he thinks about is Thief. His deputies are starting to get worried. Besides, I figured if I had more evidence, then I’d have a reason to go to the sheriff. So off I go. Hold down the fort for me. I’d say close up shop around five.”

  “Sure.”

  “And Wolfe, don’t be mad at me. I do what I have to do to make sure my employees are thoroughly trained. Just ask Virginia what happened to her on her third day of work.” Oliver winked, grabbed his briefcase, and went out the door, leaving Wolfe by himself to ponder whether he really wanted to know Virginias story.

  CHAPTER 16

  ALFRED WAS TALKING a mile a minute, and driving nearly two miles a minute. As they zipped along the Interstate out of Indianapolis, Alfred’s ecstatic energy was hard to miss.

  “You won four out of the five, Ainsley! That’s never been done before! Ever! Did you know that? Harper was out of his mind. And he kept saying, ‘She has the right look!’ Over and over. I just can’t believe it. I knew this was the right move. I knew it!”

  She smiled at Alfred, who she wished would keep his eyes on the road. In her hand she clutched four blue ribbons, her fingers stroking the silky fabric. It had been quite a thrill, and the moment certainly wasn’t lost on her, but it was dampened by the fact that she’d left Wolfe’s house angry last night. And she wasn’t sure if she was ever going to get used to all the nasty looks from all the other women in the cookie bake-off. Only one woman came up and offered her congratulations. It was her first year too. They spoke for about five minutes until Alfred ushered her off to meet reporters.

  She tuned back in to Alfred, who was saying, “Harper and I talked at length, and we agreed that we’re going to need to do a taping of some sort. Ainsley, I won’t lie to you. There’s a lot of competition out there. But if we do our best, and we make the right move at just the right time, we’ll be in.”

  “If it’s God’s will,” she said softly.

  “Yeah, that too. So anyway, I’m going to have to take a few days and try to come up with a strategy. It’s all about strategy.” Alfred reached to the back seat and snagged a leftover cookie. “My goodness, I’d weigh a ton if I lived with you!”

  They drove awhile in silence. Thankfully, he had started to come down off his sugar high. When they came into Skary as dusk approached, she said, “Alfred, why don’t you drop me off at Wolfe’s house?”

  “Sure.”

  The lights were on, and Ainsley felt relieved. She needed to say she was sorry, and soon. What good were four blue ribbons when things were left in turmoil with the person she loved most in this world?

  “Thanks, Alfred. I could’ve never done this without you.”

  Alfred smiled, as if he’d longed to hear that statement his whole life. “Tell Wolfe hello.”

  As she walked up the front porch steps of his home, her heart beat in a way that reminded her of the very first time she’d climbed these stairs. She was so nervous, not knowing what to expect. She felt exactly the same this time. Would he forgive her? They’d never fought since getting engaged. Not even a little squabble. Her heart ached at the thought of how angry they’d been at each other. But maybe her father was right. Maybe it was good to know how they would react to such a thing.

  She stood on his porch, swallowing back fear and pride and remembering the instructions of Jesus. She still wondered w
hy Wolfe was so adamant about not wanting her to go to Indianapolis. But maybe if they sat down and talked about it … What if he was still mad, though? What if he refused to see her? What if—

  The front door opened, and Wolfe was grinning. He spread his arms, and she ran into them. “I’m so sorry!” she cried. “I can’t believe I left while we were fighting. That was horrible of me!”

  He held her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Ainsley. I don’t know what got into me.” He stepped back from her and looked at the ribbons in her hand. “You won?” he asked excitedly.

  She nodded and laughed. “Four out of five. It’s a new record. And apparently a very good reason for a lot of women to hate me. How was your day?”

  Wolfe shook his head and ushered her in. “Well, I almost killed Sandra Dee, but that’s a whole other story.”

  Oliver had bundled himself up as if he were preparing for a blizzard. In actuality, he figured if he had enough layers on and someone tried to stab him, the knife might not even reach his skin.

  His mind had been sifting dreadful thoughts of who these strange people might be ever since he’d left work. He’d seen three of them, and each time it had scared him out of his mind. He’d even been afraid to mention this to anyone until he overheard Martin Blarty talking to the mayor about a sighting of his own. They weren’t doing anything particularly scary. But something about them was very frightful. Maybe it was the way they walked … slowly, methodically, as if waiting for something to happen. Maybe it was their expression, nearly frozen with alarm. Whatever it was, he knew something strange was going on. The thought had even crossed his mind that they could be spies from area car dealers, trying to learn his trade secrets. Whatever the case, he was going to find out the truth.

  For twenty-five minutes he drove around and didn’t see a single thing out of place. Skary, Indiana, as it always did in the early evening, purred like a contented cat. The streets grew quiet. Homes warmed from the inside out. And nothing exciting happened once dinnertime came.

  Oliver decided he might have more luck if he got out of his car and walked around. But just as he was driving back into town, he thought he saw something, in a grouping of trees that led to the foothills.

  His car screeched to a halt, and he got out. It was just a flash, a shadow that moved in already dark surroundings. Gulping so loud that he made a calico scurry away, Oliver clutched his fists together and walked straight into the trees. He could see nothing, so he stopped to listen.

  “Whoo. Whoo.”

  “Whoo. Whoo. Whoo.”

  Over and over this went, and it sounded to Oliver like a male owl was calling to a female owl. If he didn’t know better, there seemed to be some chemistry. But he didn’t know better. He had no idea what the hooting of an owl meant.

  He focused his attention back on finding the mysterious figure in the trees. Slinking forward as quietly as he could, he scanned the shadows for any movement. He was not going to be able to hear anything due to the racket these owls were making, but he always did have keen eyesight. And his father had always said the only weapon he needed was a sharp tongue. Although he seriously doubted a couple of quick one-liners was going to have any effect on these ghouls.

  Oliver stopped and sighed. With all the whoo-whooing going on, he wasn’t going to find a thing out here. “Get a room,” he mumbled.

  But then, out of the corner of his eye, a few yards away, Oliver saw something move. Gasping, he covered his mouth, trying not to scream.

  Dr. Hass couldn’t believe how much cash was used in this town. Hadn’t anyone heard of a credit card? Or billing? Not that he was complaining. How could he turn down cold, hard cash?

  “You’re terrific for seeing us at this hour,” said the man who had introduced himself as Town Treasurer Martin (not Marty) Blarty, offering his hand for the third nervous time. It was seven in the evening, and Dr. Hass was beginning to realize why setting up shop at his own home might not be the best idea in the world.

  “No problem.” He reminded himself to smile. Perhaps his cheese might not be cheddar. Maybe it was Swiss, and he didn’t know it. Or maybe he’d always known it and hadn’t acknowledged it. Perhaps his was more like pimento cheese. At any rate, when he focused back on the two men in his office, he noticed Martin was staring at the large framed poster of Napoleon on the east wall.

  Martin glanced at him. “Interesting …” He smiled uncomfortably.

  “Some unique personality traits by which I’ve always been fascinated.”

  “Ah.”

  “So … what brings you two in this evening?”

  Martins eyes shifted nonchalantly to the mayor, whom Martin had introduced as The Mayor. “Well, as you can see, he’s got some issues.”

  Dr. Hass wasn’t sure what issues Martin was referring to. The mayor was wearing a Hawaiian-looking shirt, sunglasses, and Bermuda shorts. But Dr. Hass had come from L.A., so not many wardrobes shocked him.

  “He thinks it’s summertime,” Martin said in a hushed voice, though the mayor hardly seemed to know where he was. “He’s in complete denial.”

  “Denial about winter?”

  “Denial about Skary.”

  “What about it?”

  Martin’s eyes averted to the ground. “You’re new here, and I hate to put Skary in a bad light, but we’re not doing well. And the mayor blames himself.”

  “Is it his fault?”

  “No. It’s nobody’s fault. We used to be known for being Wolfe Boone’s town, but he fell in love and became a Christian, so he’s not writing horror anymore. But nobody blames him. Well, most people don’t. But anyway, the town is not doing well.”

  “You mean financially?”

  “Yes, among other things. We sort of lost our identity along the way too.”

  “But what about the national ad campaign? It said you were a thriving town perfect for cat lovers.”

  “An old woman’s last-ditch effort to give the town an identity. Hardly anyone took that nonsense seriously.”

  Dr. Hass cleared his throat. Well, he was always one for nonsense. “I might be mistaken, but isn’t this town full of cats?”

  Martin nodded. “Oh yes. It used to be this crazy mystery too. Everyone had a theory about where all the cats came from. Last year, though, we found out there was really no mystery to it. Apparently the sheriff’s cat was responsible.”

  “No kidding.”

  “Yep. But that’s been taken care of. Anyway, just before Christmas, the mayor began acting very strangely, and now, well … he’s on the tropical isle of denial.”

  Dr. Hass nodded solemnly, wishing he had a couch or something. But it didn’t seem that lying down was going to help this fellow.

  “So basically what you are saying is that the mayor feels guilty about relying on one person to support this town rather than building up resources in other areas to see that the town was secure.”

  “Okay. Sure. But the fact of the matter is,” Martin said tersely, “that he’s the way he is now, and we’ve got to help him.”

  Dr. Hass swallowed. He’d tried to remind himself to turn up his sensitivity monitor, but he didn’t always do a good job. His ex-wives would attest to that. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to make sure I understood.” He offered a placating smile that seemed to be received.

  “So what do you suggest we do, Dr. Hass? I have no idea how to get him back to reality.”

  “Sometimes when people experience high levels of stress or fear, they completely shut themselves off from their former identity, allowing their minds to heal.”

  “So we should just let him think it’s summertime in Skary and there are no worries in the world?”

  “Not necessarily. Sometimes, if the brain gets too comfortable in the imaginary world, the person won’t come back. Why should he? There are no worries in the world there.”

  Martin’s eyes widened as he stared at the mayor. “My lands!”

  “Don’t panic. We can get him back.” Dr. Hass ran a hand through h
is hair … but stopped at the thought that this wasn’t quite the best body language to show confidence in his statement. Luckily, Martin was still staring at the mayor, who simply sat there with a near-giddy expression on his face. But Dr. Hass had always had a motto which he’d applied often to his own life: Face your fears. It was this very idea that had caused him to move from sunny California to a place that seemed perfect to test his theory. In a moment of truth, he did have to admit he was running himself, but running from something that could inflict horrible, bodily harm, so that was a different matter altogether.

  “How?”

  “We must get the mayor to face his fears. What’s the worst-case scenario?

  Martin thought for a moment. “Well, the town could financially collapse, leaving hundreds of people homeless and destitute, without running water or a school system.”

  Dr. Hass pondered. “Okay, well, we might not want to hit him with this all at once, but let’s just offer him bits and pieces of the truth.”

  “What first? The fact that both of us are about six months away from not having a paycheck?”

  “How about something like the fact that without some sort of intervention, Skary is in trouble.”

  “Well, those are the last words I spoke to him before he went haywire.”

  “I see.” Dr. Hass sighed. “Listen, let’s just keep working that angle. What the mayor is dealing with are huge feelings of inadequacy. The realization that he has failed. When he realizes that failing is a part of being human, he may forgive himself, which is what needs to happen.”

  “Ah.” A light of acceptance popped on in Martin’s eyes. “Forgiveness. Accept that he failed, and then forgive himself.”

  “Exactly But first he has to accept it. For some people, failure is just a step above death.”

  And then the mayor stood up, surprising Dr. Hass enough that he rolled his chair back three feet. Martin gasped.

  “If you’re going to talk about somebody, you should do it when they’re not in the room,” he scowled.