The Baron Blasko Mysteries (Book 3): Claws

by Howe, A. E.

  Matthew looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he started walking again. “Before you arrived, before I saw what I saw at Mrs. Rosehill’s, I would have sworn I’d imagined those two creatures in that trench. Now… I don’t know.”

  “I don’t have much experience with them. Only once back in the Carpathian Mountains did I have to deal with one. What I’ve read suggests that they are drawn to slaughter. Wars are natural hunting grounds for them. A place where they can let their inner nature out without fearing discovery.”

  “But you think one of those things is loose and hunting in Semmes County now?”

  “I do.”

  “I shot that beast with several rounds of buckshot and it didn’t even flinch.”

  “I need to do more research on how to combat it when it’s in wolf form,” Blasko said. “But I’ll tell you one fact. I’ve never met any creature that didn’t die when you cut off its head.” He paused for a moment. “Which brings us to a question. Where can I buy a good sword?”

  “What? Are you kidding?”

  “I’d prefer a heavy sword and not a sabre.”

  “Just head on down to the sword store across from the courthouse.”

  “You’re not taking this seriously.”

  “That you want a sword to kill a werewolf? No, I am not.”

  “You saw them during the war.”

  “And my suggestion would be a howitzer. Something with a little range.”

  “I think a more portable and discreet weapon is needed.”

  “Then I suggest a twelve gauge with slugs.”

  “A headshot with a shotgun slug might do the job,” Blasko mused.

  “This is crazy. I hope you’re wrong about this.”

  “Possibly. The real reason I came to you is that there is a stranger in town who I want you to keep an eye on.”

  “Who is he?”

  “You are not to approach him.”

  “I guess you don’t trust me after last time,” Matthew said with an edge to his voice.

  “I trust you, but this man could be a werewolf. If he is, then I don’t have to tell you that he is very dangerous. His name is François LeSauvage and he’s presenting himself as a medium.”

  “A medium what?”

  “A spiritualist. Someone who can talk to the dead,” Blasko snapped, not sure if Matthew was kidding or not.

  “That guy! I’ve heard people talking about him. He’s made quite an impression in the last couple of weeks.”

  “He’s staying at the Magnolia Hotel.”

  “I guess it’s just a coincidence that we’re walking in the direction of the hotel now.”

  “I want to look it over. Again, don’t go near him. Don’t let him see you. I just want you to talk to people who’ve talked to him. Find out what his routine is.”

  They had reached the square and could see the hotel on the other side of the courthouse.

  “Is that him?” Matthew asked, nodding to a dark figure walking toward the hotel.

  “Blast!” Blasko hissed when he saw the man stop. He looked around, hoping there was some concealment available, but there was nothing. And in that instant Blasko knew it was too late. The man had sensed them watching him. François turned slowly and looked across the courthouse grounds. He hesitated for a moment before striding purposefully in their direction.

  Blasko didn’t want to confront him, but they didn’t have a choice. “There’s nothing for it now,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What?” Matthew asked.

  Blasko whispered, “It is a shame there isn’t a sword shop nearby.”

  “Don’t try to be funny.”

  “I don’t like the look of him,” Blasko said, and squared up on the figure marching toward them. François was only twenty paces away now. Dueling distance, Blasko thought.

  “Gentlemen,” François said, tipping his hat as he came closer. “You’re out late. You must be the baron I’ve heard so much about.” He stuck out his gloved hand to Blasko, who just looked at it until François pulled it back. “Manners in your country must be slightly different than where I come from.” François’s voice was more than a little snarky.

  “France,” Blasko said as though he were cursing.

  “I have offended you in some way?” François asked.

  “I have no wish to play games with you,” Blasko said, knowing that he should be more polite but finding it impossible. Something about the man set his fangs on edge.

  “Games can be an amusing way to pass the time. I would think that, at your age, you’d be looking for diversions. I know I am.”

  “Why are you here?” Blasko asked.

  “And who is this fellow?” François turned to Matthew and stuck out his hand. “François LeSauvage.”

  Matthew took the hand and shook it. “Matthew Hodge. I’ve heard about how you can talk to the dead.”

  “Just one of my talents.” He turned back to Blasko. “Your henchman has better manners than you do.”

  “Hey, what do you mean ‘henchman’?” Matthew said. François gave him a withering look.

  “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” François said, changing tack so quickly that it caught Blasko by surprise. “You and I are two strangers in a strange land. We should become fast friends.”

  While Blasko stood there trying to decide how to reply, François turned to Matthew. “Henchman was too strong a word. I’d just heard that you… help the baron out on occasion. Pardon my clumsy use of the language.” He stuck out his hand again in apparent apology. Matthew didn’t know how not to take it and accepted the light shake. “There, all forgiven, I hope.”

  “I’ve never met a spiritualist who wasn’t cheating villagers out of their money,” Blasko stated, then added, “But who knows…” He shrugged.

  “I understand. I’ve been chased from one town to another across whole continents. You’re from the old country. Those ways can be hard to give up. But this is a new land. All I do is provide a service to people who long for their lost loved ones. You and I don’t have to be friends, but I hope you’ll give me the courtesy of allowing me to prove myself.” François looked straight into Blasko’s eyes.

  Blasko stared back and tried to read the man. Nothing. Blasko gave him a nod.

  “Then I’ll bid you all goodnight.” With that, François tipped his hat and turned on his heel.

  Once Matthew decided that the man was out of earshot, he turned to Blasko, who huffed.

  “He seems like a piece of work,” Matthew said.

  “Watch him.”

  “Yeah, sure. Hey, you do know it’s winter, don’t you?”

  Chapter Six

  Sunshine streamed through the bedroom window. Josephine tried to ignore it, but eventually she started thinking about all of the chores she had planned for the day. It’s too cold to get out of bed, she told herself before she heard the rattling of the steam radiator which promised to warm up the room. One foot over the side at a time, she managed to crawl out.

  Josephine sat down to a hearty breakfast with her cook, Anna Durand, and her maid, Grace Dunn. Grace was the only other person in Semmes County who was privy to Blasko’s true nature. She’d accompanied Josephine to Romania and had helped bring Blasko to the United States. Her knowledge of the situation had elevated her from Josephine’s maid to a confidant. At first, Grace had been sure that the baron was Satan’s first cousin, but after he had helped get her brother released from jail a few months earlier, she’d settled into a more accepting attitude, though she still wasn’t sure how to reconcile her faith with his condition.

  “Everyone is talking about that boy bein’ killed,” Grace said.

  “Who’s talking about it?” Josephine asked, curious about what rumors were going around town.

  “Well, Ronnie told me they were all talkin’ about it at… that place.”

  Ronnie was Grace’s brother and he was a skilled carpenter. He was currently working on repairs at Mrs. Rosehill’s, the illegal dri
nking and gambling establishment that had been heavily damaged by a supernatural portal back in the fall. Mrs. Rosehill took everything in her stride and had reopened the business while the renovations were taking place. While the private club didn’t allow women of low repute to operate out of it, most people, Grace included, considered the place too scandalous to name.

  “I’m surprised your brother would work there,” Anna said. The older woman liked to gently poke fun at Grace when she had the chance.

  “The way things are, he’s got to take work where he can find it. Mrs. Rosehill came to him and asked him special to do the work,” Grace said. From her tone, it was clear she had very mixed feelings about the situation. “With some help from above, he’ll be done and out of that devil’s den soon.”

  “What did he hear?” Josephine said, trying to get back to the attack.

  “Ronnie heard that that boy was torn all to pieces. Maybe a bear or something. That’s all we need. Bad enough we got murders and all going on; now wild animals are comin’ to get us.” Grace had a knack for the hyperbolic.

  “I don’t think you need to worry about wild animals,” Josephine said, causing both Anna and Grace to look at her.

  “You know something about that boy’s death?” Grace asked.

  “The baron went out with Bobby to look at the spot where Seth Taylor was found,” Josephine said, receiving an incredulous look from Grace.

  “Mr. Bobby took the baron out there?” Grace reached for another biscuit.

  “He wanted the baron’s opinion,” Josephine told her.

  Grace didn’t look happy. She had always hoped that Josephine and Bobby Tucker would get back together, and that Bobby would intervene somehow to get the baron out of Josephine’s house. While she had almost given up on that, finding out that Bobby was seeking out the baron’s assistance wasn’t good news.

  “So what have you heard about the death?” Anna asked Josephine.

  She gave them a quick accounting that left the identity of the killer open to interpretation. When she finished, both Anna and Grace were shaking their heads.

  “I hear that there’s a spiritualist in town,” Anna said, causing both Josephine and Grace to look at her, but for different reasons. Josephine hadn’t told either of them about the séance last night because she hadn’t wanted to hear their opinions on the matter. She already knew that Grace would disapprove.

  “Yes, I’ve heard about him,” Josephine said cryptically.

  “That’s witchcraft. As bad as that witch down by the river,” Grace huffed. The witch by the river was Sissy Lylou Masson, a bone doctor who, Josephine had been surprised to find out, served a large cross section of the county.

  “She did sort of help to free your brother,” Josephine said, trying to avoid any talk of François.

  “That woman didn’t do much,” Grace grumbled.

  “I have an aunt who is very involved in the spiritualist movement. She moved up to Tennessee with her husband and they conduct séances there. They are also very devout Christians,” Anna said, giving Grace a challenging look.

  Grace looked like she wanted to say something, but apparently thought better of it. Grace respected Anna both for her age and her good cooking.

  Josephine got up and put her dishes in the sink before anyone could ask her what she thought about spiritualists. In the back of her mind she made a note to talk with Anna about her sister and her experiences when Grace wasn’t around to disapprove.

  An hour later, Josephine was out the door with Blasko’s telegram in her hand. The weather was sunny and brisk, so she decided to walk downtown. After stopping by the Western Union office, Josephine looked up and down the main street. Instead of stopping by the bank, she headed straight for the sheriff’s office. Luck was with her and she found Bobby outside next to his car, talking with a man whom Josephine didn’t recognize. The man was dressed in an ill-fitting suit and was shaking his head as Bobby talked to him.

  Josephine caught Bobby’s eye. He nodded to her and inclined his head in an invitation for her to join them.

  “Mr. Taylor, this is Josephine Nicolson,” Bobby said when she approached them. She could see that the man’s eyes were red and weary, half hidden in a rough complexion that spoke of many hours working in the sun.

  “Miss Nicolson,” the man said with a nod.

  “Mr. Taylor. I heard about your son. I’m so sorry.”

  “He weren’t killed by no animal,” the man said, as much to Bobby as to Josephine.

  “I’m looking into Seth’s death,” Bobby assured the man.

  “You ain’t goin’ to get any help from the sheriff. He as much as told me that he wasn’t lookin’ no further than a bear or a cougar. That don’t make no sense. I’ve hunted this land since I was knee-high to a mule. There aren’t no animals that would do that to a man.” Elroy Taylor looked ready to fight anyone who disagreed with him.

  “I believe you,” Bobby said.

  “You better mean it. I don’t want you tellin’ me one thing and doin’ another,” Elroy said, staring Bobby square in the face. “Look hard at the Murphys. Our family has had nothin’ but trouble from them since they moved in.”

  “When did they buy the land next to yours?”

  “Ahh, that was when my grandfather was farming it. Just before the War.” Both Bobby and Josephine realized that Elroy was referring to the Civil War, almost seventy years earlier.

  “What have you been feuding about?”

  “It’s the property line. That creek has moved a couple of times. They just aren’t reasonable about it.”

  “What specific trouble have you had?” Bobby asked, not because he really thought it had anything to do with the boy’s death, but more because he was fascinated by an argument that had gone on for so long.

  “They’ve stolen our cows, for one thing.”

  “I don’t remember seeing any reports about that.”

  “Well, the last time was back in the nineties.”

  Bobby had to work hard not to roll his eyes. “Anything recent?”

  “We pretty much stay away from each other. When I took over, I farmed that bottom land. I keep my cows on the west side away from the Murphys. It’s a damn nuisance to have to haul water to them.”

  “Do you know why Seth was on the other side of the creek?”

  “He must’ve been dragged over there. He’s known since he could walk not to go on Murphy land.”

  “Can you think of anyone else who would have wanted to hurt him?”

  “Tear him apart, you mean. Who could do something like that?” the man said, confused.

  “Let’s not worry about how he was killed right now. I’m just trying to find out who would have wanted to do that to him.”

  Elroy sighed heavily and shook his head. “Truth is, I want it to be them Murphys, but I just don’t see it. Anyone else… I just… Seth got into some scuffles when he was in school. Don’t see how that can mean much. He quit school when he was sixteen and went to work with me full-time on the farm. We work hard. Not a lot of time to be gettin’ into trouble.”

  “Did he have a girlfriend?”

  “Nothin’ serious. He courted Millie Campbell for a couple of years when he was goin’ to school. Never went no place, though. His momma tried hitching him up to some girls from church.” Elroy shrugged.

  After Bobby asked a few more questions, Elroy Taylor got into his old Model A pickup and started it up.

  “That was his only child,” Bobby said as he and Josephine watched the old man drive away.

  “I can’t imagine the pain he’s going through.”

  “His wife couldn’t even come into town. He told me she’s laid up in bed with her sister watching over her.” Bobby turned to Josephine. “I guess you heard that I talked to the baron last night.”

  “He seems convinced it was some kind of monster.” Josephine watched Bobby’s face closely, curious what his reaction would be.

  “I gathered as much. Anyone who saw
the body would think the same thing,” he responded with a complete lack of skepticism.

  “Except the sheriff.”

  “He’s in denial. Ever since what happened out at Mrs. Rosehill’s, I think he’s been living more and more with his head buried in the sand.”

  “Connelly have the body?” Josephine asked.

  “What’s left of it.”

  “I want to take a look at it,” Josephine said with more confidence than she felt.

  “No you don’t,” Bobby said firmly.

  “Blasko said the boy was torn apart.”

  “Which is why you don’t need to see it. You don’t need those images in your head.”

  “Were there teeth or claw marks on the… parts?” Josephine persisted, though she had to admit the thought of it was making her stomach roll over.

  “Both, and they weren’t like anything I’ve ever seen. Trouble is, I need to convince Sheriff Logan.”

  “We could talk with Colonel Etheridge.”

  “Why in the world would we want to do that?” Bobby asked, surprised by this suggestion.

  “He spent ten years in Africa. He might be able to give us some information about what attacked the boy.”

  “Maybe,” Bobby said. He actually thought it was a good idea, but he just wished he’d been the one to come up with it.

  “He lives a few doors down from me,” Josephine pushed.

  “I know where he lives. Now that I think about it, he and the sheriff are friends.”

  “Etheridge will help us if I ask him to.”

  “I didn’t know you were so close with him.”

  “He and my father were good friends. Went hunting together. Like Papa, he was a widower. He never had a child of his own, so maybe that’s why he doted on me when I was young.”

  “The things I learn about you. Come on then,” Bobby said, indicating his car.

  Colonel Samuel Etheridge’s house looked like a cottage next to most of the surrounding homes. There was a storybook quality to the design that had always reminded Josephine of an illustration from a Grimms’ fairytale. The home was filled with items the colonel had collected during his lifetime of traveling the world and it had fascinated her as a child.