The Baron Blasko Mysteries (Book 3): Claws

by Howe, A. E.

“If Molly Chester was the original target when the boy was murdered, then we need to focus on people who were obsessed with Molly. She had an old boyfriend. I think it’s time to look a lot harder at him,” Blasko suggested.

  “We’ll need to show some results soon. After this,” Etheridge tilted his head toward the house, “the county will go crazy.”

  Bobby nodded solemnly.

  Blasko left them an hour before sunrise. He caught a ride back to town with Deputy Olson, who was going for coffee and pastries. The searchers hadn’t turned up anything, but were going to renew their efforts after the sun came up.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Josephine opened her eyes to a sunny day. She was happy with what she had accomplished on Sunday and was looking forward to a day spent tending to bank business.

  When she got down to the kitchen she found Anna, Grace and Anton discussing the overnight murders in animated detail.

  “What happened?” she asked, realizing that the bank’s business would probably be taking a back seat again today.

  “That thing killed a family out by where the Taylor boy was murdered,” Grace said.

  Josephine felt a sinking feeling in her gut. “Which family?”

  “My husband did work for them a couple of years ago. The Chesters,” Anna said.

  “The whole family was killed?” Josephine was stunned.

  “They’re still looking for the daughter,” Grace said.

  “Looking for her?”

  “Did you know them?” Grace asked, having realized that the look on Josephine’s face was more than the usual shock of a distant tragedy.

  “I met them twice. The girl was Seth Taylor’s girlfriend.” Josephine’s mind was a confused jumble of conflicting thoughts and emotions. “You said they’re looking for the girl?”

  “That’s right. When I stopped by the market this morning, everyone was talking about volunteers out at the farmhouse,” Anna said.

  Josephine turned around and started out of the kitchen.

  “What about your breakfast, Miss Josephine?”

  “Make me a bagged lunch and I’ll grab a biscuit and sausage when I come back down. I’m going out to the house.” She turned around. “On second thought, please pack up a box of food that I can take out to the searchers.”

  Josephine changed into pants and an old shirt and jacket suitable for the woods and came back down. Anton helped her carry the box of food that Anna had prepared out to the car.

  “I put cheese, bread and lots of canned fruit in there,” Anna told her.

  There were cars and trucks lining the road leading to the Chesters’ farmhouse. Men were coming and going with dogs and guns by their sides. Everyone looked grim. As soon as she pulled up, she spotted Colonel Etheridge and Bobby standing in front of the house, organizing groups to go out in search of Molly. Both of them looked exhausted. Bobby broke away from the group when he saw Josephine walking up.

  “Is it bad?” she asked him.

  “Worse,” he said, leading her off to a quiet corner of the yard. Only a few feet away, she could see the clothesline where she’d talked to Mrs. Chester. Josephine felt the weight of recent events settle on her shoulders, along with a firm determination to do whatever she had to do to take this creature down.

  “Molly is missing?”

  “Yes. Her mother was killed outside her bedroom and her father was ripped apart inside the room. But so far, we haven’t found any sign of Molly.”

  “Do you think she could still be alive?”

  “According to the baron, she lost a lot of blood upstairs, so it’s hard to say. How the hell can he tell one person’s blood from another?”

  Josephine stared at Bobby. Beyond the fatigue he was obviously feeling from the long night, his usually boyish face looked like he’d aged five years in the last month.

  “You need to get some rest,” she said, deflecting the question of Blasko’s abilities.

  “That’s not going to happen for a while. I’ll say this, though. You made a good call with Etheridge. He’s going to make an excellent sheriff.”

  “Hopefully the governor will agree and make a decision soon. If this goes on much longer, some folks are going to be looking for people to blame. You and Etheridge are the face of the sheriff’s office right now.”

  “I see your point.”

  “I’ll make some calls if we haven’t heard anything in a couple of days. Right now, I’ve got food in the car and I’m here to help search.”

  “What we could really use is your organizational skills. I don’t know how long we’re going to be out here. If you could get us some tents, and maybe some ladies to put together a cook tent to provide the searchers with hot food. They’re saying that a late cold front is going to blow through. If we’re still out here in the morning, it’s gonna be chilly.”

  Josephine wanted to go out into the woods and search for Molly herself, but she saw the wisdom in what Bobby was saying. With her pull and connections through the bank, she was in a unique position to get resources out to the farmhouse quickly.

  “I’ll head into town and come back when I’ve organized it all,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “Take care of yourself.”

  Bobby put his hand on hers. “We’ll find her.”

  By the end of the day, they had found nothing but some articles of clothing that might have belonged to Molly. They had searched as far as two miles from the house without any clear indication of which way the monster had gone after going down to the creek.

  “We don’t even have a family member to ask if the pieces of cloth belong to her,” Bobby said, pointing to three pieces of flowered print fabric lying on a table in the yard where they’d been placed after the search teams had turned them in.

  “That looks very similar to the dress she was wearing when we talked to her,” Josephine said, pointing to the largest piece.

  “That’s something,” Bobby said. He bent over another table where a map was laid out and pointed to a spot on the paper. “It was found here. So maybe we’ll concentrate the search in that direction.”

  “Are you going to search through the night?”

  “No. For two reasons. We don’t want anyone lost, and we don’t want anyone killed by the beast.”

  Two days later, Josephine, Bobby, Blasko and Colonel Etheridge were in Josephine’s parlor, trying to figure out where the search and investigation had led them.

  “There’s been no sign of Molly since we found the piece of cloth that might be from her clothing. We had no choice but to scale back the search,” Etheridge told them.

  “I can’t stand the thought of her being out there somewhere, possibly hurt,” Josephine said. She tilted her glass back and finished the two fingers of whisky.

  “Everyone feels horrible about it, but the search wasn’t getting anywhere,” Bobby said.

  “I’m not blaming anyone for calling it off,” Josephine said.

  “We’re still looking. We’ve just stopped combing the woods. We’ve got volunteers driving every back road in that part of the county daily, looking for signs of her. Tomorrow we’ve got a fellow with a plane who’s going to fly over the whole area,” Etheridge said, sounding as tired as everyone else.

  “We have to focus on the creature. He is human and cunning. He might have even taken the girl so that we would spend time and resources looking for her,” Blasko said.

  “My problem is that I just can’t get my mind around a monster that’s this vicious and still human,” Bobby said.

  “He’s very human. At least part of the time. But even in his animal shape, he’s able to reason.”

  “Why has he chosen two different parts of the county for his attacks?” Josephine asked. “It just seems odd that there would be a set of attacks around the Taylor and Murphy farms, while a second set of attacks have occurred in a twenty-block area of town. And the victims in the two locations seem to have nothing in common.”

  “Smart woman,” Etheridge said and raise
d his whiskey glass in salute. “What is the connection between those two areas? Or, I should say, who has connections with those two areas?”

  “Someone who lives in the country and works in town? Or who works out there and lives in town?” Bobby said.

  “Or perhaps someone who has a childhood connection to the rural area, but lives in town now,” Etheridge suggested.

  “That could help us build a suspect list. We should check the suspects we already have and see if any have a foot in both areas where the attacks have occurred,” Josphine said.

  “I still need to talk with Tom Bradford, Molly’s ex,” Bobby said.

  “And we never finished our visit with Charlie Parsons,” Blasko reminded him.

  “That’s right. He had just admitted to having an affair with Mrs. Handlin,” Bobby remembered.

  “How did this creature come to be?” the colonel asked. “The shapeshifters in Africa were witchdoctors who chose to take on animal forms, usually to seek revenge or to enact some play for power.”

  “Ah,” Blasko said. “I’ve been doing some research. According to Captain Duhamel, who fought the infamous French werewolf in Gévaudan, the beasts can originate by several different methods. The first, is, as you’ve suggested, a person who performs ceremonies with the intent of becoming a werewolf. Duhamel was vague about the details of these rituals. He pointed toward gypsies dancing naked in the moonlight, certain herbs, blood rituals. I don’t think he ever received any firsthand knowledge. The second method is to be bitten by a werewolf. If you aren’t killed, then you will become a werewolf yourself. Unlike the first type of werewolf, Duhamel says these people cannot control when they change. He claims to have observed several who had been captured and taken to sanitariums.”

  “Lycanthropy is listed as a psychological condition,” Etheridge said.

  “You said there were three ways?” Josephine asked.

  “The last is very special. Duhamel swears in his book that he met one of these last types. According to him, there are people who are born werewolves. They inherit the condition from one or more of their ancestors. Their early life can be completely normal, but during late puberty they begin to experience episodes where their wolf nature will present itself. With training, they can learn to control the beast until they are able to change at will. The werewolf he met explained that they belong to clans throughout the world. The different clans have different philosophies about their role in the world of humans. Since most of them have relatives that are fully human, most of the clans are sympathetic to humans.”

  “Big of them,” Etheridge said. “Much of that sounds like poppycock to me. Did he have any useful information on how to hunt and kill one?”

  “He came to the same conclusion that we have—track and confront it when in human form.”

  “Which puts us back at square one,” Bobby said.

  “He also says that chopping off the creature’s head is the only way to guarantee death,” Blasko added.

  “Aren’t werewolves supposed to attack during full moons?” Josephine asked.

  “Duhamel addresses that. He says that the first type perform their rituals under the light of a full moon, which means there are often werewolf attacks at that time of the month. With the second group, those bitten are out of control and can change at any time. Anger or pain is often what causes them to change. The full moon can aggravate their condition. Again, think about patients in a sanitarium.”

  “You said the last group, those born to it, can change at will?” Bobby said. Josephine could see how hard he was trying to be open-minded. His years as a hardnosed deputy were making it difficult to adapt to the strange new world that had suddenly come upon their small Alabama community.

  “That’s right. Which, if Duhamel is to be believed, means we’re dealing with the bitten or the true-born werewolf. Our murders have occurred at different times in the lunar cycle,” Blasko said.

  “How does that help us?” Etheridge asked.

  “As far as I know, we’ve never had a murder like these in our county,” Josephine said, “A werewolf has moved into the area. Someone who’s been bitten or who was born a werewolf. Someone new.”

  “Duhamel did say that a very old and powerful warlock might be capable of changing at will. But, again, your point is taken. It’s not likely to be someone who has lived in this county all their lives,” Blasko said.

  “We’ve looked at the strangers in town. François, our resident medium, being the most prominent. I think Blasko can speak to his guilt or innocence,” Bobby said.

  “I don’t trust him. However, he had a solid alibi for the attack on Seth Taylor and he was not guilty of the Handlin murder. I had Matthew keeping an eye on him at the time the Handlins were attacked.”

  “But you don’t trust him?” Etheridge questioned.

  “Call it intuition if you like. The man is up to something.”

  “I’ve been to one of his séances. They are unnerving. And… strangely compelling.” The mention of Matthew and the séances reminded Josephine of her promise to take him to a séance. “I’d be willing to go to participate in another one, if it would help get more information about François.”

  The three men looked at her, considering the offer.

  “I don’t see that it could hurt,” Etheridge said. “You might possibly learn more about this man and his methods.”

  “I advise caution,” Blasko said to the group.

  “Anyone else who should be under observation?” Etheridge asked.

  “While the theory makes sense from the viewpoint of Duhamel, I don’t think we can stick to the stranger theory,” Blasko said to nods all around.

  “Let’s go back to Charlie Parsons and do an interview with Tom Bradford. Also, we’ll look for anyone who has a connection to both areas of the county,” Bobby said.

  “Forgive my ignorance of American politics,” Blasko said with a slight bow, “but is Colonel Etheridge officially the sheriff?”

  “I haven’t been notified if I am.”

  “I’ll reach out to some of my contacts in the governor’s office and see if he’s made it official,” Josephine said.

  “I’m going to see Tom Bradford now,” Bobby said, grabbing his hat from the rack by the parlor door.

  “I’ll go along if you’d like,” Blasko offered and Bobby nodded.

  “I’ll work out a grid flight plan for the plane we’ve got coming in tomorrow. We’ll need to have a couple of teams follow up on the ground if the pilot and his lookout see anything,” Etheridge said.

  They thanked Josephine and she escorted them to the door. The first thing she did after seeing them out was to call Alice Robertson.

  “Of course I can arrange another séance. I saw François downtown this afternoon and he asked about you.”

  “I’d like to bring a friend along.”

  “Of course. Anyone I know?” Alice asked.

  Josephine weighed her options. She was pretty sure that Alice knew of Matthew from his years as the town drunk. Should she tell her now or spring him on her? She decided to play it safe.

  “You may be surprised. The baron has taken Matthew Hodge on as a project. The man was a war hero and he’s been sober for months now.” Josephine reeled this off at a speed she hoped would bedazzle Alice.

  “Oh, my. I should be scandalized. However, I saw him just a couple of weeks ago. I was positively amazed at how he’s cleaned himself up. You know, I remember when he came back from the war. Everyone made quite the fuss about him. I thought at the time how hard that must have been for him. Of course you can bring him. I’ll talk to François tomorrow and make all the arrangements.”

  With that chore taken care of, Josephine went up to her room and took out the book that had angered Blasko so much. She hadn’t looked at it since the night they had argued. Why had he been so angry? Though she did have to admit that the book was pretty much a vampire hunter’s guide. The title was Particulars of the Black Forest Nosferatu. It was a
1768 translation by an Englishman who, according to the foreward, had found the information in the book invaluable during a vampire outbreak along the Scottish border.

  Josephine opened the book and started reading from where she’d left off.

  Chapter Twenty

  “My question for you is, why is there a werewolf hunting in Semmes County?” Bobby asked as he and Blasko motored out of town to meet with Molly’s ex-boyfriend.

  “For the same reason that a group of town elders tried to open a pit to hell here a few months ago. There is some eldritch power at work drawing dark forces to this place.”

  “This all started shortly after you arrived,” Bobby said.

  Blasko couldn’t tell if this was an accusation or just an observation. “I have wondered if the same force drew me here,” he admitted.

  “Then are you a dark force too?”

  “I hope that my actions have proved otherwise.”

  “So far,” Bobby said noncommittally. “Bradford’s place is about a mile down this next road.” He slowed to make the turn onto a narrow dirt road that ran through rows of pine trees. “His family collects turpentine.”

  The road ended at an old cracker shack surrounded by pine trees that reached up to a starry sky.

  “Why is this called a cracker house?” Blasko asked, looking at the glow coming from the windows of the pine-board house that sat a foot off the ground on stone columns.

  “Back in the day, ranchers let their cattle roam free in the longleaf pine forests so they could eat the wiregrass. The men who herded them carried long bullwhips that they cracked in the air above the cows to move them around. They became known as crackers. They built houses like this all around the gulf coast. This one is probably a hundred years old,” Bobby said, stepping up onto the porch. “Hello in the house!” he yelled.

  “And the purpose in that?” Blasko asked.

  “Out here at night, you’re more likely to have a critter on your porch than a man. Best to let the man inside know you’re here.”

  “Who are you?” came a gruff voice from inside.

  “Deputy Bobby Tucker. I want to talk to you.”