by Howe, A. E.
“What about?”
“Open the door and we can talk a bit easier.”
“Stand back,” the voice called. After a couple of beats, the door cracked open a few inches. “Shift over to the right so’s you’re in the light from the window.”
Dutifully, Bobby and Blasko moved to the right.
“Who’s the other fella?”
“He’s helping me. We’re trying to find Molly Chester.”
“She ain’t here.”
“We just want to talk to you.”
Reluctantly, the door opened all the way. “Get in here quick,” the man said, waving them in. He held a double-barrel shotgun in his left hand.
“What are you scared of?” Bobby asked.
The man looked at him with narrowed eyes. “I ain’t scared of nothin’. Sometimes it pays a man to be careful.”
“You always this… careful?” Bobby asked, trying not to sound too judgmental.
“I heard about the killin’s.”
“What else have you heard?”
“Things,” Bradford said cryptically. “A couple days ago, there was something out in the woods.”
“You see it?”
“Sort of. Enough. I seen the eyes reflecting my lantern. Damn near pissed myself.”
Blasko looked at the man. He was older than he’d expected. Molly was still in her teens, yet this man appeared to be near thirty. He was wiry with a narrow face, a strong jaw and soft eyes. He was good looking in a country sort of way.
“Have you seen the thing in the last couple of days?” Bobby asked.
“I haven’t heard it. Of course, I ain’t gone out at night lookin’ for it neither.”
“You and Molly went out together?”
“Yep. I don’t know nothin’ about her disappearance. I went out with my dad and rode all of our property to see if we could find her. ’Course, we’ve got almost five hundred acres. She could be under any of the palmettos. All you can do is check the roads and trails.”
“Why’d you all break up?”
“We didn’t exactly break up, ’cause all we done was go out to a dance and a couple of movies. I don’t care much for movies, but Molly did.”
“So why didn’t you keep seeing each other?” Bobby said, a little put off by the man’s attitude.
“’Cause her daddy liked me. Least, that’s what I think. She wanted someone her dad wouldn’t like her seein’. I don’t claim to know what goes on in women’s heads, but she would talk about her brother who died a lot. I think there was some odd thing going on. Kind of a love/hate thing with her father.”
“What do you mean?” Blasko asked. He’d been walking around the small cabin, which consisted of the main room, two bedrooms and a small kitchen at the back.
“She told me that her brother was her daddy’s favorite. After he drowned, Mr. Chester blamed Molly since her and her brother were together at the pond that day. ’Course, that was crazy. Molly was only ten at the time, while her brother was fourteen. But the way she talked, I took it that she blamed herself too.”
“I guess you were pretty upset when she stopped seeing you,” Bobby said.
“Nah, she talked too much. Always wantin’ to go to the movies and to dinner and such. All that costs money. What’s wrong, I said, with sittin’ on the porch swing? Not for that girl.”
“You seeing anyone now?”
“Beth Mills. Good woman. Knows how to cook and spends most of her time at church. Doesn’t get after me with too much churchy stuff either, so I like that.” Bradford nodded his head, agreeing with himself.
“Have you been bitten by an animal in the last month?” Blasko asked him.
“What kind of crazy question is that?”
“Just answer it,” Bobby pushed.
“No.”
“You spend much time in town?” Blasko asked.
“I try never to go into town. Told you, that’s one of the things I didn’t like about Molly. Always wanted to go where there were people.”
“You ever lived in town?” Bobby asked.
“Ha! Not likely.”
“Family live there?”
“Nope.”
Blasko and Bobby looked at each other. Bobby shrugged and Blasko gave a small nod.
“I’d keep your doors and windows closed and your shotgun close by your side,” Blasko told him as they walked out the door.
“You don’t got to tell me that.”
When they were back in the car, Bobby looked at Blasko. “What’d you think?”
“I wouldn’t let him marry a relative of mine, but I don’t think he had anything to do with the attacks on the Chesters,” Blasko said with a sigh.
“Me neither. What about his story of the eyes in the woods? You think he really saw something?”
“Maybe. Might even be the same thing that attacked the Chesters. There is a connection between him and the family. Then again, everyone around here is probably seeing and hearing things in the woods.”
“You got that right.” Bobby started the car and they headed back to town to talk with Charlie Parsons.
When Charlie let them in this time, he looked agitated.
“You doin’ okay?” Bobby asked him. The man’s face was flushed and they could see beads of sweat around his temples.
“Not sure why you all came back,” he said, clipping off each word as though he were in pain.
“Mr. Parsons, the fact that you were having an affair with a married woman who was murdered makes you a pretty interesting fella for someone investigating the case.”
“I loved her. It was some monster that killed her.”
“Who said anything about a monster?” Bobby asked.
“All the rumors going around town say she was torn apart. They’re saying her husband even saw the beast.” Charlie spoke fast, as though he was trying to convince them that what he was saying was true.
“We don’t know what killed Mrs. Handlin yet. So we’re going to go about this right and talk to everyone who had a motive,” Bobby explained.
“Can’t you understand? I loved her!” Charlie shouted. “And you don’t have permission to go snooping around my house.” This was directed at Blasko, who was making his way around the room and looking down the hallway.
“You got something to hide?” Bobby asked.
“No,” Charlie said very softly.
“So can I look around the house?” Bobby asked.
“No.” Charlie spoke louder this time.
“If you don’t have anything to hide, then what can it hurt?”
“I didn’t do anything. I’ve got a right to my privacy.”
“Come on, Charlie, admit it. You did do something. You were romancing another man’s wife. In most religions, that’s a sin. In fact, adultery is against the law.”
“You… you wouldn’t.”
“In my country, you would be hanged,” Blasko said flatly.
“We won’t hang you, but I darn sure wouldn’t mind taking you into jail if you aren’t going to help find the murderer of the woman you were taking advantage of,” Bobby said.
“We loved each other,” Charlie said, staring down at the floor.
“Then help us find the monster that killed her.”
“How can I help you? I didn’t do it!”
“I’m getting real tired of this merry-go-round. Let us look through your house. That way, we can eliminate you as a suspect. Deal?” Bobby said.
“I don’t understand any of this,” Charlie muttered.
“Yes or no? Let us search, or find yourself spending the night in jail. On top of that, I’ll let Claude Elliot know why you’re spending the night in jail. Think that’s going to help your milk company if it makes the front page of the Sumter Times?”
“Fine! Look! Go on!” Charlie shouted, dropping into a chair and putting his hands over his face.
“First, you got any family that lives down by the Chesters’ farm?”
“No. My family is all from Ge
orgia.”
“When’d you move here?”
“Ten years ago, after my wife died.”
“What’d she die of?”
“Pneumonia,” Charlie said. He kept his hands over his face as he answered Bobby’s questions. “Just look around the house and get out of here.”
Blasko and Bobby started at the back of the house. Two bedrooms and a small bathroom were down the main hall. The first of the rooms was used for storage. Crates and boxes of old books, papers and clothes were stacked against the walls. They picked at some of the items, but there was a patina of dust covering everything.
“Doesn’t look like he’s been in here in months,” Bobby said.
In the bathroom, everything seemed normal if a bit unhygienic. In the other bedroom, there were clothes lying around on the floor and the bed was unmade.
“I guess she stayed over on occasion,” Bobby said. There were two dresses in the wardrobe alongside Charlie’s suits and shirts.
The last room they checked was the long, narrow kitchen. As soon as they were in the room, Blasko caught the smell of blood. He followed it to a trashcan by the back door. Toward the bottom of the can, he found a piece of cloth that was stained with blood. He held it up to his nose and smelled it.
“Here,” he said, holding the cloth out to Bobby.
“Not much blood, but it’s something.”
They went back into the living room where Bobby held the bloody cloth out to Charlie.
“Whose blood is this?”
“Mine. I cut myself right before you came.” He held up a finger, showing a tiny cut in the skin where a small amount of blood still oozed. It was possible it could have generated enough blood to account for the stain on the cloth.
Blasko pulled Bobby aside and leaned in close. “He’s lying.”
“About what?”
“The blood. The blood on the cloth is days’ old. It didn’t come from that cut on his finger.” Blasko didn’t tell Bobby that if Charlie had had a fresh cut on his finger when they’d arrived, he would have been able to smell it.
Bobby looked at the brown stain on the cloth. “Does look old. Why do you think he’s lying about it?”
“The blood on the cloth is his.”
“How can you know that?” Bobby asked. “Never mind. Let’s say you’re right. That would mean he doesn’t want us to ask about some other wound on his body.”
“Like a bite mark,” Blasko said.
Bobby’s face turned red and, before Blasko could stop him, he whirled around to confront Charlie.
“This isn’t from your finger.” Bobby held out the cloth. “We want the truth.”
“Get out of my house!” Charlie groaned, holding his hands up to the sides of his head.
“Not until we get some answers.”
“I want you out now!” Charlie screamed. He leaped up off of the couch with such speed and ferocity that Bobby stumbled backward.
A roar came from Charlie’s throat and, in a matter of seconds, he transformed into a wolfish creature that stood close to six feet tall. There were bear-like claws on the ends of his hairy, muscular arms and his face was a bizarre caricature of a wolf’s, with a protruding snout and four-inch-long canines. The eyes were golden and appeared to glow with an internal heat.
The werewolf swiped at Bobby, who was fortunate to have stumbled backward when Charlie first jumped up from the couch. Unfortunately, he was off balance and the swipe of the claws, while missing him, caused him to fall onto the floor.
Even though he’d thought that something like this was possible, Blasko was still stunned to have actually witnessed the transformation. While the creature was focused on Bobby, Blasko pulled his Colt 1911 from his shoulder holster, but the monster saw the movement out of the corner of its eye and, with a quick and powerful swipe, sent the gun flying out of Blasko’s hand.
Now unarmed, Blasko realized that a single snap of the beast’s jaws or a swing of its claws could end Bobby’s life. Seeing no other option, he threw himself onto its back. As he did so, the creature let out a tremendous roar that was heard blocks away and had residents nervously locking their doors and checking their guns.
While the creature began to flail in an effort to dislodge Blasko, who was clinging to the monster’s neck with all of his strength, Bobby rolled out of reach of its teeth and claws and reached for his pistol. But he was in an awkward position, giving the creature time to rise up, Blasko still clinging to its back, and leap for the window at the front of the house. Afraid of hitting the baron, Bobby couldn’t get a clear shot. In a fraction of a second, Blasko and the creature went crashing through the window.
Blasko sensed that the beast was attempting to flee and let go, slamming down onto the porch as the werewolf bounded off. A silence fell as Blasko and Bobby both lay in their respective places and tried to assess what had just happened.
Bobby managed to get up first and hurried to the window, his gun held out in front of him. “Are you all right?” he shouted to Blasko.
“Except for my dignity, I’m fine,” Blasko said, getting to his feet. They could hear doors opening and closing and neighbors shouting to one another for blocks around.
“He transformed in seconds. How is that possible?” Bobby asked.
“According to the reading I’ve done, when a werewolf changes you see its true nature. The trick is not that it changes, but rather that the beast is able to disguise itself most of the time. That’s why, when you push a werewolf who doesn’t have control, he can change without wanting to.”
“At least we’ve found the monster. It can’t hide amongst us anymore.”
“I hope that’s true.”
“Stay here and watch the house. I need to get the word out to the other deputies to pick up Charlie Parsons.”
“Warn them.”
“I’ll do my best. I’m not sure anyone else is going to believe that a suspect might turn into a six-foot wolf beast from hell. I’ll bring men back to board up the house.”
“And I’ll search the house for clues to where he might go to ground.”
Bobby and his posse spent the rest of the night searching for Charlie, but there was no sign of the man or the beast.
Chapter Twenty-One
First thing the next morning, Josephine called Ray Butler, the friend who’d set up her meeting with the governor.
“Miss Nicolson, all I can say is that the governor has received several other suggestions about who to appoint as sheriff in Semmes County.” He sounded almost embarrassed to tell her.
“Who was suggested and who did the suggesting?”
“Well, now, I don’t think that’s my place to say.”
“My father was a good friend to your family,” Josephine said in a slightly menacing voice.
“Now that isn’t fair.”
“I need to know what’s going on,” Josephine pressured him.
“He’s received several calls from people, prominent people, that he should look internally for a replacement for Sheriff Logan.”
“Internally? Tucker?”
“Who?”
“Deputy Robert Tucker. Is that who people are suggesting?”
“No, it’s a Deputy Paige.”
“What?!” Josephine was shocked. She knew that Paige had some family connections. His grandfather had owned a large cotton gin serving three counties and some of the family had considerable assets. But Willard’s father hadn’t been the pride of the family, running off to Florida to make his fortune in real estate only to come back with his tail between his legs. Could someone in the family have been pulling strings to get him the appointment? Bigger strings than hers?
Josephine got busy making a list of who else might be calling the governor. She was going to get to the bottom of this. The thought of Willard Paige becoming the sheriff was too galling.
There was a knock at the door, but she ignored it and let Grace answer.
“Mrs. Robertson is in the parlor,” Grace told her, and J
osephine reluctantly got up to meet her.
“Josie! It’s wonderful to see you. Isn’t this weather beautiful? Gonna be an early spring. Terrible about the wild animal attacks,” Alice said.
Josephine just smiled and let her prattle on. Eventually she’d get to the point of her visit. It’ll just slow the process down if you actually answer her, Josephine told herself.
“I figured I’d stop by and let you know that we’re scheduled for another séance tonight. I am so looking forward to it. Did you ever look up that book your uncle told you about?” Alice stopped and Josephine knew she’d have to answer the question.
“I did. I admit I was surprised by everything that happened that evening.”
“Everyone is just enthralled with François’s powers. I know some folks have been going to him for advice.”
“Really? I’m not sure I’d go that far.”
“He is in touch with the spirit world,” Alice said as though it was a proven point. “He’s bound to be privy to facts that the rest of us aren’t. And he has such a deep understanding of the world.”
Josephine gave Alice her full attention for the first time. Was she that much under the sway of this man? She was talking about him like he was some sort of miracle worker. The look Josephine saw in Alice’s eyes worried her. The woman looked like a religious zealot talking about her leader.
“I know that the mayor and some of the county commissioners are going to him when they want advice. Almost all of them, or at least their wives, have sat in on a séance,” Alice went on, not understanding the effect she was having on Josephine.
“Are any of these men part of François’s inner circle?” Josephine asked, showing Alice the list of influential people she’d been drawing up.
“Why, yes, most of them,” Alice said with a smile.
“Daniel hasn’t been consulting François concerning bank business, has he?” Josephine asked with concern, holding her breath until Alice answered.
“No. I’ve been telling him he should, but he’s so pigheaded. I bet if you talked to him, he would,” Alice said.
Josephine was appalled that Alice thought she’d want some swami giving her bank manager advice on investments. “How many séances have you been to?”
