by Zoey Kane
“Are you one of them?” Zoey was busy reading his eyes. They were magically moist, with the dark light of lanterns reflecting off them. The warmth of his body was comforting, and for that moment she was in love with him.
“Yes,” he said.
“Are you going to bite me?
“Would you let me give you just a little nip under your ear?”
“Lowe…”
“Yes, Zoey…”
“You’re freaking me out!”
He laughed, flashing his charming smile. “Okay. Too much too soon.” A girl came over and Lowe ordered two orange-vanilla cream sodas.
The song was almost over. “Excuse me a moment,” Lowe said, wincing as he exited the booth. “Sorry, I pulled a muscle in my shoulder.” He went over to the stage, and once the tune ended, he said something to a guitarist. The guitarist chuckled. A moment later, the music began with a good beat, and Lowe was back, taking Zoey by the hand for a faster dance. “This one’s for you,” he grinned.
The music and drums picked up. The guitarist sang, “Hey, there, little Red Riding Hood. You sure are lookin’ good…”
A couple “Owooos” were howled from a table of ladies with big hair, and as if choreographed, three older gentlemen on bar stools turned in their seats and sang, pointing at Zoey. “What big eyes you have! The kind of eyes that drive men mad!”
Zoey's face turned hot, and she unconsciously fanned herself as there were whistles all around. Lowe joined in on the singing, twirling Zoey around, and even getting to his knees in passion over one verse.
When the two returned to their orange-vanilla sodas, Claire and Noble met up with them. “I saw that,” Claire teased. “What have you been up to, Mother?”
“Lowe has been very entertaining,” Zoey said, casting him a thankful glance.
“Well, yes, I have to admit,” Claire said. “That was very entertaining.”
Another good drum beat sent Claire and Noble off to dance some more. It seemed to end too soon, but a slow melody took over, and Noble wrapped his arms around Claire’s waist, pulling her in close. “I’m not going to let my dad show me up,” he said smoothly into her ear.
Claire tensed and pulled back a touch. “Oh no, you don’t have something choreographed, do you?”
“No, not this time.” Amusement curled his lips up, and he cupped her chin in his warm hand. “I have a more subtle plan for making you swoon just as much, if not more.”
Claire’s heart fluttered. “Okay,” she eeped, and she felt suddenly entranced by those beautiful golden-brown eyes.
Interrupting the fun, however, the saloon’s front door burst open with a crack against the wall. Claire grabbed at her heart in surprise with a yelp. In the lantern light, Jude’s tan face dripped with a sheen of sweat. His jaw was set tight, and his eyes were glassy and red.
ELEVEN
The dancers paused their steps and the music stopped. Noble instinctively hugged Claire tighter in his arms.
“Which one of you did it?” Jack called out, the door now creaking back and forth in the breeze. “Which one of you killed Ranger?”
Nobody replied, although Lowe’s mouth moved like he wanted to say something, standing up out of the booth. Zoey stood with him, leaning into his strong stance.
“Well, one of you did it! Too chicken to tell me to my face?” Jack stumbled drunkenly and peered at the crowd.
Still no one replied, although there was a hush of murmurs that quickly spread.
Jack staggered around the room, circling them as if he were ready for a fight. “Was it you, Terry?” He paused at a short man in overalls. “How about you, Blake?” He locked eyes with a freckle-faced young man.
“I’ve been nothing but good to you, phony werewolf trash.” Jack scowled. “Nobody, nobody, had your backs like me. And this is how you repay me, you worthless cultists! Who was bold enough to kill my Ranger? Fess up, because some low life here got him around his neck!”
Lowe stepped forward, followed by Zoey. “Now, Jack, let’s talk about this. Let’s calm down. You’ve had a couple of drinks. You’ll feel differently tomorrow. I promise.”
“Calm down?!” Jack picked up a nearby stool and threw it against a wall, clattering it into pieces. “Someone killed my wolf and you’re telling me to calm down?”
Lowe blinked. “Well, what it sounds like is maybe nobody here did it. Maybe it was a wild wolf attack, like what happened with Martin and Pierce. That’s what it sounds like, to me. An animal attack.”
Jack gave a wicked chuckle. “Yeah. Oh, sure. Just an animal attack. Everyone up in these hills knows you’re the real animals.” Then he had another thought. “And I heard you guys are planning on gutting down the walls and floors of these historical beauties. This is a ghost town. It’s history! It should remain with the ghosts. I’m going to court to stop you!”
“Well, you’re going to have to stand in line with an investment banker who wants these buildings,” Lowe said, staying resolute. “We just found out today, he wants to do his own remodeling and create a resort up here. So we’re going to court to stop everybody from trying to take it away. Possession—nine-tenths of the law.”
“We’ll see about that, Lowe. You thief. I’ve already got paperwork going.”
That brought startled “Ohs” and murmurs from the frozen dancers.
Jack then caught sight of Zoey standing behind Lowe. He approached with an accusatory finger. “You. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be finding out who the murderers are, not dancing with them?” Jack Jude poked Zoey in the chest with a finger, and it hurt, causing her to have to take a step back to catch her balance.
Seeing that, Lowe said, “Hey! Whaddya think you’re doing?!” He took a swing at Jack’s jaw, connecting. A piece of paper and a glove fell to the floor in the scuffle.
Women took in fast breaths, with yelps.
Jack cocked an arm back for a punch. Noble wedged in, saying, “I got this, Dad! You've got a hurt shoulder.” He caught Jack’s fist and gut-punched him.
Jack doubled over before staggering back and regaining some strength. He lifted his fists, a fighter’s gleam in his drunk eyes, and suddenly the punches were flying. Jack landed a couple on Noble, pushing him backward, but Noble lunged back with fury, knocking Jack to the floor. Claire spotted a broom leaning against a wall and rushed over to it.
Claire edged her way between the brawling men and held the broom in a threatening stance at Jack. “Back up,” she ordered.
“What are you going to do, sweetheart?” Jack asked. “Sweep me to death?”
Claire whacked him over the head, and he staggered as if seeing stars.
“That’s my daughter,” said the proud voice of Zoey in the crowd.
Then there was a sudden rush of men on Jack, with howls, growls and an exchange of threats. Jack yelled, “Hey! One of you fools bit me!” This caused a chorus of male laughter.
“You had enough yet, Jude?” Noble threatened.
“Maybe… NO!” Jack managed to throw another fist between the constricting men.
Noble ducked.
The ball of men grabbed the violent intruder, one of them brandishing some twine. They trussed him up on top of the bar and tied him, face up. For a while, some partiers would lean over the red-faced ornery mayor and order snacks and beverages.
“Sorry about Ranger, Jack,” one said. “Yeah, give me two root beers and some peanuts, Susie.”
“Hi, Susie,” another one, Bob, started. “I’ll take some deep-dish peach cobbler and tea for two. Uh, and give me a 7-Up and a bendy straw for Jack here."
Jack took some long sips from the straw Bob poked into his mouth. “What about some peach cobbler for me, Bob? My wallet’s in my jacket pocket.”
“It’s on the house, Jack… even though you are a big troublemaker,” commented Susie.
“Will you untie me, Bob?”
“No. You are under house arrest for disturbing the peace.” Bob laughed and left with his ord
er.
“Susie?” Jack asked.
“No. But do you want more 7-Up from your bendy straw?”
“Yes, thirsty. And I’ll have a couple of bites of the peach cobbler.”
After several more minutes Jack was untied and sent home.
Zoey walked to the middle of the dance floor in front of everyone. “Well, since you did hire me and my daughter for a dollar and a jelly sandwich…” A couple of chuckles could be heard. “I think now would be a good time for all of us to do some detective work. For instance, what do any of you know about the first werewolf sighting in this area?”
A white-haired man somewhere in his eighties threaded his way forward. “My dad told us there was a big man with a dark beard and hairy arms who came to work at Stiles Logging and Milling. He was a mean man. He challenged men with no provocation to bare-knuckle fights.” He brought his hand down like an axe in emphasis. “There was noooo getting out of it!
“Two men were killed, bloodied up really good outside the camp. My dad said everyone knew it was this Blaine Tilford guy.” Then he added, shaking his head, “No one ever saw those death fights, but it really scared the rest of the workers. Soon, everyone was quitting, taking their families and leaving town. And so the Stiles went broke, even though the camp still sits there.”
One of the Stiles daughters was grumbling at a table while chewing on some ice.
The old man continued. “Folks described the murderer as an evil hulk of a werewolf, since all his fights were had in the light of the moon.” The old man was serious, his eyes unwavering as he recited the history.
“Probably because there were no lights outside the camp,” a bald man in red suspenders said. “And any light inside would be very dim.”
“Do you not believe in werewolves?” Zoey turned to the bald man.
He looked around the room for a moment at everyone. “Well, wolves do sleep at night. We’re not cats.” He snapped a suspender with a smile, and everyone grinned and nodded.
“Anything else to this story?” asked Zoey.
“Yes,” the old man said, raising a trembling, aged finger. “There was only one man who ever came back from a fight with Tilford, and after that Tilford was never seen again.”
“Who was that?” Zoey inquired.
“Earl Stiles… Cousin to the owner. He had wolf bites on his arms and to his leg. That’s where the legend started. All of us moved here after that.”
“Yeah, we woulda put up a statue of him as Founder, but he was too mean to commemorate,” commented a guy in glasses.
“Anybody know anything else about this story?”
“I know.” It was Oly, who was sitting on the last bar stool in the corner, with his oldest daughter.
Zoey and Claire walked over to hear what he had to say, and the crowd followed behind to hear also. “Hi, Oly,” Zoey said. "Thank you for helping us.”
“Truth! Time to clear some things. My girl childrun are growd up. Time fer them to meet the outside. Why I’m takin’ Precious to this here dance, to learn her some manners and find a husband.”
Three single men from the onlookers suddenly bolted.
Zoey and Claire smiled at Precious, who looked up at the crowd timidly. Her normally scraggly platinum hair was combed for the occasion and braided in two pigtails.
The freckled-face Blake immediately rushed over and stood with a big smile beside Precious, not taking his eyes off her face. At this, Oly rolled his eyes. Evidently, doing his fatherly duty wasn’t something he was looking forward to.
“Tell us what’s on your mind, Oly,” Zoey asked kindly.
Oly’s gray eyes focused. “We been told by family us old-time cousin Earl got dared ta do a moonlight fight outside camp from Tilford. When Earl got back alive and all bit up, he told family they wuz in a vicious beating, and it was ol’ Earl himself that wuz winner! He told us family he wuz landing blows to kill, and Tilford wuz on the ground, when he rolled over and runned on hands and feet ‘till he stood up and runned into the trees.”
Oly took a second to swallow. “Then there war howls of the dead, mixed with the devil's screams, and out runned Tilford being changed to a wolf and runned straight at Earl. It bit him all up. What saved Earl wuz a hard punch to Tilford’s wolf nose. It knocked him back, and he runned back into the woods. That’s it.”
People started clapping. “Yay, Earl!”
Oly looked a little surprised, but then he eked out a proud smile. Next came some coffee, cherry pie à la mode, and a moment of pats on the back with hand shaking. Finally, everyone agreed they ought to let Oly eat his pie, with a second piece of peach cobbler cut and waiting for him.
Blake was still standing, smiling at Precious, who was appreciating the attention and leaving her pie waiting.
Zoey said out to the crowd, “Okay, thank you!” The music started back up.
“Wait!” Claire called, and the music cut. Everyone turned to her. She was back to holding hands with Noble. "I have my own questions. My mom here has been very interested about the history of your village, and it’s always good to look into the history of a mystery… but what do you all think about what happened yesterday and today? With the murder of Mr. Martin and Mr. Pierce.”
Surprisingly, there was dead silence. Heads turned, looking at one another. There was even a shrug or two. Lowe, smiling really big, was the first to speak. “We, of course, don’t believe it’s one of us who did these killings. If anything, there’s a lone wolf on the prowl. That’s what I think. The Eggers’ goat was the first victim just the other day. Then it was that Moonshadow manager and a Mr. Pierce. Now, the latest we heard, while we were all here dancing and having a good time, was that Jack’s wolf, Ranger, got killed the same way.”
Zoey looked up at her handsome date in confusion. Why would he want to hire them to solve a mystery if all it had to with were animal attacks? That was something law enforcement could handle right away.
The Kanes scanned the room to see if anybody looked at all in disagreement. One woman was patting sweat off her brow. She was the one they'd seen on the boardwalk their first day in town—the blonde in the werewolf T-shirt with twin boys.
Claire released Noble’s hand and stepped over to her, her boots creaking the old floorboards as she went. The woman kept her eyes averted until Claire was standing right over her table. “What?” the blonde asked in surprise, looking up.
“Do you agree with Lowe?” she asked quietly with a kind voice.
The room was hushed to a silence like never before.
“Well, no,” she stammered.
“What do you think’s going on?”
The woman plucked at her T-shirt in nervousness, then finally said, “I think that that wolf man Tilford’s to blame.”
That was unexpected. The whole room was suddenly a buzz of murmurs. One person actually said loud enough, “That’s crazy.” Claire turned to see it was the man in the tinfoil hat, whirling a finger by his head in the international sign meaning “loony.”
Now, Claire didn’t think it was some 100-year-old wolf man, either, but she knew people had their reasons for thinking the way they did, and since this was a case needing solving, she just had to ask. First shushing the room, she said again quietly and kindly, “I’m interested in your theory. Could you please explain it to me?”
The woman dabbed more sweat from beneath her bangs. Claire thought she saw her slightly shudder. “Um, well, I saw someone… in the woods, last night, chasing that man who was found dead today. He didn’t look like any of us.”
“Why do you say that?” Claire crossed her arms in thought, her brown eyes narrowing. “Did you get a good look at him?”
The woman shrugged, keeping her eyes set on the salt and pepper shakers. “Although I believe I’m a wolf, and others here are wolves,” she said, “I can’t say I’ve seen any of us shift. This man shifted. He had a large and furry head and giant claws. I’m afraid one of us is next.”
An old woman standing in the sha
dows of a corner said with a quaking voice, “I believe ‘er. It’s not like the local wolves, the animals, to go around killing like this. Our village is cursed. Because of bad blood from long ago, it’s cursed.” She said even louder, as if needing to declare things to the hardest of hearing, “We are cursed!”
Like a ghost, the wind pushed open a swinging shutter. The moon shone its white brilliance across the crowd of horrified faces. “It’s Tilford!” someone called. “Coming back to get his revenge!”
TWELVE
Lowe went and snapped the shutter shut. He said in a surprisingly angry voice, “It’s not Tilford, and we’re not cursed! Now if any of you want to suddenly start packing and head for the hills… er, city… just let me know, and I’ll be the first to help come morning.”
Several of his followers made it known they weren’t going anywhere, that they agreed with him. Others stayed silent, and somewhere indiscernible was some muttering.
Zoey suddenly felt guilty over ruining the night’s mood. She could have waited until morning to start asking the community questions. She approached Lowe, placing a gentle hand on his strong forearm to calm him.
Lowe’s eyes shifted to hers, and it was like his upset instantly vanished. “I apologize for all the drama I’ve wrapped you up in. I know this was supposed to be a vacation.”
Zoey smiled. “This is how my vacations always turn out… and I wouldn’t have it any other way. C’mon, do you want to dance?”
“Yeah,” he said, “maybe a little.” He cued for the music to play, and the dancers slowly took to the floor, still seeming a bit in shock over the whole episode.
Claire and Noble went back onto the dance floor, Claire looking over a red, swollen cheekbone. Noble just smiled with his sexy eyes.
Lowe said to Zoey as they danced to the slow song, “We haven’t had this exciting a dance night that I can ever think of.”
Zoey dropped her head and looked down a moment. “I feel guilty for getting you in a fight.”
“What? No! Do you think a man worth his honor would allow some drunken oaf to lay even a finger on a woman? Especially you. I’m kinda fond of you.” He kissed her on the cheek with a tickle of breath. “It’s too bad there’s no place a little more comfortable to mellow out the evening. Somehow this dance has lost its interest for me. Maybe over at Smiley… Oh, ah, forget that thought.”
