The Howliday Inn

by Zoey Kane

  “Clever girl.” Zoey wiped her teeth with a thumb.

  “We'd better get going, soldiers,” Stewart said. “I’ll be your general. You can call me Stewart.”

  “You don’t say…” Zoey remarked, smiling at her daughter.

  “We could take the twins,” Claire considered, so as not to overwhelm Stewart’s vehicle.

  “We’d just scare them,” reasoned Zoey.

  They piled into the ATV and took off, heading towards Stiles Milling, and looking like a strange combo of anti-terrorist vigilantes: Claire, glaring and snarling like a linebacker; Zoey, with her hat stretched down over her eyebrows and a big smile accentuating her blacked-out teeth; and then there was the kid, his lips turned down in dead seriousness, wearing military sunglasses.

  NINETEEN

  After having a good laugh, the motley crew found a place to hide the ATV. They walked carefully along in the dark the rest of the way. At Stiles Milling, they were amazed to not only find the shadowy figures of Jack and Mr.Worsen, but also Lowe. They stood together in the clearing, making angry gestures, and each claiming Rottenwood as their own.

  Jack argued he had his name in on it all before either of them. That Tilford thing? Lowe was saying his village folks had been living there and keeping things up for years, all the way back to Oly’s own predecessors. Mr. Worsen said he had the lawyers and the money to take it all, and so anyone else was deluded.

  The covert military trio decided to make their way along the wall of the cabin closest to the argument. After listening for a minute or two, Zoey had an idea. She remembered Lowe’s note he’d received about the bank robbery, referencing the exact news article Mr. Worsen had had in his briefcase. “Stewart,” she whispered. “Go to give Jack the silver dollar. Tell him you couldn’t wait, so you decided to bring it over. Make sure that they all see it. But keep a tight hold of it. I want to see what happens then.”

  So the kid did just that. He walked into the camp and said, “Hi, Jack. I got your note, but I thought I’d just bring the silver dollar right on over. I have a meeting tonight and don’t have time to wait.”

  Jack was stuck for words and looked back and forth between the banker and Lowe. He licked his lips and reached for the coin, but Mr. Worsen said, “Let’s see that a minute!”

  Stewart held the coin tight and turned it in the bright moonlight for all the see.

  “Where did you get that coin, boy?” Mr. Worsen asked. “That’s a mint condition 1928 Peace dollar!” His eyes were wide and fixed, his lips pursing tight.

  “I got it from Jack’s house after it burned,” Stewart said. “He wants it back. So it’s his.”

  Lanky Worsen grabbed Jack by the shirt, demanding that he tell him where he got the silver dollar. Stewart ran back into the woods, but in the opposite direction of the Kanes. Jack jerked free and took off into the woods, followed by Mr. Worsen, who was followed by Lowe.

  “Oh, no,” Claire exclaimed in a hoarse whisper, “We have to go save Stewart!”

  “On it!” agreed her mom. They both followed after the men.

  It was plenty dark now. The full moon was a backlight, making everything silhouettes. The mother and daughter hurried through the brush, not worrying about their crunching footfalls, since the others were several feet ahead of them, also running.

  Two men were suddenly tangled up in a struggle. The Kanes stopped by a tree, recognizing the voices.

  “Tell me where you got that silver or I will sue you and take everything you own, forever!”

  “Let go of me, you idiot! I have my own lawyer.” The fist of a shaggy-haired silhouette was thrown at the dark image of a pompous oaf.

  “Ooff! Now I have two things to sue you over!” Mr. Worsen touched his painful cheek.

  “Where’s Stewart, I wonder?” Zoey whispered from their covert place, her hand pressed against a mossy patch of bark.

  The shadow of another man zoomed past Mr. Worsen and Lowe.

  “Stewart, where are you?” Zoey spoke quietly into the walkie-talkie.

  “I just ran by Mr. Worsen and your friend Lowe,” came the response. “I also saw Jack and ditched him. I gotta get outta here. Out!”

  There were more fast footsteps in the grass. A fourth figure ran the other way, stopped for a second at the banker’s side, and then took off again.

  “OW!” Mr. Worsen cried. “Somebody just bit me!”

  “It wasn’t me,” Lowe growled. “I wouldn’t want your vile pig flesh in my mouth.”

  “Who was that?” Zoey whispered again to her daughter. They both hugged up closer to the tree.

  Something licked the back of Zoey’s neck making her tremble in fear. “It be me,” someone whispered.

  Zoey turned around, finding herself nose to nose with the grinning face of her favorite old werewolf. He wore his signature wolf-eared beanie, white tufts of hair poking out from under it. Zoey let out a breath. “Whew, it’s just you,” she said.

  Clifford went on to say, “You need to go home. There be evil in the woods tonight.”

  “We were worried about Stewart,” Claire whispered an explanation.

  “He be gone. Said you drove a car in the bushes. Neat! B-T-W,” he added with a totally delighted grin, “you two be expert she-wolves. You still finding stealth ways to throw your enemies off track knowing where you go.”

  Clifford eyed Zoey’s camo hat and their black-striped faces. “That be some fine scary-sneaky makeup. Owoooo,” he whispered, and said just before he left, “Take my family home.”

  A young wolf, wagging his tail like crazy, trotted over, looking up at the Kanes.

  “Ranger?” Claire whispered.

  He responded with a low “Haroo roo…” (Yes, it’s me.)

  “Okay, Mom. Let’s listen to Clifford and get out of here.”

  The Kanes pushed through the trees and brush, finally getting to their car.

  “Did we have dinner?” asked Zoey. “I seem to be hungry.”

  “We can order steaks for the three of us, once we get back.”

  *

  So there they were, the three of them totally stuffed with a superb dinner. Ranger had made himself comfortable on the couch, snoozing, his ears moving to catch Zoey and Claire’s conversation. The Kanes felt clean and pristine, having showered, and were now relaxing in their jammies. The black stripes hadn't been so hard to get off, and Zoey’s teeth were all brilliantly white again.

  “Well, there’s one thing for sure, Mom. That bank robbery of silver dollars definitely happened. And the coins are hidden somewhere in the area. Wouldn’t it be something if we found them?” Claire was sprawled on the other end of the couch, her eyes shut as she mused over the past events. She continued, “It sure was interesting, and a little scary, seeing silhouettes of men running around and fighting. That kind of moon makes shadows soooo dark.”

  “Yeah,” Zoey agreed, sitting at the other end of the couch. “I hear tomorrow night’s moon will be just as full, just as bright. But don't want to run around in the woods anymore. Let the weird wolves have at it!” Zoey shifted her weight in the cushy seat.

  “You know what else is weird?” Claire sat up and crossed an ankle over her knee. “Ranger is supposed to be Jack’s wolf. Jack didn't ask about him.”

  Zoey thought for a moment and said, “Maybe he does think Ranger was killed. We never did tell him we found him alive.”

  “Maybe. But anyway, Jack really doesn’t have a place any more, not even for horses.” Claire had a thought, “Want to buy the twins?”

  “Roy wouldn’t like it.”

  “That’s right. Buying that mule was one of our best decisions. He has our eighty acres to roam now.”

  Zoey had a sudden thought. She leaned forward, changing the subject. “Clifford said not to trust a dark moon. Toast a silver moon. Do you remember him saying that?”

  “Barely,” Claire answered.

  “I was just thinking about that, wondering what it means… if anything.” Zoey pulled her bare
feet up under her in thought. "Clifford seems to speak in riddles sometimes, you know.”

  Claire grabbed her cell phone from beside the coffee table’s glittery pinecone centerpiece. “How could I forget I wanted to look up Blaine Tilford?”

  “Oh yes, tell me what you find, if anything.” Zoey batted at the pillow behind her lower back to get it feeling just right.

  The search results were quick and plentiful. Claire even found a variety of black and white pictures of the man. He had deep-set eyes and a large, square chin. There was one photo in particular of him standing in front of an old Hudson convertible. She scoured the accompanying articles, and they all basically said the same thing. “Very interesting,” Claire said out loud. “Mom, you remember how I said there were two bank robbers, one who went to jail and the other disappeared? The other was Blaine Tilford.”

  “So that’s what made him the new guy on the block over in Rottenwood,” Zoey said, playing with some of her loose wavy hair. “Sounds like it was his temporary hideout. What do you think?”

  “Very feasible,” Claire said, narrowing her eyes in thought. “So Jack Jude Tilford is related to the infamous robber. Makes me wonder how much he knows about the silver coins’ hiding place. Think about it; Blaine was probably his grandfather.” She flung out a hand in emphasis.

  “You know,” Zoey said, “I don’t want to believe it, but I wouldn’t put it past Jack to murder. If this is all true, and it seems it is, his father was a robber and murderer. The whole legend of werewolves in the area started with his family, not the Stiles. And you see how he has almost like this split personality when it comes to his feelings about the local cult.”

  That sent a shiver down Claire’s spine. She set a gentle hand on Ranger’s sleeping body. “Who’s gonna sleep?” she said with a shaky voice. “We’re going to be thinking about this all night.”

  “True,” Zoey said, pausing in thought. “Who’s sleeping with the wolf?”

  “I will,” volunteered Claire. “I’ll like my feet warmed by him lying at the bottom of the bed, anyway.”

  “That’s good, dear.” Zoey stood, stretching her back. “Everything about Jack is suspicious. You know… Oly saw him at the fire, ever before we got there.”

  “Really?” That was news to Claire. She leaned forward in her seat. “If that’s true, do you think he might’ve set it?”

  Zoey’s eyes were filled with suspicion. “We’re definitely going to need our rest. Maybe tomorrow we can do a little interrogating.”

  TWENTY

  The next morning, the ladies opened their suite’s convertible ceiling. It was so bright and sunshiny out, they wanted to bask in the warm rays. They’d had enough of the moonlit darkness that had followed them of late. The wind had carried away the last of the smoke, and the air was left with the fresh mountain scent of the earth, river and pine needles.

  “I wish I knew yoga,” Zoey said unzipping her makeup bag on her bed.

  “You do?” her daughter questioned, brushing her shiny hair on her own bed.

  “Today would be the perfect day to lay out my mat in the woods and do the Downward Dog.”

  Claire giggled at the thought, thinking about Lowe’s people doing the pose together with a uniform howl. “Speaking of dogs,” she said, “how about we take Ranger for a walk before any more drama unfolds? Let’s enjoy the outdoors while he does some of his business.” As if the wolf understood, his head popped up from his sleep position on the crumpled bed spread.

  “Yes, sweetie,” Zoey said. “Let’s take Ranger for a run in the woods.” She eyed her palette of eye shadows. "He needs it."

  Claire nodded. “We're gonna go to the woods first and then get breakfast? It’s still early.”

  “Yes. Let’s get that over with.” Zoey put on a light jacket. “Today, sweetie, is going to be an interesting day."

  The elevator buzzed. “It’s Joseph with a key,” the speaker said. When Zoey returned, there stood Claire and Joseph, both looking like they had an announcement to make.

  “What is it? You two are looking suspicious to me.”

  “Joseph was showing me what Clifford gave him this morning when he came in.”

  The smiley bellboy reached a hand forward to reveal a silver Peace dollar.

  “Clifford had this dollar?”

  “Call Stewart and ask him what happened to the silver dollar he had, Claire,” Zoey said, outwardly upset. “Please.”

  Claire called his hotel room and he answered fast. “Hi, Stewart. …No, this is Claire. Sorry ‘bout your cold… What happened to the silver dollar you had last night? …Okay, thanks. …No, that’s all.” She hung up and announced, “It’s on his night stand.”

  “Alrighty then,” remarked Zoey, amazed.

  “I'd best be going, Ms. Kanes,” Joseph said. “I’m just in to pick up my check today.”

  “Don’t be spending that silver dollar, Joseph,” advised the mother Kane.

  “Why not?” asked Joseph, looking it over as if it were no more special than a penny.

  “Because it’s worth more than a dollar,” answered Claire.

  “Ooooh, thanks for telling me.” He shoved it into his pocket “I’ll check it out.” He entered the elevator, and it closed on his smiling face.

  Downstairs, Clifford was the one behind the registration desk. The Kanes approached him with smiles, both dressed in simple shirts and jeans, although their hair and makeup looked great, as usual. They approached the old man with Ranger at their ankles, happy. Today, Clifford had his wolf headband on and a shiny black nose strapped around his face. Claire asked, “Where do you get all these wolf objects you wear?”

  “What wolf objects?” He looked confused.

  “Never mind.” She dropped the subject.

  Nobody was in line. “Clifford,” Zoey said, standing off to the side of the desk. “You have Peace silver dollars?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I be given some by a scary man when I was a pup. No more left. I put money down on this place with most of it. Gave my last dollar to Joseph. He works hard for me.”

  “So you got five barrels of silver dollars?” continued Zoey.

  “No way. I’d say it was less than a two-gallon paint bucket. I hid it in a hollow tree stump and covered it with dirt. Gone now, so I can talk about it. But there be more.” He wrinkled up his eyes and nose with a smile.

  “Where’s the rest of it?” Claire asked.

  Clifford was silent.

  “You aren’t going to tell us?” asked Zoey with teasing, gorgeous eyes.

  “No. ‘Cause I be smart.” He tapped a finger to his head. “If you figure out where it be, then you be smart to know what to do.”

  Claire knew the old lupine spoke in riddles, not up for laying things right out there. “What can you tell us, then, Clifford?”

  Ranger whined as if also begging for an answer, looking up at Clifford with his adorably wet marble eyes.

  “There be evil in the woods,” he said.

  “Is that all? That’s what you told us last night.”

  “Yes!” he said with a big grin.

  “That’s all, Mom,” Claire said a bit frustrated, running a hand through her loose hair.

  Zoey was just happy to be his confidante and friend, in general. She grabbed Clifford with jubilation around the neck and gave him a quick rub behind his ear, and in response, Clifford pumped his left foot up and down as if he had an urge to scratch.

  “Okay!” The old lupine was red in the face and a bit giggly. “Take my family into the woods while it be daylight, and then get out before it darkens.” After that, he took off. “Owooo!”

  “All right, then,” said Zoey. “We know more now than we did fifteen minutes ago. So let’s go.”

  *

  They parked close to where they had been the night before, but away from Stiles Logging. They got out. Ranger had a definite direction he wanted to go, but he wanted the Kanes to come along with him; he paused long enough for them to catch up.<
br />
  He stopped in a nice shady spot and scratched at some pine needles to go potty. His black nose sniffed around then stopped. He suddenly turned away and trotted a little ways farther to where there was denser undergrowth, a fallen tree and some leaves to scratch. This time, he paused and howled a long, mournful cry.

  “Goodness!” remarked Zoey. “I don’t know that much about the habits of wolves, but that was rather alarming.” The two approached Ranger, who scratched at the yellow and brown leaves again. The scratching persisted until a hand with a large ruby ring came into view.

  “It’s Mr. Worsen,” they uttered together.

  Ranger kept digging, kicking up some bloody leaves. “Come on, boy. No, no,” Zoey said, gently reaching for the back of the wolf’s neck. “We don’t need to see any more. Come on.” She was able to steer him away from the shallow grave. Ranger seemed to understand. He finally walked over to a tree stump and did his business.

  “Do you think you can get 911 or the Sheriff on your cell phone, dear?”

  Claire pulled it out of her pants. There was no signal. “Not unless I know which tree it is that Lowe climbs. Maybe we should head back to the inn.”

  Zoey said with big eyes, “I have a better idea. Why don’t we just beat it over to Jack’s house? Remember, the phone still works there.”

  They drove over to the burned-up house. Jack’s green Jeep was out front. Claire’s heart suddenly pounded hard against her chest. “I’m feeling apprehensive,” she admitted to her mother. Ranger was running back and forth across the back seat, which had been lined with the ladies’ jackets. He looked through one window and then the next, back and forth.

  “Honey,” Zoey said, touching her knee, “we’ll simply take the paperwork to him, as a surprise—like a goodwill gesture—and then we can innocently maneuver some questions into the conversation. We need to find out who the maniac that’s killing everybody is.”

  “Hmm, let’s hope he’s not drunk again.” She leaned her head back against the leather headrest. “I’ll need you to find me a broom ASAP.”

  Zoey patted her daughter’s shoulder. “Just follow my lead and all will be well.”