by Zoey Kane
“And you’re not?” Claire asked, aghast.
“Of course not. And like I said, I didn’t set my own house on fire, and I really did think Ranger was dead. It’s too bad the mutt’s turned against me.”
Zoey threw her hands up, the hammer still clenched in her fist. “Then who is the murderer?”
A shadowy figure came through the door. A werewolf.
TWENTY-FIVE
Ranger barked in a panic, flashing his sharp teeth. The werewolf had its own sharp teeth, but in the form of some sort of metal contraption he held in his right hand, resembling a bear trap. The Kanes instinctively stepped back, holding their weapons tight, their hearts pounding harder than ever. It was like a horrific nightmare come true. Clifford whimpered and ducked in a corner. Jack was still crouched, his face frozen and white.
Oh, how Zoey wished she had her gun. She internally scolded herself for having left it back at the hotel in her purse. The werewolf was still standing there, not moving a muscle, like the creepy fellow from those Halloween movies. Zoey tried to think quickly. “Listen, guys, there’s four of us.” Her voice shook. “Rather than being killed one at a time with those metal chompers, let’s attack him at count of three.”
The werewolf tilted his head.
“One, two, THREE!”
Nobody moved.
“Well,” Zoey said with a squeak. “Should we try that again?”
Eyes flashed to each other. Claire and Jack cautiously nodded. Ranger kept barking, all the while keeping his distance. It was clear who the alpha dog was.
“One, two—”
Jack bolted for the monster, tackling him to the ground with a loud thud and crack. That dazed the werewolf for a moment, as he lay there taking quite a beating. But then he flashed those ferocious teeth in a rage, slashing into Jack’s back, who grunted in pain. Zoey ran over to try and hit the beast, but by then he and Jack were in such a tumble that she feared a heavy swing of a hammer could accidentally knock out Jack. They were in a cloud of dust, having a man-dog fight to the death. Ranger dashed over and sunk his canines into the werewolf’s ankle, snarling with all his might. There was blood all over the place now. But they still fought on, Jack using his bare hands.
Claire pressed her lips together, her heart rapping against her chest, telling her to run. “What do we do?” she asked her mom. “Get out of here? Let them kill each other?”
Ranger suddenly yelped, having been kicked off the werewolf’s ankle. He retreated to Clifford in the corner. The two brawling—man and beast—suddenly pulled themselves off the ground. Jack lifted his fists like a boxer, eyeing the monster over bruised knuckles. The werewolf leaned in a threatening stance, baring those bloody teeth at him.
“Now’s your chance,” Zoey said in a fast whisper. “Do what you did at the bar.”
“Hit Jack with a broom?” Claire looked perplexed.
“No,” Zoey said with clenched teeth. “Hit the werewolf with the crowbar.”
“Oh, right.” Claire positioned herself behind the monster, holding back her weapon like a bat, ready to swing.
“Now!” Zoey yelled out.
Claire swung hard, connecting with the werewolf’s furry right temple. He shook his head, as if seeing stars, before crumpling to the ground unconscious, his bear-trap teeth dropping from his limp hand. “Oh my gosh, I did it!” She snatched up the teeth.
Jack wiped his sweaty face with both sleeves and breathed hard. Zoey went over to assess his wounds. She lifted up the back of his ripped-up shirt. There was plenty of bleeding but nothing proving to be super deep. “You’ll be okay,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “Your Grandpa Tilford would be proud.”
A smile sprang across his face. Around hard breaths, he said, “Does this mean you’ll let me keep the silver without a fight?”
“Um, no. That money was stolen. If it belongs to anybody, it’s the bank.”
“That is,” Claire said, “if there even is any…” She stepped around the body and approached Clifford in the corner.
Sweat dripped into Jack’s eye and he wiped at it. “The bank?” he said incredulously.
Zoey patted his shoulder like a loving mother. “I believe you’re basically a good guy, overall. And greed has been ruining that. Smiley Jack, do the right thing.”
He exhaled loudly, but didn’t protest further.
Next door’s music was still loudly reverberating through the wall. The Kanes were sure nobody would’ve heard the fight. “Now let’s hurry up and see what’s in the rest of these kegs, shall we?” Zoey motioned for him to follow her.
With the help of Jack’s muscles, they made fast progress. Clifford and Claire both joined in until all seven kegs were revealed. They each muscled spouts open. More rancid beer poured down onto the old floorboards. The stench was so strong, it almost made the ladies retreat as they coughed and nearly gagged. Five of the barrels released nothing. They knew what that meant. Jack slammed the side of one of those kegs with the hammer. After just a couple of hits, it cracked open and out trickled silver coins like a shimmering stream of water.
“Aha!” Jack called and jumped to his feet. “There it is!” He dropped back down to his knees and ran his fingers through the flowing coins in happiness.
The ladies cheered, hugging each other. Interrupting the moment was a man’s moan. They turned to see the werewolf moving his head and moaning some more. Now that his weapon was far from him, and he was clearly seeing stars, there was no need to panic. Everyone watched as he groggily sat up and said, “Where am I?”
The voice sounded familiar. Zoey marched right over to him and yanked off his mask. The ladies were in shock. The mystery killer was… Lowe!
“He sees you. He sees you,” Clifford said cryptically. “While Jack be hoping you’d help him find some clues and understanding to discover the silver in a civil way, up to now, this one,” he pointed to Lowe, “watched you and intended to stay closer to you for a cover-up reputation, to decoy his killings, linking his name to your good name by dating you, so no one would even consider him as guilty.”
Claire turned her attention back to Lowe. “Does Noble know about you?”
“Of course not!”
“Well, why are you of all people a serial killer?" Claire asked, hands on her hips.
“I had to get that money. It belonged with me.” Then he added in an earnest tone, “I could do good things with it.”
“Sure,” Jack said. “Killers who rip people’s throats out are always so charitable.”
“Whatever,” Lowe replied with disgust, his shaggy brown hair all matted down and around his face from sweat. “It’s your fault for moving over here. We were doing swell before you. Then more people thought they’d intrude on our secret society. I had to act fast to scare outsiders away. They were getting too nosey. We even had some eggs thrown at us the other day. It’s too bad you weren’t home when I set fire to your place. It would’ve been the perfect murder; even Oly fell for my disguise.” He touched his head and moaned, “Oh. I think I might throw up.” And he did.
Claire pulled a walkie-talkie out of their large bag of supplies and turned it on. She pressed the side button and spoke. “Stewart. Come in, Stewart.”
“Yes, sergeants,” returned a nasally voice.
“I need you to call the police. Send them down to Kilgory’s Saloon STAT.”
“10-4, sergeant. What’s the matter?”
“We caught a werewolf.”
The response was a loud cheer of happiness. “You two are my heroes. Over and out.”
Claire simply smiled and dropped the walkie-talkie back into the bag.
“Tie him up, Jack,” Zoey said, pointing to their large bag of supplies. “There’s rope in there. I’m going to go next door and get some washcloths and ice for all of us.
TWENTY-SIX
Looking like a hot mess, dusty and dirty from next door, the Kanes entered Kilgory’s Saloon. The bartender flashed a look of concern at them, as did others.
Claire approached the bar for the third time that evening. “Hello. We’ll have a couple of bowls of ice, please, and some wet towels.”
“You ladies okay?” he asked.
“Oh yes,” Claire answered. “Everything’s under control now.” She didn’t bother to explain further.
The bartender turned around to his ice machine, perplexed.
The aluminum-foil hat man had been sitting with a glass against the wall, listening. Upon spotting the Kanes in their distressed appearance, all in black and dirty, he stood up. “I have an announcement!” Everybody turned to him in interest.
“Oh, no,” Zoey said, casting a glance at her daughter. “He knows.” Their mouths went dry and their stomachs knotted as they waited to be found out before the police could arrive to settle things.
The man puffed out his chest and straightened his cone hat. “Aliens have already landed, and they are here, in Rottenwood!”
Chuckles rolled across the saloon.
“It’s true!” he said, his eyes wide behind his round glasses. “You all have made fun of me in the past, but I heard them: the high whine of a powerful engine, the clunking and tapping around as they set up their inter-universe equipment with which to read our minds and study us.”
More laughter crept through the saloon.
“I heard it through the walls. I heard it all. With my astute knowledge of these things, I can tell.”
“Well, what’s going to happen next?” Zoey asked, feeling suddenly comfortable.
“I’m pleased somebody is wise enough to ask me this question.” He pointed at the Kanes for a moment, making them uneasy. “There’s nothing that can be done. They are more powerful and intelligent than we are.”
“He’s got that straight, Mom.” Claire giggled, grabbing the bowl of ice set beside her.
“We must peacefully and quietly wait for them to contact us. Don’t be afraid.” Conehead went over to the bar, paid his bill and left with a bounce in his step, obviously feeling vindicated for being right all these years.
Claire was making motions with her lips.
“What are you doing?” asked her mom.
“Trying to work up some saliva. I thought we were discovered.”
*
As the Kanes headed back to the alleyway with their wet towels and bowls of ice, they passed Clifford, who was sitting out front in the dirt with Ranger. He was stroking his fur, looking content. “You two are good boys,” Zoey said, smiling at them. Clifford smiled back.
As they turned the corner toward the side door, red and blue lights came flashing from the distance. Claire ran back to wave them over to the old abandoned store.
Zoey entered the store alone and noticed Jack had done a nice job of tying up Lowe. Lowe sat on a crate, ropes all up and down his body. Jack turned with a quick smile. He was kneeling over a keg.
“Nice work!” Zoey complimented.
“Thanks,” he said, still busy.
“Yes.” Zoey stepped closer. Jack was shoving some loose coins into his jean pocket. Upon further examination, she counted only three kegs, not eight. “Don’t do this,” she said.
Jack stood up, his gray-blue eyes dark. “No. This is something I’ve just gotta do, all right?”
“You’re going to be just like your grandpa?” she reasoned. “A fugitive?”
“Time’s up.” His eyes flashed to the cop cars that had pulled up. He took off running and paused for a second at the door. “You think more highly of me than I do myself. Clifford only wanted to defend you. I wasn’t defending myself,” he confessed about the old man’s bruises. “Take care, Zoey.” He disappeared.
Zoey ran over to the doorway, and the next thing she saw was Jack’s green Jeep rumbling away into the backwoods at full speed. She shook her head, watching him disappear.
The cops appeared in the alley with Claire beside them, jogging over with flashlights. Chief Goldman entered the store with a compliment. “Nice work, Kanes! You two live up to everything said about you… and beyond.” He hurried over to Lowe to cuff him, and recited his Miranda rights as the other officers stepped around the messy scene of cracked wood and barrels, and blood smeared around the dusty floor. Flashlights zipped around.
“Where’s Jack?” Claire came right over to her mother. “And the silver?”
“He took off with it all.” Zoey’s face was stoic with disappointment and shock as she still held her bowl of ice. “I try giving some people the benefit of the doubt, you know. He made a really good case for himself.”
“I believe it’s that innocent until proven guilty thing,” Claire said with a soft smile, rubbing her mom’s back. “Either that or your usual optimism, which is a great trait, Mom.”
“Thanks.” Zoey breathed out, not feeling any better.
“Well, what are we going to do?” Claire asked. “Just let him go?”
“I’ll tell the police now,” Zoey said, “but he has those Tilford genes, which are good at hiding, plus a major head start.”
Claire raised up her eyebrows. “Yeah, for a car.”
“What are you thinking, dear? That ATV will be even slower, and I don’t think these volunteer cops are equipped for such a chase.”
“Oh, we’re equipped, Mother.” She winked a big brown eye.
*
The Kane chopper swooped in on the scene, its bright lights spotlighting the forest.
EPILOGUE
The next morning, Lanternwood County buzzed with the news of Lowe’s arrest. It was quite fascinating to learn how his werewolf costume was made with real wolf fur, and he’d even gone as far as to use wolf saliva in order to throw off the police. In his confession, he gave directions to a couple of dead wolves’ bodies, one being by Jack’s property.
Strangely enough, it was Jack Jude Tilford’s chase and arrest that was an even hotter topic. Nobody expected their honorary mayor to stab the community in the back and flee. The Kanes were thankful that their hometown, Riverside, wasn’t too far away; their chopper had been dispatched at a moment’s notice to aid the state police.
Now it was time for the ladies to relax and recuperate. And if anybody knew how to relax, it was the Kanes… with plenty of good food and company.
The mother-and-daughter mystery-solving team sat with Clifford, out on the balcony of the Craggy Moon Suite. They were enjoying breakfast with the dear old lupine and his wolf, Ranger. The air was crisp and the sun was happy. After taking a bite of cantaloupe from her fruit bowl, Claire had a question for him. “You gave us that clue: toast the silver moon. You knew where the money was, didn’t you?”
He nodded, back to wearing his wolf ears and chest fur.
Why didn’t you use the money for yourself?”
“Now what would I do with that kind of money?” Clifford asked, setting his fork down. “I have clothing by day and a room at the Moonshadow Inn by night, which somehow I inherited because I be a cosigner.” He shrugged. “Dean put some money in a bank, some few coins I still had left from when I be a child that a bank robber gave me. Best of all, I have my boxers and tennies for the full moon change. I run the woods and I can still tease the tourists at the Inn. Owoooo!”
“You met the bank robber?” Zoey and Claire said together, astounded.
“Kept the secret, I did,” he replied with a wink.
The Kanes smiled, and Zoey said, “You really are a good boy, Clifford.” She rubbed him behind his ear.
Clifford said with a bit of a tear in his eyes, “I love you, Kane she-wolfs. You be family.”
“We love you too, Clifford.” Zoey and Claire got out of their chairs and gathered him in a careful group hug because of his bruising.
He said with a giggle, “I have to go get my tail so I can wag it.”
Before they parted, Zoey passed their friend a sealed envelope that contained a check from The Kane Foundation for the balance on the inn’s mortgage.
*
Two weeks later, there was a knock on Oly’s door. He opened it, recogniz
ing the grinning old man with happy wrinkles around his eyes. His visitor was warmly invited in.
Wearing a wolf-ear headband, wolf paws, and old tennies—no socks—the lupine laid his tail over his lap and said, “Oly, I be here on business.”
“Whatcha got ter say, Clifford?” Oly leaned forward to listen.
“I be wantin’ you as my wolf partner in the community. I be given you money to start up that mill. You and your family run it. Deal?”
Oly sat back and ran a finger under his nose for a second. “Deal!”
The end.
SPECIAL NOTE FROM THE AUTHORS
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this mystery, we’d be delighted if you’d review it. Positive reviews help us gain advertising and exposure, thus allowing us to continue Z & C Mysteries.
Warmest regards,
Zoey and Claire Kane
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Website: zoeyandclaire.blogspot.com
Publisher’s website: breezyreads.com
Facebook: fb.me/zoeyandclaire
Twitter: @Zoey_Claire
EMAIL: [email protected]
About the Authors:
Claire Kane is an avid reader and writer who enjoys going on zany adventures with her eccentric mother. She’s a connoisseur of classic fashion statements, craves a good root beer float, and always eats with her mouth closed. And she, of course, has a weak spot for murder mysteries.
Zoey has dabbled in modeling, is a licensed real-estate agent, seeks treasures (great and small), and is often underestimated.
Together, Zoey and Claire are a mother-daughter mystery-solving duo. During their downtime, they dream of island men whisking them away.
