The Chupacabra Catastrophe

by Amanda M. Lee

  “I figured that out myself.”

  “Then why are you walking as if you expect a hand to rise from the earth and drag you to hell?”

  “I’m not.” I squared my shoulders and increased my pace. “You’re kind of mean when you want to be.”

  “Yes, well, I’m looking forward to margaritas at lunch,” Millie replied. “I expect you to serve as the navigator on our way back, by the way.”

  “I don’t think Jack will like that.”

  “What Jack doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Millie shot back, causing me to smile. “Ah, well, here we go.”

  The hallway opened into a large room resembling a veterinarian’s office, which made sense because we were meeting a zoologist. The laboratory centered the room and was surrounded by modified cages. The animals in the displays burrowed down in their dens when they were tired of running around outside, and the cages were located at the back in case someone needed to approach the animals. It was a convenient set-up.

  “Are you Desmond Sharper?” Millie asked the man staring through a microscope at the center table.

  He lifted his eyes and smiled as he ran a hand through his gray hair. “I am. You must be Millie and Charlie. I’ve been expecting you.”

  “I’m sure you have.” Millie hefted the footprint cast onto the table and then took a better look around the room. “This is kind of neat. The animals come to you on some levels.”

  “There’s a false wall behind each den,” Sharper explained. “The animals are completely closed off most of the time, but we just had a cleaning crew come through and I’ve yet to raise the walls. We only lower them when we need to run tests. It gives the animals the illusion of privacy.”

  “And who doesn’t love the illusion of privacy?” Millie drawled, amused. “Still, it’s kind of neat down here.”

  “Plus it’s cool,” I added. “I imagine Texas gets pretty hot, so it’s nice that you can escape down here.”

  “It’s fairly comfortable,” Sharper agreed, removing a pair of latex gloves and getting to his feet. “So what do we have here?”

  “We’ve been investigating the death out at Hooper’s Mill,” Millie explained. “We found these tracks. There’s some … unexplained … aspects to Wendell Morrison’s death, and we’re trying to find answers.”

  “I see.” Sharper was all business as he shifted toward the casting. “Where did you find these in proximity to the body?”

  “Oh, … it was a good hundred yards away,” Millie replied. “My understanding is that the body was found in the middle of the street. The prints were found on the other side of the buildings. I wasn’t there when they were cast, so I’m not one-hundred percent sure.”

  “We’ve heard rumblings about Hooper’s Mill for years,” Sharper supplied, tilting the cast so he could see it better under the light. “I’ve been fascinated with the history of the place ever since I moved here from Austin twenty years ago.”

  “Do you mean the Chupacabra rumors?” I asked.

  “I’ve heard those rumors.” Sharper’s lips quirked. “You believe in the Chupacabra?”

  I shrugged, noncommittal. “I don’t know. I believe there are things that can’t be explained.”

  “That’s a good answer.” Sharper moved to a drawer and pulled out a metal contraption I couldn’t identify before returning to the print.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “It measures the size of the print,” Sharper replied.

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “Give him a few minutes,” Millie chided, shaking her head. “It’s nice and cool down here, comfortable. We’re in no hurry.”

  “I thought you wanted margaritas with lunch,” I challenged.

  “The margaritas aren’t going anywhere.”

  “If you’re looking for good margaritas I can point you toward the perfect place when we’re done,” Sharper offered. “It doesn’t open for another hour.”

  “That sounds good.” Millie sat in a chair and watched Sharper work. “You said you’ve heard stories about Hooper’s Mill. Have you ever heard one about hidden silver?”

  “I have,” Sharper confirmed, squinting at the casting. “That was one of the first ones I heard. The Chupacabra story followed not long after. I always thought they were tied together.”

  “In what way?” I asked, my eyes widening when a huge wolf wandered in from the outside and settled in his climate-controlled cage. “Wow! He’s awesome.”

  “That’s Lobo.” Sharper smiled at my enthusiasm. “He’s a handsome boy. He was raised in captivity, so he’s not afraid of humans. He’s more dog than wolf.”

  One look at the animal’s wild eyes made me think otherwise. Still, it wasn’t my place to argue. Sharper was helping us and seemed eager to chat, so I figured it was smart to take advantage of that. “What did you hear about the silver?”

  “Just that the former owner had so much of it that he couldn’t carry it all when he left,” Sharper replied, furrowing his brow as he all but pressed his nose against the cast. “Most people think he hid it in the buildings – like in the walls or floors – and planned to come back for it. The story I heard was that Richard Hooper died before he could return.

  “I’ve always been a history buff, so I did a search on him,” he continued. “He lived until the 1940s, but I believe he transferred ownership of Hooper’s Mill to a sister during the 1920s, and then moved to Arizona. He didn’t die before he could return – in fact he lived to be quite old, especially for back then – so it doesn’t make sense to me that he would leave a huge pile of silver behind for no apparent reason.”

  “Do you think a lot of people have been out there searching for it?” I asked.

  “I think a lot of people I know have been out there looking for it,” Sharper replied. “It’s a regular Saturday outing for some. People are determined there’s silver out there, and they believe they’ll be the one to stumble upon it.

  “It’s the age-old wish,” he said. “People want to get something for nothing. It’s human nature to dream. It’s human nature to build up stories until they take on a life of their own. I think that’s happened with the silver … and, quite frankly, with the Chupacabra.”

  What he said made sense, but I wasn’t quite ready to let it go. “You said before that you think the silver and Chupacabra stories go together. Why is that?”

  “Because I think one was manufactured due to the other,” Sharper replied, his somber eyes landing on me. “Think about it. The silver stories have been around for a long time. Everyone wants to search the area. What’s the best way to cut down on the searches?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “I do.” Millie’s eyes lit. “You think someone started the Chupacabra story to scare people off. If people think there’s a beast out there they’re less likely to search for the silver.”

  “Exactly.” Sharper nodded. “I think the two stories are linked.”

  “But what about Wendell Morrison?” I challenged. “Something killed him out there. He was exsanguinated.”

  “You don’t know that was a Chupacabra,” Sharper pointed out. “That could’ve been a human trying to take the legend to the next level. Everyone knows Dominic Sully is going to buy the land. When that happens, he’ll probably cut off access to the property while he renovates. People think they’re running out of time to find the silver.”

  “And you figure someone was willing to kill a man to buy more time to search for the silver?”

  “I think the area surrounding Hooper’s Mill is extremely poor, and that amount of money could change someone’s life,” Sharper replied. “I think the Chupacabra makes a handy … well … scapegoat-sucker.”

  “Ha, ha. Good one.” Millie grinned. “You know, I hate to say it because Chris won’t like it, but this theory makes a lot of sense. It’s far more likely someone killed Morrison and made it look like the Chupacabra did it than it is to believe the Chupacabra is really running around a
n old silver town.”

  I wasn’t ready to give up the dream. “But what about the prints?”

  “These prints?” Sharper gestured toward the cast. “These belong to a coyote.”

  “But look at the odd spacing on the right one there,” I protested.

  “I have,” Sharper said. “That’s what took me so long. This animal broke its foot at some point and it never healed correctly. That’s why it looks off.”

  I couldn’t help being disappointed. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Sharper shot me a sympathetic look as he chuckled. “I’m sorry. I know you were hoping for a different answer.”

  “We were hoping for the truth,” Millie countered, getting to her feet. “You gave us the truth. We’re grateful for it.”

  “It was my pleasure.” Sharper was quiet for a moment as he watched me pack the print cast. He spoke again before we could leave the laboratory. “Be careful, ladies. If I am right, that means someone isn’t going to be happy about you guys running around Hooper’s Mill. You could be stepping on a murderer’s toes, so … watch your backs.”

  “We always do.” Millie offered a half-hearted smile. “So, you were going to tell me where to get some good margaritas.”

  “Right. Let me draw you a map.”

  17

  Seventeen

  Desmond’s restaurant served great Mexican food according to the locals and some of the largest margaritas I’d ever seen. I was perfectly happy letting Millie sip her pear margarita while sticking to iced tea as we waited for our food.

  “Are you disappointed the print isn’t from a Chupacabra?” Millie played with her straw wrapper as she searched my face.

  “I guess.” I wasn’t sure how to answer. “I’m not sure I ever believed it was a Chupacabra print. I’m not sure what I believe about this one, truth be told.”

  “In other words, you think there’s too much evidence pointing toward a human culprit,” Millie mused. “That makes sense.”

  “I didn’t say that,” I cautioned. “It’s just … it’s too convenient.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that Wendell Morrison reportedly wanted the property and he knew he was running out of time because Dominic Sully was going to get it. When you combine that with the fact that a bunch of people believe there’s a hidden fortune on the land … well … it seems like a really convenient time for the Chupacabra to attack.”

  “It does,” Millie agreed. “It seems like a great time for people to become interested in the Chupacabra again, doesn’t it? Gives the property a little mystique before Sully starts his renovations.”

  “Do you think he did it?”

  Millie held her hands palms up. “I have no idea. Jack will check his alibi today and I’m sure we’ll know more this afternoon. Sully doesn’t strike me as the type to get his hands dirty, so if he did it he most likely paid someone to do it.”

  “You’re friends with his mother,” I pointed out. “Do you believe she raised a murderer?”

  “We’re not exactly friends,” Millie hedged. “Friends is a relative term. We’re members on a couple of those snooty boards I was forced to participate in when married to Myron. That doesn’t make us friends. I would say we’re acquaintances. I called in a few favors to get her to reach out to her son. She wasn’t happy about it, but she did it to make sure I stayed off her back … and out of the other women’s ears.”

  That was an interesting way to phrase it. “What kind of favors?”

  “Never you mind.” Millie wagged her finger. “You’re turning into a regular busybody. You remind me of … me.”

  “Uh-huh.” I wasn’t convinced, but I let it go. “Hopefully Jack will come up with some good stuff on the silver legend, too. I think he said he was going to research Sully and the legend all morning.”

  “Jack is good at what he does. He’ll be fine.”

  “I didn’t say he wasn’t good at his job.”

  “And yet you almost panicked when you thought he was going with us this morning,” Millie noted. “Why is that?”

  Uh-oh. She was trying to pin me down. I recognized the move from when my mother was still alive and she figured out I liked a boy. Once that happened, she stalked, harped, hounded and badgered until I owned up to the crush. The realization caused a pang in my chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lied.

  “You know. You just don’t want to talk about it.” Millie regarded me. “You like him, don’t you?”

  I thought I was prepared for the question. It was only a matter of time before someone asked it, of course. I’d seen the curious looks. I knew Laura believed it. Still, I was caught off guard by Millie’s bluntness. “He’s very good at his job. He’s a decent co-worker. Of course I like him for those reasons.”

  “Oh, that was cute.” Millie grinned. “You like him more than that,” she prodded. “In fact, I think you have a crush on him.”

  I was absolutely mortified. “I don’t get crushes.”

  “Everyone gets crushes. I have one on Sean Connery. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  “Who is Sean Connery?”

  Millie narrowed her eyes to dangerous slits. “Are you messing with me? Are you doing that thing younger women do regarding older stars when they pretend not to know them to make someone feel old?”

  I thought about dragging it out longer, but her reaction made me believe that would be a poor idea. “I know who he is.”

  “You’d better.”

  “He’s the guy from Highlander. I know because I like those movies. There’s something about a dude with a sword.”

  Millie made an exaggerated face. “Highlander? He’s James Bond, honey.”

  “No, Daniel Craig is James Bond.”

  “There’s more than one.”

  “Why?”

  “Ugh. I can’t even look at you right now.” Millie shook her head. “What were we talking about again?”

  “Your crush on an old dude,” I replied without hesitation.

  “No, we were talking about Jack,” Millie corrected. “I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

  “As if I want to find a baseball bat and hit him over the head?”

  “Sometimes,” Millie conceded. “He drives you crazy. There’s no doubt about that. You do the same to him.”

  “So why would you possibly think I have a crush on him?”

  “Because you two have chemistry.” Millie sipped her margarita and smirked as I shifted on my booth seat. “Oh, you’ve already figured that out yourself. I wasn’t sure on that one. You seem to block things out you don’t want to deal with.”

  “And what kinds of things would those be?”

  “Your feelings for Jack,” Millie answered. “Your feelings of inadequacy.”

  “I’m not inadequate.”

  “You’re not,” Millie agreed. “You’re smart and funny. You have a charming sense of humor and your dramatic flair is delightful. But in your mind, you feel inadequate because you were the last to join the team. That’s perfectly natural, by the way, and you’ll get over it.”

  “Since when did you turn into a therapist?”

  “You make jokes about therapists a lot,” Millie noted. “That tells me it might be a good idea for you to see one. But you don’t need a therapist to tell you that your feelings for Jack are perfectly okay.”

  She was starting to agitate me. “I don’t have feelings for Jack. That’s ridiculous.”

  Millie took another sip of her margarita and waited for me to fill in the silence.

  “I don’t,” I snapped, making a face. “I mean … I have feelings about him being in charge and bossing me around. I have feelings when he talks down to me as if I’m a child. I have feelings when he tells me I talk too much and to be quiet. Those are the only feelings I have for Jack.”

  Millie chuckled, legitimately amused. “You keep telling yourself that.”

  “I will … because it’s the truth.”

 
; “Honey, it’s so far from the truth that you can’t even see truth on a map right now,” Millie argued. “It’s fine. You’re not ready to admit it.”

  “There’s nothing to admit.”

  “There’s a lot to admit, but it’s not important now,” Millie said. “It’s good you’re taking your time. Jack isn’t ready to admit it either. That boy has been on a dry spell since the day I met him. It will be nice to see him relax when he finally … .” Millie made an odd movement but I recognized it for what it was. She was simulating a sexual act.

  “Stop that,” I hissed, leaning forward. “You’re going to draw attention to yourself.”

  “You act as if I should care about that,” Millie drawled. “I don’t. I don’t give a moldy crap what other people think about me. That’s how I choose to live my life.”

  “It must be nice.”

  “It is. It’s freeing. That’s how I got freed from my marriage to Myron.”

  I stilled. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that I thought I wanted one life, so I went for it,” Millie replied. “I married Myron – and I did love him for a time – but ultimately that wasn’t the life I really wanted, because I couldn’t be myself. Myron wanted to be something he wasn’t and I didn’t. That’s how we ended up here.”

  “What did you want to be?”

  “The kooky woman in the corner.” Millie grinned at my furrowed brow. “You’re young, Charlie. I know you’re sick of hearing that, but it’s true. Soon you’ll realize that being what everyone else wants you to be is exhausting. It’s much better to be what you are.”

  “I don’t pretend to be something I’m not.” Even as I said the words I thought about my abilities. I hid those from everyone. There was a reason for that, of course, but I couldn’t be the person I was born to be, because that would instill fear and suspicion in people. I didn’t want that.

  “I don’t think you’re pretending to be someone you’re not,” Millie said after a thoughtful beat. “I do think you’re hiding something. I don’t know what – I’ve given it a lot of thought and come up empty – but you’re hiding something.”