The Howling (12 page)

"The local newspaper clippings you can go over yourself," Inez said. "The earliest I could find was in 1919. Altogether, there have been sixteen reported deaths or disappearances in this valley with no logical explanation. Your two young friends with the van would make eighteen."

"Still," Karyn said, "that's more than fifty years, and this is a wilderness area where a lot of things can happen to people."

"Those are only the
reported
cases. I know of at least two that never made the papers."

"Oh?"

"Has anyone told you what happened to the people who lived in this house before you?"

"The Fennos? No."

"It was just over four years ago. The old people hadn't been seen in town for a week or so, and there were inquiries. Your friend Anton Gadak came out to investigate. He found the two of them dead. Supposedly, natural causes."

"That's not so strange. The Fennos were quite old, weren't they?"

"There's more. About a week later one of my pupils, a little boy whom I've never known to lie, told me that he and a friend had sneaked into the house to look around. They found it all torn up, with dried blood everywhere, and bits of flesh and bone scattered about. The boys hadn't said anything at first for fear of getting into trouble."

"Did you report it?"

"I told the boy to tell his parents. He did, and they reported it to the county sheriff. The sheriff sent a couple of men out to look the house over, but they found nothing unusual. They put it down to the child's active imagination."

"But you don't think so," Karyn put in.

"No. I think somebody came in here after the boys saw it and cleaned up."

The women sat without speaking for several minutes. Finally Karyn said, "All right, what do we do now? Try to convince someone in authority that there's a werewolf loose in Drago?"

Inez smiled wryly. "What do you think our chances would be?"

"Pretty slim," Karyn admitted. "But there must be something we can do."

"Wait a minute, maybe there is." Inez was suddenly sitting on the edge of her chair. "You wounded the wolf last night?"

"That's right. I hit him - it - in the face with the shotgun. It tore off an ear, I think."

"Good. You see, when a werewolf is wounded, it can change back to human form, but it will have an identical injury. Their wounds heal unnaturally fast, but if you can find them soon enough it's a giveaway."

When Karyn looked doubtful, Inez referred again to her books. She quoted the story of a traveler through Wales who was attacked by a wolf, but managed to hack off one of the beast's paws and escape. The next morning he was horrified to see his landlady at the inn with fresh bandages covering the stump of her right hand. And the notorious Parenette Gandillon, after villagers with clubs had driven off a wolf, was found moaning in her bed covered with bruises.

"Assuming these old reports are accurate," Inez concluded, "what we must do is look for someone in Drago with a missing ear."

"And suppose we find him," Karyn said. "What then?"

Inez started to answer, but hesitated at the sound of someone moving around in the bedroom.

"It's Roy," Karyn said. "Do you think we should tell him?"

Inez shrugged noncommittally as Roy came into the room pulling a sweater on over his head. "Hullo, Inez," he said. Then, to Karyn, "Is there any coffee?"

"I can make a new pot."

"Never mind. Fresh air is what I really need."

"Roy, can we talk to you about something?"

"Will it keep? I'm still groggy from last night. If I jog down the road and back it might wake me up."

Karyn hesitated a moment. "Go ahead. It's not important."

"I'll see you later." He went out the door, and they heard him trot off across the clearing and down the road.

"I just couldn't tell him," Karyn said. "Not yet."

"All right," said Inez.

Karyn clapped her hands together and stood up. "I guess it's you and me, pal. Let's head for town and find the guy with only one ear."

The two women left the house and walked across the grass to Inez' little Plymouth Valiant. They got in and Inez fastened her seat belt.

"You'll have to buckle up too," she told Karyn. "This is a '74, the model that doesn't start unless everybody is properly strapped in."

"I feel silly," Karyn said as they drove to Drago. "This whole idea is beginning to seem silly."

"It can't hurt to look. We might get lucky. We could ask around too, if there's somebody you know well enough to talk to."

"The only one I can think of is Oriole Jolivet. She and her husband run the general store."

"Can we trust her?"

"I wouldn't want to come right out and tell her we're looking for a werewolf," Karyn said. "But then I wouldn't want to admit that to anybody."

The store was empty when Karyn and Inez walked in. After a minute Karyn walked to the back and called Oriole's name.

"Be with you in a minute," came Oriole's answer from the back room.

Inez strolled around the cluttered store looking at the merchandise while they waited. In a little while Oriole Jolivet came out and joined them. She wore a cotton dress with a big flower print that made her look even wider than she was. Her hair was pinned back, and Karyn was secretly relieved to see no sign of a head wound.

"Hey, how's Roy doing?" Oriole asked after the introductions had been completed. "I'll tell you, Karyn, if I was twenty years younger I'd give you a little competition for that handsome sonofagun." She laughed heartily to show she was only kidding.

"That's really why I'm here, Oriole," Karyn said, improvising quickly. "Roy cut his hand yesterday chopping firewood, and I need some bandages if you carry them." She was surprised how easily the lie came to her lips.

Oriole's smile switched instantly to a concerned frown. "Gee, I'm sorry to hear that. I hope it's not too serious."

"I don't think so," Karyn said, a little ashamed now of her deceit. "It's a clean cut. No infection. I did want to get some bandages to wrap it, though."

"Sure, we got bandages," Oriole said, moving to the far side of the store. She stooped to one of the lower shelves. "What-all do you need - cotton, gauze, adhesive?"

"You'd better give me the works."

Oriole removed the selected items from the shelf and put them in a paper bag. "A person has to be darned careful using an ax."

"I guess it's lucky you have this stuff." Karyn kept her tone as casual as she could. "I don't suppose there's anyplace else in town I could get it."

"Nope. Not in Drago."

"You must sell quite a few medical supplies."

"Not so much. People around here are pretty healthy."

Karyn did not know how to go any further without blurting out an obvious question. Oriole saved her the trouble by volunteering the information. "The last time I sold any bandages was last spring when the Eccles boy stuck his arm through a window without opening it first." She tapped her forehead. "The boy's fifteen years old now, but up here he's still about three."

Karyn and Inez laughed uneasily and looked at each other. Their best source for town gossip had come up dry.

Karyn paid for the purchases and started out of the store. Passing the glassed meat case she suddenly realized she had not seen Oriole's silent husband today.

"Where's Etienne?" she said, turning back to Oriole.

"He didn't come in today. Woke up this morning with a headache."

"A headache?" Karyn repeated, carefully keeping the excitement out of her voice.

"It's no big deal. He gets 'em two, three times a year. They last a day or two, then go away."

"I hope he gets better soon."

"He will."

"Tell him hello for me."

"I'll do that. Come again when you can stay awhile. You too, Inez."

"What do you think?" Karyn said, when they were outside and out of earshot.

"It's a possibility. At least we have a suspect now. Before we had nothing." Inez grew thoughtful. "I have a feeling the two of us shouldn't try to take this any further without help. Is there no one else in town we could go to?"

"No ... Wait a minute. We forgot the most logical person - the town doctor."

"The one who treated you?"

"Yes. Dr. Volkmann. If someone was seriously injured he wouldn't go to the store for treatment."

"Makes sense. Can we talk to him frankly?"

"As you said, we've got to talk to somebody sometime."

"Then let's go and see him. If we get good vibrations we'll tell him the story. If not, well, we'll try something else."

Dr. Volkmann received the women graciously and showed them into the sitting room of his big old house. The influence of his late wife could still be seen in touches like the lace antimacassars on the backs of chairs, and the little animal figurines carefully arranged, but undusted now, on corner shelves.

"You're looking well, Mrs. Beatty," the doctor said. "Did you use all of the pills I gave you?"

"No, I don't think I need any more of them."

"That's good. Too much reliance on pills can be dangerous." He folded his hands and waited politely.

"What we came for is ... well, I'd like to ask you a question, Doctor."

"Certainly."

"Did anyone come to you last night or today for treatment of a head wound?"

"Etienne Jolivet in particular," Inez added.

Volkmann studied the women for several seconds before he spoke. "That's an odd question. Do you mind telling me what's behind it?"

"Believe me," Karyn said, "it's very important."

"I can see that it is. The answer is no, I have not treated anyone for head wounds in the past forty-eight hours. I have not treated Etienne Jolivet for anything in more than three years."

Karyn's face reflected her disappointment.

"Now do you suppose I could have an explanation?"

The women's eyes met, and they made a decision.

I'll tell you, Doctor," Karyn said, "but you might not believe it."

"Let's hear it, anyway," said Volkmann. His voice was deep and serious and reassuring.

Karyn told him the whole story, beginning with the first time she had heard the howling, and ending with the visit a few minutes before to the Jolivets' store. When Karyn was through, Inez told him about the clippings she had saved detailing strange happenings in and around Drago over the years.

Dr. Volkmann listened intently, and did not interrupt. When the women had finished their story he sat silently, studying them.

"So when you heard of Etienne Jolivet's headache," he said finally, "you felt it might be the result of the gunshot wound inflicted on the wolf last night."

Karyn nodded, not meeting Volkmann's eye. It all seemed so farfetched when put into words by someone else.

"I am afraid you settled your suspicions on the wrong man. Etienne has suffered all his life from migraine headaches, just as Oriole told you."

"And there was nobody else with a head injury of any kind?"

"No one came to me, at any rate."

Karyn's shoulders slumped. "What do you think, Doctor? Am I crazy? Are we a couple of hysterical women? Was it all a dream?"

Again Volkmann took his time in answering. "I have lived here in Drago for ten years. I have lived quietly, and have had ample opportunity to observe the town and its people. During those ten years I have noted a number of strange occurrences. Some of them, Miss Polk, were those that you mentioned. People have died and disappeared in this valley with no reasonable explanation ever given. I must confess that I closed my eyes to a number of ... irregularities that I might have questioned had I been a more involved man. But I was wrapped up in my own affairs. It is, of course, possible that there is something fearfully wrong here."

Inez spoke up. "And what do you think, Doctor, of the idea that it is a werewolf?"

Volkmann's expression remained grave. "As a man of science I am not willing to admit to the existence of something so far outside the laws of nature. However, as a man who has seen more than the normal share of inexplicable happenings, I cannot deny the possibility. Yes, Miss Polk, there may be a werewolf."

"Thank God you believe us," Karyn said.

Volkmann held up a cautioning hand. "This does not mean I am ready to join you in an all-out hunt for the alleged werewolf. I still have serious reservations. I will do what I can, though, to assist you in gathering information. You may call on me at any time."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Inez. "I can't tell you how much it means to have someone else on our side."

Dr. Volkmann walked them to the door. "Have you spoken to anyone else about this?" he asked.

"No," Karyn said. "Only you."

"I think it would be wise to keep it that way. At least until we have something more to go on."

"That's the way we felt too," Karyn said.

"Let me know if anything else happens. And one other thing, ladies ..."

"Yes?"

"Be careful."

Karyn and Inez assured the doctor they would be most careful, and walked back to where they had left the car.

They got in, went through the ritual of buckling the seat belts and started home. As Inez reached Karyn's road, Karyn put a hand on her arm.

"Wait a minute. Can you drive back up the street the way we came?"

"Why?"

"I want you to take a look at the man standing back there under the theater marquee."

"The one with the hat?"

"Yes."

Inez backed around and drove slowly up the street. "Who is it?" she said as they approached the figure standing in the shadow of the marquee.

"Anton Gadak," Karyn said.

As they rolled past they could see a fresh white bandage covering the left side of Gadak's head.

Inez started to wheel the car around.

"Where are you going?" Karyn said.

"Back to the doctor's house. We should tell him about this."

"Let's wait," Karyn said.

"But why?"

"Who do you suppose applied that bandage?"

Inez braked the car to a stop in front of Karyn's house. She left the engine idling, and the women sat for a minute without speaking.