Boo

by Rene Gutteridge

  The startled guests all turned to look at Wolfe, who was slumbering like a baby. Ainsley’s heart went out to him, but Garth’s words rang in her ears.

  “It’s a coincidence,” Ainsley said.

  “He told me he doesn’t like cats,” Garth said. “I didn’t think he meant he’d kill a cat.”

  Alfred suddenly made a strange noise from where he stood, and as everyone turned to him, they noticed he was laughing, snorting really. “What a great promotional stunt!”

  Ainsley said, “What are you talking about?”

  “He said he had ideas. Promotional ideas! Of course! He’s a genius!” Alfred’s exuberant expression faded as his eyes scanned the mortified crowd. “I was just thinking out loud … um … yeah … terrible idea.”

  But it seemed to be too late. The idea had been planted, and by the look on everyone’s face, Ainsley knew there were grave doubts forming in their minds. With tears in her eyes, she said, “All of you, stop it. Please. We don’t know what happened, but you can’t just stand here and blame someone for this. It’s not fair, no matter how it looks. We have to get Wolfe’s side of the story.”

  A few started nodding, and Ainsley thought everyone might come around, until Garth said, “I’m afraid I have more bad news. I didn’t know how to say it before, but”—he stepped around the couch to stand by Melb, who still had the cat on her lap—“Thief was poisoned.”

  “No!” came a collective gasp.

  “How do you know he’s been poisoned?”

  Garth stared at the cat as he said, “By the, um … the way his mouth is closed. Cats tend to die with their mouths open unless they’re poisoned.” He shrugged. “Don’t ask me why. That’s just something they teach in medical school.”

  The mumbling started, and the whispers whipped around the room like a verbal tornado. Even Ainsley felt doubt now. Melb was obviously not allergic to cats. And this all looked like an incredible promotional stunt for his book. And poison?

  A groan came from Wolfe’s throat, and he was coming to. Ainsley bent down over his face. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m … What happened?”

  “Garth cut his hand. You passed out.” Ainsley watched as he sat up.

  Her father stepped closer to Wolfe and said, “Get up. Get out. Get out of my house.”

  “Daddy, no. Please. Let’s just—”

  “He murdered our cat!”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Wolfe was the last person to see him alive! People witnessed him putting Thief in the garage! And Garth says he’s poisoned. We arrest people for murder on less evidence than that!” He looked at Wolfe. “Get out of my house!”

  Wolfe looked confused and hurt, and Ainsley’s heart sank. She had so many questions. So many doubts. She watched as Wolfe carefully looked around the room, making eye contact with every person before standing and straightening his shirt.

  “All right,” Wolfe sighed. He looked at the reverend. “I didn’t do this.” Then he looked at Ainsley. “You know I could never do this.”

  Tears dripped down Ainsley’s cheeks. But she could form no words. She watched as he crossed the living room toward the door, but he stopped briefly, stared at Garth, then continued on. From where she stood, she could see him grab his coat and put his hat and gloves on. She turned to her father. “Daddy! There must be a foot of snow on the ground, or more! He’s not going to be able to drive his car, and he can’t walk in this weather. You know that. You know that!”

  His eyes, stalwart and steady, stared forward. “Maybe that’s what Thief felt like being left out in the garage.” And then the sheriff left the room, just as the front door of the house opened and then shut.

  Then the only sound in the entire house was Melb, who was still whimpering and staring at the ceiling, the dead cat limp across her knees.

  CHAPTER 29

  WOLFE WAS TOO cold to cry. But he felt that horrible lump in his throat, the same one that had been there so many years ago when he’d learned his parents had died. How could this happen? It was the only question he was focused enough to ask himself as he trudged through the snow, shivering with each step. The wind chill, he was sure, was below zero.

  There would be no driving in this weather, so his only hope was to go by foot. A small forest stood between the Parkers’ house and a road that would lead back to Wolfe’s. It was the shortest way, but definitely not the best. It was off the beaten path, and if something happened …

  He erased the thought from his mind. Why did he care if something happened? He was going to ask the woman of his dreams to marry him today, and now she thought he’d murdered her cat. It seemed the only person who believed in him was the reverend. He had been about to protest, challenge Garth, but he had seen the doubt in Ainsley’s eyes. And it had crushed him. His mind spun with the reality of the disastrous day as he stepped forward into the snowy forest.

  His skin ached with the cold, and his coat was getting soaked. His emotions swung from grief to anger to confusion. He had just been trying to help Melb! At Garth’s request. Why hadn’t Garth helped him out? Why had Melb sat on the couch with that dumbfounded look on her face?

  He hardly noticed that his steps were becoming more difficult, his breathing more labored, his skin numb. Inside he felt so hot … so angry. He just kept plodding through the snow, one step after another, one thought pushing out another.

  Just make it home, he thought to himself as he waded through icy snow and forest brush. Soon, even his anger subsided, and he could concentrate on only one thought, which was putting one foot in front of the other. His body shivered uncontrollably.

  Just keep walking. Just keep walking. He repeated the phrase over and over in his mind, delirious, frigid.

  Ainsley was crying in the corner of the room, the reverend’s arm around one shoulder, her brother’s hand resting on her opposite arm. “I can’t believe this has happened.” Ainsley swiped at hot tears.

  The reverend said, “You can’t believe Wolfe did this.”

  “But nothing makes sense. How did Thief die? Who poisoned him? I’m so confused.” She crumpled into the reverend’s arms, sobbing. “I pray Wolfe is okay.”

  A commotion in the middle of the living room caused Ainsley to look up. Her father had reentered and was now making his way to the coffee table, where Thief again lay, at Melb’s insistence. Oliver had offered to pick up the cat and place him there. But poor Melb was apparently so mortified that she hadn’t moved from the couch and still sat in the exact same position as before, her legs pressed together, her arms and hands away from her lap as if the plague sat there.

  Her father was holding a blanket. “It’s time to say good-bye to Thief,” her father said gravely. “What a horrible day. How could this have happened?”

  Ainsley noticed Garth looked sick to his stomach, a fretful expression besetting his features. She guessed it was hard to see any animal die if you were a vet.

  Her father stood over the cat and shook his head, trying to find words to say. Ainsley moved to his side, but she couldn’t console her dad. She was too sad herself, for too many reasons.

  “Well, I’m not a man of fancy words,” the sheriff said softly, “so I guess all I can say is, good-bye, old friend. We’ll miss you.”

  And with that, he unfolded the blanket and started to put it over the cat, when the most surprising thing happened.

  “WWWWWWRRRRRREEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOWWWWWW!”

  The room filled with horrified screams as Thief came back to life with a roaring screech. He seemed to fly off the table without ever using his legs, and he landed smack dab in the middle of Melb’s lap. Fortunately for Melb, she was passed out cold on the couch, as were three other people at the site of this unlikely resurrection.

  Ainsley watched Thief jump around the room and shriek as though he was on speed. He pounced from one piece of furniture to another, causing those who were still conscious to scramble out of the way, screaming and flailing as if they were being
attacked.

  “It’s a miracle!” the reverend exclaimed, just as someone else yelled, “He’s possessed! Get outta the way!”

  Chaos reigned for many minutes before Thief finally settled down. He paced the room a few times, and then, without further ado, settled into his favorite recliner near the fire, where he yawned.

  Sheriff Parker’s hands were trembling. Ainsley rushed to him. “He’s alive! He’s alive!” she said, and her father smiled faintly, still in shock. Butch went to get him water, and everyone else, with trembling knees, either found a place to sit or tried to help those who were still passed out on the floor.

  Butch came back in and said, “In all my years of dangerous combat, I’ve never seen anything like that before!”

  Those who could find words just kept repeating how freaked out they were, or, if they were within the sheriff’s earshot, how happy they were that the cat was indeed alive.

  But dread fell over Ainsley. She looked up at her father. Her voice quivered. “Dad, what about Wolfe?”

  She slapped him upside the head as hard as she could. It did nothing more than annoy him, though, and he rubbed the spot and frowned at her.

  “What’d you do that for?” Garth asked.

  Missy Peeple, who’d steered him out of the chaos and into a quiet corner in the den said, “Keep your voice down!”

  “Don’t tell me what to do!”

  Miss Peeple studied Garth. He was sweating and nervous, and his stupidity was getting to be a huge liability. She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, which wasn’t hard since he hardly weighed more than feather. “Get a hold of yourself.”

  He didn’t say anything, which was a good sign.

  She let go of his shoulders. “What in the world happened in there? Why’s that cat alive?”

  “Because,” Garth breathed, “I didn’t kill it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m a vet. I have certain moral standards I have to live up to, you know.”

  Miss Peeple growled. “Well, good grief, what in the world did you think was going to happen when that cat came to?”

  Garth swallowed. “I hadn’t thought that far, I guess.”

  “You’re an idiot!” she scolded. “And don’t you think you could’ve done this town a favor by putting Romeo the cat out of his misery?”

  “Listen to me. I accomplished what I wanted to. Ainsley thinks Wolfe poisoned their cat, and she’s going to need a shoulder to cry on. That’s where I come in. I’ll be there for her, and she’ll see that I’m her perfect man.”

  His expression changed suddenly, and Missy noticed he wasn’t looking at her. She turned.

  It was Ainsley. Standing in the doorway. With her arms crossed.

  It took nearly five minutes for Garth Twyne to explain that he’d not poisoned Thief, but had simply given him a drug to slow down his heartbeat and make him unconscious. Ainsley watched with disgust as Garth fumbled his words, shoved his hands in and out of his pockets, and let his eyes dart around the room as if looking for someone who might feel compassion for him. There was no one.

  Ainsley grew so tired of his ramblings that she finally stood up and said, “I can’t believe you would do this and let Wolfe take the blame. Why?”

  His shoulders straightened, and he looked her directly in the eye. “Because I love you. And I wanted you to see what a terrible mistake you’re making by falling for a creep like Boo.”

  “A creep like Boo?” Ainsley’s voice rose an octave. “Wolfe would never poison a cat and blame someone else. This isn’t love, Garth. This is jealousy. Jealousy does crazy things to people! You’re sick, that’s what you are. Besides, you’re in love with Melb!”

  Melb, who was lying on the couch with her feet propped up on a pillow, swallowed hard as the color once again drained from her face.

  “Melb’s in love with Wolfe,” Garth said with exasperation.

  “What?”

  “We’re not in love with each other. We were just trying to”—he looked around sheepishly, then stared at the carpet—“break you up.”

  Ainsley gave Garth the harshest look she could. She was about to scold him again when she heard Oliver say, “I have something to confess too.”

  Ainsley turned to him. “What?”

  “I’ve been trying to, well, let’s just say I’ve been hoping Wolfe would go back to who he used to be before he found religion. Ainsley, my intentions were to break you two up as well.”

  Marlee said, “You’re in love with Ainsley too?”

  “No.” Oliver shifted his attention to Melb. “I’m in love with Melb.”

  Astonished “oohs!” were only superseded by Melb’s cry of surprise. Oliver explained. “I thought Garth and Melb were together, and if Ainsley and Wolfe broke up, I knew Garth would go after Ainsley, and then I could be with Melb. I’m sorry, Melb. That was horrible.”

  Melb was smiling. “You’re in love with me?”

  “For a long time. I’m sorry I didn’t have the guts to tell you sooner.”

  Oliver smiled longingly at Melb from across the room, and their exchange was admired by everyone until Mayor Wullisworth said, “I embezzled money. Okay?”

  “What?” the crowd gasped yet again.

  “A few years ago. I was in debt. I’ve almost paid it all back, right, Martin?”

  Martin’s face grew solemn, and his gaze shifted around the room.

  The sheriff said, “You knew about this?”

  Martin nodded, and the mayor said, “He was a good enough friend to let me pay it back, but an even better friend for confronting me. Martin’s a town treasurer everyone should be proud of.”

  Martin stepped forward. “But I’m not proud of how I’ve been acting. I, too, had ill intentions. I’ve been trying to break them up as well.”

  “You’re in love with Ainsley?” Garth nearly shouted.

  “No, no. I was afraid. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of, hoping to put our little town back in place. You see, I thought Ainsley was probably going to be the biggest influence in keeping Wolfe from going back to writing his books. And if he didn’t write his horror novels anymore, then Mr. Tennison was going to write his book about Skary, and then everyone would know about the mayor and how I covered up for him.” Martin hung his head.

  Alfred stepped forward. “There’s no book.”

  Martin and Mayor Wullisworth’s jaws dropped. “There’s not?”

  “No, it was just an excuse to stick around here and try to change Wolfe’s mind about becoming a Christian.”

  “There’s no book?” the mayor asked again.

  “No.”

  Ainsley noticed suddenly that nearly everyone’s attention had shifted to one person: Miss Missy Peeple. And the little old lady who had looked so feeble and frail moments before was now scowling at the group like a ferocious tiger.

  “Miss Peeple?” Ainsley said cautiously.

  She narrowed her eyes. “You all are so naive. Sitting in here, talking about your feelings. Getting things off your chest. Are you all going to feel good when Skary ceases to exist?”

  “That’s nonsense,” Ainsley said. “Our town was doing fine before he came.”

  “Oh? I remember a different version, I guess. I remember when Oliver had to file bankruptcy, when Mayor Wullisworth announced trash would be picked up only once every two weeks, when Marty over here was drinking himself into oblivion every time he did the books.”

  The room grew quiet.

  She continued. “All you people want to be so noble and kind and compassionate, but the truth of the matter is that Wolfe Boone, horror novelist, is the reason Skary exists at all, and the reason all of you are driving newer cars and living in nicer homes and spending the money in your pockets. Before he came we were a speck. We were nothing. Now we mean something. We’re known for something.”

  “But it was wrong,” said Oliver. “It was wrong of us to interfere with something like a man finding his faith. And you know what? I have to
say I’m inspired by Wolfe. Before, I was going to church every Sunday just because that’s what you did on Sunday. But I see a sparkle in Wolfe’s eye. I see something there I wish I had.”

  Martin nodded. “Talking to him today I realized his faith is genuine, that he genuinely loves God. That prayer he said at the table moved me.”

  All the guests but Missy eagerly agreed.

  Oliver said, “I was so adamant about finding out who witnessed to Boo. I don’t care who it is now. I’m just glad they did.”

  Mayor Wullisworth also chimed in. “I thought I could show Wolfe how hard the Christian faith could be. Instead, I’ve realized how much I need what he has.”

  “Throw around your religious words and feel better about yourselves,” Missy spat. “I’m the only one honest enough to call it the way it is, and if you don’t like it, that’s too bad.”

  “So you instigated all this?” Ainsley asked. “All this scheming was your idea?”

  “I had a little help from the pig cloner.”

  Ainsley looked at Garth, then felt her father’s hand on her shoulder. “I’ve made a terrible mistake,” he said. “I shouldn’t have blamed Wolfe.”

  “Dad, we have to get to his house. See if he’s okay. Please, we have to find a way.”

  “I agree.”

  Oliver stepped forward. “I’ve got a Hummer at the lot. If we can get over there, we can use it.”

  It took fifteen minutes to travel two miles in Oliver’s BMW. They had to have the group push the car out of the snow just to get out of the Parkers’ driveway, and after that they slid off the road twice. Oliver’s shirt was soaked through with nervous sweat when they arrived at his lot, and it didn’t help that Sheriff Parker was yelling instructions to Butch the whole time on how to drive in the snow.

  Oliver found the keys to the bright yellow Hummer. Oliver, Butch, Ainsley, Sheriff Parker, and Marty all hopped in. From Oliver’s office, Ainsley tried to phone Wolfe, but no one answered. It was five miles from the car lot to Wolfe’s house, and Ainsley’s heart pounded as she tried to think of the route Wolfe might have taken home. Perhaps he caught a ride from a lone soul brave enough to be out in this weather. Had he stayed on the streets or tried to cut through the trees?