Loup-Garou: The Beast of Harmony Falls (The Ian McDermott, Ph.D., Paranormal Investigator Series Book 1)

by David Reuben Aslin

  Ian grinned sheepishly, then with a slight sigh replied, “Yeah, well I had my time in the spotlight, I suppose. But Bud, that was a long time ago. I mean, make no mistake, I’m not saying that I don’t stay busy …” Ian was smiling, attempting to display sublime confidence regarding his past reputation and present aptitude to aid Sheriff Bud with his investigations. All the while, Ian knew he was about to cross the line from embellishments to lies. “But it’s true that I have attained a certain level of notoriety as an expert in my field, which is a field that covers many aspects. And it’s a big world with lots of unexplainable reports of strange or thought-to-be-extinct animal sightings around the globe. Keeps me very busy. I’m continuously on the move, traveling place to place. Fact is, the only reason that I accepted your invitation to check into things here for you is that it just so happens I’ve been actively researching the Big Foot phenomena throughout the Pacific Northwest and Northern California for the last several months. This seemed to fit with my ongoing investigations, and well, here I am at your service. For the fee we discussed previously, of course.”

  Bud looked Ian over, then winked a sly wink back at him. “Of course, don’t expect a man of your prestige and notoriety to work pro-bono.”

  They both laughed, becoming more relaxed with one another. It would have been clear to any third party that right from the start, they somehow shared a respect of one another.

  During a fractional moment of silence, their mutual admiration was interrupted by a gray-bearded elderly gentlemen dressed in street vagabond attire, including the customary Vietnam vintage soldier jacket. The man was seated against the wall, slouched over an empty glass, poised as if he were a fixture of the place. Over the years, that was nearly what he’d become. But this fixture could speak, though he did so rarely. Mainly to beg for liquid scraps from the occasional tourist or more commonly from local patrons of the establishment.

  “You that Big Foot hunter feller people be talking ‘bout?”

  The tattered man, who had lost most of the mobility of his left leg due to shrapnel received from a North Vietnamese anti-personnel mine, glared with a care-worn, liver-spotted face first at Ian, then the sheriff, then back at Ian.

  “I seen him. I seen the Big Foot. ‘Cept he ain’t no ape-man like what people say. People say he be more scared of them than they be of him. Bullshit! The Big Foot ain’t scared of nothing!”

  The old vagabond was talking in spurts, often too loud or too soft to be readily understood. To make matters worse, he was moderately intoxicated and slurring his already heavily-accented words.

  “It ain’t like they say. No mistaken reared-up bear or such. The Big Foot be Loup-garou. Say, that’s all ya get from me fer free, hey city feller. Mister big-time scientist. You a monster hunter? You come prepared to battle the monster? ‘Cause if ya ain’t, you best hightail it back to where ya came. The name’s Fournier. Tom Fournier. I seen that monster what folks call the Big Foot and lived to tell about it. Tell ya all about it if’n ya buy me a Wild Turkey straight-up.”

  Ian looked over at Bud and spoke just above a whisper for Bud’s ears only. “I could be mistaken, but doesn’t that old timer have an Acadian accent? Fournier. He’s French. Cajun?”

  Bud grinned and replied, “Very perceptive of you, Ian. I can see you’re a man who takes note. Yep, we got a lot of descendants of the French settled in these parts. Most came down here by way of the fur trade from Canada. Some came up from Louisiana when logging and saw-mill jobs were plentiful. Ancestors originated from Quebec. France before that. This area, like so many places, has our little immigrant concentrations. Across the Columbia over in Clatskanie, Oregon, mostly Fins over there. And we got areas with German towns and such. Fact is, we got …”

  At that instant, the side door of the bar burst open, interrupting Bud mid-sentence. There in the doorway stood a man in the same uniform that Sheriff Bud sported, but this man was obviously a Native American with long, ebony hair in a ponytail that had a smattering of gray. Ian immediately made the man to be around six foot one or two in his late thirties or early forties. The figure stood in the doorway proudly with shoulders back. Equally obvious was his excited, urgent demeanor.

  In a deep, husky voice, the officer called out to the sheriff as he removed his dark, wire-rimmed sunglasses. It had taken Ian a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the dim bar, but the officer knew exactly where the sheriff would be.

  “Bud, you need to finish up what you got or take er with ya. We got to roll. We got an anonymous call telling us … Well, I’ll tell ya about it outside.”

  Bud called to the girl behind the counter, “Sally, tell your mom to wrap them sandwiches to go, and please be quick about it. We’ve got to get a move on straightaway. Duty calls!”

  Sally headed back to the kitchen and helped her mom get the sheriff’s order ready to go. She nearly ran out from the kitchen, brown bag in hand.

  “Here Bud, Mom’s put you and your friend here’s lunch on your tab. Oh no, I forgot your pie.”

  Bud looked kindly at Sally. “Now gal, don’t you fret about that. Me and Ian here, we’ll be back soon enough to enjoy some of your mom’s pie.” He took the lunch bag from Sally, turned to Ian and said, “Come on, Ian, let’s get out of here and hear what’s got my deputy all fired up.”

  The three stood next to one another for a moment inside the doorway to the side parking lot.

  Sheriff Bud said, “Ian, let me introduce you to my deputy, Charlie Redtail. He’s my Tonto, so to speak.”

  All three men grinned slightly at Bud’s attempted levity.

  Ian held out his hand to the deputy. “Ian McDermott.”

  With a guarded smile, the deputy shook Ian’s hand and replied, “Charlie Redtail. Hmm. Ian McDermott, I’ve heard about you. You were famous once, right?”

  Ian didn’t answer. He just gave Charlie a small, reluctant grin. He wasn’t sure if he’d just been praised or insulted. By the tone of the deputy’s voice, it was probably the latter.

  The three men then exited the bar. Charlie Redtail, still in an excited state, stared suspiciously up and down at Ian as he spoke. “Bud, can we talk shop in front of this man?”

  Bud smiled and nodded. “Yes sir, Charlie. We got us a real bona-fide expert here. As I explained to you yesterday … Ian is here, by my invitation, to observe and no doubt do a little snooping around on his own as well I suspect. Anyhow, he’s here to give us his take on things. We’re gonna share any pertinent information with him that we got relating to what’s been going on. Now that said, what in hell’s going on?”

  With assurance from Bud, Charlie told both men what was burning his tongue.

  “Bud, back at the office, Jenny took a call about ten minutes ago from an anonymous male. The caller told her there are bodies of a man and woman at the north end of the lava tubes. That’s all he told her before hanging up.”

  Bud looked at Charlie as he began swiftly marching to his car. “Come on, Ian, you ride with me. I’ll drop ya by here later to get your vehicle, which I’m guessing is that Jeep sitting over there by its lonesome.” Bud nodded towards the Jeep. Ian smiled and nodded back to Bud. “Charlie, we’ll meet ya up at the tubes. Mind ya, flash them lights and blast yer siren. Let’s get there double-quick.”

  Ian climbed into the passenger seat of Bud’s late model Chevy Blazer. Charlie Redtail got in his well-worn Chevy Malibu. In an instant, the tires of both automobiles were tearing up the gravel as they sped out of the parking lot.

  Chapter 4

  Lava Tubes

  Racing up the roadway at nearly ninety miles an hour, the two Sheriff’s Department vehicles sped with their lights flashing and sirens blaring.

  “Say Ian, I see a ring on yer wedding finger. You got a little woman tucked away somewhere? Any kids?”

  Ian replied in a soft monotone voice with a blank expression on his face, “Once … She died. They’re both dead. My wife Janet and my daughter Sue Ann. They died in a car accident a couple
years back. Just can’t get out of the habit of wearing this old wedding band. The ole finger feels naked without it. How ‘bout you, Bud, you married? Happens I noticed a ring on your finger as well.”

  “Ian, you’d make a fine detective. Seems we’re both widowers. Lost my lovely wife, God rest her soul, three years ago to cancer of the female parts. It ate her up bit by bit. In the end, there wasn’t much of her body or mind left to eat. Then, when she finally went, well, she was gone, and I was alone. We never had kids. My wife … May was her name. She didn’t have a fertile womb. Something ‘bout an incompetent cervix or some such thing. Anyways, there ain’t a day goes by I don’t miss her something terrible. I can’t bring myself to take the damn ring off neither. It’s my memory of the good times I suppose. Ain’t we a pair?”

  Ian glanced over at Bud just for a second then replied, “Yeah, ain’t we a pair.” As they sped up the road, they both sighed and shared a moment of reverent silence, honoring their individual attempts at repressing memories they both knew were too painful to dwell on.

  Bud cleared his throat then proceeded to change the subject. “Say Ian, back at Gracie’s, the old timer that was talking. He’s a regular, you know. Every place has its town drunk. Anyway, he said something. Something like Big Foot ain’t no bear. It’s a guru or some such.”

  Ian smiled and chuckled just a bit as he shook his head. “No Bud, he didn’t say guru. That’s like a yoga instructor or … No, what he said was Garou ...”

  Bud replied the second Ian had said the word …

  “Garou, Guru, they sound to me pretty much the same. Okay, what in hell’s a Garou …?”

  Being a cryptozoologist, Ian knew the answer to Bud’s question; although the answer even to Ian was … crazy. But Ian decided crazy or not, he’d answer as best he could …

  “Garou, as in Loup-garou, the French word for a mythological, anthropomorphic, wolf-like creature.”

  Bud interrupted, “Anthropomorphic? Hmm, big word. Man, just spit it out. Yer talking ‘bout a monster, a werewolf. The Indian folk ‘round here, they call that sort of superstitious nonsense shape-shifting or some such shit.”

  A drawn-out uncomfortable silence settled between the two men. A silence that was finally broken when Ian replied with a sly grin, “Yeah, that’s right, Bud. Werewolf!” Both men laughed.

  Bud sighed. “Ian, when we get up to the tubes—supposing this weren’t a crank call—you can identify skeletal remains or such if need be … I mean if the bodies are say without clothes and are heavily chewed-on by some of our local wild life?”

  Ian smiled shallowly. “Yeah Bud, I’m trained to do that should it be necessary.”

  Bud cleared his throat. “On the outside chance there are bodies up there, can you tell me if they are victims of natural deaths or, well, foul play or such?”

  Ian replied quickly, “Maybe, Bud.”

  Bud glanced over at Ian to better read his body language.

  “Yeah, well, if foul play turns out to be the case, I’d be notifying crime scene investigations out of Vancouver anyhow, along with dozens of calls and mountains of paperwork regardless of type of death. Could mean a massive manhunt, though. Well, it’s all speculation until we get there. Like my daddy used to tell me, “Don’t get the cart before the horse.” If there are bodies up there, poor folks probably got lost and exposure got ‘em, er injuries or such.”

  Ian took a deep breath and nodded his head in agreement.

  Chapter 5

  Ape Caves

  “Well, look what we have here,” Bud said to Ian as he glanced into his rearview mirror.

  Ian turned as far as his seat belt would allow to see what had caught Bud’s attention.

  Neither Bud nor Ian spoke another word for one extended moment. Then Ian said, “Channel Thirteen news van. Hmm. Bud, it looks like we’ve got company.”

  Bud took a deep breath then let out an equally large, irritated sigh. “Yeah, that’s that news lady who’s been a big pain in my ass. She’s persistent, I give her that. The woman’s been crawling up my backside further than undershorts with worn-out elastic.”

  Charlie Redtail, the first to arrive at the Mount St. Helen’s lava tubes, better known to the locals as the Ape Caves, rapidly exited his car and unlocked and pulled back the gate, which had boldly posted on it:

  Warning:

  This Area Closed Until Further Notice

  Unsafe/Unstable Conditions

  Harmony Falls Sheriff’s Department

  Charlie got back into his car. The vehicles driven by Bud O’Brien and Tom Iverson, the mobile cameraman for investigative reporter Miss Marsha Steward, pulled into the parking lot.

  Bud took another deep breath as he parked alongside his deputy. He then got a very serious look on his face as he exhaled and looked at Ian. “We had to shut this area down. The tubes I mean. A few days before them hikers went missing round these parts, Miss St. Helen had a bad case of indigestion. Caused some of the cave siding to give way. Still a bit unstable down in there, the geologists tell me.”

  Ian smiled at Bud and replied, “By indigestion, I take it there was a significant seismic event, right?”

  “Yeah, Ian, that’s right. A significant seismic event, as in a pretty good shake-n-bake earthquake. But not really much more than what normally happens around these parts now and again. Far as this place and it being shut down, well, sometimes you get lucky. This area being shut down made it a whole lot easier to keep the onlookers away during our initial sweeps of the area looking for that missing young couple. But of course, they like others managed to pack on in regardless of postings or roadblocks. I really don’t think we’re gonna find anything here. It’s been searched and searched good. Even had dogs up here sniffing about. All sorts of law enforcement involved, yours truly included. Rescue teams and the like. We concentrated our efforts about four miles from here as the crow flies. Up at Little Merwin and the falls. Seen evidence of someone setting up camp there, but that could have been anybody. Well, guess it won’t hurt us none to have another look-see I suppose. Since that anonymous caller, who knows? Mind you now Ian, you’re here by my invitation, so I trust you’ll stay as far from that television lady or any media folks as you can. If, or when, they do get you cornered, you say, ‘No comment,’ to their questions and keep marching as far from them as your feet will take ya. We clear on that?”

  “Yeah Bud, we’re crystal on that. I’ve had plenty of unpleasant experiences with the media.”

  Bud smiled and the two exited Bud’s Blazer and joined Charlie, who was standing at the rear of their vehicle. Charlie was anxious to discuss with Bud where they should look first for bodies, and he too was stressing a bit regarding the sudden presence and potential scrutiny of the media. With an affected, smart-alecky tone to his voice, Charlie said, “Bud, I see you’ve invited your girlfriend.”

  Bud took his sheriff’s cap off his head and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He replied with irritation, “Okay, Chief Talks-a-lot, here’s what we’re gonna do.” He paused long enough to open the rear hatchback of his Blazer, then reached in and brought out a couple of two-way radios. Bud handed one to Charlie and began to explain his plan to both Charlie and Ian.

  “We’re gonna have to keep in touch via walky-squawky. Cell phones are no good up here. No reception.”

  Ian had known from the beginning that beneath Bud’s good-ole-boy exterior beat the heart of a true law enforcement professional. Bud had his game face on.

  “All right gents, this is how we’re gonna play it. Charlie, you and Ian are gonna fan out in different directions …” Bud took care to point in every direction except that of the entrance to the lava-tube caves. “Now, once you’re out of sight from here, you’re gonna double back and rendezvous with each other down yonder at the cave entrance. Go on in and have a look-see.” Bud was waving his arms all around as he spoke, mainly intent on creating a little theater, perhaps create some misdirection to the peering eyes of his media nemesis, Marsha S
teward. Marsha had already bounded out of her news van, motioning instructions to her cameraman to zoom in on Bud, Charlie, and Ian to hopefully catch wind of what they were up to.

  Bud motioned with his eyes to a pair of flashlights that were lying in the trunk of his Blazer. Charlie and Ian stealthily retrieved and stuffed them into their pockets, carefully keeping their actions out of sight of the media. Flashlights would have made a statement loud and clear that they were going into the caverns. Charlie closed the Blazer’s hatchback, took a deep breath, and nodded to the sheriff.

  Bud smiled at them for taking his cues and continued explaining his plan. “All right then, gents. We’re gonna play a little Three-card Monte with our little media gal and her camera jockey. I’ll run interference. I’m gonna walk right up to ‘em and start chirping like a little bird about this and about that, giving you time to give the main cave a start at a good once-over. Now Ian, that there lava tube cave over yonder is the big one, the granddaddy size-wise of the tubes. That’s as good a start as any. The other couple of caves are tiny by comparison. The big one is around three miles long, so be prepared for a little hike. We don’t call em the Ape Caves for nothing. You need to be some kind of monkey to climb around in some of ‘em. Now mind you both: Since that earthquake, there’s a lot of fallen rock, and some of the otherwise easygoing … well, now … it might not be so easy. You may have to climb up and down hill and dell inside there. Be damn careful. But I want every square inch looked over best ya can. We’ll worry about the smaller caverns later on. Am I understood?”