The Howliday Inn

by Zoey Kane

  Zoey thought of Clifford and their run-in with him last night. She said, “If you mean our car being chased down by a wild man that howls, then yes, Mayor, you are right.”

  Jack’s smile broadened. “Oh, I see you already met one of Rottenwood’s people.”

  “Rottenwood’s?” Claire asked. “No, he’s the uncle of Moonshadow Inn’s manager. He stays at the lodge, I thought.”

  Jack nodded. “Oh, right. I do know Clifford. The uncle of Dean Martin, and yes, that’s his name. Kinda looks like him with a mustache, don’t you think? Well, anyway,” he said, “Dean would fire him and throw the old man out if he could, but the Inn is in Clifford’s name because Clifford co-signed the Inn’s loan.”

  “Goodness.” Zoey took a sip of her orange-spice tea and said, “Now you have me intrigued. But tell us what you meant about Rottenwood.”

  The man rubbed his upper lip, a twinkle in his blue-gray eyes. They could tell he liked the opportunity to explain. “Okay,” he said. “The cult that lives over there is lycanthrope.”

  Zoey chuckled. “Really? Does everybody run into each other in the moonlight?”

  “I’m surprised you know the term,” he complimented. “Not many normal people outside our community do.”

  Claire explained with a wry smile, “Mom likes werewolf romances. She’s a fan of most any romance, really.”

  Zoey’s cheeks flushed a bit, but she smiled big all the same.

  Jack teasingly stretched his neck with an exuberant “Owwooo.”

  “Are you trying to seduce me? Because it’s only slightly working,” she teased back.

  He gave a hearty laugh and said, “Well, I can assure you that none of those down Rottenwood would tickle your fancy. They’re not like that long-haired dude in Twilight. These guys are creepy. Unless you’re into inbreds that fall off their dilapidated couches, biting their butt fleas.” He laughed again. “Okay, I’m exaggerating, slightly.”

  “I take it,” Zoey said, “they don’t see you as their mayor de facto?”

  “No, no. But I do have a certain pass with them. I do a lot of handyman jobs for them. It adds to the wallet, too, you know. I never put aside the chance to make more money. When I see an opportunity, I take it.”

  “Speaking of being handy,” Zoey said, “we saw they have an interest in making some repairs. You know, taking off the old and putting on the new. So that seems like good news for the area.”

  “Yes, it’s actually about time. These cultists have squatted in those abandoned buildings for far too long without making any upgrades.” He paused in a moment of thought.

  “So what is it you do as the honorary mayor?” Zoey asked.

  “I’m known as a friendly neighbor who helps organize. So I have meetings with our voluntary officers. They make sure Lanternwood keeps the peace with Rottenwood. We don’t want rampaging tempers to impede on our dear neighbors’ right to be different.” He smiled again.

  “So does this werewolf cult have a charismatic leader?”

  “Sort of.” The mayor pushed a finger down on the table, underscoring his next statement with a lower tone of respect. “They all meet in the old church to discuss their beliefs. Lowe heads the meeting, but everyone listens to each other to judge whether anything of value is said. They usually do agree with each other.”

  Jack’s breakfast of biscuits and gravy soon came, and they all got busy eating. Claire cut into her buttermilk pancake as he peppered his plate. Testing the man’s sanity, she said, “I hear a lot of howling around here at night. Any chance of a real were—”

  “Werewolf? Why, yes!”

  This caused the mother and daughter to pause their eating and give Jack Jude their surprised attention.

  “…Clifford over at the Howliday Inn,” he laughed.

  “All righty, gotcha,” said Zoey.

  “Point taken,” Claire agreed.

  Jack finished laughing. “As the owner’s nephew, Dean has given everyone notice that if they find the ol’ guy howling, to bring him back to the hotel… If they can catch him. Everyone knows him. When there’s no full moon, he is reasonably sane and likable.” He forked a bit of biscuit soaked with white gravy.

  Zoey took another sip of her herb tea. “Well, Clifford said to us last night he knows a secret, ‘a big one.’ What do you know about that?”

  “Ravings of a lunatic, quite literally, I suspect.” The mayor chuckled. “Anyway,” he changed the subject. “I was just thinking—I have a little ranch set back a ways on Rottenwood Road, deeper in the forest—”

  “No kidding!” Claire interjected.

  “Yeah, Rottenwood puts up with me driving through their village. But, what I was thinking is, if you two want to ride horses, I could take you into the abandoned logging camp.”

  “What’s the logging camp?” Zoey asked.

  “It’s a forest clearing from the early 1900s, hosting its old lumber mill and some basically fallen-down cabins.”

  “I think we’d like that.” Claire smiled. “Wouldn’t we, Mom?”

  “Yes!” That definitely piqued Zoey's interest; she always took a chance to rummage around what could at first be perceived as junk. “I’ll bring a camera.”

  “Good! I’ll pick you two up at, say, ten o’clock this morning at the hotel?”

  “So soon?” Claire was surprised.

  “Sounds like fun. We’ll do it.” Zoey was all smiles and eager for the adventure. But as they walked back to their car, Zoey asked, “Do you think he’ll actually show up?”

  “He is the de facto mayor, Mom.”

  *

  The two felt stuffed from breakfast as they hurriedly changed into sturdy comfortable jeans, plain tees, and all-terrain boots. Claire opted for dazzling gold hoop earrings. She pulled her hair back into a smooth ponytail, which complimented her forehead and classic good looks.

  They waited at the glass entry doors to see the mayor, and at ten o’clock exactly Jack Jude didn’t disappoint, pulling up in a green Jeep. They lifted their backpacks over one shoulder and headed toward the vehicle. Seeing a dog in the front seat next to the mayor, the two opened the back doors and slid in.

  “Hi, ladies.” He once again had a big happy smile. They were starting to realize why his restaurant was named Smiley Jack’s.

  “German shepherd?” asked Zoey as she positioned herself for the ride.

  Claire was snapping her seat belt as he answered. “No. I found him as a wolf cub and I’ve been taking care of him ever since. He comes and goes on his own.”

  “Wow, purebred,” Zoey said. “That’s wonderful. And he isn’t cranky or nippy or anything?” She was thinking that wolves weren’t exactly domestic animals.

  “Actually, he’s very social. At least when he knows you are my friends. Not so much with others. He won’t trust them. I think it’s better that way.” Jack pulled out of the hotel drive, and they were on their way. “It’s safer for Ranger here to be wary of people.”

  “I get that,” concluded Claire. “I’m sure a lot of people are intimidated by your pet.”

  Zoey nodded. “I see you’ve got an I.D. tag around his neck.”

  “Hopefully, if someone sees it, it would deter them from taking any shots at him.” Jack talked looking back in the rearview mirror at the two. Once in a while, the mayor glanced back toward Zoey in the mirror without talking.

  It was a little unnerving, so Zoey watched the landscape from her window. Pretty soon, the crunching of gravel and dipping of the car into mud puddles alerted the two that they were entering Rottenwood’s village for the second time that day.

  “Do you want us to duck down so no one sees you with us?” asked Zoey.

  Jack laughed. “They’re just gonna have to get over themselves. No ducking!”

  A man came running up to the window, and their host rolled it down to see what the guy wanted. It turned out to be the handsome auburn-haired man. He shot a look in and saw the Kanes in the back seat. Claire gave him a two-finger salute
from the eyebrow and a bit of a smile.

  “Jack,” he said, “there was another killing last night. Jess Egger said it was his favorite goat. Most of it was eaten.”

  “Okay, alert everyone to put their animals in the barn and lock it down until we find what’s doing all of this.” Jack turned to say, “Ladies, have you met one of the town’s most notable citizens in your drive-by today—Noble Carson?”

  “Yes, we’ve met,” answered Claire casually.

  “You know each other?” Noble leaned his strong forearms into the open window, suspicion still in his eyes.

  Ranger watched, ears forward and eyes moving back and forth between the back seat and the open window. A low growl rolled forth, his eyes fixed on the intruder. Noble stood back up, taking the wolf’s hint.

  Jack said lightheartedly, “Yeah, they’re with me. Good people.”

  Claire immediately reached a hand forward without fear of being bitten and stroked the neck of the wolf. “Oh, good boy! You are wonderful. You are sooo wonderful.” Ranger gave a couple of licks to his upper lip, as if acknowledging that he indeed did a good job.

  Noble flashed a glance at Claire before stepping back away from the truck.

  Jack resumed driving without saying goodbye. After going down the worn and winding road a ways, the view opened up to an impressive ranch, very modern and clean. It was painted white and red, and had a lovely front porch with hanging flowers. “Beautiful,” exclaimed Claire. “What do you raise here?”

  “The silence of breezes, the beauty of landscapes. Peace.” In the rearview mirror, Jack’s face had a satisfied, faraway gaze. Then he came back to the present and said, “I control my entire environment. Love it!”

  “Except for storms, I imagine,” quipped Zoey.

  He smiled. “Ya gotta love those.” He turned off the engine and opened a back door for them to exit. “Well, let me show you around.”

  He took the ladies through his living room, with a gorgeous, rock fireplace, into the kitchen with its stainless-steel brilliance, and down the hall past a few bedrooms. One room, an office, had the door only partially open. Claire pushed it wider, revealing files, a couple of tables, and some glass bottles of various shapes. She would have liked to have seen more, but Jack rather jumped over her to close the door.

  “Oops,” he said. “Messy room.”

  “Sorry, Jack.”

  “Oh, no problem, Claire. I’m trying to make a good impression on you two. That room would ruin everything. That’s where I stack up the bodies.”

  FOUR

  Jack left them sitting on the porch’s wicker couch as he went to saddle up horses. He told the Kanes he didn't want them to go with him because the stables were “stinky.” No bother. It gave them a chance to take in the beautiful landscape he had been talking about.

  “This is actually picture-perfect,” Claire said, scanning a nearby natural meadow surrounded by pine trees, fresh air rustling through their needles.

  Zoey agreed, pointing, “Great cloud formations! There’s a bunny biting a bearded old man on the back of his neck. See it?”

  “Oh yeah, a werebunny.” Changing the subject, Claire asked, “Do you see any real squirrels anywhere? On a fence, maybe?”

  Zoey started giggling. “You mean that growling one right there? With claws, narrowed eyes, breathing heavily, and glaring at us?”

  Claire chuckled behind her hand. “Cut it out. Don’t you know squirrels are sacrosanct?” She was about to smile at her own comment, but something surprising caught her attention. A man in the distance, watching them. “Mom! Look there, over by that leaning pine tree.” She discreetly pointed with her chin.

  “What?” Zoey looked but to no avail. The man had disappeared.

  “It was Noble. He’s the one I was teasing when we first drove into Rottenwood. Remember? On the boardwalk? At least I think it was him. You know, tall, good-looking and sullen?”

  “Well, whoever it was, he’s not there now.” Zoey continued peering.

  “He seemed to be watching us.” Claire peered, too. “It gave me a scare, believe it or not.”

  “Shake it off, sweetie.” Zoey patted her daughter’s back. “There’s nothing there now.”

  It wasn’t too long before Jack was back, riding a fat, older-looking dapple gray mare. He was leading two tall bay horses who were immediately interested in knowing who the ladies were; their heads swung around, their dark eyes looking at the duo, ears forward.

  “Ladies, I’d like you to meet the twins, Lance and Ivan.” He led them closer. “I’m riding Grandma Pepper.”

  Claire asked, “That wouldn’t be Lancelot and Ivanhoe, would it? I have a bookish side to me.”

  “The very same.” He grinned.

  “I confess,” she added, her hands stuffed in the back jeans pockets, “I don’t know of a Grandma Pepper.”

  “See the peppered dots on this mare?” He brushed some fur with a hand. “That means she’s a dapple gray. And it’s how she got her name, too.”

  “Of course.” Claire nodded good-naturedly.

  “I coulda told you that, honey.” Zoey pet the horse gently across its cheek.

  Claire turned to her with a smile. “I forget you know so much about horses.”

  “Kids grow up and somehow forget their mom knows everything.” Zoey winked.

  “Uh-huh…” Claire playfully nudged her.

  They excitedly mounted up to head to the ghost logger camp. Their horses stepped through overgrown brush, hooves crackling the dry pine needles and occasionally snapping twigs. They soon found the logger’s mill was basically a longhouse stuffed to the rafters with large old logs. Nearby were a couple of dilapidated cabins and some tilting lean-tos. A once-functioning well was now falling into itself. And sitting across from a large rock was a split log meant to be a sign; in time, however, its carved words had taken on rot. “Stiles Logging” was only a whisper of what it used to be.

  “What led to this place being abandoned?” Claire wanted to know as they approached.

  “It was a logger’s camp,” Jack said, slowing his horse and steering her between theirs. “The job ran out and the people left.”

  “I’d like to know why the road is called Rottenwood,” declared Zoey.

  “I was wondering when someone would ask me that question.” Jack's gray-blue eyes were intense. “It’s a secret.”

  “A secret?” Claire said. That was a word she’d heard a couple of times already.

  “Yes. It’s a secret because nobody knows. Sorry.” Jack’s face lightened. He shifted his weight in the saddle. The old horse kept a steady pace. He led them to a tree where they tied their horses up. “Have fun lookin’ around, but remember the structures’ wood is in bad shape. Be careful.” He handed each of them an LED flashlight, and said he would stay with the horses.

  “Okay,” the Kanes said, and off they went, looking at everything. The two, having walked the perimeter once, decided to go into the sagging cabins at the far end. At the last cabin, Zoey decided to push the half-open door a little wider. It smelled dank, like wet moss. The flashlight lit everything up, even the dirt sifted down from the rafters. She stepped carefully around. She wished she had a surgeon’s mask because what looked like black mold deep in the corners.

  Claire followed her in. Two spots of light now danced across the inside of the cabin. Claire’s light landed above the door. “Mom, look at this.”

  Zoey turned around. A sequence of letters slightly faded by the passage of time was etched into one of the wall’s logs: TLAM SUOHBEVLIS. She said, “I don’t get it. Is it some sort of code?”

  Zoey loved puzzles. “I’d like to think it’s something important.” She flashed her light around the walls in search. “It’s the only etching,” she said. “And it’s so high up. It must have a special meaning.” Claire handed her flashlight to her mom to type the words into her phone’s Notes app.

  Something hit the wall from the outside, sounding heavier than a pine cone. C
laire and Zoey went outside to peek behind the cabin to see what it might be. A man in a crumpled hat and outdoor gear was sweeping the grounds with a metal detector. The device started to beep when Claire startled the man by saying “Hi.”

  “Hi,” greeted Zoey.

  He turned in surprise. The hint of a five-o’clock shadow on his baby face told them he was at least old enough to have graduated from high school. “What? I mean, hi. I wasn’t doing anything. I’m just—I’m just having some fun.”

  “Mm-hm,” Claire hummed. That was the expression, and those were the words, of the guilty. But guilty of what? Scouring an old rotten village for some rusted bottle caps?

  His intense blue eyes wildly studied them for a moment. “I actually know who you two are,” he said. “I was in the diner when you were there.”

  Claire remembered. He was the strange young man a table over, sitting by himself, looking like he didn’t belong to either community. “Really?” said Zoey, playing dumb. “What did you have for breakfast?”

  “Hot oatmeal with cream and brown sugar, wheat toast, marmalade, and a fruit bowl.”

  “Claire, that doesn’t sound sinister to me.” Zoey smiled, returning her attention to him. “So what are you doing?”

  He turned off his detector. “I’m just looking for… artifacts… that might tell me there’s truth to the rumor that there’s werewolves around here.”

  Zoey nodded. “You mean like a silver dagger?”

  A sheepish blush crept up his neck. “Well, I don’t know.”

  “Well, there are werewolves around here.”

  His eyes opened wide with hope.

  Claire pointed over a shoulder with a thumb. “That would be Clifford, from what the locals refer to as The Howliday Inn.”

  His face dropped. “I know about him. Not funny. I’m looking for the real McCoy. I stay at the Moonshadow Inn too. I’m a paranormal detective,” he said with pride.

  “No kidding,” said Claire. “What’s your name?”

  “Stewart, but you can call me Stewart.”

  The ladies shared a look.