Shadow of the Moon: A Fantasy of Love, Murder and Werewolves

by Kwen Griffeth

  The woman did not move nor change expressions as Andee placed the bags on the ground in front of the woman. Miranda circled the car and stopped adjacent to the pair.

  “Auntie Gennie, I’d like to introduce Special Agent Andee Trakes of the FBI. Andee, this is my aunt Gennadiya Lloyd.”

  Andee extended her hand and said, “Mrs. Lloyd? I hope I’m not intruding.”

  The woman hesitated, then reached to take it. She offered a cautious smile as she said, “Welcome to my home.”

  Her voice was controlled, like the woman. It was full without being deep.

  “It’s my pleasure to be here. I hadn’t intended to intrude, in fact, my office had secured me lodging at a motel.”

  “Nonsense,” the woman said. “If you stayed at a motel, how would I have met the woman who, according to Miranda, is going to steal my Alwyn’s heart?”

  Andee blushed, and then stuttered, “I’ve said no such thing. Why would you think that?”

  She looked from woman to woman, in turn. Miranda giggled as she watched the agent’s discomfort. Gennadiya studied her, allowing no emotion to pass through her cool exterior.

  The woman allowed a grin, which she shared with Andee, and then she turned to Miranda, “Come, mischievous one, help our guest to her room.”

  She turned back to Andee, saying, “You are welcome to stay as long as you’d like.” Then she turned away and returned to the house.

  “How could you say that about me?”

  Miranda lifted the bigger of the bags and laughed at her new friend.

  “I just call them as I see them. There’s going to be fireworks between Alwyn and you.”

  Andee took the bag that remained and followed Miranda into the house.

  “Please stop this silliness,” she said, “I’m here to gather information to hopefully help solve a homicide. I’m not here to find a husband or to make new friends. I’m here on government business.”

  The women had reached a landing on the stairwell. Miranda stopped, lowered the bag and turned to Andee, who was behind her.

  “Look, I love my uncle, but he’s all wrapped up in his work and his position. He needs a strong woman to shake him up a bit. You know, a woman who can throw him off his game a little. I nominate you. Deal with it.”

  She turned back, picked up the suitcase and continued up the stairs.

  Andee’s room was on the third floor and overlooked the rear of the house. It was a simple room, surrounded by white wainscoting to almost waist high and above that, the walls were a pale shade of blue. Andee smiled, as the shade could almost be Carolina blue. The furniture was white ironwork and consisted of a day bed, and vanity table with seat. It could have been the room for an adolescent girl.

  Not quite directly beneath her was a single story, flat-roofed extension that she thought could only be a screened in porch. She hadn’t seen it, but imagined it with white wicker furniture almost buried by multi-colored throw pillows. She smiled. The stability of white wicker would be the Gennie effect, the multi-colored pillows could only be the influence of Miranda.

  She watched two small boys, nephews she surmised, charge from the house and chase through an English-style garden, the paths bordered by continuous growth of hedges. The intersections of the walkways were circular and centered by round spot gardens built by blocks and containing a variety of flowers. Hummingbirds congregated at several feeders. Screaming, laughing and yelling to each other, they were pint-sized tornados as they whirled about the plants. Three adolescent girls, all wearing sun hats that each matched their dresses, followed the boys, but at a leisurely pace, their heads close together and undoubtedly sharing secrets. Andee wondered if she had tripped and fallen into a Merchant and Ivory production.

  She watched the girls and smiled. Was she looking at the future for her and Miranda?

  Past the garden stood a small orchard, the trees in neat planned rows, easily discerned to be planted by men. Maybe Alwyn planted them as a young man. She imagined him helping, digging the holes, placing the trees, shoveling dirt. She saw him with his shirt off, sweat glistening from his developing shoulders, shoulders that were already broad and strong but not full grown. In her mind, she saw him bend and reach for a water jug and then turn it on himself, allowing the water to cascade down his body. She liked the image, and because she liked it, she felt embarrassed.

  “Girl,” she muttered to herself, “you better get a grip.”

  Further past the orchard grew a forest of mixed evergreen and deciduous trees. She welcomed the balance of a manicured garden close to the wildness of nature. She smiled as she recognized the contrast of the Lloyd estate. The organization of rows of trees contrasted against the hodgepodge of nature grown free. Uniform wicker with a patchwork of throw pillows, wild running boys and sedate whispering girls. Her smile grew. She liked this place.

  The door burst open, and Andee whirled to face it, by reflex reaching a hand to her hip. Miranda stood just inside the bedroom.

  “Just wanted to let you know dinner will be at around six-thirty. It’s…” she looked at her watch, “Just after five. There’s a full bath two doors down the hall. You can shower, if you want, or just freshen up. Whatever. You’ll want to dress nice for dinner.”

  The redhead stopped and studied the agent who stood in a half crouch, her hand on her hip reaching for a gun that she had earlier laid on the bed.

  The women stared at each other, then Miranda started to laugh.

  “What were you going to do? Shoot me?” she asked.

  Andee relaxed and shook her head.

  “I know this is but a loaned room, but is knocking not allowed?” she said.

  Miranda dismissed the comment with a wave.

  “You weren’t paying attention. Dinner is in roughly ninety minutes. You need to get dressed.”

  Andee squawked when Miranda opened the carry-on bag and started to unpack. Taken aback and her objections ignored, Andee watched as the other woman wrinkled her nose at the clothes the agent brought.

  “The only thing you have in here are slacks and shirts. Were you not planning to eat while on this trip? None of this will do for dinner.”

  “Yes, I planned to eat,” Trakes defended herself. “Pizza delivered to a motel room doesn’t care what I wear while eating it.”

  Miranda turned to face Andee.

  “Pizza consumed in a motel room?” The woman shuttered. “That’s just gross.”

  Miranda shook her head and gave a small wave of surrender as she again looked at the clothes scattered on the bed.

  “None of this will do for dinner,” she repeated. “You need a dress.”

  “Is it formal?” Andee asked.

  Miranda giggled, “No, silly, Uncle Alwyn will be here.”

  Trakes sighed. “Again with the matchmaking.”

  Miranda, not deterred, crossed the room and opened a small closet.

  “When I stay over, which isn’t too often anymore, this is my room. If you like it, thank me. I’ve got emergency dresses and shoes in here.”

  From the bedside and looking over the shoulder of the redhead, Trakes could see a half a dozen, maybe as many as eight dresses arranged along the pole. Miranda hummed to herself, slid the dresses across the pole and examined them.

  The woman snapped her fingers, pointed to a dress, and turned to face Andee.

  “I know, I have just the dress you need. We’re about the same size. I have a black dinner dress that will look killer on you.”

  Miranda pulled from the closet a short, black, sleeveless cocktail dress and presented it to Andee.

  “Miranda, I’m at least three inches taller than you are.”

  The redhead broke into a huge grin. “All the better, show the legs. Uncle Alwyn is a leg man. And, I’ve got a pair of heels you can borrow. I know you brought nothing but flats and in that drawer over there is a jewelry tray. I’ve got a strand of pearls the will set everything off.”

  Andee sat on the end of the bed, feeling pushed b
y this force of a woman and not knowing how to stop her. Miranda didn’t wait. She turned back to the closet and rummaged again along the rod of hanging clothes. In seconds, she cried a victorious giggle, removed a dress and spun back to face the agent.

  Miranda held a midnight blue, off the shoulder, form-fitting cocktail dress in front of her.

  “This is perfect,” she cried. “I don’t want you to get all the attention, even if all the men will be my relatives. No girl wants to be ignored.”

  She pulled the dress she had worn to work up and over her head. In seconds she was standing in front of the shocked agent in bra and panties.

  “I’m going to skip across to the bathroom, freshen up and then be out of your way,” she said by way of explanation. Her skin was flawless with just a kiss of freckles. She was lean and fit indicating she exercised. As she turned to get a robe from a hook on the back of the closet door, Andee saw a series of spots across the woman’s stomach.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “what are those?”

  Miranda turned back to face her, a giggle on her lips.

  “Oh, these little things?”

  She pointed to a series of small tattoos. The first one was on her right thigh, the second at the point of her hip. A third one was next to her navel, and upwards the spots worked until the highest one was on the upper part of the woman’s left breast.

  Miranda stepped closer to Andee, and the agent was then able to recognize the markings, which were about the size of a dime.

  “Why they’re...” the agent smiled.

  “Yeah,” Miranda agreed, “they’re paw prints. As if a cat walked across my body. Aren’t they just darling?”

  Andee nodded. “They are pretty cute, and I have to admit, they look good on you.”

  Miranda leaned a little closer and lowered her voice. “This is our little secret. Promise you won’t tell Gennie about this. Aunt Gennie hates cats.”

  Andee grinned, smiled, and went through the motions of locking her lips and throwing away the key.

  “Now, Alwyn always has female students and a few of the female staff surrounding him.” Miranda changed topics abruptly. “He’s never expressed an interest in any of them, but every now and then, I catch him checking out their legs. He’s a leg man, all right.”

  Andee was honest with her interest. “Doesn’t he date? I’d think he’d have a bevy of girls. One for each day or night of the week.”

  Miranda shook her head. “He’s never so much as taken a girl out for coffee. Not that he’d drink any.”

  Andee rolled her eyes, “Look, the dating practices of your uncle are interesting, but I did not come here to try to seduce a man. I came here to gather information that will hopefully help with a murder investigation.”

  Miranda giggled. “What? You can’t multi-task?”

  Chapter 6

  The dinner, held at a long table on the closed-in porch, indeed with white wicker furniture, was loud and boisterous. Aunt Gennadiya sat at the head of the table with Alwyn at the foot. Between them, in addition to Miranda and Andee, sat half a dozen sisters, brothers-in-law, several cousins, and more nieces and nephews than could be counted. All of them seemed to talk at the same time, and yet all of them helped with setting, serving, arranging and cleaning the dishes. There were no servants. From start to finish, it was all family. More than once, Andee offered to help, and each time she was refused. She was the guest of honor, yet by the end of the meal, she felt more like family—or at least a close friend—and less like a guest. Being an only child and living most of her life in a family of two, Andee was intimidated at first, but the relaxed joy affected even her, and she took her turn laughing and telling stories.

  After dinner, Alwyn invited her to walk with him in the garden. She nodded acceptance and out of the corner of her eyes, saw Miranda flash her a thumbs-up. She scowled at the redhead in return.

  The evening breeze shifted direction, and the clouds that had been overhead most of the day were chased from sight. The sun had set, and the evening was taking its turn. Most of the birds had found shelter, but bats fluttered by in pursuit of evening insects, and owls called their welcome to the night. The air was warm, but the humidity of the city lessened enough to let the evening be comfortable.

  The walkways were made of crushed stone, and the high heels Miranda had loaned her refused to cooperate. After a dozen steps, each one she feared would topple her, she removed the shoes and walked barefoot. Alwyn watched and was silently impressed when he saw her wince a couple of times when she stepped on a sharp rock. She didn’t complain.

  He escorted her to a cement bench set on the flagstones that surrounded a man-made pond of multi-colored carp. The curved bench was just about the perfect size for two people to sit on. He used his hand to brush away the few crumbs of dried bread his young nephews had left after feeding the fish. Then he turned, extended his arm and indicated the clean seat.

  “Milady,” he smiled with a garnish of chivalry. “I believe this will rest your feet.”

  She said a silent prayer of gratitude for the fading light that hid her blush, but she allowed him to see her smile.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” she replied as she curtsied in jest, and then sat.

  For a few moments, the couple sat in silence. Andee heard the breeze gently rustling the leaves on the trees in the nearby woods. An owl hooted, and another called back. She enjoyed the slap of the water, as the carp, who somehow knew people were present, broke the surface in an effort to beg more food. The lack of light seemed to strengthen the mixed aromas of the flowers, many of which were in bloom. And she recognized the scent of the man beside her who, with nothing more than a glance or a smile, could increase her heart rate.

  “You’re in deep water, Andee Trakes,” she whispered to herself.

  “I’m sorry,” Alwyn asked, “I didn’t quite hear that. You asked me something?”

  “No,” she closed her eyes. “I was just wondering how deep the water in the pond is. Nothing important.”

  “Oh,” he nodded and again wondered how long it had been since he had walked in the evening garden with an attractive woman. He didn’t like the answer. He’d never taken such a walk. Was that why the scent of her made him dizzy? Was that why he struggled not to watch her every move just for the enjoyment?

  “That was quite an experience,” Andee said, in an effort to start a conversation.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again and focused. “What was an experience?”

  “Having dinner with your family.”

  “Oh, yeah, mealtime with my family is almost a contact sport.”

  “No,” she said, “it was wonderful. Most of my life, it was just me and my mother. I had no idea meals could be that much fun. That’s what it was; it was fun.”

  “It is that,” he nodded. “You’ll have to come when the entire family is here.”

  “There’s more of you?”

  “Oh, yes, we’re a whole pack. When we get together, there’s over a hundred of us.”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  “So don’t. I’m inviting you to the next get-together of the family Lloyd.”

  “Professor…”

  “We’ve broke bread together. Call me Alwyn.”

  “Alright, Alwyn, in case you’ve forgotten, I’m a federal agent, and I’m here to get information to help solve a murder. As wonderful as your family is, they’re not the reason I’m here.”

  He shrugged, a gentle motion that said her objection was without merit.

  “I fully realize why you are here. I can still be a gracious host and invite you to a special occasion.”

  She looked at him and wondered if her comment had insulted him. If so, and in an effort to reduce the sting, she said, “It would be easy for me to forget why I’m here.”

  He smiled, and after a brief hesitation, said, “So, you want to know about werewolves.”

  She nodded, “I do, and about killing them. If they exist.”

  “Of c
ourse, if they exist.” He smiled again. “Okay, allow me the opportunity to earn my professor title.”

  Now she smiled, and he began.

  “Let’s assume, for the time being, that at one time there was a species that combined the homo sapiens, man, and the canis lupus, the wolf. That’s what a werewolf is, you know. Just the old English word for man, ‘were,’ and ‘wulf’ being wolf. So ‘werewolf’ is nothing more than man-wolf.”

  “You say that as if they exist. Or ever did,” she said.

  “Well,” he grinned, “don’t interrupt, or you’ll have to stay after class.”

  She smiled at him, dipped her head and looked from under her lashes. She imagined being in his class, then quickly forced herself to stop the daydream. She was a Special Agent, not a giddy school girl.

  “Let’s pretend we are in a cave that housed some of the first humans,” he continued. “In many such caves, there are drawings of men wearing the hides of wolves.”

  “Among other animals,” Andee said, in an effort to make a point.

  Alwyn smiled at her.

  “You’re aiming for detention aren’t you? Interrupting the professor is never a good thing.”

  She returned the smile. “Sorry, I forgot.”

  He waved off her interference.

  “As I was saying, mainstream education tells us the drawings depict men camouflaging themselves as the animals. But let’s think outside the box, as they say. What if they’re wrong? What if the prehistoric artist was trying to depict a man that can change forms? A man who can change from man to wolf and back again. What if they are telling us of a family, a group, or if you will, a pack of men that have the ability to change at will?”

  “You don’t believe that,” she insisted.

  He shrugged.

  “Let’s look at another indicator. Legend says Rome was founded by the brothers Romulus and Remus. They were abandoned, but found by a she-wolf who suckled them to health. Another legend says it was a woman, a prostitute, who suckled the infants. The Latin word lupus is used for both wolf and prostitute, so is it possible the two legends are one and the same, just told from two perspectives? Could it be possible the woman who raised the brothers was a shapeshifter?”