"Where does that leave us?"
"It means we lay low for a little bit," Bernard said, looking out at the ocean. The minute he said that, Mark heaved a quiet sigh of relief; he was dreading the thought of having to slaughter another human being for this monster. "The Board as a whole is pretty spooked by the 'strange coincidences' regarding the sudden deaths of Krueger, Samuels, and John. And I don't know who, but somebody hired a private investigator to poke around."
Mark almost jumped in surprise. "A private investigator?"
"Yes." Bernard nodded, his features grim. "Typical private dick. He came by my office this afternoon and asked me a few questions. Wanted to know about my relationship with the Board, what my views were on the merger, what my activities had been like the last few months, whether I had seen Krueger, John, and Samuels in the days prior to their deaths. I think I did a pretty good job in snowblind- ing him. I gave him an overview on my background with the firm, my relationship with the Board, and I was very accommodating when I gave him my rundown on my whereabouts the last few months. He seemed satisfied and left. I'm sure it was all routine, but I think I did a pretty good job in keeping the truth from him."
Bernard may have done as good a job as he claimed, but it still made Mark nervous as hell. He ran his right hand through his hair and tried to play it cool. "He won't find anything. There's no way he could find anything. No way at all."
"Exactly," Bernard said softly, looking at Mark now. "Whoever hired this guy apparently just wants him to nose around, talk to the other Board members, some of the executive staff, that sort of thing. Whoever this person is has a hunch, and that tells me he's somebody on the Board. My guess is that it's somebody from Eastside who hired this guy."
"Whoever it is might want the merger to go through, so they're thinking somebody else, probably somebody who sits on your Board of Directors, is making preemptive strikes."
"That's what I'm guessing."
"What do you think we should do?"
"Like I said, lay low for awhile." Bernard turned to Mark and smiled as he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an envelope. "Enjoy ourselves for awhile. Let the excitement blow over."
Mark took the envelope and glanced inside. It was filled with hundred-dollar bills, bundled in rubber bands. Payment for this latest hit, another ten grand. Mark slipped the envelope in his pocket wordlessly.
"Let's meet again two weeks from tonight," Bernard said. "The parking lot of the Westminster Public Library on Talbert. I'll fill you in on the latest developments then."
"Fine. I'll be there."
"Enjoy the money," Bernard said, flashing him a smile.
Mark opened the door and stepped out of the car. He fumbled with the door of his own car a moment, got it open and slid inside, shutting him off from the cold of the beach and Bernard's company.
Bernard started his Mercedes, popped the headlights on, and drove away.
Mark remained in his car for a moment. His mind was racing with excitement. Bernard would be smart to call the whole thing off, and then the both of them could go on as if nothing had ever happened. But somehow Mark didn't think that was going to happen. Something told him that Bernard was in this for the long haul. He was going to continue at this sick game until he got his way, or until he was caught.
Mark, on the other hand, had no intention of getting caught.
Starting with the second murder, that of David Samuels, Mark had emotionally distanced himself from the killings. He knew that if he became too emotionally involved, something would happen, something would slip. He would leave some trace of his human self at the crime scene. With the second murder, when he'd reverted to his wolf-form he'd embraced the beast within wholeheartedly. He'd marked his territory in the woods surrounding the cabin where Samuels had lived, as well as the Hollywood Hills where he had killed Krueger. He had also partially devoured two of the men. Like the first killing, he had prepared beforehand to keep a fresh change of clothes, and he'd been able to swiftly don them once he'd reverted back to his human-self. He hadn't been seen in his wolf-form, with the exception of the two witnesses in Texas, and who was going to believe them? The police obviously hadn't, and the experience itself taught Mark that he had to remain in his wolf state for the duration of the evening, that to change back after killing was dangerous. It would never happen again, that he was sure of.
Mark started the car, turned on the headlights, and headed out of the parking lot.
The time off would also give him some much needed time to relax and think. He had been nervous the last few months, always on alert. He had been keeping the cash Bernard had paid him in a large manila envelope under his mattress, and had hardly touched it. The private detective Bernard had hired to tail him had slacked off somewhat and Mark had never brought the subject up to Bernard in their phone conversations, feigning ignorance. Bernard had to know that Mark was aware of the surveillance, but if he did he didn't mention it. For his part, Mark did what he was told, never let on to Bernard or the private dick that he was being followed, and within a month the surveillance had eased off. In the last three weeks he hadn't been tailed at all and Mark surmised that Bernard was beginning to trust him. He obviously knew that he had Mark in a pretty tight bind: If he cooperated, he would live and his secret would remain safe. If he didn't, he would be killed. Simple as that.
Kill or be killed. The law of the jungle.
The next few weeks would give Mark time to ponder his dilemma and perhaps come to some solutions. He could make more trips to the library, do more research on Bernard, maybe even hire his own private detective. He was hesitant about committing to something like that, though; he was afraid that Bernard would find out.
Mark drove home, humming along with the radio. He was in such a fine mood that he did stop in at a local bar that evening and got lucky.
Chapter Thirteen
It wasn't until he got to a little town about two hours east of Houston, Texas that the case began to take a turn for the interesting.
Allen Frey had already read the newspaper reports and was familiar with the circumstances surrounding David Samuels's death. Texas Animal Control officers had killed a black bear matching the rough description given to them by various campers that had been in the area around the time of the attack. Unfortunately, a necropsy on the animal failed to prove that it had been the animal responsible for Samuels's death, as no traces of human remains were found in its digestive tract. In the next few weeks, twelve other bears were killed and autopsied with similar results. Of course within a week's time the animal could have passed the matter, but Allen didn't think that was the case. By the time he left Houston, he was convinced that a bear hadn't been responsible for Samuels's death. Nor any other wild animal for that matter.
Allen started his investigation by talking to members of David Samuels's family, where he learned some very humdrum stuff. His wife told him that David had been in good spirits, that he had been looking forward to his trip. His colleagues at the country club revealed nothing remarkable, nor did his fellow executives at the HMO he presided over, as did his fellow board members of the three corporations he served on. It was through a board member of one of these companies-a textile firm-that Allen learned something the police never discovered: that David kept a mistress on the side. The mistress turned out to be a forty-one-year-old former call girl with waistlength blonde hair and a fabulous hourglass figure, who told Allen that she had been devastated to hear of Samuels's death. She had been planning on spending a few days with David at his cabin before his wife came up. Allen had grilled her and found nothing unusual about her story. He had made a note to check into her background further when he interviewed Joe Tripp and Kelly Baker, the two lovers who had claimed to the police that they had seen a werewolf.
Allen got their addresses and found Joe on the afternoon after talking to Samuels's mistress. Joe was at his apartment with Kelly, relaxing on the back deck cooking hamburgers on a charcoal grill. Allen knocked on t
he screen door and flashed his identification when Joe came to the door. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about your statement to the Texas State Police about what you saw the night David Samuels was killed."
"You another cop?" Joe stood behind the screen door, arms crossed in front of his skinny chest. He looked to be about nineteen or twenty, with wiry blond hair that fell about his face and a faint mustache and goatee.
"I'm a private detective."
Joe appeared to scrutinize him, then shrugged. "Might as well. What have I got to lose by telling you something you ain't gonna believe anyway?" He let Allen in and introduced him to Kelly, who had come in from the back deck. Kelly appeared to be around Joe's age and sported long, frizzy brown hair and long, tanned legs. Allen nodded at her and shook her hand, trying not to stare at her cleavage; Christ, but when they said that things are bigger in Texas, they weren't kidding.
"We were just grilling some burgers on the grill," Joe said, heading to the refrigerator. "Want one?"
"No thanks."
"You want something to drink?" Kelly asked, heading to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. "We got beer and soda."
"I'll take a soda if you don't mind."
"RC okay?"
"Sure."
Kelly pulled out a can of RC Cola and handed it to Allen. He opened it and took a sip, smiling in thanks.
Joe picked up a plate with two large mounds of seasoned ground beef and two hamburger buns and motioned toward the back. "Let's sit on the deck. We'll talk there."
Allen followed them to the back deck and was sur prised to see that it was bigger than he had expected. It was big enough to accommodate a small grill, a small tray that served as a table, and three chairs. Joe plopped the meat on the grill and placed the lid down while Kelly set down a second plate of condiments. She scooted around Allen and sat down, sipping a bottle of Evian water. Joe grabbed a can of Coors and took a sip, eyeing Allen suspiciously. "So what do you want to know about that night, Mr. Private Detective?"
"Everything that is and isn't on the police report," he said, squinting up at Joe.
"How'd you find out about us?"
"You were in the report."
Joe smirked. "How crazy did that police report say we were?"
"To tell you the truth, the report doesn't mention what you told the officers," Allen said. "It just says that the two of you were interviewed as potential witnesses in the Samuels killing."
"Potential witnesses . . ." Joe let the words trail into a whisper. Kelly cast a glance toward them and said nothing. "What a joke."
Allen smiled. "The report says nothing of what you reportedly told Officer Lansdale."
Joe's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "So he told you, huh?"
Yep.
"And what do you think?"
"I want you to tell me what you saw in your own words."
"What for? You already know the story and you already know he thinks we were hallucinating or something. Why the fuck should we tell you what you already know?"
"Because I want to hear it from you myself," Allen said, taking a sip of RC. "Plus, I want you to tell me the whole story. If there was anything you left out of your statement to Officer Lansdale, I want to hear it."
"What for?" Kelly's upper lip curled back in a sneer. "So you can catch us in a lie or something?"
"Nothing of the sort," Allen said calmly. "You might remember something you had forgotten to tell Lansdale. And no, I have no intention of going to the police on anything you tell me. I'm not working for them."
"Who are you working for?" Joe asked.
"If you don't mind, that's private."
Joe appeared to regard this as he opened the lid of the grill to check the burgers. Satisfied, he closed the lid and sat down on the remaining chair. He traded a glance with Kelly, then took a sip of his beer.
"Sure you don't want anything stronger than that RC?" Joe asked. "You might need it after you hear this."
"I'm fine," Allen said, leaning forward in anticipation.
Joe and Kelly traded one more glance and then, each of them taking turns, they told him. As the story poured out they opened themselves up to him little by little. By the time they were finished, they were spilling the beans on their own little potgrowing operation they had set up in a spare bedroom at the apartment.
During the narrative, Joe checked the burgers, flipped them over, and threw buns on the grill for toasting. Ten minutes later he and Kelly were wolfing down them down, finishing the narrative between gulps of food. Allen listened patiently, interrupting only to ask for clarification on a few spots. When the story was finished Joe asked: "So what do you think? Are we full of shit, or what?"
"Not in the least," Allen said.
Joe and Kelly looked at him as if they couldn't believe what they had heard. "You shittin' me? You mean to tell me that you believed what we just told you?"
"Why not?" Allen said, shrugging. Officer Lansdale had repeated Joe and Kelly's story earlier that morning, dismissing it as the figment of "a bunch of nutty kids on dope." It was the reason Allen wanted to talk to Joe and Kelly himself. Frederick Johansen thought there was something strange about the deaths of his colleagues, and the minute he started digging around the circumstances surrounding David Samuels's death, his suspicions began to become evident. Allen was simply following his instincts.
"Because it sounds like bullshit," Joe said, picking at the remainder of his burger.
Allen looked at Kelly. "Do you think what you saw that night was bullshit, Kelly?"
Kelly looked down at her feet for a moment, then up at Allen. "No," she said.
"The two of you obviously saw something," Allen said. He took a sip of RC, then set the can down on the small tray that held the plate of condiments. "Much of what you described matched the wounds Samuels received that night."
"The cops think that we saw the bear that killed him," Joe said, flipping a lank of hair back from his face.
"But they think we were tripping when we saw it," Kelly said, looking nervous and slightly embarrassed. "We might have been smoking, but-"
"We weren't tripping," Joe said, shaking his head. "We had a little buzz going, yeah, but-"
"We weren't like, so wasted that we were seeing shit," Kelly said.
"Yeah. Plus, I ain't never heard of two people having the same trip." Joe looked at Allen. "You know what I mean?"
Allen nodded and stood up. "I know exactly what you mean. If you have the time, I was wondering if you'd take me out to the spot you were parked at and show me."
Joe and Kelly exchanged surprised glances, then turned back to Allen. "Sure," Joe said, shrugging. "Just got to clean up first."
Allen helped them clean up the barbecue, then helped Kelly in the kitchen. As they worked, Kelly asked him what he thought it was they had seen. "I don't know," he said, "but I'd really like to find out."
When the dishes had been put in the dishwasher, they left the apartment and Kelly and Joe got into the Mustang. Allen followed them in his rental car.
It was a twenty-minute drive to the side road that took them to the spot where Joe and Kelly had been parked. When they got there, Allen got out of his car and walked over to the Mustang. Joe and Kelly got out of the car and Joe pointed through a grove of trees toward the lake. Allen followed with his eyes, shielding them from the setting sun, which was casting sharp rays against the shimmering water. "See the cabin over there? That's the Samuelses' place. We were parked right here."
"You were just sitting here smoking dope and hanging out, right?"
Joe glanced at Kelly and she gave him a look that said don't you dare! Allen caught it and grinned. Joe looked at him sheepishly. Kelly turned away, blushing. Allen supposed that if he were Joe he would have been trying his hardest to get into her pants if he was up here alone with her, too. "We was ... well, you know . . . "
"I was young once," Allen said, smiling. He paused to wink at Kelly, who blushed harder. "I lost my virginity in the ba
ck seat of my daddy's car in a spot overlooking L.A. that was secluded like this. There's something about ruttin' in the backseat of your car with your sweetheart that is, oh I don't know ... primal, I guess."
Joe chuckled and even Kelly grinned. Allen laughed, hoping to break the awkwardness. "Okay, so you drove up here to get stoned, listen to some music, do the horizontal bump and grind, whatever. I'm hip. Then what?"
Joe picked up where they had left off. He motioned toward the Mustang. "We were in the car. The seat was folded back like this." He stooped inside and folded the driver's side seat back. He turned back to Allen. "And we was, you know laying here getting it on-"
"Joey!" Kelly cried. It looked like she was going to protest again, but she covered her mouth with her fingers, looked at Allen and giggled, her cheeks blushing again.
My, but she's a bashful one, Allen thought.
"That was when I saw it," Joe continued. "I actually heard it before I saw anything. I heard a man yell and I heard this sort of ... like a growl."
Allen turned to Kelly. "Did you hear it too?"
Kelly shook her head. "I didn't hear anything at first."
"I heard it," Joe continued, "and I looked up and saw this ... thing attacking Mr. Samuels."
"Can you describe it to me?" Allen asked.
Joe and Kelly traded a glance. They looked embarrassed again. "To tell you the truth, Mr. Frey, it looked like a werewolf."
Allen was expecting this answer and he nodded, looking out across the lake at the cabin. "A werewolf."
Kelly broke the short pause. "I saw it too, Mr. Frey. Joe was like, going all crazy in the car, going, 'Oh my God, will you look at this.' And I got up to look and saw it too." She looked at him steadily. "The only way I can describe what I saw was that ... well, it looked like a werewolf."
"It was about six feet tall, maybe bigger," Joe said, motioning with his hands as he described it. "It had dark hair all over it. It had a snout like a wolf, and it had a strangely shaped head, half human, half animal I guess you'd say. It walked upright like a man, but it was hunched over."
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