13
Del’s Place
John Bear pushed his plate away and sat back. He raised his coffee mug to his lips and, over the rim, saw Bob Pelky enter the diner. When Pelky slid into the booth across from his friend, John immediately recognized the conspiratorial smirk on his face. “You look like a raccoon caught raiding a garbage can,” John commented.
“So,” Pelky said, “how’d it go last night?”
John grinned, knowing how fast Lyndon Station’s grapevine was. “How’d you know about last night, you a cop or something?”
“C’mon tell me what happened. Elaine will be grilling me as soon as I get home.”
“Great, we had dinner and a couple of drinks and then I dropped her off at her cabin.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it—just two people out for dinner.”
“Well,” Pelky said, “that is gonna be a big letdown for Elaine.”
John chuckled. “Besides, even if it did go further than that, I’m not about to say anything. This town is so small that when you smile your cheeks rub the borders. I’m certain that more than one set of eyes saw me leave her at her door.”
“Makes you wonder doesn’t it?”
“What makes me wonder?”
“In a town where everyone knows everyone else and nothing goes unobserved, no one has so much as a clue about who our murderer is.”
John placed his mug on the table. “I know who—or what—our killer is. It’s a Wendigo.”
“Well, until we have it in custody, I’m going on the assumption that we’re looking for a psychopath who believes he’s a Wendigo.”
John glanced over Pelky’s shoulder and saw Del’s only server, his daughter Nellie Corrigan, striding toward them carrying a carafe of coffee in one hand and a mug in the other. “Hold that thought,” he said.
She poured Pelky a cup, refilled John’s, and stepped back, waiting for Pelky to order. While Pelky perused the menu, even though everyone knew he would order the same thing he always did, Nellie said, “You boys didn’t have to stop talking just because I’m here.”
John laughed. “Sure, we didn’t. This place is the central clearinghouse for all the gossip in Lyndon Station—not that you would say anything, but things have a way of getting out.”
She leaned back, emphasizing her rotund figure and smiled. “Well, in a town with no newspaper or radio and TV stations, the news has to get out somehow.”
Pelky returned the menu to its slot on the rack that held the salt, pepper, and sweeteners and said, “The usual, Nelly.”
“Why does that not surprise me?” She retreated to the kitchen.
Once she was out of hearing, John said, “Bob, I need you to check something for me.”
“Okay …”
“Can you find out if there are any unsolved killings or disappearances over the last, let’s say twenty years? I don’t think there’s any sense going back over twenty years—go back to 1996. Check both Aroostook County and New Brunswick and Quebec.”
“Jesus, John, twenty years? You’re talking about a lot of paper-trailing. I hope you’re on to something.”
“I don’t believe that this thing has just arrived in the area—it’s been here for a while.”
“Okay, I’ll get on it. Oh, Elaine would like for you and Laura to come over for supper tonight.”
“I could use some of her cooking. What time?”
_____________
Pelky Residence
Laura was already at the Pelky house when John arrived. He knocked on the door and she opened it. “Elaine’s in the kitchen,” she said and then stepped aside to allow him to enter.
They sat on the couch and John relaxed as his body absorbed the heat from the fireplace. John realized he was ravenously hungry.
“How about a cup of coffee,” Laura offered.
“That would be great.”
“I’ll let Elaine know you’re here.” She opened the kitchen door, poked her head in and said, “John arrived, better bring a third coffee,” and then returned to her perch on the couch.
He noticed that Laura sat mute, obviously taking time to organize what she wanted to say. Finally, in what she hoped was a soothing, encouraging tone of voice she asked, “Do you want to tell me about yesterday? At dinner last night you made a concerted effort to avoid the subject.”
He suddenly became suspicious. “Again, I can’t help but ask: do you want to know as a reporter, or as a concerned friend?”
“To cut through the bullshit and not play silly children’s games, both. Does it make a difference to you?”
He mulled over her words for a few seconds and said, “I guess not. But I appreciate your honesty.”
Elaine entered the room carrying a tray on which was their coffee. She placed it on the coffee table and noticed that her guests seemed to be in a very serious mood. “Am I interrupting anything?”
“No,” Laura said. “John was about to tell me about his adventures while investigating the murder.”
Elaine placed a cup of coffee in front of each of them and then settled into a loveseat that was perpendicular to the couch. “I’d like to hear this, too. Do you mind if I sit in?”
John shook his head. “Sooner or later Bob will tell you anyhow. To start off we’re dealing with a Wendigo. It’s a cannibal and may appear as a monster with some characteristics of a human, or as a spirit who has possessed a human being and made them become monstrous….” John went on to relate his confrontation with the Wendigo.
When John finished his tale he felt strangely uplifted. He decided whoever had said confession is good for the soul knew what they were talking about.
Laura said, “It sounds like some type of Frankenstein’s monster … a being that is, or was, human, but somehow isn’t anymore—utterly alone and isolated from his kind for the rest of his life.”
“Its existence is not what one would expect of a supernatural spirit. The Wendigo is in a constant state of need. The more he eats, the more he grows and the more he grows, the more he needs to eat. It’s a vicious cycle.”
Elaine interjected, “I can think of some corporate examples of that, for instance the lumber companies.”
“So,” Laura asked, “how do you stop it?”
“That’s an entirely different story.” John related what he‘d learned from Charley Bear.