“Yessir,” he said. “I’m Harry Purcell. What can I do for you?”
“I just finished a tour of Beast House.”
His smile slipped a bit. “Yes?”
“They’ve got Dan Jenson on display over there.”
The smile vanished completely. “I’m aware of that.”
“I was with a young lady who used to know him. Can you tell me what happened to him?”
Purcell’s face pinched up as if he’d stubbed a toe. He said, “Oooh. You mean she didn’t know he was deceased?”
“That’s what I mean. The first she knew was when she found his wax face staring up at her.”
“Oooh. That’s raw, mighty raw. How’s she bearing up?”
“She’s managing.”
“The damn shit house. Sometimes, I think I’d like to torch the place.”
“How was Jenson killed?”
“Went in without a backup. He was on routine patrol, noticed a light in one of the windows. Now, nobody goes in that place at night. Not even Kutch or Hapson. Claim they don’t, anyway. So Jenson suspected prowlers. He radioed for backup, but we haven’t got much personnel. Two-man shifts, and a watch commander on dispatch. Well, Sweeny’d picked that time to stop for a bite. Jenson said he’d wait for him, but then he went on in alone. And he didn’t come out. When Sweeny got there, he found Jenson’s radio car abandoned. He wouldn’t go in the house alone, and I can’t say I blame him. We rousted up the rest of the force, even got the volunteer fire department in on it, and went in. Found his body in the upstairs hallway. His, and the other two. Ziegler and his kid. Searched the place top to bottom, came up zilch.”
“What became of Jenson’s body?”
“He had a sister come for it. Had it sent south. To Sacramento, I believe. It was a real shame. Dan was a fine young man.”
“There was a coroner’s inquest?”
“Sure. Verdict was ‘death at the hands of another’ on all three of them. Trouble was, we couldn’t come up with ‘another.’ We carried out a full investigation, but it ran out of steam. Just wasn’t much to go on. Couldn’t even say for sure it was a man that did it. Might’ve been a wild animal, but we couldn’t think what. We’ve got some coyotes in the hills, but they’re too small. We considered maybe a dog—it’d have to be the size of a mastiff or Dane. We even had some talk of bobcats and bears, though I don’t know where one could’ve come from. But all that’s pretty much ruled out. Those are furry creatures, and the only hairs we picked up in the vacuum were human.”
“Could the wounds have been made by a human?” Abe asked.
The cop shrugged. “If he was mighty strong and had a good set of fingernails.”
“They looked like claw marks on the wax.”
“We had a theory he might’ve used some kind of device, like a spading-fork or maybe a glove fixed up with spikes of some sort. Sounds a bit farfetched, but the whole situation was pretty curious.”
“Think the beast did it?”
“That’s sure what Maggie wants the whole world to think. Her business picked up a hundred percent after the killings. Which gives her something of a motive, in my opinion. If I was to hazard a guess—and I haven’t got a speck of evidence to back it up—I’d say Maggie was in back of it. I think her boy, Axel, is physically capable of ripping a man’s arm out of its socket. Maybe Wick or Maggie were with him. They took care of Ziegler and his kid, killed Dan when he came up, then used something to claw them up to make it look like the work of their beast and hightailed before we got the house surrounded. That’d be my best guess, but like I say, you can’t take a guess into court.”
“What about the other killings?”
He leaned forward, elbows on the counter. “I’ll tell you what I think, and I’m not the only one in town who suspects the same. I say Maggie Kutch, maybe with Wick Hapson’s help, murdered her husband and kids back in ‘31, mutilated the bodies and started up this story about a mysterious creature to tie it in with the old Thorn killings and throw off suspicion. I was just a kid at the time, but I remember there was plenty of talk along those lines. Wick was in high school then and he used to do yard work at the Kutch place. There was talk about him and Maggie even before the killings. They came under plenty of suspicion, but it died down over the years. Started up again in the fifties, after the Bagley boy was murdered in there, but by then they’d been running the tour so long they half had people believing in that beast of theirs. And it didn’t help any that the kid who survived—Maywood—claimed it was some kind of monster that did in his friend. Of course, he was hysterical. It was dark in there. He probably expected to see some kind of hellish creature and his eyes played tricks on him. Then again, maybe it was Wick in some kind of outfit. Who’s to say?”
“You ever hear Captain Frank on the subject of the beast?”
“The old goat’s got himself quite a yarn. What’s he call it, Pogo?”
“Bobo.”
“If that guy told me I’ve got a nose on my face, I’d take a quick peek in the mirror before I’d believe him.”
Abe grinned. “He’s not too reliable?”
“Let’s say he likes to be the center of attention, and he’s figured out that just about everyone—but especially tourists—are as happy as pigs in shit to hear about the beast. He gives them what they want to hear, and he’s center stage for half an hour or so.”
“He said the thing killed his sister.”
“I’ve checked it out. We’ve got files going back to 1853 when the town was founded. According to the reports, his sister was killed by a coyote. His father
“I see what you mean,” Abe said. “I’d better get moving, I’ve got some people waiting for me.” He offered his hand, and the man shook it. “I really appreciate your taking the time to tell me all this.”
“Sorry your friend had such a raw experience. You can tell her Dan died bravely in the line of duty, and we miss him around here.”
“I’ll do that. Thanks again,” Abe said, and started to turn away.
“Say. One thing before you leave. You must’ve been in town last night, out at the Last Chance, or I don’t suppose you would’ve heard the Bobo story.”
“That’s right.”
“Stayed at the Welcome Inn?”
“From what I hear, it’s the only motel in town.”
“Notice anything peculiar out there?”
“Peculiar? In what way?”
“Seems, the Crogans, the family that runs the place, weren’t anywhere around this morning. The cook phoned in around six to report it. The office was all locked up. We sent a man in, and it looks like nobody slept there last night. Just found their car abandoned down the road. No sign of them anywhere.”
“Odd.” Abe shook his head. “No, I don’t recall anything unusual.”
“We didn’t think much of it till we found the car. That was about an hour ago. Seems like there might’ve been trouble.”
“I’ll ask my friends if they noticed anything.”
“I’d appreciate it. We’ve got a man out at the Inn now to interview guests, but it seems most everyone’s already taken off. Pay in advance, leave first thing in the morning. Folks on vacation, they always want an early start.”
“Well, I’ll check.”
“Bring your friends around, if they saw or heard something. ‘Course, all we’ve got now is a missing family. If it turns worse, we’ll be in touch for sure.”
“Right. Well, I hope they show up.”
“You and me both.” He tipped a finger to his eyebrow. “Have a good one.”
Outside, Abe scanned the roadside. The Mustang wasn’t in sight so he walked to the corner. Looking down
