Steed stalks dangerous game
Emma lures it in
PrologueI saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand
Walking through the streets of Soho in the rain
He was looking for a place called Lee Ho Fook's
Going to get himself a big dish of beef chow mein
Werewolves of London – Warren Zevon, 1978
Randy Stiles stifled a series of coughs with a fist over his mouth as he walked along the park path. The huge, waxing, silvery moon hovering low in the sky turned his surroundings into a high-contrast wonderland, but he hardly noticed as he concentrated on a developing headache. The familiar crunch of the gravel under his gum-soled shoes seemed dampened and he wondered if the cold he was fighting was moving into his ears. He was sure he'd picked it up from a patient at work. At least four times a year he caught some nasty virus from one of the elderly patients he nursed.
It took a moment for him to realize the low growling sound that he heard was not in his head but actually coming from the bushes to his right. Glancing over his shoulder at the dense park foliage, he moved to the center of the path and picked up his pace a little. Probably just a stray dog.
The shrubs edging the path shook with the passage of something large on the other side. Stiles glanced toward them again and let his gait break into a jog. It kept pace with him, the growl transitioning into a chilling snarl accompanied by a wheezing, breathy panting. He looked again, his upper body turning while his legs kept moving. In three more strides his left foot caught on an uneven patch and he tumbled forward. As his left shoulder slammed onto the path and skidded forward with the momentum of his run an enormous, reeking body hurdled onto him from the dark underbrush.
Act I"Ahhh!" Mrs. Emma Peel quickly stifled a startled scream at the sight of a macabre wolf head, oversized yellow canines stained with blood, looming over her where she lay napping on her sofa. As she reached up to restrain it the jaws gaped open, revealing a crisp white card tucked inside the mouth.
"Mrs. Peel --," Steed's smooth voice pronounced the words printed on the card.
She tucked her fingers under the wolf's lower jaw and pressed it shut, then struggled into a sitting position to look over the back of the sofa where he was crouching. He pulled off the mask to reveal his mischievous grin beneath twinkling grey eyes.
"We're needed."
ooooo
"It was found near the body of the sixth St. James's Park victim," Steed said, dropping the rubber and fur mask on her coffee table next to the tray of tea things she'd brought from the kitchen.
"Sixth?" Emma lifted the lid of the pot to check the tea. "I remember seeing two in the newspaper, at least two or three months ago."
"There has been a total of six," Steed said, taking a biscuit. "All in the same general area, all with similar details. After the first two the police suppressed them so as not to start a panic. There have been four more, and number six just occurred last night."
Emma prepared the tea, adding his preferred sugar and milk before handing him his cup.
"Shouldn't the public be informed if there's a serial killer stalking the park?"
"The police have increased their patrols. But they decided to keep the nature of the murders secret," Steed replied, glancing at the mask. Emma followed his gaze.
"The murderer wears a werewolf costume?"
He nodded, sipping his tea. "And has a pet wolf."
"What do you mean?"
"Last night, a Mr. Randy Stiles was walking home from his shift at an elder care facility – he was a nurse – when he was attacked in the park. His attacker seems to have been a wolf."
"A real animal?"
Steed nodded, watching her think about what he'd said. "The lab is certain based on the shape of the wounds and saliva found in them."
"But the mask near the body suggests that there was a person involved."
"And other victims have born a mixture of wounds, some obviously inflicted by a man – or human."
"Interesting," she pursed her lips, still contemplating the implications. "But still just a string of murders," she finally said. "Why are we being involved?"
"Location, my dear. In three week's time there's to be a festival in the park in honor of his highness the Prince of Wales's birthday. Since the Yard has not been able to put an end to this, we've been asked to step in."
ooooo
Steed had brought along the case files for all six murders, including the medical examiners' reports with all their gory details. He had been through them all twice before seeking Emma's assistance, so he sat back and sipped his tea and watched her read. He never tired of watching her. Just now he was particularly curious to see her nibble on a biscuit while reading the horrific details of six brutal murders. It was not, he knew, that she was immune to the violence described on the pages. In fact, she was particularly skilled at understanding the clinical language of the ministry coroner, and particularly sympathetic to the victims in their work. No, she was absorbing the horror, storing it for later analysis. When she was through they would go to the park to visit the scenes, and then over dinner she would begin to share her analysis of the facts of the six murders. Later still the horrors would bubble to the surface and he would be there to hold her.
ooooo
Their tour of the park revealed little more than what was in the reports, particularly at the locations of the earliest murders. Only the location where Randy Styles had been attacked the previous night was still protected off by Scotland Yard and overseen by a bored looking patrolman. Emma crouched to examine scuffmarks on the path, then moved to the bushes nearby.
"Mrs. Peel?" Steed said, startled as she pushed through the underbrush.
"It attacked him from there," the patrolman observed, nodding at the point where Emma had disappeared.
"This is where they found the wolf tracks," Emma called out. The bushes beside the path rustled ominously and for a moment Steed could imagine how frightened Mr. Styles must have been. Emma reappeared presently from a spot further along and walked back toward them, her eyes on the gravel underfoot.
"Do you know how far they traced the tracks?" she asked the patrolman. "I could follow them that far, but I'm sure with the soft soil in there an expert could stay on the trail much further."
Steed's lips curled at the corners as the patrolman shook his head. It never failed: show Emma the scene of the crime and she would find the holes in the case.
"No idea Mrs. Peel," the patrolman replied with a shrug. It seemed that his knowledge of the case only went as far as the edge of the path.
"I think we should find out, don't you?" Emma turned her knowing smile on Steed.