Chapter 3
There was a moment's stunned silence in the room and then Hutch shook himself and grinned broadly.
'Nice one Cap'n. Ya really had me goin' there. What's the date? It aint April 1st is it?' he rifled through the papers on the desk for a moment, looking for the calendar. The black man shook his head, his face showing neither mirth nor anger. He'd had the same sort of reaction himself and it was only after spending an hour with Perry Turner that he'd come to the conclusion that she wasn't crazy.
The blond looked nonplussed. 'So we're gonna catch this werewolf and put it in the next cell to Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster?' he asked. 'Is this a joke? There's no such thing as werewolves, or vampires or ghosts or….' He looked at his partner for help. Starsky looked back, but there was something thoughtful in his eyes.
'Let's just hear what the lady has to say' he said softly. 'Play nice for a while huh? We can make decisions afterwards'
Hutch shut his mouth in even bigger surprise. Usually his partner would be the first one to dive for the nearest crucifix and chunk of garlic, but this time, Starsky seemed to be taking this all in his stride. He shrugged and leaned back against the wall, arms folded defensively across his chest. 'Fine. Shoot.'
Perry sat up straighter in her chair. She had this reaction wherever she went and she was used to the bluff attitudes and ridicule she usually got from the more seasoned cops. While she inhabited a murky underworld of supernatural events and beings, most of the world went around in a pleasant and numb sense of ignorance. A few saw shadows in dark rooms. Some felt chills in 90 degree heat. Others felt more uneasy than usual in graveyards. All put those feelings down to superstition and their own over fertile imaginations. Virtually none of them realised they'd seen a ghost or lycanthrop or other supernatural being. But they were there – all around and usually keeping themselves to themselves. They had as little interest in the living world as the living world had in them. Only a chosen few could choose to see them, or were forced to see them by a quirk of birth. And Perry was one of those few.
Born in Lancashire England as the daughter of a Medium, Apperiana (Perry) Turner had often wondered as a child why her friends couldn't see the people who drifted around her. They seemed insubstantial and for the most part ignored her. But now and again one of them would come to her and sit down and converse, usually about things long gone by or something that was troubling them deeply. And Perry would listen and befriend them and then go on her merry way.
It wasn't until her 13th birthday that her Mother finally took her to one side and told her about her heritage. That she was a direct descendant of Elizabeth Southerns who became known as Lizzy Demdike, one of the Pendle Witches condemned to death in the 17th century. Although Lizzy was never hanged for her witchcraft, she died in a lonely cold stone cell awaiting her execution in Lancaster Castle, never once admitting that she had done anything but good. On her death, her powers as a Wicca, a white witch, had been handed on to the daughters of the family right up to the present, and Perry, the last of her line, now held the mantle of the Demdike tradition.
She sighed as she started the explanation she gave to all the doubters she came across.
'The bodies you've found were all the same yes?'
The brunet nodded his head. 'All men in the twenties or thirties, all naked and with their throats ripped out. No identifying documents with them and the last two with large raw wounds on their chests and bellies, as though someone had taken a set of knives to them.'
'Or claws?' she asked, waiting to see Starsky's response.
'I guess' the curly haired cop still looked thoughtful
'What do you know about werewolves?'
Hutch snorted. 'Only what's in the Hammer House of Horror films. They're huge hairy dogs, they change shape, they eat people and they can be killed by a silver bullet. An' usually Vincent Price and Bella Lugosi are in the mix somewhere.'
Perry smiled, her whole pretty face lighting up as she heard the explanation she'd heard a hundred times before. 'Most people think that, yes. The facts are hugely different.'
'How? You're gonna have to forgive me for soundin' sceptical, but you're askin' us to believe in fairy tales' Hutch grunted.
'I know it can be hard' she said 'And I suppose you think that werewolves are animals and you can tell them at a glance' she said with a half smile on her face.
The blond nodded. 'Pretty much. I guess the four paws and the waggin' tail would be a dead give away.'
'Would it surprise you to know that any one of us in this room could be a werewolf and no-one would know any different? Or at least not until the full moon. And even then, if the wolf is old, they can choose not to change.'
Starsky brought a chair up from the back of the room and sat down. 'Explain that some more. You're tellin' me that a werewolf don't look like a puppy dog on anabolic steroids?'
Perry shook her head. 'No. For almost all the time a lycanthrope – that's someone who changes - appears perfectly normal just like you or I. At the three nights of the full moon they change, but not into an enormous dog like you read in fiction, or see on the films. For the most part they still have human form, they will become stronger, their muscles will become more defined and hair and nails will grow, but nothing too evident. For wolves who have recently been turned – bitten, they have no option but to obey the laws of nature and change. They can fight it, and the first time it happens they may not change completely, or they may still keep some of their human side, but by the second or third change, they will be wolf through and through – mentally, but certainly not physically. Only the older and more experienced wolves can opt to change. Wolves who lead packs – the king or queen wolves can choose to change or not to change, full moon or no.'
Starsky shook his head, trying to take in what she'd told him. 'So you're telling me that there could be these werewolves all around an' we wouldn't have a clue?'
'Absolutely. And for the most part, they keep themselves to themselves. As you can imagine, it's not the sort of thing that the average man - wolf - in the street would want to advertise.'
'Well how do they…. I mean, um….. How does it work? The whole werewolf thing?' Hutch asked, coming to sit next to his partner. He had almost comedic visions or men scratching their ears with their feet or contorting their bodies to lick their balls like a pet dog. He dismissed them rapidly. Perry seemed rational enough and the more she talked, making the whole idea a logical conversation, the more he became curious by the thought of someone who was half human and half wolf.
'It's a disease, just like malaria or arthritis' she explained.
'Well not exactly. Ya don't usually get some guy with arthritis leapin' up and bitin' a passer by' Starsky said half jokingly.
'And you won't with a werewolf either' Perry snapped defensively. 'Unless it's their first couple of full moons, in which case they have little control over their urges, most lycanthropes keep themselves very much to themselves. They're fiercely protective of their status. It's not something they like to make public.'
'Jeez, ya sound like ya love 'em' Hutch said quietly.
Perry turned her stunning green eyes on him. 'Some of my best friends are lycanthropes' she said.
Starsky hitched a breath. 'Wow! But that didn't answer my question. How do ya get to be a …ya know….wolf?'
'Usually by being bitten or by an infected person's saliva becoming mixed with your blood.'
'And you think the bodies we've been investigatin' have been killed by a werewolf? I thought ya said they keep themselves to themselves. Why the attacks?' the brunet asked.
'Like anyone else, there are good and bad. The Luprex – the king wolf of the local clan – was killed recently. Any one of his clan could be out for revenge or it's a wolf gone renegade. Any number of things. Why does a human commit murder? Same thing.'
'And how can you tell for sure?' Hutch asked.
'I need to see the bodies, but there are signs. Did they look pale?'
Starsky snickered. 'They've been dead for at least 24 hours an' in the ocean. How pale do ya want 'em?'
'No' Perry persisted. 'Very pale. A wolf killer would probably feast on their blood, they'd be bled dry. Like a lion or tiger who gets a taste for human blood, at the full moon, they'd have a blood fever – they wouldn't be able to resist.'
The brunet paled at the thought.
'The bodies are in the morgue. It's not the usual place I take girls on a first date, but if you want a ride down to the freezers?'
She grinned at him and stood, her tiny 5' frame dwarfed by the two detectives. Even in her high heeled shoes she came to no more than shoulder height. 'There's nowt I'd like more. Lead on McDuff.'
Hutch stared at her, nonplussed and she grinned back.
'Sorry - it's the Lancastrian coming out. Just... lead the way huh?'
OOoOoOoOoOoOo
Hutch arrived back at his apartment a little after six. It had been a long day and as he walked wearily up the steps his nose wrinkled at the smell of cooking. He'd almost forgotten that Karen was at home and that Starsky had been invited round for dinner. As he walked in, his sister came to great him, a bottle of beer in one hand.
'Heavy day?' she asked as he flopped down onto the sofa. He closed his eyes trying to blot out the memory of the bodies laid out on the cold metal slabs, their flesh blue and mottled.
'You wouldn't believe it' he murmured.
'Try me.'
He opened his eyes. 'Nah… it's just work stuff. What's for supper? It smells great.'
'Chilli' she said. 'Dave said he liked Mexican food, so I thought I'd do something spicy.'
Hutch grinned, surprised that his sister had fallen under the brunet's spell so quickly. 'Dave said, huh? You fallin' for my partner Sis.? Jeez, ya only just met him''
'He's cute. And besides, I like chilli too. Are you going to be around for a while, I need to shower and change.'
The blond sipped at his beer. 'I think my culinary skills will extend to stirring the pan. Go ahead.' As Karen made her way into the bathroom, Hutch went over the details of the day in his head. He'd always thought werewolves were a thing of nightmares and horror stories. He still wasn't convinced that there wasn't a logical explanation for them. It seemed ludicrous to him that a human being could become infected by an unknown cause and suddenly be open to the influences of the moon to change into something else completely. He understood what Perry had said about them not changing bodily and he understood that. No "Incredible Hulk" moments, just subtle changes to appearances although hearing, sight and smell were greatly accentuated. It was so much to take in and on the drive home, he'd found himself looking at passers by as he waited at intersections, wondering if they were what they seemed.
Starsky seemed to have taken it all on board easily. His partner had neither made fun of the idea nor become engrossed in the nitty gritty. He merely listened to what Perry had had to say, asked questions where necessary and had stood back and watched the tiny woman poke and prod at the bodies. At the end of her examination, she'd taken them quietly to one side and had told them that Bay City had a problem and that they definitely needed her help. The bodies had been the victims of a werewolf and they needed to track it and deal with it.
Hutch had asked about silver bullets, almost in jest and Perry had told him seriously that while a silver bullet would hurt them, it probably wouldn't kill them any more than an ordinary one, unless it hit the heart. Werewolves had remarkable healing powers. Silver handcuffs would be able to hold them better than standard cop issue cuffs, although the silver would burn their skin and leave marks. The only way to kill them for sure would be to shoot them through the heart at close range or cut off their head.
Somehow, he thought this investigation may well turn out to be a trying time for all concerned!
