Chapter 11: Another development and an unpleasant encounter
October 23, 1968
That afternoon after school, I was going through my usual routine of packing up and heading for the radio station when Fred tapped my shoulder.
"What?" I groaned as I turned around to face the blonde.
After what I told Velma when I recapped what I have gathered at the campaign office yesterday, I would've expected her to inform Fred about my desire to not go back to Daggett's campaign office.
Fortunately, Fred didn't have that in mind as he said to me, "Just so you know, we're going to meet up at the library soon to go through what we've all gathered in the past few days."
"Oh." I said, relieved. "Have you told Daphne about what I've gathered yesterday at State Senator Daggett's campaign office?"
"No." Fred shook his head. "Besides, I don't think she's gonna like it if it were to get around that you 'volunteered' at the state senator's campaign for the sake of gathering information on her godfather."
"Especially when it sounded like her father is being blackmailed by the state senator." I added as I took out my school bag and slammed my locker door shut.
"Exactly." Fred nodded. "You'll also be pleased to know that I managed to get the files on the first batch of Werewolf appearances from '48 to '57, courtesy of my father."
Perhaps it's because given that the original werewolf case involved a police shooting that has to be cleared by the DA's office, there's gotta be a file on the case. I nodded thoughtfully. "In that case, let's see what this tells us more about the Werewolf."
"Of course." Fred gestured towards the main door before stopping me and added, "Oh, and Shag?"
"Yeah?" I asked.
Unexpectedly, the blonde placed his hands on my shoulders before saying, "Just wanna add that I'm sorry to hear about what happened to your...mother."
For a while, I didn't say a word as I looked at Fred, during which he continued, "From what Benson said last week, it certainly looks like your mother was killed for trying to do the right thing."
I exhaled, and then I said, "Like, if there's anything good that came out of that car accident, it's the fact that Mom was killed instantly rather than spending her final moments in great pain."
Even as those words flew out of my mouth, it was surreal thinking back on that moment, when I expressed my thoughts on Mom's death to someone outside my family for the first time.
What I didn't tell Fred, and I guess it's best that I keep to myself, is when you consider what I've went through in the course of my difficult recovery, I sometimes wished that I was the one that was killed on impact instead of Mom, though I don't suppose it's gonna change anything with regards to Dad and Maggie's grief.
Fred only nodded solemnly, then he patted my shoulder once more before he lead the way.
When Fred and I arrived at the public library, I was surprised to see Daphne only at the usual group table.
"Velma will be running late." The redhead explained, having had registered the look of surprise on my face. "She told me that she had to take care of something at the hospital and said that we can start without her."
"Fair enough." Fred nodded as he and I took our seats, during which I noted that Fred had seated himself to be directly in front of the redhead, leaving me to take the one that is diagonal from Daphne.
It was clear that Fred had in mind of the tension lingering between Daphne and I, given the way she stormed out on the interview with Benson last Thursday, hence the reason he made the effort to put some distance between Daphne and I as he pulled a file out from his school bag.
It sure looks like he had worked with Velma in acquiring the file from the DA's office.
"So what does the case file say?" Daphne asked as Fred flipped open the file.
"Well, let's start with the '48 Werewolf case." Fred replied. "To sum things up about the case itself, over the course of nine years leading up to '57, twenty three people were snatched away in Coolsville, each with wolf claws in their living rooms. Neither of the victims were ever found in spite of the police relentlessly pursuing every lead."
Flipping a page in the file report, Fred continued, "Eventually, police singled out a suspect and cornered the wolf in the cabin at the Fred Quimby Park, where they shot it when it attempted to swing at them. The man whose body was recovered from the cabin was one Barry Wilson, who had no priors and the snatchings stopped."
"But...?" I asked, figuring that there's more to the story than what was being let on.
"Now, I've taken the liberty of narrowing down the kidnappings that occurred after Benson got his detective's badge and got assigned to the task force handling the case, which would be after '53." Fred continued.
"And you found something." Daphne interjected.
"I did, and that out of the 23 kidnappings that took place over the span of nine years, 12 of them took place in a span of the three years when Benson was on the task force." Fred said. "What prompted us to look closer were seven of the victims."
"What about them?" I asked.
"It took some digging on Velma's part, but each of those seven victims have, at some point, been wronged by Benson and have reported his conduct to Internal Affairs, and get this, each of these complaints were filed two days before the victims disappeared and wolf claws were found at their living rooms." Fred continued.
"Sounds like a big coincidence if you ask me." Daphne remarked.
"Too big." Fred nodded. "Then, upon digging deeper, we all figured out that Benson was, one way or another, within a ten-minute walking distance from where all the snatchings have taken place at, and yesterday afternoon, I managed to get Velma to take a picture of a tattoo on Benson's arm while he was sleeping."
"What's the tattoo?" Daphne asked.
Fred pulled out a Polaroid photo of the tattoo and placed it on the table so Daphne and I could get a closer look at it, during which he pulled out a book on legends and spells before he continued.
"Now this tattoo..." Fred pointed right at the photo on Benson's arm, which appeared to be a skull in the shape of a wolf with the jaw appearing much more human, before he placed the book on the table and flipped through the pages before stopping at where he was searching for, "...it has a bit of a history. According to Native American folklore, the Kucissu Humniu, which closely translates as the 'Wolf jaw on the arm' in the Chochenyo language, is a half-man, half-wolf creature who terrorizes the folks in its roaming grounds."
"Jeepers." Daphne remarked. "What about the tattoo?"
"Apparently, this tattoo, comprising of a wolf skull with a human jaw, was a sign of a warrior brave enough to defend the grounds from the Humniu." Fred continued. "In fact, at one point prior to the Colombian age, warriors sporting the tattoo were assigned to patrol the village grounds frequently on years of poor harvest, which is crucial for the tributes they need to appease the creature and keep it away from the villages."
"Wow." I remarked. "Like, if those bearing the tattoos were supposed to be warriors protecting the city from the werewolf, then some job they're doing in protecting us from the Werewolf."
"And then, there's the kicker." Fred nodded. "In addition to the fact that Benson resigned from the force not long after the shootout in '57, due to Benson's interference, authorities never discovered that Wilson has a prior run-in with Benson before the werewolf sightings and associated disappearances."
"What sort of run-ins are we talking about?" Daphne exhaled.
Fred glanced down at his notes before he leaned forward and lowered his voice as he continued, "Long story short, in part thanks to Velma's efforts and my Dad pulling some strings, we were able to gather evidence that would suggest that Wilson was paying blackmail to Benson in return to Benson not bustin' his a** after he was caught with some compromising material."
"As in Benson was ordering Wilson to commit the kidnappings and then he took care of Wilson himself when he was starting to crack under the strain." I offered.
"Hence the shootout at the cabin near Fred Quimby Park." Daphne pointed out.
Fred nodded as he almost slammed his hand on the table. "There you go."
"So safe to say that Benson was moonlighting." I offered. "In our case, moonlighting as a cop while working security for Blake Enterprises to compensate for the low pay as a police officer."
"And by extension working as an enforcer for the Oakley Gang." Daphne added.
There was some silence between the three of us, and then I said, "So Benson blackmails Wilson into doing his dirty work in eliminating complaints who could expose his racketeering, then he kills Wilson himself when Wilson decided that he wasn't doing it anymore or has found out about Benson's racketeering, at which point Benson decided that he wasn't taking any chances in letting said allegations coming to light."
"Exactly." Fred nodded. "And then, he quits the force and works private security full-time, first for Barty Daggett and Blake Enterprises, then for Mayor Francis Jones."
"And it's way too convenient for Wilson to snatch the mobster's daughter not long before the shootout, it would seem to me that Benson must've set him up on that." I added.
"Which then begs the question." Daphne frowned. "What prompted Benson to spill the beans out like he did last week when we met with him?"
Before Fred could answer, the librarian walked towards out booth and gently tapped on the cubicle wall.
"Mr. Fred Jones?" The librarian asked as we all turned towards her.
"That's me." Fred nodded. "What's up?"
The librarian pointed towards the front desk as she said, "There's a phone call for you at the front desk. It's from your friend Velma."
We all arched our eyebrows. I never knew you could call the library and ask for someone specifically.
"Oh?" Fred asked. "What does she want?"
"I don't know, but she told me that it's something urgent and for your ears only." The librarian replied. "You'd better go hear for yourself."
Fred turned towards me and Daphne, then he got up from his seat and rushed over to the front desk while we looked on.
"Hey Velma, what's up?" Fred picked up the phone and asked.
A pause went by before the blonde nodded and said, "Yeah, we're all still here in the library, Velma. What's going on?"
During that second pause, Fred turned towards me and Daph and beckoned us to go over to the front desk.
"Wait, wait-" Fred sounded like he was cutting Velma off mid-sentence. "How come the area is filled with cops?"
That was unexpected. I hope whatever it is isn't exactly serious, though when I saw the look on Daphne's face, I thought that she looked tense.
"Oh, State Senator Daggett is at the hospital for a campaign stop." Fred repeated before nodding. "I suppose that explain things."
However, the neutral look on Fred's face was short-lived, for a moment later, his eyes narrowed.
"Hold on, what do you mean?" He asked.
As he listened to Velma's explanation, Fred glanced towards Daphne and I, the frown deepening before he nodded.
Whatever it is that's going on at the hospital, it can't be good.
"Alright, Velma." Fred nodded. "We are on our way."
After he hung up the phone, the air became unusually still as neither of us said anything.
Then, Fred wordlessly headed back to our usual spot, prompting Daphne and I to follow him.
As soon as we followed Fred out of the library, Daphne asked, "What's going on, Freddie?"
Fred exhaled as he turned towards us. "Benson's dead, guys."
By the time we all arrived at the General Hospital, we could all see that the place was quite the circus.
As we were joined by Velma, who led us towards Room 31969, we could see the area swarming with cops, especially as we approached Benson's room.
The moment we arrived at the room, which was taped off by the crime scene tape, we all saw the two investigators working inside, though none of us were prepared to see what was on the hospital bed.
"Oh, dear G**." Daphne paled at the sight of Benson's body, and quite honestly, I couldn't blame her.
Even after being haunted by the sight of Mom's lifeless body in the car all those years ago, I wasn't prepared for what we were seeing on the hospital bed.
Benson's body was completely scratched up with some limbs torn off, definitely looked like he was trying to put up a fight against his assailant.
The bed sheet of his hospital bed was completely dyed red from his blood, and I swear that you could see the tip of his bones from where the limbs were torn off.
And then, resting on the nightstand right beside the bed were a couple of wolf claws.
"Holy s**t." Fred covered his mouth. "Whoever did this to Benson, the Werewolf, that is, definitely meant serious business."
"I'll say." Velma agreed, though before she could continue, a voice shouted out, "Daphne!"
When we all turned around towards the source of the voice, Daphne arched her eyebrows at the sight of her father.
"Dad?" Daphne asked.
"Daphne, you alright?" Mr. Blake asked as he rushed over to Daphne and placed his hands on her shoulders. "What are you doing here?"
"Uh..." I could see Daphne's mind racing as she glanced at us. "I was just visiting my friend Velma, who's interning here, for a story."
"Ah." Mr. Blake turned towards Velma. "Is that right?"
"Yes, Mr. Blake." Velma went along with the story. "I was on my break when Daphne came for her story, and we were in the middle of our interview when all h*ll broke loose by..."
Velma trailed off as she gestured towards the taped off room, and Mr. Blake nodded understandingly as she continued, "...whatever happened in there."
"I can see that." Mr. Blake nodded, though before he could continue, another voice barked, "Norville!"
Blast! I should've known that with Benson the latest casualty of the werewolf attacks, it was only matter of time before Dad arrives with his men.
Sure enough, as we all turned around, there was Dad marching down the hallway with one of his men, and he certainly looked deeply pissed when he saw me.
I didn't think that Dad could be more pissed than when he saw us standing there, but boy, was I wrong, because his eyes narrowed into stilts when he saw Mr. Blake as well.
"Blake." Dad growled as he approached us, and Daphne turned towards me.
"Rogers." Mr. Blake replied back. "I hope I didn't catch you on a bad time."
Dad was unequivocal. "Oh, I'm just getting started."
Then, he turned towards me and continued, "It seems like our little talk more than a week ago wasn't enough, son."
I swallowed as I looked up at Dad, who then demanded, "Care to explain what the h*ll are you doing here?"
There was some tense, uncomfortable silence as we stared at each other, during which the man accompanying Dad said, "Uh, I'm gonna check in with the fellas inside if you don't mind, sir."
Dad only nodded before the man ducked under the crime scene tape and made his way into the room.
When I didn't reply, not exactly sure where to start, Dad pulled me towards him as he asked, "Do you need me to repeat my question, son?"
Fortunately, Fred decided to jump in at that moment to come to my defence.
"I believe I can explain everything, Lieutenant Rogers." Fred said.
Immediately, Dad turned towards him and asked, "Fred Jones, I presume?"
"Yes, sir." Fred nodded. "My Dad is-"
"Yes, I know who your father is." Dad said. "Though-"
As Dad was speaking, I just remembered that Mr. Blake was still standing there and I probably should've speak up to Dad about going someplace else to talk, because all in a sudden, Mr. Blake looked at me and said, "Hey, I remember you! You were at State Senator Daggett's campaign office a few days ago, weren't you?"
The revelation hit Dad like a ton of bricks, and he turned back towards me, and I knew I was in a heap of trouble.
"You what?!" Dad snarled at me.
"Uh...as Fred said, Lieutenant Rogers." Velma piped up. "We could...um...explain everything."
By the time we all finished everything that has happened in the past few days, particularly the part with Benson, it was clear that Dad was beyond pissed.
"Clearly, that little talk we had almost a week ago wasn't enough." Dad snapped, the tone in his voice sounded like he was addressing Fred and the girls as well as me. "You do realize what your little stunt has resulted in?!"
"Seems to me that your son could use some more discipline, Rogers." Mr. Blake remarked, which prompted Dad to turn towards him immediately.
"You stay out of this, Blake." Dad snarled. "I might've been under your charge back in the day, but those days are long ago, and here-"
"Issues of discipline seems to run into your family, Rogers. You're just too stubborn to acknowledge that." Mr. Blake retorted.
"I might be stubborn, Blake." Dad said. "But at least I know when I'm doing the right thing-"
"Right thing?!" Blake scoffed in disbelief. "Like when you shot the director of the IJA's Unit 731 during the campaign on the Volcano Islands even though orders were to capture him alive for interrogation-"
"Yet you took the blame for the shooting." Dad placed his hands on his hips. "And given what we saw in there, are you certain you would not have done the same thing if you were in my shoes?"
"Whatever I would have done if I was in your shoes is irrelevant, Rogers." Mr. Blake shouted as he got into Dad's face. "Orders were that we were to capture Ishii alive after receiving intelligence on his whereabouts and visitations to the unit's camp on Volcano Island and shut down whatever experimentations Unit 731 was conducting that could-"
"Sounds more like you are pissed about missing out on getting his account on those inhumane experiments that death squad had conducted, which would definitely have been useful for what Daggett has dragged you and your company into-"
"I wouldn't go there if I were you, Rogers." Mr. Blake snapped. "The way you have been suggesting State Senator Daggett being involved in shady business, just like the way you appointed yourself as judge, jury and executioner in shooting Ishii dead, it was always about your feelings, wasn't it?"
There was a long pause as Dad continued to glare at Mr. Blake, and both of them were panting from their argument as we looked on.
Then, in a calmer but firm voice, Dad said, "If there is one thing I've picked up from you that I do cherish, Blake, it is to never second-guess your gut. My wife was killed just as she was about to do the right thing, don't you find that suspicious?"
"Not when all you have are speculations and that as far as the law is concerned, everything he did was legal and in line with the company's by-laws and mandate in securing a profit for its shareholders." Mr. Blake responded crossly, during which Daphne turned towards me.
Dad seemed to be taken aback by Mr. Blake's last remark, though as I glanced at Daphne, I only saw astonishment on her face and not the smugness I was expecting.
Then, Dad turned towards me and grabbed me by the arm as he said, "Come on, Norville. We're heading home. And as of this moment, consider yourself grounded until further-"
"Dad, I wasn't even planning on being here, not to mention-" I tried to speak, only for Dad to shut me down.
"Don't interrupt me, son." Dad snapped, and I immediately knew better than to further protest. "In fact, I'm gonna see to it, right this moment, that you head straight home and learn to not talk back."
Without missing a beat, he gripped my arm further, as if he was arresting and escorting a suspect, and tugged me down the hallway.
Along the way, Dad stopped by Mr. Blake and added, "And Blake, you stay the h*ll away from my family."
Turning his glare towards Daphne, he then added, "That goes for you too, young lady."
Then, he stopped by Fred and Velma and added, "As for you two, I have no d**n idea what the h*ll your parents were even thinking, but I'm only gonna say this once: Make this the last time you play detective."
Without missing a beat, Dad then tugged me down the hallway forcefully while everyone else looked on.
As he tugged me past the room, one of his men, who was in the process of stepping out of the room, stopped us, prompting Dad to pause and turn towards him.
"Chan, I'm going to take off." Dad barked as he also glared at the two men in the room. "Make sure you, Detective Claphammer and Detective Neville have your preliminary crime scene reports at my office first thing tomorrow morning."
"Sir, I think you should-" Chan was about to say, only for Dad to cut him off.
"Do I make myself loud and clear?" Dad barked.
"Of course, sir, but I was just trying to say that it wasn't cool of you to yell at Mr. Blake-" Chan tried to speak, only for Dad to intensify his glare.
"Do you need me to repeat myself, or do you need me to book you on that flight back to Honolulu, Detective?" Dad asked.
There was a pause as Chan stared at my father blankly, then he shook his head.
"No, sir." Chan said.
"Good." Dad replied before he resumed tugging me down the hallway without another word.
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