Wolf Frenzy (2 page)

He said, "Miss Stimson. I'm Inspector John Knowles of the Anatowok Island Constabulary. Could I talk to you for a moment?"

His voice made her chest vibrate. It was low and solid. She said, "Yes, come in please."

In her apartment, her arousal died a quick death. He was acceptable in low light, but the brighter lights of her living room showed him to be a bit slovenly and badly dressed. He needed a shave and a haircut. He wasn’t the man she deserved.

"You started work today at Butters and Butters,” he said.

He stood directly in front of her with his feet slightly spread and his arms folded just as he had outside her door. It felt confrontational. She didn't like it. She said, "Yes, I did."

Her heart didn’t care that she disliked him. It noticed the ropes of muscle around his shoulders and chest and the nose that stuck out from his face like the front of an ice breaker. She shivered unwillingly.

"We're investigating Butters and Butters. They may have ties to organized crime. You went to the theatre tonight with Jack Butters. Did he talk about anything I might be interested in?"

She took all of the friendliness out of her voice. "No."

"Would you call us if he does?"

"I don't want to do that, Inspector Knowles. I just started working there and I'd like to continue doing it."

He unfolded his arms. "Doesn't it seem unnatural that you show up on your first day on the job and he buys you a dress and takes you to an expensive opera? Do you think he does that for all his employees?"

"I know what I look like, Inspector. No, I'm not surprised to find that kind of behavior in a new boss. He was just quicker than most."

Her conscience hit her like a baseball bat. She didn’t have the smallest idea how bosses treated women who looked stunning. Jack Butters was the first one.

The pleasant, neutral policeman took over. "I have eyes, ma'am. I can see what you look like.” Becky was aware that he said the words without any attempt at friendship. He was stating a fact.

He continued, “Let me ask you a question. Did Jack Butters make any moves on you? Did he try to get into your apartment after the date, put his hands where they didn't belong, pin you up against a wall?"

Becky had to end this. She didn't want the police involved. "Can you tell me why that's any of your business?"

"Jack Butters is a very cold man. He never does anything unless it will get him more money or power or keep him from losing money or power. We've been doing surveillance on him for six months. He's never approached a woman romantically in all that time."

"That hasn't been my experience with him. I can’t believe he’s involved with criminals."

"The question remains. Why you and why now?"

"I don't know. This is getting embarrassing, Inspector I won't spy for you or do anything else."

"Sorry to have bothered you, ma'am." He walked out.

Becky said to herself, “Jack isn’t a criminal. He’s a nice, friendly man who treats me well.”

She sat down in front of her computer and made her way into the network in the office.

She found what she wanted. Her father had been at Butters and Butters, but not with Jack. He’d met with the vice president for a half hour and left. She was right. Jack was what he appeared; a good decent man. She needed more information on the vice president. She found two things. First, the vice president was named Sylvia Hoskins; and second, Sylvia and Jack shared the same address.

Becky sniffed. “I can’t be surprised that he already has a woman. He’s so good looking.”

The next day, Jack found her in the storeroom all alone. He closed the door and snuck up behind her. She smelled his perfect aftershave before she saw him. She pictured him before she saw him. In her mind, he looked very well-tailored and manicured and shaved.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her neck. She made noises of approval and held him against her neck with one hand.

After some nice kissing, Jack twirled her around and pinned her against the filing cabinet. He kissed her again. She felt his hands on her waist. They moved slowly upward.

She thought, “Keep going. This will the first time a man has touched my breasts.”

Jack slipped his hands under her blouse then under her bra. He caressed and lifted and rubbed just the way Becky wanted. She made noises of approval and kissed him with more energy.

Her mind began to wander. The heat and sensation from his smooth, gentle hands washed up to her emotions and down to her hips.

She knew she had to stop him. She thought, “I have to keep his respect. But it feels so good.”

Mentally, she sighed and said to herself, reluctantly, “Time to stop. Or at least get some commitment out of it.” Out loud, she said, “But Jack, someone might come in.”

She listened for him to push a little; not too much but enough to show he wanted more. She expected him to say that he’d locked the door or that he owned the company and he didn’t care.

Instead, he backed away. “You’re absolutely right. We should have more privacy.”

He walked toward the door. As his hand touched the doorknob, he turned around. He said, “Was that alright? Was it appropriate?”

Becky nodded. He left.

She rearranged her clothes and wandered back to her desk.

At lunchtime, Becky stood at a mirror in the Ladies Room next to a slender, busty girl who smiled a lot. Becky introduced herself and said, “What can you tell me about Jack Butters?”

The girl frowned. “Which one? Jack seems to have a different set of personalities for every situation and none of them talk with each other.” She finished and left. Becky looked in her own eyes. She said to herself, “I’ve only seen one.”

That night, Becky learned a little more about Sylvia, her rival for Jack’s affections. Sylvia was a lawyer as well as an accomplished businesswoman. She’d competed in horseback riding in the Olympics and brought home a silver medal.

Becky leaned back in the chair. “She’s beautiful and worthwhile, but I’m not going to be discouraged.” She shut her computer down. As she headed for the bedroom to change into her nightgown, she said to herself, “I need to know if she’s worthy of Jack. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’m not prying. I’m just taking care of him. I’ll see what she’s up to tomorrow morning before they go to work.

The next morning before sunrise, Becky made her way through a thick forest in a ravine in the mountains.

She poked her binoculars between two bushes.

Jack Butters lived in a mansion made of huge timbers with the bark still on them. It stretched three stories up into the clean British Columbian air. He'd put it on one side of the broad ravine with a view of the Straits out his front room window. His wealth and political connections made it possible for him to ignore local zoning ordinances and clear a large portion of the forest.

Jack and Sylvia occupied the same bed. Becky sniffed at that. “She’s thin. He deserves a woman with curves.” She watched Sylvia go to breakfast and Jack leave the house. “I shouldn’t be surprised that he already has a woman. I’m different. I might have an edge.”

She watched him go to his stables and lead a dragon out of its stall and away from the main building. She lost sight of him when he and the dragon walked around an outcropping from the mountain.

Jack could have been leading a bull. He held one end of a rawhide cord twelve feet long. The other end attached to a ring going through the nose of the dragon.

He carried a small electronic device in his hand.

His property ended in a small box canyon with sheer walls seventy feet high. Butters positioned the dragon in the middle of the canyon and stepped back. He pressed a button on his device and the dragon blew a column of flame against the canyon wall. The flame carried a blue color through most of its length, turning yellow only at the end.

Jack patted the animal and spoke softly to it. He unhooked his leather cord from the nose ring and pressed another button on the device. The dragon slowly and clumsily stepped around to face out of the canyon. It awkwardly spread his wings. They spread with creaks and groans from the beast.

Once the wings unfurled, the dragon took three strong steps and launched.  Jack let him fly for a few minutes then called him back and led him back to his stall.

The day after was Saturday. Becky loaded her Jeep Wrangler with food and drove to the mountains. She parked out of sight in a small turn-out and walked through the woods. It was hot and sunny. The moisture in the underbrush made it feel like a sauna. Before she'd gone ten feet, her shirt was clinging to her body.

The day before, when she’d watched Jack, she’d used a spot just off the road. She wanted to be closer, and she wanted to look around the outcropping. She didn’t suspect Jack of illegal activities. She just wanted to see what he was doing. She walked a mile into the forest.

She caught sight of surveillance cameras in the trees. She said to herself, “Not surprising. He’s worth a lot of money.”

It took a few minutes to find a dead spot none of the cameras covered. She crept through small bushes to the edge of the ravine. She brought up her binoculars. "Okay, Jack Butters, we don't officially suspect you of doing anything wrong, but what about those around you. Especially that thin woman, Sylvia. Maybe there's a wolf in your pasture." Nothing stirred in her mind at her use of the word. It should have.

Abruptly, Becky stopped looking through the binoculars, stopped moving; and, for a few seconds, stopped breathing.

The cold barrel of a pistol pressed against the back of her neck. A low, mean voice said, "Don't move." The stern voice said, "You're in an area that's under control of the Anatowok Constabulary. You're not allowed in here. You'll have to talk to my superior."

Ten minutes later, she sat in front of Inspector John Knowles. He wasn’t in a good mood. She sat on a camp chair while he walked around her. They were in a tent on a small piece of cleared land. He said, "What the fuck were you doing up there? Don't tell me you were just walking around or hiking or bird watching."

He planted himself directly in front of her with his arms folded across his chest. She’d come to dread that posture.

He wore jeans and a dark blue tee shirt with the letters 'RCMP' in a small type-face across the front. The shirt may have started the day loose and proper, but heat and exertion made it shrink against his sturdy, muscled chest.

His voice made her body shake. His chest and arms were covered with a layer of perspiration. He hadn't shaved or hadn't done it effectively. She focused on his masculine biceps and the way they stretched his shirt. The closed tent made his male odor unavoidable. She had to bring herself back to reality. His next words drove all thoughts of his physical presence out of her mind. He said, "Did you really think you'd see your father out in the open?"

Her eyes leaped open and her chest felt tight. "How did you know about my father?"

"We're policeman. This is a small town. He checked into a hotel and left and never came back. The hotel owner called us. He seemed like a decent man who wouldn't skip out on his hotel bill. We know he didn't leave the island by any of the usual means. He didn't take a ferry or a plane. No one's seen him or knows anything about him. Butters and Butters records say he talked with the head of Information Technology and left. That’s all we’ve been able to find."

Becky's voice was weak and trembling. "You don't know anything at all about my father?"

"No. I'm sorry. Things like this don’t happen on the island. We haven't had a murder in twenty years." Without a change in inflection or cadence, Inspector John Knowles contradicted himself. "We've got good, experienced officers here. They've handled hundreds of murders and disappearances. I know we've done a thorough job, but we've come up with nothing. I'm sorry."

He pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her. "You're from Vancouver. I can ask you politely to go home. I want you to know I will make you go home if I have to. This is very dangerous. Butters, or one of his staff, may be a murderer many times over. You'll just get yourself killed. Do you understand?"

Becky nodded her head. "Yes. If I stay here, you'll just have another crime to investigate."

"Good. Call work and tell them you have to go home to help your Aunt Jane deal with a health crisis, and you don't know when you'll be back. Don't come back. I'll call you when we make some progress."

Becky blurted, “How did you know I had an Aunt Jane.”

He stared at her for a few seconds then walked purposefully to the opening of the tent. "Come with me. We'll go by your apartment, and you can pack. We've purchased a ticket for you on the next flight to Vancouver."

The ride from the tent to Becky's apartment was silent. John Knowles wasn't just reluctant to talk. Something, some barrier, separated him from Becky.

He waited while she called her workplace and packed then drove her to the airport, all without talking. He escorted her to the plane and watched her get on.

Becky fidgeted as she sat in her narrow, cramped seat. She couldn't help herself. As soon as the flight attendants were occupied in the rear of the plane, she snuck off.

She ran lightly up the concourse, looking right and left for John. She'd made it to the taxi line before she heard, "Damn it, woman. You're supposed to be on that plane." She streaked for the trees.

Becky kept low as she scurried through the trees and around the bushes. She couldn't hear John crashing through the brush as she'd expected. She couldn't hear anything.

She found a trail. She didn't know where she was and needed to find a taxi, but trails usually led to places with civilization and more taxi’s. She ran along the trail with good speed.

She heard a branch break and looked to her side. The biggest wolf she'd ever seen loped along with her. His gait was relaxed and graceful. He gave her the feeling that he could outrun her easily and just wanted to see where she was going. He was twenty yards from the trail and didn't look aggressive. She looked again. The wolf had a small backpack on its back. She'd never seen that before.