Gregson’s brain was digesting the facts of the case like a hungry stomach. “Kate’s brother will speak to us at the bar.”
“He’s dead,” Murphy said.
“I know; a dead body says more than a live one.”
“Whatever you say.”
When they got to the bar, it was just a hole in the wall with a pasture out back.
Gregson opened the door.
“What could have done it?” A fat man asked. “It came in the fog.”
“Who are you?” The room asked.
“Show them your badge,” Gregson mumbled.
Murphy showed his identification and the room relaxed.
“About time law enforcement got here. There’s a decapitated man out back and a herd of dead cattle.”
“A herd?” Gregson asked.
The fat man took them to the pasture.
Cattle carcasses were strewn everywhere.
Then out of the silent swamp came a bone-chilling howl.
“That’s the creature,” the fat man said. “Do you believe in monsters?”
“No,” Gregson said.
“Then you best be believin.”
“Where’s the decapitated man?”
“Behind the refrigerator.”
“That’s him alright,” Gregson said. He compared the head with the photograph. “Looks like a clean cut across the neck and gash marks on the face. You know what Murphy—I might start believing in monsters.”
“I guess we should call the police.”
“It’ll take two hours for reinforcements to get here. By then we’ll all be eaten!” The fat man said.
“Calm down, and have a few drinks. Whatever’s been killing people can’t open doors.
Mr. McMasterson slinked back to his study. His scarecrow shadow flitted across the walls. He wanted the woman downstairs and his lust was howling inside, but when he looked for his potion, it was gone. “I mislaid it. That’s right, I put it in the refrigerator.”
McMasterson walked downstairs. His assistant was growing hair in all the wrong places. She had a bottle in her hand. “I thought this was Gatorade—not quick-grow body hair?” Then her butt began to expand and her back blew up. A beast erupted from her tiny frame until it filled the kitchen.