Inez smiled wryly. "What do you think our chances would be?"
"Pretty slim," Karyn admitted. "But there must be something we can do."
"Wait a minute, maybe there is." Inez was suddenly sitting on the edge of her chair. "You wounded the wolf last night?"
"That's right. I hit him — it — in the face with the shotgun. It tore off an ear, I think."
"Good. You see, when a werewolf is wounded, it can change back to human form, but it will have an identical injury. Their wounds heal unnaturally fast, but if you can find them soon enough it's a giveaway."
When Karyn looked doubtful, Inez referred again to her books. She quoted the story of a traveler through Wales who was attacked by a wolf, but managed to hack off one of the beast's paws and escape. The next morning he was horrified to see his landlady at the inn with fresh bandages covering the stump of her right hand. And the notorious Parenette Gandillon, after villagers with clubs had driven off a wolf, was found moaning in her bed covered with bruises.
"Assuming these old reports are accurate," Inez concluded, "what we must do is look for someone in Drago with a missing ear."
"And suppose we find him," Karyn said. "What then?"
Inez started to answer, but hesitated at the sound of someone moving around in the bedroom.
"It's Roy," Karyn said. "Do you think we should tell him?"
Inez shrugged noncommittally as Roy came into the room pulling a sweater on over his head. "Hullo, Inez," he said. Then, to Karyn, "Is there any coffee?"
"I can make a new pot."
"Never mind. Fresh air is what I really need."
"Roy, can we talk to you about something?"
"Will it keep? I'm still groggy from last night. If I jog down the road and back it might wake me up."
Karyn hesitated a moment. "Go ahead. It's not important."
"I'll see you later." He went out the door, and they heard him trot off across the clearing and down the road.
"I just couldn't tell him," Karyn said. "Not yet."
"All right," said Inez.
Karyn clapped her hands together and stood up. "I guess it's you and me, pal. Let's head for town and find the guy with only one ear."
Chapter Sixteen
The two women left the house and walked across the grass to Inez' little Plymouth Valiant. They got in and Inez fastened her seat belt.
"You'll have to buckle up too," she told Karyn. "This is a '74, the model that doesn't start unless everybody is properly strapped in."
"I feel silly," Karyn said as they drove to Drago. "This whole idea is beginning to seem silly."
"It can't hurt to look. We might get lucky. We could ask around too, if there's somebody you know well enough to talk to."
"The only one I can think of is Oriole Jolivet. She and her husband run the general store."
"Can we trust her?"
"I wouldn't want to come right out and tell her we're looking for a werewolf," Karyn said. "But then I wouldn't want to admit that to anybody."
The store was empty when Karyn and Inez walked in. After a minute Karyn walked to the back and called Oriole's name.
"Be with you in a minute," came Oriole's answer from the back room.
Inez strolled around the cluttered store looking at the merchandise while they waited. In a little while Oriole Jolivet came out and joined them. She wore a cotton dress with a big flower print that made her look even wider than she was. Her hair was pinned back, and Karyn was secretly relieved to see no sign of a head wound.
"Hey, how's Roy doing?" Oriole asked after the introductions had been completed. "I'll tell you, Karyn, if I was twenty years younger I'd give you a little competition for that handsome sonofagun." She laughed heartily to show she was only kidding.
"That's really why I'm here, Oriole," Karyn said, improvising quickly. "Roy cut his hand yesterday chopping firewood, and I need some bandages if you carry them." She was surprised how easily the lie came to her lips.
Oriole's smile switched instantly to a concerned frown. "Gee, I'm sorry to hear that. I hope it's not too serious."
"I don't think so," Karyn said, a little ashamed now of her deceit. "It's a clean cut. No infection. I did want to get some bandages to wrap it, though."
"Sure, we got bandages," Oriole said, moving to the far side of the store. She stooped to one of the lower shelves. "What-all do you need — cotton, gauze, adhesive?"
"You'd better give me the works."
Oriole removed the selected items from the shelf and put them in a paper bag. "A person has to be darned careful using an ax."
"I guess it's lucky you have this stuff." Karyn kept her tone as casual as she could. "I don't suppose there's anyplace else in town I could get it."
"Nope. Not in Drago."
"You must sell quite a few medical supplies."
"Not so much. People around here are pretty healthy."
Karyn did not know how to go any further without blurting out an obvious question. Oriole saved her the trouble by volunteering the information. "The last time I sold any bandages was last spring when the Eccles boy stuck his arm through a window without opening it first." She tapped her forehead. "The boy's fifteen years old now, but up here he's still about three."
Karyn and Inez laughed uneasily and looked at each other. Their best source for town gossip had come up dry.
Karyn paid for the purchases and started out of the store. Passing the glassed meat case she suddenly realized she had not seen Oriole's silent husband today.
"Where's Etienne?" she said, turning back to Oriole.
"He didn't come in today. Woke up this morning with a headache."
"A headache?" Karyn repeated, carefully keeping the excitement out of her voice.
"It's no big deal. He gets 'em two, three times a year. They last a day or two, then go away."
"I hope he gets better soon."
"He will."
"Tell him hello for me."
"I'll do that. Come again when you can stay awhile. You too, Inez."
"What do you think?" Karyn said, when they were outside and out of earshot.
"It's a possibility. At least we have a suspect now. Before we had nothing." Inez grew thoughtful. "I have a feeling the two of us shouldn't try to take this any further without help. Is there no one else in town we could go to?"
"No… Wait a minute. We forgot the most logical person — the town doctor."
"The one who treated you?"
"Yes. Dr. Volkmann. If someone was seriously injured he wouldn't go to the store for treatment."
"Makes sense. Can we talk to him frankly?"
"As you said, we've got to talk to somebody sometime."
"Then let's go and see him. If we get good vibrations we'll tell him the story. If not, well, we'll try something else."
Dr. Volkmann received the women graciously and showed them into the sitting room of his big old house. The influence of his late wife could still be seen in touches like the lace antimacassars on the backs of chairs, and the little animal figurines carefully arranged, but undusted now, on corner shelves.
"You're looking well, Mrs. Beatty," the doctor said. "Did you use all of the pills I gave you?"
"No, I don't think I need any more of them."
"That's good. Too much reliance on pills can be dangerous." He folded his hands and waited politely.
"What we came for is… well, I'd like to ask you a question, Doctor."
"Certainly."
"Did anyone come to you last night or today for treatment of a head wound?"
"Etienne Jolivet in particular," Inez added.
Volkmann studied the women for several seconds before he spoke. "That's an odd question. Do you mind telling me what's behind it?"
"Believe me," Karyn said, "it's very important."